Chapter 56: Disciple and Wife
Since guiding spiritual energy into her body, Tao Ning hadn’t slept, replacing sleep with meditation.
Tonight, after seeing off her inexplicably appetite-less master, Tao Ning finished cultivating and began recording information about Shangxi birds onto a jade slip.
She hadn’t figured out the connection yet, but felt it might be relevant, hoping the act of recording the information would trigger deeper memories.
Before drifting off, she was still muttering about Shangxi birds.
Their feathers shimmered like moonlight, born under the moon, naturally reaching the Soul Transformation stage at birth. They matured at a thousand years, reaching Void Refining, their lifespan stretching tens of thousands of years.
But it took them ten thousand years to achieve human form, and most didn’t live that long.
They were nurturers, not fighters, able to discern good and evil through sound, considered auspicious omens.
Records described them as gentle creatures, their presence signifying a decade of bountiful harvests.
Their chirping also had the powerful ability to suppress heart demons. Even though they were born at Soul Transformation, their chicks couldn’t utilize their cultivation. This made them, and their eggs, targets for those seeking to exploit their abilities.
But Shangxi eggs required specific conditions to hatch. Without their parents to provide the necessary spiritual energy, they often died before hatching.
Raising a Shangxi bird was also incredibly resource-intensive. As chicks, they were as fragile as infants, prone to… emotional distress, refusing to sing even under duress.
They were a proud species. The increasing demand for their abilities, coupled with their low birth rate, led to their decline, their existence fading into obscurity.
520: 【But this one has no spiritual energy. Could its owner be concealing its cultivation?】
That was certainly a possibility.
Tao Ning: “Or perhaps it’s a self-preservation mechanism. I initially mistook it for an ordinary white bird. I never considered the possibility of it being a Shangxi.”
Her suspicions had grown, leading to the little experiment, the bird’s involuntary chirp a surprising bonus.
Tao Ning shuddered. “Good thing I didn’t truly anger it. A Soul Transformation bird… it could obliterate me with a single chirp.”
520: 【…】 That’s… entirely possible. In the cultivation world, strength is everything.
Tao Ning continued recording, muttering to 520, “I disagree with the description of Shangxi birds as gentle, divine creatures.”
That tiny ball of fluff had a temper that could rival a volcano.
520, recalling Tao Ning’s various misdeeds, thought, The description seems accurate. At least it hasn’t used its Soul Transformation cultivation to obliterate you.
Tao Ning: “It’s a shame the original host never saw an adult Shangxi. They’re said to be incredibly beautiful, their wings shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow.”
Seeing Tao Ning’s serious expression, 520 decided not to argue. People rarely saw their own flaws.
But one question lingered. 【Why did you choose such a difficult world, Host?】
Compared to other newbie missions, this one was practically hell-level, practically guaranteeing a restart.
The Demon Lord title sounded impressive, right? But her cultivation was gone.
She had treasures in her storage ring, right? But her cultivation was gone.
She had become the protagonist’s disciple, setting her on the path to greatness, right? But her disguise could be exposed at any moment.
Even ignoring these three points, the challenges she had faced so far would have sent other newbies running for a restart.
Tao Ning’s gaze drifted. “…I was too heartbroken to care about the difficulty level.”
520’s interpretation: She’s given up.
A widow’s apathy. Her approach to this new world was clear: life or death, it didn’t matter.
While Tao Ning delved into Shangxi bird lore, Cen Dianshuang sat under the moonlight on Wangshu Peak, lost in thought.
She couldn’t understand how her young disciple could identify a Shangxi bird after only a few encounters.
How did she know?
After her late-night conversation with 520 and her research session, Tao Ning fell asleep at her desk.
The open window, combined with her lack of blanket, resulted in a rude awakening by the night breeze, a lingering sense of unease from a disturbing dream.
She dreamt of a world bathed in red, a desolate wasteland. She was alone, surrounded by the cries of the dying, begging, cursing, all chanting the same name.
Tao Ning wiped the cold sweat from her brow, sitting up. My name seems to evoke a lot of hatred. They were screaming like I’d murdered their families.
She felt a hard object in her hand, a faint jingling sound accompanying her movements.
She opened her hand to see the communication bell, her fingers marked from gripping it tightly in her sleep.
Suddenly realizing something, she asked 520, “Is there someone else in the room?”
520: 【Yes.】 Normally, Tao Ning would react instantly to any intrusion, her senses sharp as if she had cameras everywhere.
But she seemed oblivious to those she considered part of her territory.
Looking at the ivory screen, she called out tentatively, “Master?”
A clear voice responded from behind the screen. “It’s me.”
The soft rustle of fabric, then the figure who had been sitting there all night emerged, walking towards the bed. Cen Dianshuang reached out, placing two fingers on Tao Ning’s forehead.
“You were having a nightmare.”
A cool stream of spiritual energy flowed into Tao Ning’s turbulent mind, calming the storm within. The redness in her eyes faded.
Withdrawing her hand, Cen Dianshuang put away the five-panel ivory screen, replacing it with a new one. “This one is useless. I’ll give you a new one.”
A different screen, its style vastly different from the previous one, appeared before Tao Ning’s eyes. She felt a fleeting sense of something… missing… from her memory.
Cen Dianshuang explained, “A Heaven-grade, sixth-tier landscape screen. Better protection. If that doesn’t work, I’ll catch a few Dream-Eating Beasts for you.”
Tao Ning finally understood what Cen Dianshuang meant by “protection.”
She had seen through Tao Ning’s hidden anxieties, quietly offering reassurance.
During their three months of travel, she had often seen Tao Ning sleeping rough, but more often, waking up from nightmares.
She hadn’t understood why the girl continued to sleep in such vulnerable positions. Once, she had approached, curious.
The grey-clad girl was asleep under a tree, one leg outstretched, the other bent. Cen Dianshuang had stood by, wanting to decipher the emotions flitting across her face.
But the girl woke up sooner than expected, the close proximity revealing the lingering sadness in her eyes.
Tao Ning, surprised to see the white bird perched on her knee, had recoiled instinctively, hitting her head.
Perhaps the girl’s dreams were filled with someone she missed.
This time, however, was different. The girl had been restless, muttering unintelligible words.
She had grabbed Cen Dianshuang’s sleeve, pulling her hand towards her forehead, her voice muffled. “Master? What are you doing here?”
Cen Dianshuang, now accustomed to her disciple’s clinginess, replied, “You were shaking the communication bell in your sleep. I had to come.”
So it was the bell’s fault.
Tao Ning’s voice remained muffled, almost childishly whiny. “So you were watching over me, Master?”
Cen Dianshuang: “I considered waking you, but it wasn’t the right time. Were you dreaming about the person who injured you?”
She still believed Tao Ning’s current state was due to her past trauma.
Guiding spiritual energy into one’s body should have cleansed her meridians, purging any lingering effects of her injuries.
If it wasn’t a physical injury, it was a mental one. Left untreated, it could fester into a heart demon.
Tao Ning shook her head, refusing to elaborate.
Cen Dianshuang didn’t press, standing by the bed, allowing the girl to cling to her sleeve.
She remembered her own childhood, devoid of family, only her master and senior sisters. She had refused to sleep unless perched on one of their shoulders, often summoning torrential downpours if denied.
Her senior sister had then discovered another use for Frost Flower nectar, beyond concealing one’s aura. A nightly dose guaranteed a peaceful sleep.
But she had no more nectar. Perhaps she should stock up.
No, the important question was, would it even work on humans?
After a while, Tao Ning, her cheek resting against Cen Dianshuang’s hand, looked up, her fox-like eyes pleading. “Will you stay tonight, Master?”
Cen Dianshuang looked down at her. “Can’t sleep?”
Tao Ning nodded miserably.
The message was clear: she needed her master’s presence to sleep. No escape.
Cen Dianshuang considered this. “If you can’t sleep, let’s practice the zither.”
Tao Ning: “…” Any lingering romantic notions shattered like glass.
Somehow, the night ended with Tao Ning carrying a zither, following Cen Dianshuang to the cliffside plateau. Their shadows stretched and merged under the moonlight.
Master and disciple sat on meditation cushions, a seven-stringed zither resting on a table between them.
Cen Dianshuang’s zither, however, was one of her spirit weapons, the Yaoguang Zither.
It was well known that Cen Dianshuang was not only a skilled swordsman but also a powerful Music Cultivator, capable of slaying enemies with both her blade and her melodies.
Nine out of ten who heard her play died. The tenth was Tao Ning. Even her fellow disciples avoided listening to her play.
Not because it was unpleasant, but because her music, like her personality, was cold and sharp, like ice shards piercing the soul, leaving little room for appreciation, its effect unsettling.
Tao Ning, still a beginner, used an ordinary zither, which, compared to the ethereal Yaoguang, looked like a piece of wood.
She was still learning the basics, practicing scales and simple melodies. Infusing music with spiritual energy, like Cen Dianshuang, was an advanced technique, requiring time and practice.
It was then that Tao Ning realized she wasn’t talented in either alchemy or music.
A simple, beginner-level Cleansing Heart melody eluded her all night.
Cen Dianshuang, usually unflappable, was visibly frustrated. After several days of intensive training, Tao Ning finally managed a passable rendition of the Cleansing Heart melody.
The simple tune, played on the… wooden… zither, ended, and Tao Ning looked at Cen Dianshuang expectantly.
Cen Dianshuang: …Was that the Cleansing Heart melody, or a demonic summoning ritual?
Meeting her disciple’s hopeful gaze, she swallowed her criticism, nodding. “There’s been some improvement. Keep practicing.”
Tao Ning sensed her master’s dissatisfaction, accepting the feedback and resuming her practice diligently.
Initially, Cen Dianshuang listened with open eyes, then closed them, meditating as she listened.
Listening to her disciple’s playing was… an exercise in patience. With her own talent, she couldn’t comprehend Tao Ning’s slow progress.
Her senior siblings would have praised the girl’s natural aptitude.
Compared to their own early attempts, which had often driven the previous Sect Leader to despair, declaring that even sawing wood sounded better, Tao Ning’s playing was… adequate.
Cen Dianshuang spoke, breaking the silence. “Once you reach Foundation Establishment, I’ll take you to the Spirit Sword Tomb to choose your spirit weapon.”
The music stopped, and Tao Ning’s voice, filled with curiosity, echoed through the night. “Did you find your spirit sword in the Spirit Sword Tomb, Master?”
Cen Dianshuang: “No. I gathered the materials for Xuan Ying myself and asked my senior sister to forge it. Xuan Ying has only ever had one master. Yaoguang too.”
As if in agreement, Xuan Ying, resting nearby, shimmered faintly.
Silence fell. Cen Dianshuang opened her eyes, looking at Tao Ning’s thoughtful expression. “What is it?”
Tao Ning: “I want to do that too.”
Cen Dianshuang considered this. “Gathering the materials is arduous. Are you certain?”
She assumed Tao Ning wanted a unique, personalized spirit sword, not realizing the girl intended to craft it herself.
Tao Ning, of course, didn’t mention the hardship.
Cen Dianshuang: “Very well.” She tapped the table. “Continue.”
The halting melody resumed, repeating the Cleansing Heart melody ten times before shifting, evolving into something unfamiliar.
The first two melodies were completely new, but the third sounded vaguely familiar.
Cen Dianshuang opened her eyes, her curiosity piqued. “What are you playing?”
Tao Ning, a mischievous glint in her eyes, removed her hands from the zither, replying softly, “Folk tunes. ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,’ ‘Two Tigers,’ and the ‘Happy Clapping Song.’”
At the mention of the last title, Cen Dianshuang’s eye twitched. For a fleeting moment, she thought it was deliberate.
“Is it… bad?” Tao Ning asked, her expression a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Cen Dianshuang, without answering, simply instructed her to continue practicing.
That night, Wangshu Peak was filled with music.
Practicing the zither, practicing the sword, occasionally setting traps for unsuspecting animals, who quickly learned to avoid the newcomer halfway up the mountain.
When Cen Dianshuang emerged from her meditation, dawn was breaking. She shifted slightly, feeling a weight on her lap. Beside her, curled up against her side, was her sleeping disciple.
The girl who had been playing those strange little tunes had somehow dragged her cushion over and fallen asleep, her posture suggesting she had started sitting up before gradually slumping against Cen Dianshuang, even pulling her sleeve over herself like a blanket.
Tao Ning slept soundly, oblivious. Cen Dianshuang adjusted her position slightly, allowing the girl to lean against her more comfortably, a sigh escaping her lips.
My disciple. What can I do?
On Alchemy Peak, the furnace fires burned day and night.
Xiao Haoran, exhausted after a long day tending the furnaces, dragged himself back to the dormitory, collapsing onto his bed.
The snores of his fellow workers filled the room. Something felt… wrong. Everything felt wrong.
He sat up abruptly, retrieving a well-worn book from his storage ring.
With no sign of Cen Dianshuang, he had resorted to consuming spiritual herbs to guide spiritual energy into his body. But without her assistance, his progress was slow, barely reaching the initial stage of Qi Refining.
He was contemplating his future when he suddenly slammed his fist on the bed. “The Heavenly Book said I’m the protagonist! How can the protagonist be stuck tending furnaces? Shouldn’t I have a harem by now?!”
A disgruntled groan from the next bed, then silence as his roommate rolled over and went back to sleep.
Xiao Haoran rolled his eyes, ignoring him.
He had died falling down the stairs while fleeing his landlord, waking up to the scolding of an old woman. He quickly realized he had transmigrated into a novel.
Good news: he had read the novel.
Bad news: he had only read the beginning, knowing only that the protagonist shared his name.
Someone who couldn’t even afford rent wasn’t likely to pay for premium content. He had been thwarted by the website’s anti-piracy measures, dying before he could find a pirated copy.
But there was even better news. He had found a complete copy of Immortal Path, Demonic Emperor under his pillow, albeit written in archaic language, making it difficult to decipher.
It had taken him a month to decipher the highly condensed text.
He had cursed the heavens for their cruel joke, his limited literary skills barely sufficient for the task.
The novel described his birth, his bloodline reverting to its ancient origins, mistaken by his ignorant father as a sign of infidelity, leading to his mother’s death and his own exile.
That wasn’t important. The important part was that after becoming the disciple of the cold and beautiful Cen Dianshuang, his hidden bloodline would be revealed. Cen Dianshuang, despite her aloof exterior, was fiercely protective of her disciples. She would immediately seek out the necessary ingredients to awaken his bloodline.
He wasn’t a useless five-spiritual root cultivator, but a descendant of the ancient Xuanmang Serpent, a powerful demonic beast.
This meant he was technically a demon. His power would surge, and even the Radiant Realm wouldn’t be able to stop him once his true nature was revealed. The Demonic Realm would be his for the taking.
He had managed to follow the initial plot points, but Cen Dianshuang’s involvement was proving problematic. With his current low status, he couldn’t even approach her.
Desperate, he had sought out Er Lan, wanting to confirm the rumors of Cen Dianshuang taking a disciple.
“Yes, it’s true. Elder Cen has taken a female disciple named Tao Ning. Is there a problem?” Er Lan looked at his hands, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.
His hands… they felt familiar, like the faint trace of demonic energy she had sensed earlier.
She had been about to dismiss this furnace tender, but now… it seemed he had secrets.
Xiao Haoran, oblivious to the meaning behind her smile, felt confident. This was a future member of his harem, after all.
“I have a map to a secret realm, said to contain many rare spiritual herbs. We can explore it together. You protect me, and I’ll share the treasures with you.”
If he couldn’t rely on Cen Dianshuang, he would find another way. He could awaken his bloodline on his own.
The condensed version of Immortal Path, Demonic Emperor omitted many details, like the fact that this “immortal sister” was actually the Demonic Saintess. It only mentioned her assistance and her love for him.
But who was this Tao Ning? Her name wasn’t in the original story. Damn it! A thief! Stealing my destiny!
Er Lan smiled. “A secret realm map?”
The Heavenly Book, tucked away in his storage ring, let out a soft, almost regretful sigh.
It seemed to disapprove of his choice.