Chapter 28: Nightmare
Fu Yuan looked exhausted, her face pale, her eyes shadowed with fatigue. Despite this, her gentle demeanor remained unchanged.
Bai Jingxue leaped, her paw extending to tap a book on a high shelf.
Fu Yuan, understanding her intention, retrieved the book, glancing at the title before placing it on the table for the cat.
“The Path of Emotionlessness?” she asked, a soft smile curving her lips. “That’s not a path I would recommend.”
Bai Jingxue tilted her head. “Meow?”
Lü Qingyan’s grasp of the written language in this world was still tenuous, but she understood Fu Yuan’s words. The moment she heard the phrase “Path of Emotionlessness,” she let out a mournful howl.
Her cries drew stares from the other disciples in the library. Fu Yuan, feeling the pressure of their gazes, quickly covered Lü Qingyan’s mouth with her hand.
Lü Qingyan glared at Bai Jingxue, her eyes filled with betrayal. Bai Jingxue felt a shiver run down her spine, as if she were being haunted by a vengeful ghost.
She opened the book, her gaze falling upon a line of small characters inscribed on the first page: “This path requires the sacrifice of a loved one. Enter the world of emotions, then sever all ties.”
Bai Jingxue glanced at the whimpering dog, then promptly closed the book.
Fu Yuan, sensing her lack of interest, released the dog and returned the book to its shelf.
While Fu Yuan was still here, Bai Jingxue needed to take advantage of this free labor. She was a creature of habit, and she didn’t want to resort to begging every disciple she encountered.
She couldn’t shake off the memory of her encounter with the dragon princess in the dream. The dragon’s name was Ying, a name given to her by her mother.
The Dragon King had countless children. Ying, small and frail as a child, had been easily overlooked amidst her larger, more robust siblings. The Dragon King hadn’t even remembered her existence.
But a member of the male lead’s harem could never be ordinary. It had eventually been revealed that Ying possessed the purest bloodline of her generation.
This information had been mentioned in the novel, but Bai Jingxue was more interested in the significance of dragon scales and the process of inheriting the position of Dragon King.
She searched the section dedicated to demon beasts, finally tapping a book on the bottom shelf with her paw.
Fu Yuan retrieved the book, then frowned. She glanced at the back cover, her voice laced with disapproval. “This book is over two thousand years old,” she said. “Why hasn’t it been archived?”
She patted Bai Jingxue’s head. “It’s fine to read about cultivation techniques, but for customs and traditions, it’s best to refer to the latest editions.”
Bai Jingxue narrowed her eyes. This cultivation world was surprisingly advanced.
Fu Yuan took the outdated book to the Elder in charge of this floor, and Bai Jingxue patiently observed their conversation.
Lü Qingyan soon joined her. “Jingxue, what are you reading about now?”
If Bai Jingxue ignored her, she would just keep asking. To avoid further annoyance, Bai Jingxue replied, “Dragons.”
Lü Qingyan mirrored Bai Jingxue’s posture, her tail wagging happily. “Oh?”
A few minutes later, Fu Yuan returned with a new book, placing it on the table. “Come here, Little White,” she said.
Bai Jingxue leaped onto the table, her paws carefully flipping through the pages.
Lü Qingyan, remembering the consequences of interrupting Bai Jingxue’s reading sessions, didn’t dare to disturb her. But she couldn’t find anyone to talk to, so she resorted to rolling around on the floor.
Fu Yuan, seeing this, scooped her up. Lü Qingyan’s fur was long and tangled. Luo Nianshang, who barely took care of herself, wouldn’t bother to brush a dog’s fur.
And Lü Qingyan, always full of energy, had a tendency to get her fur tangled.
Fu Yuan retrieved a comb from her storage pouch. The peachwood comb emitted a faint, pleasant aroma as she gently worked through the tangles.
Lü Qingyan, enjoying the sensation, settled down, her soft snores filling the air.
“Fu Yuan, you’re a natural mother!” she thought.
Fu Yuan, oblivious to her unintentional foray into motherhood, finished brushing the dog’s fur, then retrieved a hair tie adorned with a small bone charm from her storage pouch.
She smiled, watching the sleeping dog.
Bai Jingxue, however, was completely engrossed in her reading.
Offering a dragon scale was indeed a gesture of affection, but it was an outdated tradition, a relic of a bygone era.
Modern dragons, when faced with the object of their affection, wouldn’t dream of offering a mere scale. They considered it a paltry, unromantic gesture.
Instead, they had adopted a more extreme approach. They offered their inner cores.
Bai Jingxue stared at the passage, her brain feeling like it was melting.
She rubbed her eyes, reread the passage, and wondered if her literacy skills were failing her.
But considering the absurdity of the novel, she had probably read it correctly.
She clicked her tongue in disapproval. “How childish,” she muttered.
She still hadn’t found the information she was looking for, so she continued reading.
And once again, she was speechless.
The process of inheriting the position of Dragon King was apparently a simple matter of killing the previous one.
So Ying had been implying that she was planning to kill her father.
Bai Jingxue felt a cold sweat break out on her brow. She closed the book, her paws trembling. She needed to go back to Luo Nianshang’s chamber and sleep. She needed to recover from this emotional rollercoaster.
But when she turned to call Lü Qingyan, her face contorted in horror.
The dog had a high ponytail, adorned with small pink flowers. Her ears were decorated with matching flowers. That was adorable. But the bright red blush on her cheeks and the crimson lipstick on her mouth were horrifying.
Fu Yuan, seeing Bai Jingxue’s wide-eyed stare, coughed awkwardly. “The red on her cheeks is just juice from a fruit,” she explained. “It’s not poisonous. And the lipstick is made from the same fruit.”
Bai Jingxue wasn’t worried about that. Lü Qingyan had a human’s mind, and she trusted Fu Yuan wouldn’t do anything harmful just for fun.
She simply found the sight rather jarring. But the more she looked, the less offensive it became.
Something was wrong. She closed her eyes, then opened them again.
Why did Lü Qingyan look… good?
Lü Qingyan, lost in a peaceful slumber, let out a soft snore.
Bai Jingxue shook her head, a wave of panic washing over her. She must be suffering from eye fatigue after all that reading.
As they walked back to Luo Nianshang’s chamber, Bai Jingxue trailed behind, her head drooping, her energy depleted.
The snow continued to fall. Lü Qingyan loved following Bai Jingxue’s tracks, but she felt a strange sensation on her head. “Why does my head feel tight?” she wondered. “Am I growing a brain?”
She ran ahead of Bai Jingxue. “Jingxue, is there something on my head?”
Bai Jingxue, her gaze drawn to Lü Qingyan’s “enhanced” features, couldn’t believe it. She was clearly losing her mind.
She covered her eyes with her paws, chanting, “I can’t see it. I can’t see it.”
Lü Qingyan, confused, pulled her paws away, her voice concerned. “What’s wrong, Jingxue? Are you feeling unwell?”
Bai Jingxue’s legs buckled, and she sank onto the snow, letting out a weary sigh. “Let’s just go back,” she said.
“Okay, let’s hurry.”
When they returned to the chamber, Luo Nianshang was feeding the “sick” Demon Lord her medicine. But the moment Lü Qingyan entered, everything froze.
Bai Jingxue, ignoring the drama, retreated to her bed, ready for a nap.
Lü Qingyan, suddenly the center of attention, was bewildered. She edged closer to Bai Jingxue, her voice hushed. “Why are they staring at me?”
“…Maybe because you look good.”
Lü Qingyan’s eyes lit up. “Really?” she asked, her tail wagging. “Well, it’s to be expected. I was the most beautiful girl in school.”
But you’re not even human in this life.
Bai Jingxue kept her thoughts to herself. She truly needed a nap. She hoped the world would return to normal when she woke up.
The Demon Lord was the first to break the silence, her laughter echoing through the chamber. “Who did this?”
Luo Nianshang shook her head. “I have no idea,” she said. “But she’s certainly cleaner than usual.”
She realized she had been holding the spoon in midair for a while. She brought it to her disciple’s lips. “Here, drink this before it gets cold.”
The Demon Lord’s face scrunched up. Faking an illness had its perks, but the bitter medicine was truly awful. She looked up at Luo Nianshang with pleading eyes.
But the Sword Saint, her heart unmoved, remained firm.
The Demon Lord sighed and drank the medicine, her stomach churning. She plotted her revenge.
She would find a way to make Luo Nianshang taste this bitterness.
But then, she hesitated. Only those who were injured needed medicine.
She pouted, her thoughts softening. “Fine, I’ll just wish for her to remain healthy.”
After a moment of internal debate, she turned her attention to the dog, who was bouncing around the chamber, her tail wagging happily.
Luo Nianshang, having finished feeding her disciple, resumed her practice session, this time using firewood instead of cutting boards. It was good practice for controlling her strength, and it was a more practical use of her energy.
The scent of burning wood filled the air, a welcome change from the usual chaos.
Fu Yuan, carrying the infant, arrived to find Luo Nianshang chopping firewood. She shook her head, a small smile curving her lips.
Luo Nianshang, seeing her, set aside her ax and offered Fu Yuan the use of the makeshift kitchen. But when she saw the child in Fu Yuan’s arms, she hesitated.
The infant, well cared for by Fu Yuan, was a chubby, rosy-cheeked bundle of joy, its head occasionally twitching as it slept.
Perhaps due to its demon heritage, its hair was longer than that of other children its age. Fu Yuan, in a moment of amusement, had tied the child’s hair into a high ponytail, mimicking Lü Qingyan’s hairstyle.
Luo Nianshang suddenly understood.
She wanted to say something, but words failed her. She simply moved to a different spot and resumed her wood-chopping duties.
Bai Jingxue, curled up in her bed, began to have a nightmare.
She dreamed of countless dogs with bright red lips and feathery wings, circling her, their voices echoing in her ears.
“Jingxue, don’t I look pretty?”
“Jingxue, look at me!”
Bai Jingxue covered her head with her paws, her ears flattened against her skull, then fainted.
Lü Qingyan, seeing the cat trembling in her sleep, edged closer, wanting to comfort her.
But the moment she did, Bai Jingxue began to tremble even more violently…
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