Chapter 33: Hometown
The wasteland was showing signs of new life. Luo Nianshang had spent more time experiencing the mortal realm during this period than she had in her entire life.
She took note of every detail, every request, fulfilling them one by one. Determined to set a good example for her disciple, she had decided to investigate the village massacre attributed to the Demon Lord.
However, so much time had passed. A new village had been built, new lives had begun, burying the tragic past beneath layers of time and hope.
Luo Nianshang lowered the brim of her veil, setting the cat and dog down. “Go play,” she said, gently stroking their heads.
They both wore the bells she had given them, making it difficult for them to get lost. It wasn’t healthy for them to be confined to the mountain all the time. They needed to interact with others.
Bai Jingxue rubbed against Luo Nianshang’s palm, while Lü Qingyan dashed off, her tail wagging.
Luo Nianshang, enjoying the cat’s rare display of affection, petted her again. “Go on,” she said.
“Meow.”
Bai Jingxue wasn’t really interested in playing, but this matter involved the Demon Lord. Witnessing the unfolding events might prove useful.
She sauntered away, then leaped onto a rooftop, her movements graceful.
Her vision was unique. She could perceive things invisible to others, the flow of spiritual energy and the lingering traces of resentment taking on tangible forms.
But there was nothing here. This place was clean.
The souls of the villagers who had perished in the massacre had been taken away by the Demon Lord. There would be no evidence here.
Lü Qingyan sniffed the air, her nose twitching, then began to dig at the base of a poplar tree. The small dog created a surprisingly large hole, startling an old woman who had been feeding her chickens.
The old woman blinked, and the dog had vanished into a tunnel. A moment later, Lü Qingyan emerged, covered in dirt, her head poking out from the hole. She dashed off, her short legs carrying her towards Bai Jingxue.
“Jingxue! I found the Demon Lord’s childhood home!”
Bai Jingxue stared at her, her brow furrowed. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice laced with skepticism.
Lü Qingyan nodded eagerly. “Of course! You’re doubting my professional skills.”
She even had the audacity to be smug about it.
A small smile touched Bai Jingxue’s lips. She leaped into the hole. It was dark inside, but they didn’t need light to see.
The tunnel descended vertically. When they reached the bottom, they found themselves before a doorway. Or rather, what had once been a doorway. The wooden door had long since rotted away.
Thankfully, the Demon Lord’s family had been relatively wealthy. The bricks and tiles were of good quality, preserving the structure.
But it didn’t prove anything. The house was filled with dirt. Even if there had been anything inside, it would be buried.
As Bai Jingxue pondered this, Lü Qingyan emerged from the darkness, a jade slip clutched in her teeth. “Look, Jingxue!”
Bai Jingxue stared at the mud-caked dog, then at the jade slip. She sighed, then nudged the slip with her paw.
The male lead in the original story had discovered the truth about the Demon Lord’s past by accidentally uncovering this jade slip. He had been battling an enemy, their clash of powers tearing apart the earth, revealing the slip buried beneath.
The Demon Lord’s family had been kind and generous, well-respected in the village.
Raised with love and compassion, the Demon Lord had treated everyone with kindness. One day, while playing outside, she had encountered a wounded man, covered in blood. She had called for her parents, who had taken him in and nursed him back to health.
But the man had discovered that the Demon Lord possessed a unique constitution, capable of storing potent poisons. Delighted, he had attempted to refine the young girl into a weapon.
His attempt had failed, the poisonous energy leaking out, engulfing the entire village. Only a few children, who had been playing in the cellar, and the Demon Lord, her unique physique protecting her, had survived.
Because the poisonous energy had emanated from the Demon Lord, the cultivators who had arrived had assumed she was responsible for the massacre.
The novel hadn’t elaborated on the aftermath. The backstory had simply been a convenient plot device to further the male lead’s conquests.
The jade slip contained a record of the events, written by the man who had caused the tragedy.
Bai Jingxue sighed. She didn’t understand why the Demon Lord had led Luo Nianshang here.
“Jingxue, let’s take this to Luo Nianshang,” Lü Qingyan said, her voice filled with excitement. She circled the jade slip, her tail wagging. If the Demon Lord and the Sword Saint could reconcile, perhaps it would bring peace to this world.
Bai Jingxue nodded.
Lü Qingyan was about to pick up the jade slip when she paused, her nose twitching. “The Demon Lord is coming,” she said.
A moment later, Bai Jingxue felt the spiritual energy in the area become chaotic, reality itself seeming to distort.
Dirt rained down from the ceiling, a clear sign that they needed to leave.
“Let’s go!” Bai Jingxue hissed.
Lü Qingyan scooped up the cat, tossing her onto her back, then teleported, their bodies vanishing from the narrow tunnel. However, in her haste, she had forgotten the jade slip, leaving it behind to be buried once more.
They reappeared on a tree branch, watching as the ground shook, houses collapsing, the villagers lying unconscious amidst the debris.
Luo Nianshang emerged from a toppled house, a child cradled in her arms. Her gaze met the Demon Lord’s.
“Did you do this?” she asked, her voice cold and accusing.
The Demon Lord, glancing at the child in Luo Nianshang’s arms, surprisingly, didn’t seem angry. “I’m the Demon Lord,” she scoffed. “Why would I bother with such a worthless place?”
She had simply been following Luo Nianshang, curious about her destination. She had stumbled upon a cultivator performing a dark ritual and had intervened, eliminating the threat. She hadn’t expected to be blamed for the ensuing chaos.
This village seemed to attract misfortune. It had been destroyed centuries ago, and now, it was happening again.
Well, without the constraints of the heavens, the lives of mortals meant little to those who possessed power.
And some cultivation techniques, particularly those favored by the unorthodox sects, required human essence.
The Demon Lord flicked her wrist, and a corpse rose from the ground, landing before Luo Nianshang.
“Surely, you recognize this fellow,” she said, her voice laced with amusement.
Luo Nianshang shielded the child’s eyes, then glanced at the corpse.
She didn’t recognize him, but judging by his attire, he was a disciple of the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion, a sect located in the south.
But what was a Heavenly Secrets Pavilion disciple doing here? And why was he performing a dark ritual?
She looked up at the Demon Lord, noticing that her attire had become more conservative. She had always favored revealing red robes, but now, she was dressed in a more modest outfit, her high collar buttoned to the top, resembling a righteous cultivator rather than a demon.
Luo Nianshang realized she had been staring and quickly averted her gaze. She had nothing to say to this demon.
But the Demon Lord wasn’t done with her yet.
She landed gracefully beside Luo Nianshang, her smile seductive. “Why so cold, Immortal One?” she purred. “We’ve shared two rather intimate encounters, haven’t we?”
Luo Nianshang glared at her, her eyes filled with murderous intent, and the Demon Lord wisely fell silent.
But the mention of those encounters only fueled Luo Nianshang’s anger. The secret realm had been an illusion, and so had the flower field.
They had been given new identities, their memories suppressed, forced to play out a preordained script.
She resisted the urge to draw her sword, her voice cold and flat. “They were just illusions,” she said. “Surely, with your cultivation, you could tell the difference.”
The Demon Lord, of course, had known. She had simply wanted to prolong their interaction.
She knew why Luo Nianshang had come here. She had wanted Luo Nianshang to discover the truth, but now, she was afraid. She didn’t want pity. She wanted something else.
With a cracking sound, a house collapsed. The Demon Lord, with a flick of her wrist, sent the debris flying, revealing the unharmed villagers trapped inside.
Seeing Luo Nianshang’s surprised expression, she chuckled. “What?” she asked. “Is there a rule that says demon cultivators can’t save people?”
Lü Qingyan, perched on a tree branch, wanted to jump down and retrieve the jade slip, but Bai Jingxue pinned her tail down with her paw.
The dog, confused, looked at her.
Bai Jingxue, her eyes narrowed, her voice a low warning, said, “This isn’t over yet.”
Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord sensed it too. They exchanged a wary glance, their bodies tense.
The ground shook again, then the entire village split in two, swallowing Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord.
Bai Jingxue, her heart pounding, was about to intervene, but then she paused.
“Jingxue, what do we do?” Lü Qingyan cried, her voice filled with panic.
Bai Jingxue remembered the look in Luo Nianshang’s eyes as she had fallen. There had been no fear, no hesitation. And the Demon Lord had even smiled.
She placed a paw on Lü Qingyan’s head, stopping her frantic pacing. “It’s fine,” she said. “They’re not ordinary cultivators.”
Figures clad in the robes of the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion emerged from the surrounding forest.
“Qingyan, teleport. Get us out of here.”
Lü Qingyan scooped up Bai Jingxue and vanished.
They didn’t flee. They simply relocated to a more concealed location.
They hid in a thicket not far from the village, observing the group of cultivators, their curiosity piqued.
The leader, a man with a thin mustache, a pointed hat, and a fly whisk clutched in his hand, couldn’t contain his glee.
The other disciples, however, were less enthusiastic. They had just attacked the Sword Saint. They were terrified.
One of the younger disciples, his voice trembling, addressed the leader. “Uncle, are you sure the divination was correct?”
The leader, bristling at the question, snapped, “I used a hundred years of my lifespan to perform that divination! Do you think I would be wrong?”
“But Uncle, the Sword Saint has never done anything wrong. How could she have fallen to demonic influence?”
The other disciples murmured in agreement.
The leader glared at them. “Just because she hasn’t fallen yet doesn’t mean she won’t,” he snarled. “What chance will we have once she succumbs to demonic influence?”
“We are following the will of heaven! We are upholding justice! We cannot be blinded by our emotions. As members of the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion, our duty is to heed the whispers of fate!”
He chuckled, his voice laced with malice. “Besides, the Sword Saint wasn’t killed by me alone. There’s no turning back now.”
The disciples paled. They had assumed their uncle was joking, as he often did. But this time, he was serious. And he had succeeded.
Lü Qingyan, her anger growing with each passing moment, wanted to charge out and bite the leader.
Bai Jingxue quickly covered her mouth with her paw, holding her back.
She sensed a demonic aura clinging to the leader, but it wasn’t his own.
Why would a demon cultivator target the Demon Lord?
Bai Jingxue couldn’t understand.
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