Chapter 93: The Slow Climb
When Bai Jingxue returned to the Ejian Sect, Luo Nianshang was absent, so she went to the library to research. Whether in her past life or this one, reading had always been one of her interests. Thanks to her increased cultivation, she could now access the top two floors.
Fu Yuan accompanied her, watching as Bai Jingxue ascended to the floors she had never been able to reach. She only snapped out of her daze when Bai Jingxue disappeared around the corner.
She slumped onto a chair, disheartened. She couldn’t believe that the cat and dog had only been gone for a month, yet their cultivation had already jumped an entire level.
Feeling a pang of inadequacy, she rested her head on the table, unable to focus on the book she had chosen.
“Sister Fu Yuan, what’s wrong?”
She recognized Lü Qingyan’s voice and mumbled, without looking up, “Nothing.”
A moment later, she added, “I feel like my cultivation is too slow.”
Lü Qingyan settled beside her, picking up a random book and pretending to read. Bai Jingxue preferred to be alone when she was reading or thinking, so Lü Qingyan hadn’t followed her.
Waiting alone was boring, so she had sought out Fu Yuan, hoping to distract herself, but it seemed Fu Yuan was in a bad mood.
The library was quiet. They were on the first floor. An elder sat at a small desk near the entrance, his job to check the identity tokens of the entering disciples. It was a boring task. He only looked up when someone entered.
Everyone here had a role, a purpose. Lü Qingyan sometimes felt like she didn’t belong.
But she quickly dismissed the thought, her usual optimism returning.
She nudged Fu Yuan, wanting to play the role of a therapist. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, her voice cheerful. “Cultivation takes time. Maybe you’ll have a lucky encounter and suddenly reach a higher level.”
Fu Yuan smiled wryly. She sat up straight, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. “You’re not talking about yourself, are you?”
“Even if I was, it would also apply to you.”
Lü Qingyan wanted to say more, but then she remembered Fu Yuan’s fate in the original story.
She was a natural cauldron, her cultivation method… Lü Qingyan shuddered, pushing those thoughts away. She didn’t want to think about the original story.
Thankfully, none of the male lead’s future concubines had been corrupted yet.
Speaking of which, she hadn’t contacted the Demon Lord in a while.
She felt a pang of guilt. She had been enjoying herself, completely forgetting about the Demon Lord.
The Demon Lord was currently disguised as Hong Ying. “Where’s Senior Sister Hong Ying?” she asked Fu Yuan.
Fu Yuan, her mood seemingly improved, had opened her book and was reading quietly. Lü Qingyan noticed the unblemished rose mark on the back of her neck.
She suddenly felt reluctant to disturb this peaceful scene. She quietly stood up, placing the book back on the shelf.
She decided to check on Hong Ying. She left the library, heading towards Hong Ying’s room.
He Rong and Jwan Jwan were the only ones left in the courtyard. They were digging a hole. Seeing the oiled paper package beside the mound of dirt, Lü Qingyan’s lips twitched.
She had once tried to dig a tunnel to bypass the Ejian Sect’s protective formation, only to get stuck at the entrance because of a roasted chicken. If the Demon Lord hadn’t arrived, the consequences would have been dire.
She would never crave roasted chicken again.
She had only been gone for a month, yet He Rong had already grown into a young woman. Jwan Jwan, however, hadn’t changed.
She suspected they were wasting food again, but there was no aroma. The oiled paper package seemed to contain a dead chicken.
Jwan Jwan, noticing Lü Qingyan, greeted her shyly. “Sister Qingyan.”
He Rong turned, her eyes red-rimmed, tears streaming down her face. She was a far cry from her usual cheerful self. “Sister Qingyan,” she sobbed.
Who could possibly make the fearless He Rong cry?
Lü Qingyan was both surprised and curious, but seeing He Rong’s distress, she suppressed her curiosity, acting like a responsible adult.
She wiped away He Rong’s tears, her voice laced with concern and a hint of anger. “Who bullied you?” she asked. “Tell me, and I’ll teach them a lesson.”
Her increased cultivation had revived her sense of chivalry.
He Rong, finding an outlet for her emotions, burst into tears, her words choked with sobs. “Sister Qingyan, my chick died.”
“I wanted to plant it and grow a new one, but it didn’t work,” she continued. “It worked before.”
“Can Sister Jingxue help me?”
It had worked because Bai Jingxue had been there. But resurrection came at a price. The memory of Bai Jingxue clutching her own throat, her body struggling against an invisible force, was still fresh in Lü Qingyan’s mind.
She couldn’t let that happen again. She turned serious, her hands resting on He Rong’s shoulders. “Life is precious,” she said. “You can’t play with it like that. And resurrection comes at a price. Your Sister Jingxue might even die.”
Although He Rong looked like a young woman, her mind was still that of a child. She couldn’t understand such complex concepts. And she wasn’t close to Bai Jingxue. She pouted, her eyes welling up again.
“He Rong, let it go,” Jwan Jwan said, her voice gentle. “Sister Qingyan is right.”
He Rong, her eyes widening in disbelief, stared at Jwan Jwan, her voice trembling with betrayal. “You’re not going to help me either?”
Jwan Jwan sighed. “Just bury it,” she said. “We can get a new one.”
He Rong refused, her body shaking with sobs. She was about to throw herself onto the ground, her tantrum imminent, when Jwan Jwan transformed.
She was a beautiful, multicolored bird, her feathers vibrant, her tail long and flowing, its color a fiery red.
“If you really want a pet,” she said, her voice still Jwan Jwan’s, “you can keep me.”
He Rong, seeing Jwan Jwan’s true form for the first time, her tears forgotten, her mood instantly shifting, scooped Jwan Jwan up, her voice filled with delight. “You’re so beautiful, Jwan Jwan!” she exclaimed. “I don’t want a pet anymore. I want to keep you!”
She then abandoned the dead chick, carrying Jwan Jwan back to their room.
Lü Qingyan, watching this exchange, was speechless.
She worried that Jwan Jwan wouldn’t survive He Rong’s care, but she also found this situation rather amusing.
She glanced at the small hole in the ground, then, remembering her initial purpose, she buried the dead chick, then headed towards Hong Ying’s room.
But to her surprise, the room was protected by a barrier.
She sniffed the air, recognizing the Demon Lord’s scent. “Are you in there?” she called out.
There was no response. She tried again, but still, silence.
Her face paled. Had the Demon Lord’s identity been exposed? Had Luo Nianshang imprisoned her? She was about to use her spatial ability to enter the room.
She took a few steps back, avoiding the barrier.
Just as she was about to teleport, a hand grabbed her arm, stopping her. She couldn’t move, but her keen sense of smell told her who it was.
She stared at the locked room, then at the child in Luo Nianshang’s arms, who possessed the same scent as the Demon Lord.
Her gaze darted back and forth between them, then she suddenly remembered the Domineering Sword Saint novel. The Demon Lord’s current situation mirrored that of the “runaway bride.”
The Demon Lord was the bride? No way.
She had wanted to turn the Demon Lord and Luo Nianshang into friends, but she had never imagined them becoming lovers.
Her expression shifted rapidly, finally settling on a delighted grin.
She hadn’t even had to intervene. They had gotten together on their own. This was even better.
Bai Jingxue, assuming Lü Qingyan’s joy was due to her return, felt a surge of happiness.
Her voice softened as she introduced the Demon Lord to Lü Qingyan. “This is Cai Lian,” she said. “She’ll be my disciple too.”
She then waved a hand, dispelling the barrier, and they entered the room to find Hong Ying meditating on the bed.
She was so deeply immersed in her cultivation that she hadn’t even noticed their arrival.
Luo Nianshang, pleased by her disciple’s diligence, turned to her new disciple, her voice filled with a gentle pride. “This is your eldest sister,” she said. “You should learn from her and cultivate diligently.”
The Demon Lord, disguised as Cai Lian, nodded obediently, then mentally rolled her eyes.
But seeing her own body double, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety. She shared a mental connection with her body double. She was afraid she might accidentally say something as Hong Ying that Cai Lian would say.
She hoped this would be her last disguise. Any more, and she would start to worry about her own sanity.
Luo Nianshang, seeing that she seemed to understand, led her away, taking her to meet her other two disciples.
Fu Ren seemed a bit… slow, so Luo Nianshang had assigned her to share a room with Xiao Xia, hoping Xiao Xia would look after her.
They weren’t cultivating. Luo Nianshang instructed them to introduce themselves.
This was a problem for the Demon Lord. She didn’t dare to control her puppets, and even if she could, she had forgotten their names.
Thankfully, her puppets could still respond to simple commands.
She greeted them, her voice hesitant. “Hello, Senior Sisters. My name is Cai Lian.”
The two puppets nodded in unison, their smiles identical, their movements synchronized.
“Hello, Junior Sister,” they said together.
Neither of them had mentioned their names. Luo Nianshang, her brow furrowing, said, “Your names.”
The puppets tilted their heads, their expressions troubled, then said, “We don’t remember.”
The Demon Lord felt a cold sweat forming on her brow. She was afraid Luo Nianshang would see through her disguise. She glanced at Luo Nianshang, but her expression was unreadable. Her anxiety intensified.
Luo Nianshang, however, was internally panicking. “Is stupidity contagious?” she wondered.
She turned to the Demon Lord, her voice gentle. “Your sisters are a bit slow,” she said. “Please be patient with them.”
The Demon Lord, relieved, nodded obediently. “I understand, Master.”
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