Little Demon Cultivator, Do You Have a Lot of Questions?
There is a saying: “Time passes swiftly, casting people aside; cherries redden, and plantains turn green.”
Another goes: “The years hasten one toward old age.”
But in the cultivation world, when time casts someone aside, it can at most toss them three or five steps away. As for the years urging one toward old age, there would be no visible sign of it on the surface—even if one wasn’t careful, a person’s lifetime could end up longer than “the years” themselves.
One of the advantages of being a cultivator was that one rarely suffered from an age crisis, nor would one be pressured into marriage or having children—unless there was an imperial throne in the family waiting to be inherited. And if all else failed, the throne could always be passed on to an adopted child or a disciple.
Aside from the years immediately before one’s lifespan ran out, a cultivator could maintain their appearance in its ideal state for as long as they pleased. Three-hundred-year-old graceful immortals and five-hundred-year-old handsome immortal lords could be grabbed by the handful.
Against such a backdrop, cultivators gradually developed a hazy concept of “time.”
Close your eyes, open them again, and a mortal’s entire lifetime has passed.
Of course, three thousand years was still rather a long time… But a mere decade or two, in the eyes of old birds in the cultivation world, usually felt as though it had happened only yesterday.
For example, for Shi Xiaolou—who spent every day “sleeping among flowers and reclining beside willows” (in this phrase, “flowers” and “willows” both referred to plants)—his reunion with Shu Fu was merely something that happened after a single grand dream.
—So, what had he seen in that dream?
The year he met Shu Fu and Jiang Xuesheng, Shi Xiaolou’s identity was exposed, and his carefree days came to an end.
If not for the peaceful relationship between the Tianyan Sect and the Jiuhua Sect, with neither interfering in the affairs of the other, he often suspected that Jiang Xuesheng would have stormed into the Tianyan Sect, dragged him down from his bamboo couch amid the flowers, pinned him to the ground, and fucked him violently until he tearfully admitted his mistake.
That same year, Jiang Xuesheng sent him a sample of bloody flesh that reeked to high heaven. The moment it was opened, it caused an entire patch of flowers to wither, prompting Shi Xiaolou to lament repeatedly, “Dragon Lord, you really do hate me.”
He soon discovered, however, that the flesh contained a unique kind of gu worm.
After comparing it with the Tianyan Sect’s thousand-year-old stockpile, they confirmed it was a Soul-Seizing Gu. This was a sinister and dangerous gu worm. At first, it brought its host tremendous pain, forcing them to obey the person who had planted it. After residing in the host for a long time, it would gradually devour their consciousness until they became puppets devoid of any sense of self.
The Soul-Seizing Gu was extremely powerful, but difficult to put to use.
For one thing, it acted slowly, so the moment it was discovered, the game was over. For another, it was difficult for it to establish itself in a host. The host had to remain in close contact with the gu worm day and night for a long time before the parasitic process could be completed.
As a result, the spirit pets of the Fengyi Sect became the perfect delivery service.
Now, exactly how many Soul-Seizing Gu were there in the cultivation world? And how many people had already fallen under their control?
No one knew.
The Fengyi Sect was truly a worthless, bargain-bin sect—sloppy and inept. If they hadn’t become smug after achieving a little power and flaunted themselves so shamelessly, they probably would have struggled to attract Jiang Xuesheng’s attention.
Discovering them in time could be considered a blessing in disguise.
Beneath the calm surface of the water, a cultivation-world-wide pest-control operation was proceeding at full speed.
Before long, the investigation on Lingxiao City’s side produced results.
Ling Xiyue harbored a small, secret hope and covertly wrote a letter to inform Shu Fu:
Among Ling Fengqing’s former trusted aides, they had discovered traces indicating that some of them had been controlled by Soul-Seizing Gu.
Ling Fengqing was unquestionably a purebred scumbag, but first, he had conspired with Third Master Qi of Qingcheng and slaughtered countless people. Later, he had allied himself with demon cultivators and attacked Yao and Wei Cities. These puppets had all actively offered advice and strategies, so there was reason to suspect that they had another scheme in mind.
As for what that “scheme” was, Ling Xiyue stated that he would continue investigating. After all, demon cultivators were his enemies as well, and he hoped to maintain a cooperative relationship with Shu Fu… and so on.
—However, because Shu Fu was in seclusion, the letter fell into Jiang Xuesheng’s hands.
If Ling Xiyue found out, he might become so furious that he would slash a white snake to vent his anger.
What was even more infuriating was that after receiving the letter, Jiang Xuesheng neither destroyed it nor opened it. Instead, he calmly went to the place where Shu Fu was in seclusion and personally placed the letter outside the door.
In Jiang Xuesheng’s eyes, the only true “third parties” between him and Shu Fu were furry animals.
Ling Xiyue couldn’t even transform into a bird. What did he amount to?
As for the demon cultivators’ scheme, Jiang Xuesheng had considered it as well, and he shared his thoughts with Shi Xiaolou.
The Hidden Wood Forest in the Southern Province, Yao and Wei in the Central Province, and the Fengyi Sect in the Eastern Province.
These three locations were scattered across the five provinces. Viewed separately, none of them seemed particularly unusual. But if they were connected, one would discover that all three happened to be crucial points through which the earth’s ley lines flowed.
The terrain of the Hidden Wood Forest was unusual, and yin energy had accumulated there in layers. That was why Tian Xin had been able to become a ghost cultivator. Yao and Wei Cities had once been territories of the dragon clan, and Jiang Xuesheng’s “Guardian Heart Scale” had fallen there. As for Thousand Autumn Peak, where the Fengyi Sect was located, although it was not some sacred mountain or blessed land, it was still one of the more spiritually abundant mountain ranges in the Eastern Province. The better locations were all under the control of the Qiongzhi Jade Rabbit clan and were forbidden zones where no living person was allowed to enter.
—Could all of this truly be nothing more than coincidence?
Again, no one knew.
Over the years, Shu Fu devoted himself to leveling up, while the other disciples of Yaoguang Peak took turns venturing out under Jiang Xuesheng’s arrangements to investigate the Demon Realm and search for the whereabouts of the fenghuang and the yaoque.
Because the yaoque had vanished so completely, Jiang Xuesheng occasionally wondered:
Could it be that Zhong Bukui’s personality was simply too terrible, and his taste too devastatingly bad, that he couldn’t find a girlfriend? Had the yaoque already gone extinct?
They had searched through nearly a thousand demon cultivators surnamed Zhong—if not a thousand, then at least eight hundred. Yet even with the most discerning Shi Xiaolou conducting the examination, not one of them carried the slightest trace of yaoque aura.
Quite a few of them even claimed to be without parents, saying they had been adopted by some passing great demon and had no idea what their surname was.
Of course, Jiang Xuesheng had another theory. It was so bizarre that he had never voiced it aloud.
Compared with that, the investigation into the Demon Realm had made at least a little progress.
The Demon Realm was filled with deadly dangers. Aside from great experts at the Nascent Soul stage or above, anyone who entered it faced the risk of dying before they could accomplish anything. In the past, hot-blooded young disciples had ventured inside, only to return as two or three dozen scattered pieces.
A newborn calf fears no tiger. Tomorrow, it becomes dried beef.
The cunning and brutality of the demon cultivators could be seen from this alone.
Therefore, whenever Yaoguang Peak infiltrated the Demon Realm, at least two of Jiang Xuesheng, Liu Ruyi, and Wu Yao—who had been dragged into working overtime—would be present.
This combination had one drawback: they often hurt one another, and the communication process was roughly equivalent to “Favorability -1 -1 -1” and “Rage +1 +1 +1.” At least, however, it guaranteed their safety. They would not die somewhere other than at the hands of their own people.
During Shu Fu’s seclusion, news from the outside world reached him bit by bit.
For example, the Ziwei Immortal Assembly was about to begin. Any cultivator below the Nascent Soul stage was welcome to register, with the sole exception of demon cultivators. This kicked off a wave of exam fever throughout the cultivation world, and Senior Brother Qi Yexin’s new study guide, Fifty Years of Cultivation, Thirty Years of Mock Exams (that was not its actual title), became a bestseller for a time.
For example, Ye Shusheng had made great progress at Thousand-Lamp Temple and was deeply beloved by the masters there. The abbot of Thousand-Lamp Temple believed that he possessed a profound affinity with Buddhism and had even tried, at one point, to persuade him to shave his head and become a monk, so that they could be a pair of shiny, gleaming baldies together.
But Ye Shusheng merely said that his “mortal ties remained unsevered.” After achieving a modest level of cultivation, he bade farewell to the abbot and drifted away.
The abbot asked, “What mortal tie?”
Ye Shusheng replied, “A fox comes creeping by the riverbank. My heart is heavy with sorrow—for the one I love has no clothes.”
For instance, Demon Lord Ninglu had become a lone and helpless figure. With no other choice, she decided to feign allegiance to the Cringey Demon Lord, Nan Gongming, and take him down from within, replacing him as ruler.
Unfortunately, Nan Gongming had spent his entire life enamored with pure, innocent little white flowers. He had absolutely no appreciation for the charms of a mature, commanding woman. He had told hundreds of young women that they were “interesting women.” But when it came to Ninglu, he merely said, “Women shouldn’t become Demon Lords. Once a woman becomes a Demon Lord, she’s no longer a woman.”
Ninglu: “……”
If she hadn’t been unable to beat him, she would have killed him long ago.
If they hadn’t been from different dimensions, Ximen Chuixue would have killed him too.
Then there was He Xiuwen, whose commercial empire beyond the Demon Realm had collapsed by eighty percent. He had no choice but to slink back to his hometown in disgrace.
Yet this “hometown” was hardly a happy place. The moment he arrived, several bigwigs, including Zhao Jiuge, took turns coming to his door to demand their cut. Protection fees flowed out like water, and the land he owned was scraped bare to a depth of three feet. From a distance, it looked like a pit. Up close, it turned out to be an especially deep pit.
Thus, when the black market reopened in the Demon Realm, He Xiuwen—having lost everything—saw red. He became even more ruthless in squeezing the people dry, provoking widespread resentment.
When Heaven wishes to destroy a man, it first drives him mad.
……
……
Many years later—
“……”
“…Huh?”
Ji Xiaobei opened her eyes and found herself in a dimly lit hall, packed tightly together with many people—or, more precisely, many women. Their meridians were blocked, leaving them unable to move.
They were like fish hauled up in a huge net, all rolling their eyes in identical fashion as they waited to be delivered to the dining tables of households across the land.
“I… What is this…?”
She roused her sluggish mind and tried desperately to recall what had happened before she lost consciousness.
The Ji family was a cultivation clan with a respectable heritage. Generation after generation, its descendants had entered the Tianyan Sect to cultivate. This generation had produced Ji Shaoguang, a genius artifact refiner who had inherited Shi Xiaolou’s true teachings, making all the others seem dull by comparison.
Ji Xiaobei was Ji Shaoguang’s younger cousin. Young and competitive, she possessed the stubborn determination to accept no defeat. In order to surpass her elder cousin, she had taken the risk of traveling alone to Northern Province in search of materials. The region bordered the Demon Realm and was frequently harassed by demonic cultivators, so few cultivators dared to venture there.
Ji Xiaobei had considered herself fairly cautious. She had carried with her a “demon-sensing disk” of her own making, which could indicate the presence of demonic aura and help her avoid danger in time.
But she had never expected that a cultivator without the slightest trace of demonic aura would willingly serve as a demonic cultivator’s lackey—pretending to be injured and helpless to lure her into offering aid, then taking the opportunity to ambush her.
Now, that young male cultivator was bowing and scraping before a demonic cultivator, his back curved like a shrimp. Whenever he smiled, ingratiating wrinkles squeezed across his face.
“My lord, take a look. These are all female cultivators from prominent orthodox sects, and they’re young too. They’ll be much more exciting to play with than mortal women. Given their quality, they ought to fetch a good price on the market. The big shots up top will like them too.”
“Excellent, excellent.”
The demonic cultivator stroked a tiny mustache, nodding approvingly. “Yao Jian, if not for you, we wouldn’t have managed to get such fine merchandise this time. You really are from the orthodox path—whenever you make a haul, you bring in the best.”
The young man—formerly the son of the City Lord of Yao City—smiled obsequiously.
“You jest, my lord. My father is cold and heartless. Just because I was friends with the eldest young master of Lingxiao City, he cast me out and left me to fend for myself. In my opinion, he was simply playing favorites with my younger sister, Yao Huang, and deliberately treating me harshly to clear the way for her.”
He clenched his fists, brimming with righteous indignation. “I’ve seen through it all. There isn’t a single decent person among those so-called orthodox sects!”
“Well said.”
The demonic cultivator applauded him. “Young Master Yao, what you’ve done is called ‘abandoning the darkness and embracing the light.’ As long as you work hard, the Demon Lord won’t mistreat you.”
With that, the demonic cultivator turned back and carefully inspected the female cultivators who had fallen into his trap.
His greedy gaze crawled over their faces like slugs, wet and sticky.
“Beautiful. Truly beautiful. Only those sanctimonious ‘orthodox’ sects can raise women with such an aura of purity. I do like…”
“Don’t touch me!”
One of the female cultivators shouted fiercely, “You despicable, shameless, filthy scum! You’d better kill me right now, or I swear I’ll tear you to pieces!”
The demonic cultivator let out a strange laugh and shook his head. “You’re too old. I don’t like women like you. Let me see…”
His gaze swept across the crowd. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. He grabbed Ji Xiaobei by the hair and dragged her out.
“Good, you’ll do. I like them young—the younger, the better. They make such lovely sounds when they cry.”
Ji Xiaobei had never encountered anything like this before. She burst into tears on the spot, struggling and screaming, “W-what are you doing?! Help! Let me go! I’m warning you, I’m from the Ji family—”
“I don’t care whose family you’re from.”
The demonic cultivator struck her across the face and hurled her to the floor.
“Once you enter the black market, you’re our merchandise! We’ve sold princes and imperial descendants before. If you’ve got the ability, send a message to your family in a dream and have them come avenge you!”
“You—you… Don’t come any closer. Don’t come any closer…”
Ji Xiaobei sobbed helplessly, tears streaming down her face. “I was wrong. Please, let me go…”
Her pitiful, delicate appearance greatly pleased the demonic cultivator. A wicked flame surged in his chest, and drool nearly dripped from the corners of his mouth. He reached for her collar.
“Don’t worry. As long as you serve me properly, I promise I’ll treat you well…”
Suddenly, a breeze swept through the mountain forest.
Of course, that breeze could not reach inside the room. It merely sent the clouds drifting across the sky, allowing the faint morning light to shine through the window lattice. Like a golden thread passing through the dust dancing in the air, it cast bright patches of light across the floor.
The demonic cultivator hated that light. He glanced at it once and turned away, preparing to continue—
Then he realized that his hand was gone.
His hand was gone.
Literally gone.
Where his right hand had been, there was now only a smooth cross-section. Blood spurted three feet into the air like a fountain, blooming into a brilliant red flower.
It took him a long while to realize, in terror, that a sword ray had mingled with the beam of sunlight that had just fallen into the room.
The sword ray was cold, yet it had merged flawlessly with the warmth of the morning sun, like seeing the first light of dawn amid a frozen wasteland.
“Who’s there—?!”
The demonic cultivator gripped his weapon with his remaining left hand. But in the next instant, someone slapped him hard, sending him flying backward and smashing into the wall.
…No, wait. Was that even a person?
What kind of person could have such a huge palm and such terrifying strength?
“You… are…”
Half his face had been smashed beyond recognition. He struggled to open his eyes, clogged with blood, and looked up.
Standing before him like an iron tower, the creature that had sent him flying with a single slap was not a human being.
It was a giant panda.
A giant panda.
A panda.
A cat.
The demonic cultivator: “??????”
Just then, a clear, crystalline female voice rang in his ears, carrying a hint of leisurely amusement—like jade pendants chiming together, like bells tinkling in the wind.
“Little demon cultivator, do you have a lot of questions?”
Following the sound, he saw a slender, tall figure sitting sideways on another enormous black shape, drifting slowly toward him against the light.
Only when she drew close did he realize that the black shape was another panda. The figure, meanwhile, was a slim female cultivator dressed in red and white. A long sword hung at her waist, and she held a red paper umbrella in one hand. A white robe lay beneath a brilliant-red cloak, whose edges were trimmed with a dense band of snowy-white fur. She looked rather like Zhaojun from the Pass in a portrait of an ancient beauty.
The female cultivator’s face was every bit as beautiful as Zhaojun’s—like a fine jade flower or celestial grass. She had distant-mountain brows and eyes clear as rippling water, with exquisite features and an elegant bearing. Her beauty burst into view, dazzling to behold, like a camellia blooming defiantly beneath the bitter north wind and icy snow.
It was early spring, when the chill still lingered in the air. The snow had yet to melt, though a few scattered flowers had already begun to bloom. As the female cultivator traveled along, red and white petals gathered on the surface of her umbrella, forming a uniquely beautiful brocade. Their colors reflected her radiant face, making her even more dazzling and difficult to look at directly.
“This was my first time drawing an invisibility talisman. It worked even better than I expected.”
She smiled sweetly.
“You didn’t notice me until your hand was severed, did you?”
“You… who are you…”
The demon cultivator could not see through her cultivation level, and his heart filled with alarm. Seeing this, Yao Jian and the others immediately swarmed forward, surrounding the audacious female cultivator who had ventured into their midst alone.
“You have quite a lot of nerve, coming here by yourself. My lord, allow me to lead the attack—”
After spending all these years throwing in his lot with the demon cultivator, Yao Jian had become a thoroughly seasoned lackey, and the usual bluster came easily to him. But then he realized that the woman before him looked strangely familiar.
“Wait a moment. You’re…”
He remembered this female cultivator, but she did not remember him.
After all, he had only been beaten by her once. The number of people she had beaten, however, was simply too great to count.
She did not spare him so much as a glance. With a turn of the paper umbrella, she sent the snow-like petals swirling into the air. Then—
Every petal transformed into a blade, embedding itself in the demon cultivator’s throat before it could drift away on the wind.
Only after Yao Jian fell to the ground and breathed his last did the female cultivator belatedly realize he had been there. She lightly touched a fingertip to her lips and pondered.
“I feel like I’ve seen this person before. Who was he again…”
“...Never mind. If I can’t remember him, he probably wasn’t important. He most likely appeared for no more than three lines.”
She folded away the bloodless-killing paper umbrella, the corners of her lips curving into a lively, friendly smile. Then, as if by magic, she produced a branch of peach blossoms and held it out to the stunned and speechless Ji Xiaobei.
“Are you all right? I picked this on the way here. Take it and play with it.”
