Don’t Call Me Miss—Call Me Comrade!
“A fine day like this is perfect for plucking off your heads and tossing them around as a shuttlecock for Fuer.”
As everyone knew, the weather in the Demon Realm was nothing to write home about, and nobody particularly enjoyed playing head-shuttlecock.
Jiang Xuesheng’s sudden appearance behind the Cunning Demon Lord, no matter how handsome he looked, combined with that sinister line, made him seem like a haunting ghost rising from the depths of the earth.
“…”
The Cunning Demon Lord stared at him without moving, falling into a brief silence.
There was nothing embarrassing about putting on airs. Everyone did it; a little more never hurt.
But having those airs deflate on the spot was another matter entirely.
—What expression was he supposed to make at a time like this?
—Surprise? Anger? Or perhaps forced composure, as if to say, “Everything is within my expectations”?
Forget it.
In front of Jiang Xuesheng, posturing would only invite humiliation.
Jiang Xuesheng, on the other hand, had no need to struggle with such questions. At times like this, all he needed to do was smile.
He had even brought a qin table and stool with him. Calmly and methodically, he set them up in front of the Demon Lord, placed the long qin across the table, lifted the hem of his robes, and sat down with unhurried elegance. His long, fair fingers rested on the strings and plucked one note, as if in jest.
In both appearance and bearing, he was the very picture of a refined gentleman playing the qin among flowers.
Unfortunately, there were no flowers here—not even a single foxtail weed. The ground was littered with the heads and headless corpses of little demon cultivators. Some had not yet gone cold, their wild, unkempt hair blown by the wind into banners summoning the dead.
Against such a backdrop, the sudden appearance of a qin player with an immortal’s bearing and a divine radiance was more than a little eerie.
The Cunning Demon Lord, an old demon-cultivator who had roamed the cultivation world for centuries, had long since lost all trace of humanity. He had committed countless atrocities and taken pleasure in playing with corpses—a seasoned, certified deviant. If one were to make a chart of his bodily composition, he would probably be ninety-nine percent kitchen waste—perishable waste—mixed with one percent water and air. Not vacuum-packed, either, because he was decomposing every moment of every day.
He took pride in his lack of virtue and gloried in his depravity. Whenever others turned pale with terror at the sight of his corpse puppets, an incomparable delight would surge through him. He was, in short, the ultimate deviant among deviants.
Unfortunately, his opponent was none other than Jiang Xuesheng.
Jiang Xuesheng was an upright man—not a gentleman, and certainly not a proper one.
When facing Jiang Xuesheng, the Cunning Demon Lord felt that his many years of experience as a deviant were completely useless. If he insisted on trading barbs with him, he might even end up getting himself counter-killed.
And it was no wonder.
Three thousand years ago, during the great war that reshuffled the entire cultivation world, Lord Yinglong had already witnessed far too many deviants.
Shu Fu might still become furious at scumbags and villains, but in Jiang Xuesheng’s eyes, the Cunning Demon Lord was worth little more than a dismissive, “That’s it?”
When the demon rose one foot, the righteous rose ten thousand and eighty-six zhang. That was precisely the situation here.
—Of course, the Cunning Demon Lord was not without advantages.
No matter how profound Jiang Xuesheng’s cultivation was, he was still only one man. It was impossible for him to truly fight a thousand enemies at once, sweeping through an army of millions single-handedly.
Although He Xiuwen himself was a complete fraud, the forces under his command—and all the arrangements they had made beforehand—were not entirely useless.
Thinking of this, the Cunning Demon Lord steadied his mind, once again assuming the imposing bearing of an unrivaled ancient master. Facing Jiang Xuesheng, he said coldly, “You want to take my head? Master Tanhua, you certainly have a big mouth.”
“Ah.”
Jiang Xuesheng acted as though he had not heard him. Plucking at the qin strings, he said lazily, “I truly don’t understand why you people always insist on calling yourselves ‘this seat’ whenever you want to make yourselves seem more important. The Lich King does it too. His stronghold was nearly flattened by Lingxiao City, and not only did he lose his ‘seat,’ he became homeless as well. He had to rely on Yaoguang Peak for shelter, yet he still refused to let go of his airs.”
“Demon Lord Jiao, you’re even more ridiculous. Tell me, where exactly is your ‘seat’? You and those shameless villains, along with Nan Gongming the fool, all sit on top of a mountain, making a great show of courteously yielding to one another before calling each other ‘Big Brother’ and ‘Second Brother.’ Is that how you arranged your hierarchy? Do you really find that fun?”
The Cunning Demon Lord: “…………”
—It was just a form of address! How did you manage to insult me for more than a hundred words over it?
—What kind of contrarian are you? Should I tie you to a roof beam and leave you there?
Besides, he had gone to great lengths to give himself the title “Cunning Demon Lord” precisely because he did not want people calling him “Demon Lord Jiao”!
It made him sound as if he had been roasted!
“…”
Naturally, Demon Lord Jiao was a demon of status. He would never put such feelings on his face.
Outwardly, he remained expressionless. Not the slightest trace of anger showed on his sharpened fox-like face. Instead, a profound, inscrutable smile appeared.
“This seat is this seat. If Master Tanhua is dissatisfied, there is no need to rely on verbal sparring. Why not settle this with our abilities?”
With that, he raised his ten long, thin fingers, which looked rather like the legs of a grasshopper, and lightly clapped twice in the air.
“Come out, my children.”
At his call, something changed among the bustling crowd in the spectator stands.
A portion of the spectators—some two or three hundred people—had originally been standing there in silence, watching the arena. Aside from their somewhat dull expressions, they had seemed no different from anyone else.
At that moment, as though receiving some kind of command, they suddenly rose in perfect unison.
Their joints appeared stiff and inflexible. Their movements were rigid, their arms and legs and backs stretched straight, so that it looked as if a row of wooden stakes had suddenly sprouted from the crowd.
“…”
The synchronized movement reminded Shu Fu of the only other time she had seen anything like it: when an entire school auditorium stood to sing the school anthem.
Of course, these demon cultivators did not sing.
They merely opened their murky, vacant eyes wide. Their pupils did not move at all as they stared fixedly at Shu Fu in the center of the arena. The scene was terrifying enough.
Then, once again moving in perfect unison, they drew the weapons they had been carrying.
“Do you see now, Tanhua?”
The Cunning Demon Lord turned toward Jiang Xuesheng, the corners of his mouth lifting mockingly. His voice overflowed with sarcasm.
“My corpse puppets are not limited to the one in your hands.”
“I admit that your disciple and that Moon Flood Dragon have some ability. But can the two of you truly defeat my hundreds of children, along with all the demon cultivators in this arena who hate you to the bone?”
“…”
After a moment’s pause, Jiang Xuesheng solemnly composed his expression and said with heartfelt admiration, “‘Children’? You’re quite capable of reproducing, then. If the Demon Realm were to select a heroic mother, surely it would be you.”
The Cunning Demon Lord: “…”
Can you ever have a proper exchange with someone?!
Huh?!
In response, Jiang Xuesheng gave him a gentle “heh,” smiling warmly as he lightly plucked the strings and played a cheerful, lively tune on the ancient qin.
He knew that as long as he dealt with the Cunning Demon Lord—the one responsible for distracting and controlling the others—the remaining corpse puppets and demon cultivators were nothing but a disorderly rabble. “Mulan” and Shu Fu would be more than capable of breaking out of the encirclement.
So all he had to do was focus on dealing with Cunning.
—What a joke. Who do you think you are? You think you can make snide remarks in front of me?
…
At the same time that the Cunning Demon Lord was on the verge of being driven insane by Jiang Xuesheng, the Ghost-Faced Demon Lord, He Xiuwen, was likewise enduring immense suffering, both physical and psychological.
“Urgh… ah…”
It was only when his blood had soaked through his clothes and the agony reached the depths of his brain that he finally dared to believe what he was seeing.
—I… got utterly crushed?
—In this age where Golden Core cultivators were everywhere and Foundation Establishment cultivators were worth less than dogs, I was beaten by a girl who wasn’t even a hundred years old, and only at the Golden Core stage?
Ling Fengqing had been plagued by the exact same question twenty years ago.
Then he died.
He had descended into hell carrying that unsolved mystery with him. In the midst of endless torment, he would still scream through his ruined throat, “Damn it, why?!”
Now, the same scene was being perfectly reenacted on He Xiuwen.
As it happened, during the Wei City Incident, He Xiuwen had been the demonic cultivator accomplice whom Ling Fengqing had recruited. He had contributed the most to the assault on the city—and suffered the greatest losses as well.
Brothers for life, walking the road together. All of them were dogs beneath Shu Fu’s sword.
Shu Fu remembered this too. In an act of almost excessive thoughtfulness, she said to He Xiuwen, “Demon Lord, cheer up. We were both struck by my sword, but your showing this time is far more impressive than Young Master Ling’s. Look at the spectacle my attack created.”
—If this were a xianxia drama, that would be a special effect worth millions!
He Xiuwen: “…………”
Did that matter?!
When you pile up a grave mound for me later, and make it one foot taller than Ling Fengqing’s, am I supposed to send you a grateful dream from the underworld???
He Xiuwen had done his best to block and dispel part of the force behind Shu Fu’s strike, but the sword’s momentum was too fierce, and its residual power remained undiminished. He suffered a severe injury on the spot, a deep slash running from his shoulder down to his abdomen.
If he had not quickly used demonic energy to stabilize the wound, something that definitely shouldn’t have been spilling out of his stomach would have done so, turning the scene into something rated for adults only.
After taking such a blow, He Xiuwen was naturally filled with hatred. He wished he could immediately knock Shu Fu out of the sky and chop her into tiny pieces.
At that moment, the demonic cultivators throughout the arena began to stir. The Cunning Demon Lord activated the corpse puppets he had prepared in advance. With the situation looking so favorable, this was the perfect opportunity to catch the turtle in the jar.
He Xiuwen endured the pain, pulled himself together, and did his best to maintain his usual superior tone.
“Little girl, don’t celebrate too soon. Do you truly think you can stand against everyone here by yourself? You must have slept too long and still haven’t woken from your beautiful dream. What, did you think you had reinforcements on our demonic cultivators’ turf?”
Shu Fu: “Uh…”
No, I never said I was going to fight everyone.
All I needed was to make three trips in and three trips out, cut through the encirclement, rescue Cloud Flood Dragon and Black Tortoise, and incidentally harvest your undersized head. Wouldn’t that solve everything?
Once you were dead, wouldn’t your subordinates immediately scramble to divide up your inheritance and beat each other bloody?
They were all selfish little demonic cultivators. Expecting them to avenge you after your death? Keep dreaming.
Shu Fu couldn’t be bothered to explain. She raised the Lone Radiance Sword in her hand. Countless fragments of the Zizai Flute transformed into floating cannons and began orbiting her body, preparing to take He Xiuwen’s head.
Just then, she heard a booming voice rise from the ground. The speaker’s impassioned words echoed around the arena:
“Who says she has no reinforcements?!”
“…???”
Shu Fu froze, then lowered her head and followed the voice.
“…………That’s… Demon Lord Nangong?”
The speaker was none other than Nan Gongming. He held a golden-backed cleaver in one hand—heaven only knew why a male supporting character would wield such a weapon—and stood proudly in the stands like a mighty gate guardian.
Behind him lay his attendant, who had collapsed from stomach pains.
“My lord, please don’t…”
“Nan Gongming, have you gone mad?!”
He Xiuwen had never dreamed he would see such a scene. His breath caught in his throat, and he nearly choked himself to death.
“Do you know who she is?! She’s from the Jiuhua Sect, from the Yao—”
Nan Gongming: “What she is has nothing to do with me.”
Shu Fu: “……”
She knew Nan Gongming genuinely didn’t care.
After all, in the original story, he had fallen in love with the female protagonist, who was also from the Jiuhua Sect, and had been willing to make an enemy of the entire world for her. The conflict between righteousness and evil had meant absolutely nothing to him.
—Speaking of which, she really didn’t need reinforcements. Honestly.
He Xiuwen was beside himself with rage. “Do you even know how many people she’s killed in our demonic realm—”
Nan Gongming: “Were any of them mine?”
He Xiuwen: “……”
…Well, no!
—But that was because you were useless at doing anything evil! You spent all day fighting among yourselves and never went to the righteous sects’ territory to kill and burn. You have no professional pride as a demonic cultivator!
—You only ever harmed your own demonic brothers, and you still have the nerve to act righteous?!
Nan Gongming certainly had the nerve. He even called out to Shu Fu with complete conviction:
“Miss Shu, there is no need to worry. I have also brought my subordinates with me. They are all capable fighters. They will not lose to Cunning’s corpse puppets.”
Shu Fu: “…………”
Thank you, but really, there was no need.
All we wanted to do was blast the hell out of him and make a quick getaway.
“…………”
He Xiuwen held a mouthful of blood in his throat, swallowing and choking on it without managing to spit it out. After a series of chemical reactions, it finally transformed into a vicious, filthy insinuation.
“You—you care so much about this woman. Don’t tell me you’ve become her kept man and are throwing yourself at her to defend your mistress? Ha! She really is something. First she got involved with her own master, and now she’s entangled with you too…”
“Stop spreading vile lies!!!!”
Before he could finish, Nan Gongming’s voice rang out like a thunderclap. His formidable spiritual energy struck directly at He Xiuwen’s internal organs, nearly forcing a mouthful of blood from him.
When a Nascent Soul cultivator spat at someone, it could genuinely kill them.
He bellowed, “The relationship between Miss Shu and me is pure and aboveboard! She opened my eyes to a new world and showed me a new path. She is a mentor to my soul and a beacon on my road of cultivation. How dare you insult our relationship like that?!”
Damn, this guy had really studied hard!
Even a domineering CEO from a modern novel, after being arrested and spending twenty years in prison undergoing reform, might not reach this level of ideological enlightenment!!!
“…………”
The sheer force of that party-membership speech left He Xiuwen’s eardrums numb and his mind buzzing. His internal organs trembled along with them, aggravating his injuries. By the time he managed to stand again, his face was ashen and the light had vanished from his eyes.
He no longer bothered arguing with Nan Gongming. Instead, he dragged his faltering feet around and pressed one hand against the crown of the Cloud Flood Dragon youth’s head, his expression turning savage.
“Nan Gongming, so you want to stand up for her? Fine. But as long as this little beast is still in my hands, she won’t dare—”
“…Huh?”
Only then did he belatedly realize that, at some unknown point, another hand had silently come to rest on the crook of his arm.
The skin was fairer than snow, the wrist pale as frost. The five fingers were soft and boneless, their tips faintly red, light and delicate as a drifting tuft of willow fluff.
Around that slender, elegant wrist was a translucent jade bracelet of emerald green, bearing a faint resemblance to the color of the Wushan Cloud Flood Dragon.
“You… who are you…”
He Xiuwen instinctively tried to raise his head to see the newcomer’s face, only to feel, in horror, an icy chill slowly seep into his skin. Starting from his arm, it spread toward the rest of his body—slowly, yet with unstoppable force.
Wherever the cold passed, his meridians and blood, every single cell, and every wisp of demonic qi circulating within him froze solid.
By the time he came to his senses, even his neck was covered in a layer of white frost, leaving him unable to turn it in the slightest.
Thus, all he could see were the newcomer’s slender, pale hands, her elegant white robes, and the softly sculpted line of her jaw. He could hear only her voice—cold and solemn, like snow atop a mountain peak:
“How dare you. Do you think you can lay a hand on a descendant of the Dragon Clan?”
……
At the same time, Wu Yao, having just dealt with the corpse puppet, turned his head. His golden, serpentine pupils widened slightly, a look of undisguised astonishment flashing through his eyes.
“…………Lingbo???”
