Chapter 63: Demon Lord (8)

The cultivation world, Cuizhao Mountain—home of the Poyue Sword Sect.

At this hour on a typical day, disciples would be immersed in training, sparring with one another, and practicing sword formations in the grand plaza before the sect gates.

But today, the sect was gripped by a tense and murderous atmosphere. The alarm bells, signaling a powerful enemy’s approach, echoed through the mountains, startling flocks of birds into flight.

Dressed in water-blue robes and carrying the Wu Xiang Sword at his waist, Immortal Lingyu stood at the forefront of all the disciples, his expression cold as he faced the powerful intruder.

Though the enemy was only one person, both the elders behind him and the young disciples below were on high alert.

For no other reason than that this enemy was the Demon Lord of the Demon Realm.

Huai Younong’s name was known to all in the cultivation world. He was the great demon every major sect wanted to eliminate. Yet, despite all the talk, no one had ever dared to face him head-on—except for Immortal Lingyu.

That time, Immortal Lingyu had fought Huai Younong for seven days straight, but in the end, he suffered severe injuries and had yet to fully recover to this day.

As for the Demon Lord, he had also been wounded. While cultivating the Heavenly Demon Sacrificial Codex afterward, he suffered backlash, regressing to the form of a child and nearly being assassinated by his own kind.

Since then, the cultivation world and the Demon Realm had maintained a tenuous peace—at least on the surface.

And now, Huai Younong had suddenly arrived without a word. How could anyone not be on edge?

Many speculated that the Demon Lord had broken through his bottleneck, healed his injuries, and returned to settle old scores.

Immortal Lingyu sensed that Huai Younong’s aura was even more fearsome than before. He knew that if they truly fought, he might not be a match for him.

But he did not back down. Standing at the head of the crowd, he spoke in a clear voice, “Demon Lord, what brings you here?”

Huai Younong stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “Two days ago, I was ambushed in the Demon Realm. The assassin bore an identical appearance to Immortal Lingyu and even wielded a Wu Xiang Sword.”

So he had come to demand an explanation.

An elder of the Poyue Sword Sect, an old man with a long white beard, scoffed, “Absurd! Our Immortal Lingyu has not left the sect. Who would dare impersonate him?”

Immortal Lingyu raised a hand to silence him, meeting Huai Younong’s gaze directly.

“Demon Lord, you should know that was not me. You must also realize that someone is using my name and face. Yet you still come seeking trouble—perhaps merely as an excuse to settle old grudges?”

Huai Younong replied, “I know it wasn’t you, and I know it wasn’t your people. So what? If I can’t find the culprit, and he used your face, then the grudge falls on you.”

This statement enraged the disciples. Their indignation flared, and they cursed the Demon Lord for his blatant disregard for reason.

One elder shouted, “Demon, you dare come alone? Do you not fear being slain by our combined forces?”

Huai Younong smirked. “You’re welcome to try.”

A young cultivator stepped forward beside Immortal Lingyu. “Martial Uncle, allow me to face the Demon Lord!”

Immortal Lingyu snapped, “Foolishness! Stand down!”

The young were always prideful. This disciple was hailed as the most talented of the younger generation, but he had no real understanding of the terror that was Huai Younong.

“Have you all decided who wants to die first?” Huai Younong’s casual remark ignited the disciple’s temper, and he spun forward with his sword.

Dark energy coalesced into a whip in Huai Younong’s palm. With a light flick, the whip lashed across the young disciple’s face, leaving a bloody mark.

The disciple hadn’t even gotten close before he was injured. Gritting his teeth, he pressed forward against the trailing shadows of the whip.

Each strike of the whip against his sword bore an immense weight, while Huai Younong wielded his weapon as if merely toying with a mouse.

At last, the disciple erupted with a burst of sword light. Only then did Huai Younong spare him a glance, his whip darkening with an ominous aura.

In a flash, the whip struck the young man’s hand, sending his sword flying.

For a sword cultivator, losing one’s weapon was a disgrace beyond words.

“Yan Yi!” Immortal Lingyu flew forward, catching him midair and pressing a hand to his arm, suppressing the demonic energy seeping into his wounds.

“Senior Brother!” The disciples gasped as they saw their strongest peer fall. With a shared glance, they raised their swords and charged at Huai Younong.

“Form the sword formation!” Six voices called in unison as they encircled him.

Their cultivation was solid, and the formation took shape swiftly. Yet Huai Younong made no move to stop them. Instead, he patiently allowed them to complete it.

As luminous sword projections flared around him, Huai Younong idly flicked his whip, shattering the formation in just a few strokes.

Immortal Lingyu handed the wounded Yan Yi to an elder. “Quick, purge the demonic energy!”

With that, he rushed forward, drawing his Wu Xiang Sword. He intercepted the oncoming whip and, with a series of swift kicks, knocked several disciples out of the Demon Lord’s attack range.

The severed whip instantly restored itself.

Watching the battle unfold, the elders below grew solemn. One turned to the disciples. “Hurry! Send word to the Supreme Elders of the other sects—urge them to come and slay the Demon Lord at once!”

“But Elder, we have so many people! Why should we fear him?” a young disciple protested.

The elder cursed him for a fool.

“With the cultivation levels of the Demon Lord and Immortal Lingyu, any disciple who interferes will be marching to their death! Look at your reckless senior brothers—had we delayed any longer, they would already be corpses!”

Even if they wanted to attack together, they needed cultivators with similar strength. But right now, the sect had only a few high-ranking elders left, each guarding crucial areas, unable to move lightly.

Because they did not believe the Demon Lord had truly come alone. Surely, the Demon Realm’s army lurked in the shadows.

Immortal Lingyu, still not fully recovered from his past injuries, was gradually losing ground in the duel.

Just as he was struck by an attack, a child standing among the elders suddenly cried out in anxious worry—

“Father!”

Huai Younong’s gaze flickered toward the voice.

A six- or seven-year-old child stood there, his features bearing an unmistakable resemblance to Immortal Lingyu.

The Demon Lord glanced in that direction and saw a six- or seven-year-old child who bore a resemblance to Lingyu Immortal.

Suddenly intrigued, he asked Lingyu Immortal, “That child called you ‘father.’ After more than ten years, you actually have a child now?”

Lingyu Immortal: “?”

Why the sudden small talk? He warily watched the Demon Lord, unsure of his intentions.

Huai Yunong scrutinized the child again and shook his head disdainfully. “Thin and frail, sickly-looking.”

Lingyu Immortal couldn’t help but glance at his son. He was still as handsome and refined as ever, fair and delicate like jade—what did he mean by “sickly-looking”?

“The mighty Demon Lord—are you planning to use a child to threaten me?”

“Threaten? I just think he looks unappetizing.”

Unappetizing? Lingyu Immortal erupted with a burst of sword light, a murderous intent rising in his heart.

Huai Yunong struck even more ruthlessly. Lingyu Immortal was abruptly forced back, blood seeping from his lips, supported by two disciples.

Just as he was about to force himself to rise and fight again, a shadow appeared behind Huai Yunong.

Luo Ye held several scrolls and jade slips in his hands, presenting them to the Demon Lord.

“Demon Lord, we’ve obtained the items.”

Huai Yunong dissipated his whip and casually picked up a spell scroll to examine it.

Below, the elders caught sight of the scrolls and gasped. “Those are the secret cultivation manuals from the Scripture Pavilion!”

And they were top-tier ones—not even all the elders had access to them.

Huai Yunong said, “Your Poyue Sword Sect’s techniques aren’t bad. I’ll be taking these.”

With that, a mirror manifested behind him. Huai Yunong flicked his sleeve and stepped into it.

Luo Ye followed closely, even turning back to flash a mocking smile at the pale-faced elders and disciples.

The enemy left cleanly, and before reinforcements could arrive, it was all over. The sect’s entrance fell into a stunned silence.

“There really wasn’t a demon army?”

“What exactly was the Demon Lord here for?”

“Just to steal our cultivation manuals?”

“What does a demon want with our techniques? Could it be… he plans to switch to cultivating as an immortal?”

“……”

—

Qian had been out of the palace for a day. By sunset, she was still lingering at the gates.

There was no helping it—Demon City was vast, and the Demon Palace, along with its affiliated structures, took up half the city. Ink Yan and the ever-mischievous Changchun Jia had taken her sightseeing, and she was having too much fun to think about going back.

When Huai Yunong returned to the palace, he saw Qian being carried by Ninth Elder Changchun Jia, waving a long banner in her hands.

The vibrant banner bore the words: “All who see this shall die; all who touch this shall perish.” It was the Seeking Death Banner, a magical artifact belonging to Fifth Elder.

Fifth Elder stood nearby, his gaze following her every movement up, down, left, and right, as if he had something to say but couldn’t bring himself to speak.

Huai Yunong landed in front of Qian.

The moment she saw him, she immediately turned and clung tightly to Changchun Jia, burying her head in his neck like an ostrich.

Huai Yunong reached out and pried her away, but she clung stubbornly to Changchun Jia’s sleek, jet-black hair.

In their brief struggle of strength, only Changchun Jia suffered actual damage.

He felt like his scalp was about to be torn off. His face twisted in pain, but he didn’t dare cry out in front of the Demon Lord.

At long last, Huai Yunong managed to wrestle the child into his arms. Watching her scrunch up her face, flail, and wriggle in his embrace, he frowned.

He turned to Liusha, who had just appeared beside him. “What is she doing? Is she having another episode?”

Liusha: “…Young Master, she might still be angry.”

Huai Yunong was puzzled. “Angry at who? About what?”

Liusha: “…”

Had he already forgotten all the times he’d threatened to eat her and scared her to tears?

Once he finally understood that this little brat was mad at him, Huai Yunong pinched her chubby cheeks.

“You don’t even have all your teeth yet, and you dare be angry at me?”

“Puh!” Qian spat a mouthful of saliva right onto his face.

Without hesitation, Huai Yunong bit her puffed-up cheek.

“Waaaaahhh!” The child wailed, now bearing a bright red bite mark.

Huai Yunong took the various objects she was clutching in her little hands.

“What kind of junk are you holding onto?” He pulled out the colorful banner and tossed it aside.

Fifth Elder dove to retrieve his artifact, his face lighting up with joy at its return.

“What’s this? The Cuiwei Bells? They’re covered in corpse oil, and you don’t find them filthy? Throw them away.”

A string of bells was tossed into a corner.

A pale skeletal hand darted out from the shadows and swiftly picked up the artifact—it was Second Elder, who had been silently following them.

Item after item was discarded until only a jade folding fan remained.

Qian, having been too distraught over losing her toys to cry, now focused entirely on protecting this last one. But her little arms were no match for his overwhelming strength. In the end, all that remained in her grasp was the fan, which she clung to desperately.

Huai Yunong glanced at it and remarked, “This fan is decent. You can keep it.”

Changchun Jia, who had been waiting to retrieve his artifact: “…”

He couldn’t even smile. Why was his the only artifact not returned? Was it his fault for having the cleanest and prettiest one?!

After bringing the sulking child back, Huai Yunong had Luo Ye place the stolen immortal cultivation manuals on the table.

“The parasite inside you can’t be dealt with in the short term. Since that’s the case, don’t cultivate demonic power for now—switch to immortal cultivation techniques instead,” Huai Yunong said.

That parasitic creation core had been specially designed for him; it was extremely unique, devouring only demonic energy and cultivation from the Heavenly Demon Codex. Given that, she might as well cultivate as an immortal for now.

No one with Heavenly Demon blood had ever abandoned demonic cultivation in favor of immortal cultivation before. But Huai Yunong didn’t see a problem with it—once the parasite was dealt with, she could fall into darkness again later.

“You are my offspring. You must have the ability to protect yourself.”

Because of the Demon Lord’s decree, the unfortunate healer Han Qiu was once again brought before Qian.

“Since you were once an immortal cultivator, you should be able to properly guide the Young Miss,” Luo Ye said, draping an arm around Han Qiu’s shoulders. “Either heal the Young miss or teach her well. If you can’t do either, you know what happens next.”

Han Qiu’s face was filled with despair: “…”

Why was it always him?!