Chapter 146: Buddhist Disciple 6

Demon Lord Tian Zhi Mo fled in defeat, narrowly surviving at the hands of the Buddhist Disciple. Severely wounded, he retreated back to the Demon Realm under the protection of two loyal Elders and a Demon General.

Though the Demon Realm had a vast population of Demonic Race, they were used to fighting amongst themselves, with strength determining status.

They only aligned when invading the Cultivation Realm to seize resources, but once the Demon Lord at the highest ruling position failed to lead them to victory, what awaited him was death at the hands of other Demonic Race members seeking to take his place.

During the retreat of the Demonic Race army, they continued to battle with the cultivators of the Cultivation Realm, a chaotic chase and fight until they reached the boundary of the Demon Realm, the Xiling Path.

Master Wuxin did not follow the Sect Leaders and Sect Masters in pursuit. He only stayed in Caofeng City for one day.

The others courteously saw him off, no one daring to stop him.

Although they knew the depth of the Buddhist Disciple Wuxin’s abilities, having witnessed his strength once again, their awe for him only grew.

As they watched the Buddhist Disciple’s figure fade into the distance, the Sect Masters and Sect Leaders began discussing:

“With Demon Lord Tian Zhi Mo gravely wounded and fleeing, if he values his life, he likely won’t invade the Mortal Realm again in the short term.”

“What we fear is if some young and impetuous Heavenly Demon kills him, then a new Demon Lord might come to challenge us.”

The Heavenly Demon Clan constantly kills and replaces their Demon Lords—today it’s your turn, tomorrow it could be mine. With each new Demon Lord, chaos usually follows.

Thus, every ten or twenty years, when a new Demon Lord ascends, to gain reputation, they would first invade the Mortal Realm, threatening the Cultivation Realm. This not only destabilized the Demon Realm but also disturbed the peace of the Cultivation Realm.

“Perhaps only when the Demon Realm ends its internal conflicts and a Demon Lord arises who can suppress the entire realm will the three realms find peace.”

“If that day truly comes, it may spell disaster for our Cultivation Realm. Such a powerful Demon Lord leading the Demonic Race would make it even harder for us to resist.”

“In my opinion, we need not worry too much. There are still the Venerable Masters of the Spirit Realm. This time, we were helped by the Buddhist Disciple…”

As the topic shifted to the Buddhist Disciple Wuxin, the Sect Leaders and Sect Masters exchanged subtle glances. Finally, one of them couldn’t resist speaking, “Speaking of the Buddhist Disciple Wuxin, that child he’s been holding, seems to call him ‘father’?”

Once one person mentioned it, the others immediately started exchanging their thoughts eagerly.

“So it wasn’t just me who heard that?”

“Indeed, I heard it too. Could that be the ‘father’ I think it is?”

“It shouldn’t be. Buddhist Disciple Wuxin could never have romantic feelings, nor could he have a biological daughter.”

The reason Wuxin was called the Buddhist Disciple was because he had long transcended love and attachment. With his age and cultivation level, many cultivators had once been infatuated with him. The most famous among them were the Fairy Lunshuang and the True Monarch Nixia from years ago.

One obsessed for hundreds of years, yet had no result, eventually turning to the path of ruthlessness in despair. The other, driven mad by love, brought chaos to the Mortal Realm, only to be personally saved by Buddhist Disciple Wuxin, with it said that even their soul was completely gone.

Given this, the idea that such a Buddhist Disciple Wuxin would have a child seemed utterly absurd.

“So that child is probably the spirit of a lotus that transformed on Bodhi Mountain in the Spirit Realm.”

“I didn’t sense any demonic energy from the child, maybe it’s the spirit of a wooden fish.”

“Look at the child’s appearance, she looks quite blessed—doesn’t she resemble a chubby carp?”

A group of high-ranking figures started arguing over what kind of spirit Qian could be.

Carried away by her father, Qian still appeared weak, her head hanging on Master Wuxin’s shoulder as she clutched the pom-pom on her tiger-head hat.

Her small head was gently ruffled by a hand.

Master Wuxin’s calm and gentle voice asked, “Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”

“Ugh… Mmm,” the child buried her face in his shoulder, wiping her eyes and shaking her head.

The hand on the back of her head stayed there, gently comforting her.

Due to the Demonic Race’s invasion, the nearby small towns and villages had mostly emptied, leaving no one in sight.

Master Wuxin found an empty house in the village to rest in, planning to prepare some food for the downhearted child.

The food in the farmhouse had been taken, and even the jars were left empty, not a single rat in sight. But when Master Wuxin went out for a while, he came back with some food.

Qian had grown accustomed to this; her Venerable Master father was skilled in magic and often conjured the things they needed.

While Master Wuxin was out for that short time, Qian was placed by the stove in the kitchen, sitting on a small firewood stool. He had even left his staff for her to play with.

The black staff, nearly as famous as Buddhist Disciple Wuxin himself, was plain with no decoration, except for a pattern at one end. If Qian were a little older and looked closely, she might recognize the character “德” (Virtue).

The staff was named “De,” symbolizing the power of virtue to subdue others.

Qian, holding the long staff that had knocked Demon Lord Tian Zhi Mo down, tapped it on the ground, occasionally poking at the firewood pile.

She often played with the staff. Previously, when they camped outside and lit a bonfire, she used the staff to poke at the fire, and Master Wuxin never said anything.

Whenever she wanted to play, she would tell him, “I’ll help you with the staff.”

Seeing her “thoughtful” gesture, Master Wuxin handed her the staff, and then Qian would wield it, striking the grass at the roadside. When she became tired and couldn’t lift it anymore, she would drag it on the ground, covered in dust, and Master Wuxin would pick it up, wipe it off, and hand it back to her.

Before Qian used the staff to poke into the stove to stoke the fire, Master Wuxin returned with a cloth bag in hand.

He rolled up his sleeves, cleaned the stove, washed the big pot, and began preparing rice, moving with steady and measured actions.

Inside the house, he removed his conical hat, revealing a shiny round head that naturally drew attention.

Qian sat by the stove, warmed by the firelight, dragging the black staff and her little stool beside Master Wuxin.

Master Wuxin was washing vegetables in a basin when Qian tugged at his robe, “I want to help.”

Master Wuxin placed the basin on the ground, and the two of them, head to head, began picking vegetables together.

Sitting on her small stool, Qian picked off the leaves of the vegetables one by one with a satisfying crunch, which seemed to lift her mood a little.

She noticed the dirt on the leaves and washed them in the water.

Back at Aberrant’s mother’s place, when Chen Cailing and Aberrant’s mother made her meals, she had helped pick vegetables before, but she learned how to do it properly at Film Emperor Father Tong’s house.

For a period of time, Film Emperor Tong didn’t know where he had seen a children’s menu, but he wanted to personally cook for her. He busied himself in the kitchen, always bringing Qian along to help, calling it “parent-child time.”

Later, Tong’s father realized his cooking skills weren’t great, but he didn’t give up on this “parent-child time.” The aunt and assistant in the kitchen would be busy cooking, and he would bring Qian to help with simple tasks like preparing and washing vegetables.

At that time, the two of them would tear apart vegetable leaves. Because they were so slow, the aunt would already have the stove heated while father and daughter were still plucking leaves. The aunt would be so anxious, wanting to snatch the vegetables away and finish them quickly.

After washing the vegetables, Tong’s father would lift his hands, still wet, and pull a kitchen paper towel to wrap her hands and dry them, complimenting her, saying, “Qian is amazing, every leaf of the vegetable is cleanly plucked.”

Qian would raise her wet hands and shake them.

Her wet hands quickly grew colder in the winter air.

A pale but rough hand grasped her small one, fingers closing together to rub her hands on his sleeve to dry them.

“Is it a bit cold?” Wuxin said, picking her up and placing her in front of the stove. “Warm your hands here.”

For dinner that night, their dishes had a salted duck egg beside Qian’s rice. The yellow yolk of the salted egg oozed with oil. She glanced at the yellow salted egg on her bowl, then at her father’s bland dish, and placed half of her salted egg into his bowl.

“I don’t need it, you can eat it,” Wuxin said with a smile, wrinkles appearing slightly at the corners of his eyes, making him seem even more kind.

Qian dug into her rice, looking puzzled at Wuxin’s eyes. She felt that her father had changed a little.

He had looked very young before, in his early twenties, but now it seemed as if he had suddenly aged ten or more years.

“Father, you’ve gotten older, you have wrinkles now,” Qian pointed to the fine wrinkles that had appeared at the corners of Wuxin’s eyes and even reached out to touch them.

“I’ve aged a bit,” Wuxin nodded in acknowledgment.

His cultivation involved the cycle of life and death, so he would experience the normal process of aging, just like an ordinary person. However, once he “aged,” “death” would signify “rebirth,” and he would grow up again from a child.

He had gone through this cycle many times.

But in the normal aging process, sometimes, like now, he would rapidly age in a short time.

“It’s the price to pay. The more powerful the strength, the faster the passing of life.”

Seeing the child still staring at him with wide eyes, Wuxin smiled and gave another explanation: “I became older because I fought with someone.”

Qian immediately looked at him with concern and sighed, trying to advise him: “Don’t fight with people anymore.”

“Alright, no more fighting.”

The child seemed worried that he might be upset about aging, so she opened her arms and hugged him, patting his back repeatedly.

“You’re not very old.”

“Okay, I’m not very old.”

The child looked at his head again and continued to comfort him: “Your hair won’t turn white.”

“Yes, my hair won’t turn white.”

Because there was no hair at all.

That night, Qian lay on the pillow, about to sleep. Wuxin stitched up the cotton coat she had taken off, as a seam had started to come loose.

Once it was fixed, he covered her with the quilt.

Outside, the dark sky was once again filled with falling snowflakes.

In the wasteland near Caofeng City, a figure draped in a dull gray cloak staggered forward.

There was a faint smell of blood on her body. Occasionally, the thin fabric under the cloak would reveal her bare form, and the hanging bead chains would clink together.

She struggled in the cold wind, stumbling with one hand clutching her abdomen. She couldn’t help but let out a muffled groan, which was carried away by the howling wind.

The Demonic Race had suffered a crushing defeat, and Tian Zhi Mo was gravely wounded, temporarily lacking the strength to care about a few toys.

As one of the lowest and weakest of the Demonic Race, the Enchantress Demon, they were often used as playthings by higher-ranking Demonic Races due to their beauty, passed from master to master.

Wen Chun was still very young, having had only one master, the current Demon Lord Tian Zhi Mo. But in Tian Zhi Mo’s Demon Palace, there were so many women and playthings that she was hardly noticeable.

But she was pregnant!

It was difficult for an Enchantress Demon to bear offspring with a high-ranking Demonic Race, let alone the top-tier Heavenly Demon. This was not a good thing. On the contrary, it was a misfortune that had befallen her.

Heavenly Demons would not allow a lowly race to bear children because such offspring would have weak bloodlines and be considered useless, a disgrace.

If her pregnancy was discovered, Wen Chun could be executed immediately.

An Enchantress Demon naturally treasured her child and would be willing to die for it. Her kin were very united and would do everything to protect her, making sure no one discovered her condition.

Fortunately, her belly was growing slowly, never expanding rapidly. It seemed as though the child inside sensed the danger and carefully curled up, unwilling to grow.

But she knew very well that as long as she stayed in the Demon Realm, staying by Tian Zhi Mo’s side, death would come sooner or later. So, with the help of her sisters, she fled.

This defeat of the Demonic Race provided her with a perfect opportunity to escape, and she successfully made it to the Mortal Realm.

Perhaps she was too nervous during her escape and had sustained some injuries. She suddenly felt a sharp pain in her abdomen, enough to make her unable to continue. Eventually, she collapsed into a pile of dry grass.