Chapter 75: Demon Lord (20)

Wuxin walked out of the meditation room in the back courtyard of Xishan Temple and saw Qian sitting on a small wooden cart, creaking as she rode it.

The cart was made by Mingzhen. Unlike his junior brother, who excelled at cultivating medicinal herbs, Mingzhen was skilled in woodworking, responsible for repairing much of the temple’s interior. Both of them had been taught by Wuxin as their senior uncle.

The newly made cart had been oiled, making it easy to ride, and it carried a faint wooden fragrance. Qian rode it in circles around the courtyard while waiting for her terrible father’s treatment to finish.

Huai You Nong’s backlash from the Heavenly Demon Sacrificial Codex was severe, so Wuxin had prepared several medicinal remedies for him, requiring them to stay at Xishan Temple for a few days.

While Huai You Nong was still inside absorbing the medicine’s effects, Wuxin came out first and called to Qian.

She rode the cart over to his feet and heard him say, “Go ride in the clearing at the back mountain; it’s spacious and flat there.”

Qian nodded, prepared to get off, but Wuxin simply reached out and lifted both her and the cart in one hand.

Beyond a small gate lay a sizable clearing. In the mornings, temple disciples would practice martial arts here, but right now, it was empty.

The monks of this temple were not just herbalists but martial monks, each one sturdy and muscular, regardless of their height. The only one who didn’t resemble a martial monk was Wuxin.

With more space, Qian rode a few laps before feeling tired and slumped over the cart’s handlebars.

Seeing Wuxin sitting cross-legged under a tree, she scooted her cart toward him using her feet.

“Will my brother die?” she asked.

Wuxin opened his eyes and answered patiently, “No, he won’t.”

“Oh.”

“Child, don’t let his words hurt you. Sometimes, wounding others with words is also a way of hurting oneself.”

“I’m not sad.” Qian blinked, swinging her short legs back and forth while playing with the cart.

With a mature expression, she shook her head. “I know he’s hopeless. I’ll be leaving soon anyway because I won’t grow up.”

Wuxin reached out his hand, and Qian placed hers in his. She hopped off the cart and stood in front of him.

“You will grow up, but not in this world.”

Holding her small, soft hand, Wuxin spoke with certainty and serenity, dissolving all confusion and sorrow.

“You can break free from your chains, end your drifting existence, and return to where you belong. Your future will be bright, fulfilled, and full of joy.”

Qian looked at him, feeling as if the dust on her heart had been gently brushed away, leaving her lighter.

She opened her small palm, and Wuxin traced a pattern on it with his fingertip.

“What are you doing?” Qian asked curiously.

“I’m drawing a protective talisman for you.”

Wuxin smiled as if joking with a child. “If you ever feel afraid or sad, just clench this hand, and you’ll have courage.”

Qian tried squeezing her fist but didn’t feel anything different. Still, children loved games like this, so she extended her other hand.

“This hand needs a drawing too.”

Wuxin chuckled and traced a few more strokes on her other palm.

“I’ll draw one for you too,” Qian said, reciprocating the gesture by grabbing his fingers and doodling on them.

Wuxin observed her scribbles seriously and asked, “What kind of talisman is this?”

Qian was stumped for a moment. Then, looking at Wuxin’s bald head, inspiration struck.

“It’s a hair-growing talisman!”

Wuxin: “Hahaha.”

That won’t be necessary.

“My hair won’t grow back,” Wuxin said.

Qian immediately gave him a look of pity and patted his hand comfortingly.

“I can give you my hair.”

She paused, then reconsidered. “Actually, I can cut some of my brother’s hair for you. He has more than me!”

Wuxin: “…”

—

At mealtime, the temple’s dining hall opened. The herbalist monks finished their work and gathered for their meal, after which they would resume their duties.

Besides the monks, the hall also hosted worshippers who had come to offer incense and ordinary workers from the mountains. The vegetarian meals were freely provided.

Mingzhen was the cook. His skills weren’t particularly good or bad, but his steamed buns were especially soft and fragrant, quickly taken as soon as they were served.

Huai You Nong emerged from the meditation room and sat with Qian in the corner of the dining hall to eat.

Across from them, Wuxin told him, “You must not use your demonic power for the next few days. The medicine I’ve given you will temporarily seal your demonic meridians, making you as weak as an ordinary child—or even frailer.”

Mingzhen specifically brought over a separate plate of steamed buns for them.

Wuxin accepted the plate, split one of the large buns in half, and handed half to Qian.

Qian took it and took a big bite.

Watching their actions, Huai You Nong felt something was off. He suspiciously glanced at Qian beside him, then at Wuxin across from him.

Wuxin smiled. Perhaps in his eyes, this fearsome Demon Lord was just a child.

With a tolerant expression, Wuxin extended the other half of the bun to Huai You Nong.

Huai You Nong: That’s not what I meant.

But the bun had already been offered. He had no choice but to take it and even say, “Thank you, Master.”

Everything felt incredibly strange.

Holding the half bun, just as he was about to take a bite, a small head leaned in from the side.

Qian took a big chomp out of his bun.

Since saying, “She’s just a mere descendant,” Huai You Nong had been sulking, refusing to speak to Qian.

Now, his eyebrows shot up, his expression stormy. Qian, cheeks puffed with food, immediately jumped off the bench and ran behind Wuxin.

Wuxin calmly advised, “Keep your heart at peace.”

Behind him, Qian giggled, “Hee-hee-hee, hee-hee-hee.”

—

That night, Huai You Nong couldn’t use his demonic power or cultivate, so he could only lie on the Bed.

Outside, he heard the sound of water splashing.

“Don’t kick the water. If the floor gets wet, it’ll be slippery.”

“Oh.”

The splashing stopped.

Huai You Nong’s expression grew increasingly strange as he looked at the scene inside the room.

His daughter was soaking her feet in a basin while Wuxin was gently wiping her face and combing her hair.

That was his daughter, wasn’t it?

Why did a childless monk seem more practiced at caring for children than he was?

“Master, you seem quite skilled at taking care of children?” Huai You Nong spoke from the bed.

Master Wuxin finished combing the child’s hair.

“This is just an ordinary task, nothing special.”

“Raising a child well is a difficult thing, far harder than cultivation. A child is like a mirror—they reflect your image, reveal your shortcomings, and project your emotions.”

“Master, are you implying that I haven’t taught my child well?” Huai You Nong’s tone was still polite.

If anyone else spoke to him in such a roundabout way, they’d already be dead by now.

“No, I’m telling you how to get along with a child.”

Master Wuxin placed Qian, who had just finished washing her feet, by the bedside, patted the little Demon Lord’s shoulder, and then stepped out, closing the door behind him.

The Demon Lord, in a bad mood, fell backward, lying stiffly on the equally stiff Bed.

After a while, he felt Qian tugging at his hair. Looking over, he met a pair of bright, mischievous eyes.

“Brother,” Qian called him.

Huai You Nong immediately became wary. “What are you up to now?”

Qian said, “I told Master I’d give him your hair to make a wig.”

Huai You Nong couldn’t help but look confused. “What nonsense are you talking about?”

Qian replied seriously, “It’s a gift for him!”

Huai You Nong sneered. “Why don’t you offer him your own hair instead?”

Qian’s face was full of ‘You’re so dumb.’ She stated matter-of-factly, “Because he’s treating your illness, not mine.”

Huai You Nong found himself unable to refute that.

“I will repay him myself for saving me. You, as a child, don’t need to worry about it. Besides, this highly respected master wouldn’t accept someone’s hair as gratitude. Stop making things up.”

“You just don’t understand! You’re supposed to give people what they lack!” Qian declared with utmost certainty.

She then sighed. “You have no manners at all.”

Huai You Nong was so amused he laughed in anger. “You little brat have even less manners.”

“Then that makes you a big brat!”

The moment she finished speaking, she saw her father-brother’s terrifying expression, shrieked, and dove under the blanket, using it as a shield against him.

In the past, even if he had turned into a child, Huai You Nong could have easily subdued this little troublemaker. But he had just taken medicine and was still weak, so he ended up tripping over the blanket that Qian had lifted up.

For the first time ever, the little Demon Lord lost a fight to his daughter, which filled him with rage. He got up and pounced at her.

And so, the two—who were about the same size—engaged in battle using pillows, blankets, fists, and even teeth.

Tragically, Huai You Nong lost.

Lying on his side on the bed, facing the wall, he radiated a clear message: “Don’t mess with me.”

Qian pried at his arm, pressing her chubby little body onto his frail shoulders, and leaned in to ask,

“Are you mad?”

“Are you mad?”

She asked twice, but Huai You Nong couldn’t be bothered to respond.

Earlier, this crazy girl had been flailing around under the blanket, laughing and messing around. She accidentally landed a wild turtle punch on his chin, making him bite his own flesh, and now his mouth was full of blood.

The more he ignored her, the more Qian wanted to mess with him. She stuck her head between his face and the wall, upside down.

“Bleh bleh bleh!” She made a ridiculous face.

Not only did Huai You Nong not feel like laughing, but he nearly suffocated under her weight. On top of that, this careless little troublemaker had her knee right on his hair!

Seeing him remain still, Qian let out a “Heeyah!” and bounced onto him.

The sudden pressure on his stomach made Huai You Nong lose control—he spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva.

Seeing the small bloodstain on the pillow, Qian froze. Then her lips trembled, and she suddenly burst into wailing cries. Forgetting about Huai You Nong, she scrambled off the bed, wiping her eyes as she ran outside, crying all the way.

“Waaah! Master, I made Brother cough up blood!”

“Waaah! He’s gonna die!”

Huai You Nong gritted his teeth and yelled, “Get back here!”

How utterly shameless!

Because of the “coughing blood” incident that night, Qian was uncharacteristically well-behaved the next morning.

Huai You Nong seemed to have forgotten that he had fought his daughter last night. When he woke up, he even took a cloth and went over to wipe Qian’s face, just like Master Wuxin had done.

But copying the gesture didn’t mean he did it well.

“Owmm!” Qian struggled out of his grasp. “I don’t want you to wipe my face—you don’t know how!”

This wasn’t wiping a face—it was practically scrubbing off skin.

“If you don’t like it, do it yourself.” Already impatient with the task, Huai You Nong tossed the cloth onto the child’s face.

Qian had always washed her face herself, and she figured her father-brother was useless at everything.

After washing up, she returned with the damp cloth and raised a hand to wipe Huai You Nong’s face.

Caught off guard, Huai You Nong grabbed her hand to stop her.

At that moment, Master Wuxin walked past the doorway, glanced inside, and commented approvingly, “Qian is so thoughtful, helping her brother wipe his face.”

His tone made it sound like “brother” was some helpless child incapable of basic self-care.

Finally yanking the cloth off his face, the little Demon Lord revealed a fierce expression.

During breakfast, Qian ran up to Master Wuxin and whispered, “Last night, I made Brother so mad he coughed up blood.”

Master Wuxin nodded. “He really gets angry easily. That’s not good for his health.”

Qian nodded solemnly in agreement.

Standing right behind them, Huai You Nong: “……”