Taking Chi Yan as his disciple had truly been an accident.
On the day Shi Qixue emerged from seclusion, he looked behind him and realized there wasn’t a single person there. Panicking, he immediately decided to find himself an incredibly powerful disciple who could protect this useless master of his.
As luck would have it, the newly admitted disciples of Chaoyang Sect had just made it through round after round of tests. They gathered together in neat rows, and the moment they heard that Shi Qixue was the Sect Master, they automatically formed two columns and began showing off their swordsmanship with all their might.
The cultivation world valued speed above all else. The more intricate one’s sword techniques, the faster the sword would move. Once spiritual energy was infused into the blade, it could even generate an accompanying force that intimidated one’s enemies.
In modern terms, they basically came with their own special effects.
Unfortunately, Shi Qixue was now an ordinary mortal. He couldn’t see any of their special effects, nor could he see the swords moving at blinding speed.
All he saw were a bunch of people standing there with determined expressions, apparently doing nothing.
When his gaze reached the very last person in the line, he saw someone standing with a resolute, righteous expression, wielding an iron sword and striking straight ahead with every move. Each swing produced an astonishing sound as it tore through the air.
He looked like a true expert.
“Are you willing to become my disciple?”
Afraid someone else would snatch him away, Shi Qixue hurriedly accepted him as his disciple.
He was absolutely delighted, thinking he’d struck gold.
Little did he know that every single person in Chaoyang Sect was actually within his range of candidates for discipleship. He could have picked anyone from a Golden Core cultivator all the way up to a Tribulation Transcendence expert.
And the precious disciple he had personally chosen?
Just a weakling at the late Foundation Establishment stage who hadn’t even formed a Golden Core.
Shi Qixue fell silent.
Ling Fengqi mistakenly took his silence as regret.
“If you regret it, just take a few more disciples. Does it really make sense for such a huge sect to have only two people? They say pairing people up in twos makes it easier to keep things within the family. It’s just that your disciple is a little too ugly…”
“Watch what you say.”
Shi Qixue interrupted him, clearly displeased.
“Cultivators are judged solely by their strength. Appearance is something bestowed by one’s parents, determined from birth. It isn’t something you can casually make fun of.”
“Chi Yan has a steadfast heart and a refined nature. His cultivation may still be low, but he studies and trains diligently and has never been the slightest bit negligent. And then there’s his—”
Ling Fengqi listened in stunned silence.
Just then, a delicious aroma suddenly wafted toward them.
Chi Yan had entered carrying a tray.
On it were roasted chicken legs, spicy lotus-root slices, crispy pork belly, and…
Shi Qixue devoured the food so quickly that he didn’t even get a chance to see what the remaining dishes were.
In the blink of an eye, the plates were empty.
And yet, despite eating like a starving wolf, his every movement remained elegant. He slowly wiped his mouth with a handkerchief before raising his eyes and speaking in his usual cool voice.
“In any case, don’t let me hear those words again.”
Ling Fengqi: “…”
I knew it! You’re just craving your disciple’s cooking!
Ling Fengqi watched Chi Yan leave. Then he raised a hand and set up a barrier around himself and Shi Qixue.
Only then did he get down to business.
“Yesterday, when I went down the mountain, I discovered traces that members of the Demon Cult had been staying behind.”
Shi Qixue took a sip of tea and nodded slightly.
Sure enough, the setting of humans and demons being sworn enemies never changed.
According to the original novel’s world-building, the story took place a hundred years after the great war between humans, demons, and monsters.
Humanity had won a resounding victory and taken control of the entire territory above ground and in the skies. The demons had retreated underground to recover their strength, while the monster race had always been small in number. After the war, they had gone into hiding within various mystical realms, avoiding the outside world altogether.
The many opportunities that had fallen into the original novel’s male lead’s lap had all come from opening these mystical realms one after another.
With the protagonist’s ridiculous plot armor, he had even managed to collect all four Divine Beasts as mounts.
“The Demon Cult has been lying low for five whole years, but recently, they’ve started showing signs of activity. I’m afraid their five-year plan has finally come to fruition.”
Ling Fengqi paused.
“Fortunately, I’ve already joined forces with Yi Yang to set up an array formation.”
Shi Qixue visibly relaxed upon hearing that.
Thank goodness.
At least they weren’t asking this fake Sect Master to set up an array.
Yi Yang was the Sect Master of the Formation Sect, a peerless master of formations.
With someone that powerful handling the situation, Shi Qixue felt completely at ease.
What did the Demon Cult have to do with him, anyway?
As long as he could lie around peacefully, eat well, and wait for death, everything would be fine.
Plain tea was starting to feel a little boring.
Once he returned, he would have to figure out how to make bubble milk tea…
Ling Fengqi continued, “But I’m afraid some remnants of the Demon Cult may have already infiltrated Chaoyang Sect. Everyone in the sect needs to remain especially vigilant.”
Shi Qixue nodded again.
His mind was completely occupied with bubble milk tea, so he didn’t take Ling Fengqi’s warning to heart at all.
After all, his disciple looked so honest, and the original novel had never mentioned him having any grudge against the Demon Cult.
Besides, he was either in seclusion or on his way to seclusion.
He was perfectly safe…
Late that night, the bright moon hung high in the sky.
Clear moonlight slipped through the windows of Qingyue Hall, illuminating the white-robed beauty lying on a jade bed.
His skin was as fair as snow, his sleeping face serene and peaceful.
Pear blossoms drifted in through the window.
Suddenly, a cloud of black mist appeared.
It circled through the air twice before abruptly transforming into the shape of a human figure.
The man was dressed in green robes.
A dull-edged sword appeared in his hand, and without the slightest hesitation, he pointed it directly at the sleeping man’s throat.
The person on the bed seemed completely unaware that danger was approaching. His breathing remained slow and even.
A breeze swept through the hall, carrying the fragrance of pear blossoms throughout the room.
The red knot tied around the sword hilt swayed gently in the wind.
“Whoosh—”
The sword was suddenly withdrawn into its sheath.
“Why aren’t you stabbing him, Sect Master?”
A voice suddenly rang out in his mind.
The source was a disciple of the Demon Cult crouching on the roof of Qingyue Hall, keeping watch.
He was dressed in black and had a youthful face. Peering through the gaps between the roof tiles, he watched helplessly as their Sect Master once again lowered his sword.
He was so anxious he was practically spinning in circles.
“You’ve spent fifteen whole years searching for your enemy, and now he’s right in front of you! Why are you still hesitating?”
“Have you really forgotten the blood feud of your mother and father being murdered?! Then what have we spent all these years doing? Were all those beatings we took for nothing?! Brother, maybe you’ve forgotten, but I haven’t!”
“If you don’t want to avenge Aunt Wen and Uncle Chi, then I’ll do it myself! I’ll personally tear this bastard to—”
“Wen Yao!”
The angry voice immediately cut him off.
Wen Yao stopped mid-motion as he was about to jump down.
His young face instantly became pitiful, his eyes filling with tears. Although he was clearly unwilling to accept it, he didn’t dare disobey.
Chi Yan lowered his eyes toward the silver bell hanging from Shi Qixue’s waist.
A dark purple light slowly flowed through his eyes.
How could he possibly forget such a blood feud?
He didn’t dare forget.
The human and demon races had never gotten along since ancient times. In the past, children born from unions between humans and demons were regarded as ominous abominations. People avoided them like the plague and drove them away.
Chi Yan’s parents, however, had willingly left.
Although humans and demons walked different paths, they had genuinely loved each other. They withdrew into the mountains, where they lived in seclusion and eventually had Chi Yan.
When Chi Yan was three years old, they found an abandoned baby at the foot of the mountain. They named him Wen Yao and raised him alongside Chi Yan.
Unfortunately, their peaceful days did not last.
At the time, the young Chi Yan and Wen Yao were both rather fond of food.
The night before, they had received their New Year’s money and eagerly gone down the mountain to buy three skewers of candied hawthorn.
On the way home, they each ate one piece at a time and quickly finished almost an entire skewer.
They were playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who would get the last piece.
The remaining two skewers couldn’t be touched.
Those were supposed to be gifts for their mother and father.
In the end, none of them got to eat them.
All they saw was a blinding flash of red.
Their parents’ heads had fallen to the ground.
Blood flowed into a winding river.
Their eyes remained wide open, as though they were desperately trying to say two words:
Run.
But neither of them could ever speak again.
Wen Yao immediately vomited, tears and snot streaming down his face.
Chi Yan touched his parents’ bodies, still warm with their fading body heat, and immediately chased after the killer.
All he saw was a white-robed figure flying away on a sword.
Black hair streamed behind him, and the silver bell hanging at his waist jingled in the wind.
That person had used vicious methods to lay an array formation around the area, trapping the bodies in the flames of hell.
No matter what Chi Yan and Wen Yao tried, they couldn’t remove their parents’ remains.
The flames of hell burned for a full forty-nine days.
The vegetation and rocks were reduced to nothing.
Eventually, torrential rain washed away all traces of the disaster, leaving behind nothing but the illusion of a calamity that had never happened.
They hadn’t even had time to collect the ashes of their beloved parents.
That year, Chi Yan was seven years old.
Wen Yao was four.
How could they possibly not hate him?
Chi Yan wished he could drink Shi Qixue’s blood and eat his flesh, tear that bastard limb from limb, crush his bones, and grind him into nothingness.