4 – Dress Properly, Show Your Skills.
“Kneel.”
Even with her limited sensitivity to human emotions, Liu Wuzhi could sense the suppressed yet seething rage in those two words.
The only one in the Demon Palace capable of stirring up a tornado out of nowhere must be the Demon Lord.
She had fed him so many joyful emotions, so why was the Demon Lord still so unhappy? He was truly difficult to please.
While inwardly complaining, Liu Wuzhi wanted to catch a glimpse of the Demon Lord’s imposing presence. However, as soon as she tried to move, intense, dull pain surged through her limbs—she had almost forgotten how badly she had just fallen.
During her cultivation at the Azure Mist Sect, Liu Wuzhi had always cherished her own body. The gills beneath the cap were crucial for producing spores; while broken hyphae could be repaired, once the cap shattered, it would be troublesome.
Fortunately, the Demon Lord had thrown Wuzhi, not Lingzhi.
This sensation was fresh and unfamiliar, as if fire had erupted at her joints, like stinging bees burrowing under her skin. Liu Wuzhi counted the scattered beads on her skirt, but by the time she reached three, tears of pain were already dripping from her chin onto the crimson-purple floor. Wiping them away, her palm was stained crimson.
So, pain was red.
Lingzhi’s body healed quickly and had never been injured before. Filled with curiosity, Liu Wuzhi first dipped her fingertip into her tears and tasted them—salty.
Then she tasted some of the blood—sweet.
“Wow.”
If her true form could one day shed tears and bleed, it would mean she had cultivated into a true human. Once human, she could soon ascend to immortality.
This was an opportunity to learn more! Her senior brother had said that ascending to immortality required overcoming trials—perhaps the demon realm was where her opportunity lay!
Liu Wuzhi immediately followed the command, kneeling properly and respectfully.
Her once-gorgeous attire had been torn to shreds by the violent winds, her delicate body covered in wounds, bleeding and weeping. Yet her kneeling posture was dignified and solemn, like an Immortal Sect disciple attentively receiving teachings.
Though her bowed head concealed her expression, the Demon Lord, who could perceive emotions and desires, could sense that this undercover beauty was even happier now!
“Look up.”
The voice was low and slow, like sandalwood dust shaken from vibrating strings, carrying a cold, silvery-ice quality.
In her heightened state of tension, Liu Wuzhi forgot the pain and obediently raised her eyes—
Netherworld Butterflies and Dusk Crows perched on either side of the amethyst bed, their scale powder shimmering and purple feathers fluttering gently. Bone candle stands cast a soft glow over layers of purple-silver curtains, faintly revealing a figure reclining on the bed.
The person’s robe was half-open, his slender fingers idly plucking an ancient zither. Drops of blood fell from his sharp fingertips, blooming like red plum blossoms on the cold jade instrument, while a skinned and sinew-stripped corpse lay conspicuously piled against the wall.
The night breeze lifted the gauzy curtains, unveiling a face of desolate, breathtaking beauty.
Deep-set eyes, a high nose bridge, sharp features—his elongated ears and demonic mark dragon horns accentuated his inhuman aura, like a forbidden deity carved from ice blades. His left pupil was pure silver, while a crystal prism covered half of his right eye, faintly glowing with a bloodthirsty red light. His long purple hair cascaded like the night sky, interwoven with silver strands resembling sword scars.
So close yet worlds apart, it was a beauty that did not belong to humanity—stunning and awe-inspiring.
So, the Demon Lord wasn’t an old man; he was beautiful.
The scent of blood mingled with lingering incense smoke, spreading thinly and lingering in the air. They observed each other openly, without concealment.
The Demon Lord took pleasure in discerning the Seven Emotions and Six Desires of others; no intense emotion could hide from his gaze.
Yet this suspicious individual was like a blank sheet of paper—facing him directly, she showed neither admiration nor fear, and even the demonic mark between her brows was dim. What she seemed to see was merely him as a person.
Baili Zheque felt both frustrated and absurd.
It was as if he had stared at a lively, leaping meal on a plate for a long time, only to pull it close and find the plate empty.
The more disgusted he felt inside, the more he smiled on the surface.
The seven-stringed zither dissipated into smoke. Baili Zheque straightened up, his lips curling playfully. “My beloved consort has waited alone for three years. Now that you’ve finally seen me, is there anything you wish to say?”
His voice grew lower, carrying a dangerous, bewitching tone. “Speak, and I shall grant your wish.”
This great Demon Lord was beautiful in appearance yet brutal in behavior, but now he was showing goodwill. Liu Wuzhi tilted her head in confusion. “If I speak, will you truly grant my wish?”
“Why not?”
The Demon Lord used the sound of his zither as a gu.
Grant her wish, then ensnare her with his Sound Gu, causing her to lose her senses and reveal everything about Baili Xuanye—after which she could die.
Liu Wuzhi actually gave it serious thought.
Her circumstances had changed, but the principle remained the same. Striving to cultivate immortality was to live longer, and approaching the Demon Lord was to achieve Soul Separation as soon as possible, preventing her lingzhi mushroom true form from withering away.
Only by diligently pleasing the Demon Lord could she successfully persuade him to give up the idea of her attending the bedchamber.
As her thoughts deepened, her tear-stained, blood-smeared face finally showed a trace of obsession.
Baili Zheque had seen countless people groveling and rolling outside the Demon Palace, bending their spines and bowing like stray dogs, begging the Demon Lord to fulfill their wishes. Yet her posture when seeking favor was still dignified.
Merely superficial—the desires of the human heart could not be anything but filthy.
Unconvinced, he listened—
“Sovereign Lord, I wish…” Liu Wuzhi adopted the attitude she would use when meeting her sect leader, speaking with utmost reverence, “…to please you.”
As expected, the Demon Lord raised an eyebrow. He listened further—
“Because I don’t want you to have me attend the bedchamber.”
The phrasing was bizarre, making one suspect it was intentional.
The Demon Lord’s brow twitched. He listened again—
Seeming to think her tone was too forceful, the girl softly added, “At least wait a little while, is that alright?”
Her voice was too faint and soft, utterly mismatched with this hall of slaughter.
The pressure in the bedchamber continued to drop.
The Demon Lord did not answer. Instead, he reached out toward her.
Liu Wuzhi did not move. She watched as the fingers adorned with sharp purple nails hooked through the air, and her body suddenly lost its balance, flying straight from the entrance of the bedchamber to the bed. In her panic, one foot stepped on the Demon Lord’s loosely spread purple-black robe.
Baili Zheque grasped the back of Liu Wuzhi’s neck, lifting her up and easily pulling her into his embrace.
He dragged her close, his robes wide open, his eyes filled with bloodthirsty killing intent. “Playing hard to get should be done in moderation.”
“I grant you one final chance. Show me what you’re capable of.”
A genuine crisis of death pressed down upon her. Liu Wuzhi had never seen such a towering, ruggedly defined male physique before, and her mind went completely blank.
Capability? What capability did she possess that could catch the Demon Lord’s eye?
And why did this great Demon Lord neither speak properly nor dress properly!
Plop—
The flesh pressed before her eyes was as hard, domineering, and aggressive as the Demon Lord’s temperament.
Stimulated, Liu Wuzhi trembled, and the tears frozen on her cheeks involuntarily began to fall, one after another. The watery sheen mixed with blood, and the pearly tears rolled down the firm contours, leaving behind damp, sticky trails.
“…”
Dead silence.
What to do, what to do, what to do? Before her plan to please the Demon Lord even began, she had already dirtied the beautiful Demon Lord!
Liu Wuzhi tried to cover up the evidence, quickly pulling together the open collar of her robe, pressing it tightly with one hand over the other. “…”
Baili Zheque remained motionless, eyeing her with a dangerous glint.
Watching as the thin fabric became damp with moisture and slowly slid down again after she let go, Liu Wuzhi had no choice but to go along with the mistake. Steeling herself, she grabbed the loose sash. With her slender, pale fingers flying, she instinctively tied a round, adorable bow on his well-defined chest.
This was a bow that exceeded Liu Wuzhi’s usual skill. The brocade sash was exceptionally wide, and the wings of the bow were particularly plump. The ends of the sash, which should have hung down, looked as if they had been sliced by an invisible blade, exploding into fine arcs of silver light at the tips.
The more elegantly the sash curled, the sharper the angles at its folds appeared, completely unlike the soft, gentle form of an ordinary bow.
Truly, a bow fit for a Demon Lord.
“………………”
Still dead silence.
Wuzhi’s body had not yet healed from its injuries, and blood-tears dripped uncontrollably. Liu Wuzhi knelt atop Baili Zheque, her gaze fixed on the damp corner of the bow, but her attention was focused on the increasing pressure on the back of her neck.
Just as she thought the Demon Lord was about to crush her throat, a bone-chilling laugh came from above her head.
Baili Zheque wished he could simply crush this woman to death.
Her desire was joy, her obsession was delaying attending the bedchamber, and her skill in a life-or-death moment was tying a bow?!
Well done! Baili Xuanye certainly knew how to pick a spy!
He casually untied the ridiculous bow, pulling Liu Wuzhi closer, his voice cold and menacing: “There is only one outcome for those who mock this Sovereign Lord.”
His icy temperature, his firm chest. Wuzhi’s figure was already considered tall and slender, but in his broad embrace, she seemed like a tender sprout struggling to survive in a crack between stones.
The perilous touch of skin against skin instead stirred inappropriate thoughts.
From this closer distance, the Demon Lord looked even more beautiful, especially those silver-red heterochromatic eyes.
If Baili Zheque’s left eye could be compared to the cold light of the moon, then his right eye, hidden behind a crystal lens, was like a vibrant ruby, with Demon Flames churning within, as if the wounds on her body were pulsing with blood.
That would likely hurt.
The little girl, who had a fondness for shiny things, felt an inexplicable softness in her heart: “I didn’t lie to you.”
At this moment, only half a foot separated their eyes, their breaths intertwining like an inescapable entanglement of fate.
The evil demon born from filth and chaos was exceptionally sensitive to the darker aspects of human nature. Yet, these clear, rain-moistened lake-like eyes before him told him that her emotions were not the forced loyalty of a subordinate but the genuine heart of an innocent.
How could a spy have such eyes? Even the most absurd Demon found it absurd.
The cleaner and more untainted she was, the more he wanted to soil and corrupt her.
Baili Zheque relaxed his fingers, shifting his grip from the back of Liu Wuzhi’s neck to stroking her hair. His voice melted like spring ice, light yet dangerous: “Is my beloved consort being so reserved because she wants this Sovereign Lord to take the lead?”
With the bow undone, the Demon Lord’s robe opened once more, and Liu Wuzhi herself inexplicably lost an outer layer.
The Demon Lord taking the lead? Did that mean he would teach her how to attend the bedchamber hand-in-hand, just like her senior brother taught her swordsmanship?
“Playing hard to get at a time like this is hardly appropriate,” he said, as another layer of brocade clothing fell away.
Liu Wuzhi couldn’t understand these profound terms at all. Under the third temptation, she involuntarily spoke: “But I just fell too hard. If you insist on attending the bedchamber now, you’ll only be drained dry—it’s simply not worth it.”
In the Immortal Sect, dual cultivation should be mutually beneficial.
If done recklessly now, Wuzhi could be healed, but would the Demon Lord himself really not suffer any loss?
Besides, she wasn’t even Wuzhi herself.
“Pushing through for a quarter-hour leads to ten years of regret. You should reconsider carefully!”
The closer the distance, the harder it became to conceal emotions. The Demon Lord had used schemes to destroy countless hypocrites, but now, sensing that genuine concern, his terrifying gaze fractured for an instant.
A quarter-hour? What quarter-hour?!
“Hah…” Baili Zheque’s eyes blazed with fire as he pressed her “thump” onto the bed. “Do you truly think this lord would engage in intercourse with you?”
“Wishful thinking.”
His long purple nails, sharp as blades, grazed the pulsing vein on the girl’s neck. Blood rolled down her neck like broken pearls, warm and seeping into the disheveled layers of her clothing.
While coughing and choking, Liu Wuzhi’s mind wandered.
Intercourse? Is that a synonym for mating? Who would have thought the Demon Lord’s vocabulary would overlap with that of immortal herbs.
“Mating together…” she gasped intermittently, spitting blood as she spoke. “You don’t want to, and I know it’s not suitable. Although the demon realm has gentle lighting, we should wait until it warms up a bit more. Otherwise, the spo… uh, the offspring will freeze to death…”
She almost slipped up again—she was Wuzhi, not Liu Wuzhi.
Even if the Demon Lord truly wanted to produce offspring, he couldn’t force it with a body twisted and shattered from a fall, stuffed with two souls inside, could he?
Baili Zheque watched her lips part and close, her plea sincere and without a trace of malice.
She was crying, but she wasn’t afraid.
Killing intent flowed calmly.
Liu Wuzhi didn’t know how to stop the bleeding or hold back tears, much less how to survive. Yet, Baili Zheque’s breathing gradually grew suppressed and prolonged, as if it took immense effort to restrain the impulse to kill her.
Under normal circumstances, this woman would have died eight hundred times over.
His grip loosened slightly, and his voice turned airy: “Do you know how the women before you died?”
Liu Wuzhi’s brain was somewhat oxygen-deprived. She wanted to shake her head but realized he was still choking her, making movement impossible.
The Demon Lord directly revealed the answer: “Those who tried to bewitch this lord were corroded by Netherworld Butterfly scale powder, ruining their smug appearances. Those who plotted against this lord had their filthy, vile hearts pecked apart by Dusk Crow beaks.”
“Oh, and there were also fools who admired this lord wholeheartedly. Their perfumed scents masked the newly blended corpse oil incense.” He glanced outside the curtain. “Now, reunited with their skeletons, they smell much better.”
Bones formed the frames, human skin the cloth—every lamp in this opulent, deep palace was a strand of living soul. Not only did they die tragically, but they also suffered daily soul burning by Netherfire, with no hope of release.
After finishing the horror story, the girl beneath him showed no reaction at all.
The Demon Lord thought he might have accidentally choked her to death, but when he looked down, he saw recognition and understanding in those clear eyes.
“I understand—they disrupted your bedchamber habits.” Liu Wuzhi deeply respected the unique customs of different species.
If a poisonous mushroom grows peacefully in the ground and you insist on eating it, you can’t blame the mushroom if you die from it.
Her gaze in the darkness was bright and spirited, adopting an “as you wish” attitude.
Baili Zheque released his grip, twirling the purplish-brown strands of hair entwined around his fingertips as he sneered maliciously, “Lamp oil made from your soul would surely shine exceptionally bright.”
Freed from the restraint, Liu Wuzhi immediately shook her head. “No, there’s too much water and blood in the Demon Palace. Whether you burn me or yourself, it won’t catch fire easily in such damp air.”
The Demon Lord: “…?”
Beneath the beautiful lamp, her jade-like body lay sprawled, yet all he wanted was to throw her out.
“Interesting.” His sharp nails slowly shredded the strands of hair inch by inch. “Think carefully about your last words. I grant you until noon tomorrow to live.”
Since the Sound Gu couldn’t pry open her mouth, he’d play with the Life-Linked Beast instead.
With those words, his demonic shadow transformed into swarms of Netherworld Butterflies and Dusk Crows, their bloodthirsty shrieks rushing toward her face.
Author’s Note:
【Mini Theater 1】
Demon Lord’s achievements today: Throwing his wife. Cursing his wife. Choking his wife.
Zhizhi: If I were even slightly normal, this would be a tragic story 0.0
【Mini Theater 2】
#First impressions of each other
Liu Wuzhi: So beautiful it’s terrifying.
Baili Zheque: So deformed from being thrown.
Wuzhi waiting backstage: …Are you even polite?
【Mini Theater 3】
Question: As the first person to survive in the Demon Lord’s bedchamber, how did you manage it?
Zhizhi: By overwhelming him with my happiness!
Today, I’m asking for support for my upcoming novel, “Cultivation World Forbids Cloning.” Synopsis below:
【Shameless Playboy x Lazy Big Shot】
【He said he’d expose my true self sooner or later. Me: Oh.】
Rusheng was a dazzlingly unpopular figure—no friends, no romantic ties. She reached the pinnacle with just her sword, only to meet an untimely death.
Three years after her death, she was reborn into a pitiful girl who looked exactly like her.
Upon learning that her former sect had divided all her savings and belittled her into worthlessness, Rusheng thought for a moment, then turned and joined the rival sect, changing her name to “Ning Xu.”
On the day the pitiful girl first arrived, her new master patted her head and issued a strict order: “Spoil her! Spoil her with all your might!”
When the junior sister needed to fetch water, the eldest senior brother carved a river in front of her door with his sword.
When the junior sister needed to search for treasures, the second senior sister opened her Cosmic Bag.
When the junior sister needed to cultivate, the third senior brother used his Spiritual Power to forcibly elevate her realm.
Rusheng, forced from an overachiever into a lazy slacker: …Alright then, I’ll just lie down.
Before she could even lie down, a sharp pain pierced her back.
Rusheng removed the hidden thorn from her clothes and fell into deep thought.
It seems… there’s a traitor.
Regarding the new, talentless junior sister, Lian Yi was initially full of disdain.
This cheap imitation, this stand-in, was utterly shameless! From clothing and food to cultivation methods, Ning Xu was clearly cloning his goddess in every way!
Everything about Rusheng had been distorted and erased by her sect. No one believed Lian Yi’s accusations, so he could only secretly cause trouble for Ning Xu.
Planting hidden thorns, stealing opportunities, throwing difficult problems her way… Lian Yi sat smugly on Ning Xu’s roof, chewing on a blade of grass.
Better give up early. Rusheng is irreplaceable.
Later, however, he was the first to charge into the horde when Ning Xu fell into the Ten-Thousand Demon Abyss, drenched in blood as he embraced the “stand-in junior sister.”
“Rusheng,” Lian Yi whispered, his eyes red, voice strained. “Don’t die.”
Ning Xu wiped the blood from her face and pushed him away expressionlessly. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
#Lonely Overachiever → Universally Adored
#After Rebirth, Becoming Her Own Stand-in
#Little Junior Sister Treads on the Territory Built by the Eldest Senior Sister
#As Long as I Don’t Get Exposed, the Crematorium Will Be Your Home