An aggrieved “awooo” was his only response.
Pei Xuezhao let the man hold it by the skin of the back of its neck, its tail curling up coaxingly to rub against his wrist.
The very first moment it laid eyes on this person, an endless surge of fondness seemed to sprout deep within its heart. In particular, the aura radiating from the man made it instinctively yearn to draw close, especially in its injured state while back in its original form.
This Immortal was truly breathtaking. Not even the nine-tailed fox clan, renowned for producing beauties, could match even a fraction of his allure. It secretly wanted to kidnap him and carry him back home to make him its queen.
Perhaps placated by its ingratiating behavior, the Immortal scooped it back into his arms. Even though he merely supported it loosely with one hand, it was more than satisfied.
Along the entire journey through the underground palace, they hadn’t triggered a single unexpected trap. Yet outside the palace, corpses littered the fields, meaning the secret realm must have completely gone out of control.
The man and the leopard walked for who knows how long before the sound of dripping water finally reached them from ahead. Keeping his guard up while slowly quickening his pace, Shen Zaixin pressed forward.
Stepping out of the underground palace’s hidden passage and through an ivy-draped cave entrance, an oppressive, bone-chilling dampness rushed to meet them. The Dream-Crossing Lotus thrived in darkness, and this underground palace, left behind by a Tribulation-stage powerhouse before their demise, still retained a lingering trace of vitality, making it the perfect environment to nourish its blooming.
Though the Dream-Crossing Lotus had already withered, its accompanying guardian beast remained on guard nearby. Despite Shen Zaixin’s formidable mastery over the sword, his cultivation had been suppressed to the Golden Core stage, meaning this battle was destined to be far from easy.
“Roar!”
The nightmare beast had long since sensed intruders. Its massive tail lashed the ground with coiled power, eager to tear this human intruder who dared trespass into its territory into shreds.
Tossing the clingy little dog in his arms gently to the side, Shen Zaixin summoned Zhaoyan. The exact moment his feet left the ground, the nightmare beast’s heavy tail smashed hard into the spot he had just occupied, sending countless cracks spider-webbing across the stone floor, a testament to its immense force.
Shen Zaixin’s sword strikes were agile and swift, but inevitably lacking in sheer brute force. Although Zhaoyan was a top-tier celestial sword, it still struggled to deal fatal damage through the nightmare beast’s extraordinarily thick scales.
With yet another slash leaving only a shallow scratch on the beast’s body, the nightmare beast grew thoroughly enraged by this human who had repeatedly toyed with it. Baring its long, sharp fangs, it let out a furious roar. Growing physically exhausted, Shen Zaixin was forced back a few steps and abruptly spat out a mouthful of fresh blood.
This nightmare beast possessed at least three thousand years of cultivation, featuring heavy scales and a nimble tail. If this continued, he would eventually run out of stamina and die.
He needed to figure out a way to face it head-on and secure a kill in a single strike.
Seeing the nightmare beast’s tail sweeping toward him once more, Shen Zaixin stood his ground with his sword raised, unmoving. Panic spiked in 152’s chest, wondering if the host’s ears had been deafened by the blow.
They always said human survival instincts were triggered in desperation. As the tail whipped toward him, stopping a mere three inches away, Shen Zaixin failed to miraculously manifest some overpowered technique on the spot since he wasn’t the protagonist. He simply recalled a certain sword technique from a particular year at the Sword Peak’s Sword-Inquiring Platform, a technique Ning Wuchen had tried to teach him, but the only one he had never managed to learn.
Ning Wuchen had remarked back then that his state of mind was too casual, making it difficult for any event to stir his emotions. That detached, nonchalant indifference failed to resonate with the extreme sword intent contained within that strike.
Yet at this moment, the sword intent humming within his palm arrived at precisely the right time!
“Changning, watch closely. This sword technique is called—”
The cold, deep voice of that person seemed to ring out in his ear once more.
Ning Wuchen and Shen Zaixin spoke as one: “A single sweep of frost covers fourteen provinces!”
Zhaoyan suddenly erupted with a fully formed white sword intent. Accompanied by the most biting gale and heavy snow, the freezing tip of the blade tore right through the toughest scales, cutting straight through the nightmare beast’s massive tail with unstoppable momentum. Yet, with the extreme sword intent not yet fully unleashed, how could it willingly dissipate?
Carrying the practitioner’s blazing spiritual energy, the frost sword intent swept straight into the nightmare beast’s internal organs. Under the agonizing torment of simultaneous freezing cold and scorching heat, the creature let out a miserable wail before its colossal body collapsed limply to the ground, drawing its final breath.
Withdrawing his sword into its scabbard without pause, Shen Zaixin vaulted lightly across the water’s surface, flying toward the lotus pod at the center of the cold pool guided by the system’s uncharacteristically helpful prompts.
Landing back on steady ground, he casually peeled a lotus seed and tossed it into his mouth just as he would ordinary fruit, before speaking indifferently to the hesitant system in his mind: “What is it you want to say?”
For some reason, 152’s relationship with him was far from the cutthroat antagonism it shared with other foolish systems, merely carrying a touch of proud awkwardness.
Shen Zaixin had always been somewhat patient with things that catered to his own whims.
Recalling the sudden spike in the host’s heartbeat just moments earlier, 152 probed cautiously: [Host, are you saying you actually still care somewhat about Ning Wuchen?]
After all, he was a senior brother who had shared his days and nights for hundreds of years, and lacking the detestable identity of a protagonist, he was bound to feel a little different.
Back then, when the host failed to learn that sword technique, he hadn’t forced it either, relying solely on pure spiritual energy to sweep through the cultivation world with few rivals, so he had never watched him practice it again. Who would have guessed he still remembered it after all these years?
At this thought, 152 grew all the more convinced it had discovered the host’s little hidden thoughts.
Shen Zaixin’s smile was bright, yet his eyes were ice-cold: “If I cared even a fraction, I wouldn’t have stood by and watched him act like a fool and fall into demonic deviation.”
That person fancied himself a savior, but what Shen Zaixin despised most was the rescue and pity of others.
He never needed it.
152 fell silent. Though it failed to understand human emotions, data analysis suggested this resembled heartache and love far more than salvation and pity.
The host understood what romance was, yet scoffed at it, treating emotions as nothing more than a pastime for amusement. It was better to drop the argument.
In the corner, Pei Xuezhao stared dazedly as the man walked toward it step by step, its mind replaying the immortal-like figure clad in red robes wielding a sword. Just moments prior, it had been terrified out of its wits, yet the next instant, its entire soul had been captivated by the man’s resolute and peerless grace.
Such a fleeting shock was destined to be etched into its memory for a lifetime.
“Awooo!”
Hoisting the snow leopard up from the ground, the creature eagerly lunged forward to lick his neck. Shen Zaixin held it further away from himself, knowing that after rolling around on the ground earlier, the beast must be filthy despite his inability to see.
The snow leopard’s small body thrashed its paws in midair. Realizing its struggle was futile, it drooped its head with a pathetic awooo, letting even its tail sag.
The lotus seed swallowed into his body required him to channel his cultivation to absorb its essence before it could take full effect. Shen Zaixin intended to find a spot to meditate once he cleared the secret realm, but just as he stepped out of the underground palace, he ran straight into a trap waiting for him.
“Big Brother, didn’t I tell you? Someone really went in!” A flattering, grating male voice drifted from ahead, causing Shen Zaixin to furrow his brows involuntarily.
“Blind man, if you know what’s good for you, hand over the Dream-Crossing Lotus seeds!”
Another extremely rough male voice rang out, accompanied by the sound of shuffling footsteps drawing closer. Shen Zaixin sensed the surrounding auras, counting no fewer than twenty individuals, all at the peak of the Golden Core stage.
Corpses had littered the entire path through the secret realm, yet this group breathed steadily, showing no signs of being affected by the illusionary riots. If they weren’t simply lucky, they must be the culprits behind it all. Aside from the protagonist, he had never witnessed anyone so deeply favored by the Heavenly Dao.
These individuals reeked of dense demonic qi and made no attempt to conceal it, such behavior belonging exclusively to people of the Demon Realm.
Plenty of demonic cultivators had fallen victim to the secret realm’s madness, yet these people cared nothing for their own kind, stopping at nothing to seize the Dream-Crossing Lotus seeds. It was rather bizarre since lotus seeds lacked the marrow-cleansing properties of the lotus itself, nor could they bring the dead back to life. Why would these perpetually solitary demonic cultivators band together, unconcerned that there wouldn’t be enough to go around?
Or could it be they were obeying someone’s orders to offer this item as tribute? Shen Zaixin inexplicably recalled recent rumors of a Demon Palace being established in the Demon Realm and a Demon Lord being welcomed back. It seemed even if he refused to take up the mantle of Demon Lord, someone else would step up to fill the vacancy.
Shen Zaixin’s silence was interpreted by the crowd as cowardice. The leading man cast a lewd, appraising look up and down his figure, his gaze turning increasingly vulgar: “I must say, even though this little Daoist priest is blind, with that delicate skin and tender meat, he’s actually quite stunning.”
Especially that slender waist and those pale red lips, which were far more alluring than the top-tier furnace-vessels back in the Demon Realm.
“Boss, our mission this time is to secure the lotus seeds to please that lord. Shouldn’t we…”
“Aren’t the lotus seeds right on him? Once I break this pretty thing in and conquer him, I’ll present him to that lord along with the seeds. Isn’t that killing two birds with one stone?” The man let out a low chuckle, slowly stepping toward the crimson-clad Daoist with a sticky, predatory gaze.
To have acquired the lotus seeds, he must have fought the thousand-year nightmare beast earlier. With the secret realm suppressing their cultivation, he refused to believe this beauty had any strength left to resist.
Sensing the surging murderous intent hidden beneath the host’s calm exterior, 152 felt its entire data system shudder in dread.
Stroking the restless snow leopard in his arms soothingly, which had already bared its sharp little fangs and claws, Shen Zaixin stood his ground calmly, letting the man draw near.
In the exact second the man reached out to brush his cheek, a flash of sword light split the firmament. A biting intent to kill, laden with bone-piercing frost, pierced straight through the chest of the man attempting to approach him. A few droplets of fresh blood inadvertently spattered across the blindfolded Daoist’s face, causing the corners of his lips to drop visibly.
Releasing Mahayana-stage pressure uninhibitedly inside the secret realm, Shen Zaixin didn’t even need to guess who it was.
A man clad in dark crimson robes descended from the skies, tall and slender, wearing a half-face mask that exposed a sharp, deeply chiselled left facial profile, his crimson eyes dark, desolate, and chilling.
Ignoring the dead silence of the surrounding atmosphere, he walked slowly up to Shen Zaixin, using his thumb to gently wipe away the few glaring bloodstains from the fair cheek, and asked in a low voice: “Why didn’t you dodge?”
Had he not arrived in time, was Shen Zaixin planning to let some stranger touch him? The mere thought of such a possibility filled his heart with a swarm of malevolent urges gnawing at his chest, driving him to the brink of madness.
“Lord Demon Lord, you are sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you.” Feeling the deep, lingering gaze tracing across his face, Shen Zaixin curved his lips into a smile. “Let alone a mere touch, even if I were to share intimacy with any other man, what business is it of yours, Ning Wuchen?”
Those words struck the man’s vital organs like toxic thorns. Overwhelmed by a surge of burning rage in his chest, he grabbed the man’s wrist and jerked him forward, and the next instant, a resounding slap landed hard across his left cheek.
The surrounding demonic cultivators, who had dropped to their knees long ago to welcome their Demon Lord, were struck with sheer terror at the sight, terrified that the enraged man would take out his fury on them and lower their heads even further.