Setting that aside, this guy surnamed Qi was still quite useful.
Big enough, satisfying enough.
A righteous, refined, and aloof immortal lord like this was a hot commodity in the cultivation world — there wasn’t a single demon who hadn’t fantasized about keeping Immortal Lord Bo Yan as their cultivation partner, indulging in dual cultivation day after day, except — no one could beat him.
He hadn’t gotten to taste it in the cultivation world, but now that he had tasted it here, it was like fulfilling an old unfulfilled wish.
Miao Shuang got dressed and walked past Qi Yan.
His physical body was already dead; only his soul remained. If he left this world within the book, he would likely be reduced to ash and scattered — there was no possibility of going back, so he might as well think about what to do from now on.
Although being trapped in this little world left him unwilling to accept it, sleeping with his mortal enemy was at least tolerable for now — he’d just wait until the day Qi Yan recovered his memories and tried to kill him again, or got killed by him instead. Either way it would be over, and he’d have no regrets.
Miao Shuang sat in front of the mirror and began to groom himself.
Last night his body had enjoyed itself, but his mind hadn’t been idle either — he’d already roughly sorted through the contents of this book. The plot he currently found himself in was precisely the opening of this book, the part where the two of them “made hate” on their wedding night.
In the book, the “Miao Shuang” character had, as a child, experienced the brutal and inhumane Great Shaman selection, personally watching his companions die horribly and his parents be killed. This left him harboring resentment toward the Miao Village, and his temperament became perverse and deranged. When the Yong army attacked, he decisively chose to defect to the enemy, and to win the trust of the Great Yong emperor, he didn’t hesitate to offer up his own “Life Gu” blood as a show of loyalty.
The Life Gu was the Gu King bound to the Great Shaman — the two shared a fate, prospering and suffering together. If one offered someone the Life Gu’s blood, it meant the Great Shaman could no longer place a Gu curse on that person, and would obey their every command.
Miao Shuang’s evaluation of his book counterpart could be summed up in four words: pathetic and despicable.
He clearly had a thousand possible schemes available, yet he chose the most spineless one of all — handing his own life over into someone else’s hands. This kind of behavior was truly like a cornered dog jumping a wall — utterly foolish.
Betraying his tribe to serve Great Yong was really just leaping from one fire pit into another — the waters of the Yong Kingdom ran far deeper than those of the Miao Village.
Following the Great Yong emperor’s decree, the original owner of this body disguised himself as an ordinary Miao healer, outwardly marrying Qi Yan to ward off his bad luck and treat his injuries, while in reality trying every means to poison and torment him, forcing him to reveal the whereabouts of the Sacred Gu.
But even so, Qi Yan never gave in.
Three years of marriage meant three years of torment for Qi Yan, repeatedly tortured until he wished for death, his hatred for the original owner and the emperor compounding, and he grew increasingly withdrawn and silent.
This great general endured humiliation and bided his time, secretly plotting in the dark, and finally, after three years, seized back military power and killed the tyrannical emperor, unifying the realm.
Meanwhile, the original owner was trampled to death in the chaos of the army, not even leaving a complete corpse behind.
…Clearly this author’s stance was firm, standing resolutely on the side of “evil cannot suppress good.”
This kind of ending made Miao Shuang angrier the more he read — he cursed as he read, tearing out each page as he went.
He’d torn out half the book already; as for what remained, it was all steamy scenes of the two of them in bed.
Other stories played at pure love; these two played at pure hatred — the more they hated, the more they did it, and the more they did it, the more they hated — passionate and intensely satisfying, each step striking straight to the gut, drawing blood with every thrust, and never repeating the same scene twice.
So Miao Shuang kept this remaining half-book of “essential material,” pulling it out to ruminate over whenever he had nothing to do.
Just thinking about how intense the descriptions in the book were, Miao Shuang couldn’t help but turn to look at the person passed out on the bed, the corner of his mouth curling down in displeasure.
Still not awake.
Too depleted. Needed replenishing.
Otherwise how would he “make hate” with him?
The emperor wanted him to poison Qi Yan to drain his vital energy, but what was the emperor anyway?
In this life he hated being controlled by others more than anything. Whatever the original owner had done had nothing to do with him, Miao Shuang.
No one had yet taught a Demon Lord how to play the villain.
Miao Shuang stood up, opened the door, and called for a servant.
“I’m new here and not yet familiar with this general’s residence. Take me around to look.”
The servant froze for a moment, then said respectfully, “Yes, madam, this way please.”
****
Qi Yan woke again at noon.
His body, still recovering from severe wounds, had been tormented without restraint by Miao Shuang for half the night, and he felt as though every bone in his body had come loose.
Even marching day and night during war had never exhausted him this much.
Qi Yan clenched his teeth and forced himself to sit up. The bedding was in complete disarray, red and white stains silently telling the story of everything that had happened the night before.
…He’d actually really slept with a man.
A Miao person, no less.
Absurd.
Qi Yan forcefully shut his eyes and pushed the soiled blanket aside, unwilling to look at it any longer.
He struggled to move himself into his wheelchair, wanting to leave the room, but as he glanced up, he saw something on the table nearby that shouldn’t exist.
A snake?
How could there possibly be a snake in his bedroom?
The wheelchair rolled up to the table — the snake lay completely still, as if dead.
Gazing at this small, weak creature that had somehow wandered in here and mysteriously died, a trace of pity showed in Qi Yan’s gloomy eyes. He tried to carry the snake out to bury it beneath a tree, but the instant his fingertips touched its body, the motionless snake suddenly curled up.
The cold snake body wound around his wrist, bringing a slick and strange sensation, yet somehow it wound itself crookedly, nearly slipping off his hand several times.
Qi Yan frowned at this strange snake, then glanced at the now-empty wine cup on the table, and finally understood something.
This snake had secretly drunk the leftover wedding wine from the night before.
It wasn’t dead — just drunk.
A snake with a normal mind probably wouldn’t willingly drink human wine — this snake was clearly no ordinary creature.
Its body was snow-white, its eyes blood-red, bearing a striking resemblance to that white-haired, red-eyed Miao man.
This thing…
Qi Yan caught the still-dazed snake, pinching its throat with his fingertips.
Months ago, when he led troops to attack the Miao Village, he had conducted a thorough investigation beforehand and learned that the Miao Village had a Great Shaman skilled in using Gu poison, who could very likely pose a major threat to them. He had guarded against this in every way, yet all the way until he finally killed the chieftain of the Miao Village, this so-called Great Shaman never made a move.
According to rumor, the Great Shaman could command hundreds of kinds of poisonous creatures, but among them, the companion “Life Gu” was the most potently toxic — the Life Gu possessed more spiritual awareness than ordinary poisonous creatures, making it difficult to guard against.
Could this snake be the rumored “Life Gu,” and Miao Shuang the Great Shaman himself?
Qi Yan’s fingertip slowly moved downward, pressing against the snake’s vital point, seven cun from its head.
The Life Gu and the Great Shaman shared one body and one fate — if he killed this Life Gu, even if he couldn’t truly kill Miao Shuang, he would certainly deal him a severe blow.
Killing intent surged in Qi Yan’s deep black eyes, yet the snake gripped in his hand seemed completely unaware of it, its small bean-like eyes like red agate showing an innocent, foolish clarity, its crimson tongue flicking tentatively in and out, even extending its tail tip as if to curry favor, affectionately curling around his finger.
Qi Yan: “…”
Perhaps he’d gotten it wrong.
A snake with absolutely no sense of danger — however he looked at it, it didn’t match up with that viciously cunning Miao man at all.
He released his grip, letting the snake crawl freely over his hand, its tongue brushing across his scarred, wound-covered wrist, cold and itchy.
Suddenly, Qi Yan raised his eyes.
Miao Shuang, who had been nowhere in sight until now, reappeared. “Xiao Bai, so this is where you are.”
Xiao Bai?
Miao Shuang reached toward the white snake on Qi Yan’s wrist. “Not coming back yet? Want someone to cut you open and make snake soup?”
Only then did the white snake reluctantly slither up into his palm.
Miao Shuang toyed with the little snake, saying with a smile, “Its name is Xiao Bai, it’s my companion Life Gu. Though it’s a Gu creature, it has its own mind — General, don’t you dare treat it like an ordinary worm and casually kill it.”
Having been rubbed and handled by him, the white snake seemed somewhat unwilling, wriggling free from his grip and burrowing into his sleeve, tongue flicking.
Qi Yan’s voice was hoarse and cold. “You really are that Great Shaman?”
“Hm? I thought you already knew,” Miao Shuang leaned in close to him, gazing with satisfaction at the wound he himself had bitten into Qi Yan’s lips, “His Majesty granted you a marriage, yet didn’t even tell you your new wife’s true identity. The marriage is consummated, the lovemaking is done, and yet you still don’t know who I am.”
That gaze seemed as if it wanted to swallow him whole; Qi Yan turned his face away in disgust.
Miao Shuang really was the Great Shaman — how was this possible?
A Miao person of such importance to the Miao Village — why would he defect to serve a foreign people, and how did he infiltrate the imperial capital and win His Majesty’s favor?
Could he have been mixed in among the group of prisoners escorted back from the Miao Village?
But he had personally interrogated every single person among those prisoners — Miao Shuang’s appearance was extremely distinctive; if he had truly seen him before, he couldn’t possibly have no impression of him.
Had he changed his appearance through Gu techniques?
If he’d been so cautious and careful, then why would he suddenly reveal it so openly now?
Every move this Miao man made fell outside what he could anticipate — his temperament perverse and his behavior deranged, even self-contradictory at times.
He had clearly defected to serve Great Yong, yet seemed not to be aligned with the emperor either — he truly couldn’t figure out what he was scheming.
He slowly met the other’s gaze, testing him. “As the Great Shaman, you fled the battlefield, causing your own people to die in vain. Betraying your tribe — that’s something to be ashamed of.”
“Something to be ashamed of?” Miao Shuang couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to tilt up his chin. “General, have you perhaps forgotten your own crime? Secretly hoarding the Sacred Gu, plotting rebellion — the two of us are quite the match made in heaven, wouldn’t you say?”
Qi Yan glared at him viciously, the veins on his arm bulging.
He really should have strangled that snake after all!
Miao Shuang reveled in the killing intent radiating off him — that sensation of making one’s hairs stand on end and sending chills down the spine held an indescribable thrill and pleasure. After all, he’d found few match for himself in the cultivation world either — aside from Immortal Lord Bo Yan, no one posed a threat to him.
Day after day on Myriad Demons Peak, whether cultivating or killing, it was all equally boring — only the name Qi Yan could stir up even a little interest in him.
Miao Shuang licked the corner of his mouth, somewhat excited, recalling the ethereal, otherworldly Immortal Lord Bo Yan, then looking at the disheveled, wretched General Qi Yan before him — he suddenly felt rather displeased.
He still preferred him in his untainted, immaculate state, expressionlessly plunging a long sword into his heart, his snow-white Daoist robes remaining without a single drop of blood on them.
Miao Shuang turned and left.
He called for a servant from the residence. “The general needs to bathe and change clothes — go heat some water.”
The servant acknowledged and left, quickly carrying water back and pouring it into the bath tub.
By the fourth trip, Miao Shuang suddenly frowned. “Wait.”
The servant stopped in his tracks. “What is it, madam?”
Miao Shuang watched the water sloshing in the bucket — in this late autumn weather, this freshly heated water showed not a trace of steam.
He reached his hand into the water; it was ice-cold to the touch.
Miao Shuang narrowed his eyes, already extremely displeased inside. “I told you to boil hot water.”
“It was boiled hot, madam,” the servant said, putting on a show of reaching in to touch it, also visibly startled by the cold, forcing an awkward laugh, “Perhaps the weather is too cold and the water cooled down — this humble servant will fetch a fresh bucket right away.”
“The weather is too cold?” Miao Shuang let out a soft laugh. “I’d really like to know, exactly how low would the temperature need to be to cool this water down so quickly, as if it had just been drawn straight from a well?” He tilted his head slightly. “Why don’t you try it yourself?”
As soon as the words fell, before the servant could even register what was happening, he felt only a sudden coldness at his neck.
A short, sharp bone blade sliced through his neck as easily as cutting through melons and vegetables; after a moment of silence, blood sprayed out.
He instinctively reached up to cover it, blood rushing to stain his entire hand, and only then did he feel the pain and terror, wanting to scream, only to find he could no longer make a sound.
Blood bubbles gurgled up from his nose and mouth, and he collapsed, his face full of terror.
The sound of the water bucket crashing to the ground startled the stunned crowd in the courtyard awake; the other servants who had also come to fetch water fell to their knees one after another, screams breaking out in a chaotic mess.
“What’s everyone kneeling for?” Miao Shuang said with a smile. “Hurry up and come time it — let’s see exactly how long it takes for this blood to go cold.”
Blood pooled beneath the corpse, still giving off wisps of warm steam. Miao Shuang leaned leisurely against the doorframe, casually pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his bone blade.
None of the servants dared approach, but from a distance came a shrill voice. “Oh my! What is going on here! This old servant just went to take a look at the kitchen—”
Eunuch Zhu’s voice cut off abruptly the moment he saw the corpse, the fat on his face twitching slightly.
“A disobedient servant — dealt with on a whim,” Miao Shuang said with a smile. “As the general’s wife, surely I still have the standing to handle these trivial household matters on the general’s behalf?”
Eunuch Zhu swallowed hard, forcing out a strained smile. “…Of course, of course. Now that the marriage is consummated, madam is the lady of this household — household matters should naturally be handled by you.”
Miao Shuang: “Since that’s the case, what are you all still kneeling for? Hurry and clean this place up. If you can’t even handle a small matter like this properly, just how much longer do you expect the general to wait?”
He casually tossed aside the bloodstained handkerchief, covering the corpse’s face frozen in death, and lowered his voice. “Eunuch Zhu ought to go wash up as well. My nose is quite sensitive — next time you use the privy, you should be more careful. Dirtying your clothes is a small matter, but if it were to displease His Majesty…”
Eunuch Zhu’s expression instantly turned extremely unpleasant.
The loose flesh on his face trembled for a long moment before he managed to force out a stiff smile. “Thank… thank you for the reminder, madam.”
“You’re welcome. I have no other virtues, only a kind heart — please, Eunuch, go ahead.”
Eunuch Zhu turned around, unable to maintain his smile any longer, his face darkening as he stormed off with a flick of his sleeves.
The servants busied themselves in the courtyard, carrying away the corpse, splashing water, sweeping the ground, quickly cleaning up the bloodstains at the door.
Miao Shuang’s gaze swept over each of them one by one.
Some of these people, the type who’d be scared witless just from seeing a killing, would at most dare to gossip behind someone’s back — but openly scheming and using underhanded tricks against Qi Yan? If no one incited them, they wouldn’t dare do such a thing on their own.
It seemed he’d displeased Eunuch Zhu this morning, and the man, unable to swallow his anger but not daring to do anything to him — the Great Shaman the emperor had “entrusted with an important task” — had instead taken it out on Qi Yan.
This neither-yin-nor-yang dead eunuch’s methods of tormenting people were this vicious and underhanded — the man surnamed Qi had lost all his martial arts and was still recovering from severe injuries; if he really bathed in cold water in this kind of weather, he’d surely fall seriously ill.
Miao Shuang stood at the doorway with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, watching the servants bustle in and out under his gaze, each of them feeling as though thorns were pricking their backs.
Qi Yan sat in his wheelchair, his expression complicated.
This Miao man… what exactly was he doing?
Standing up for him?
The water in the bath tub had been freshly refilled; the servant who’d fetched the water, sweating profusely, said meekly, “Madam, the water… is ready.”
“Understood. You may go.”
The man, as if granted a pardon, bowed repeatedly and retreated from the room, closing the door.
Miao Shuang came to stand before Qi Yan. “Still not going?”
Qi Yan wheeled his chair around behind the screen, but Miao Shuang showed no intention of looking away, and his hands, undressing, couldn’t help but slow down.
“What are you dawdling for?” Miao Shuang urged from behind him. “I already know the shape and depth of you — and you’re still afraid of me looking?”
Qi Yan: “…”
“Or is it,” Miao Shuang suddenly leaned close to his ear, his arm reaching over his shoulder to brush the dirt off his clothes, smiling as he breathed the words into the shell of his ear, “that you actually don’t want to bathe, because you want to keep these things that belong to me on you?”