After Infusing Love Poison to the Cold Sword Sovereign - Chapter 5

The next day, at the break of dawn.

Wu Ruo had always been the earliest riser in the school, to craft her one-in-a-thousand graduation masterpiece, she would wake up at the crack of dawn to gather herbs, pore over her books, and pour various concoctions into the little bottles on her small altar.

The sky was just beginning to lighten when her internal clock jolted her awake. But something about the view outside her window felt off, and a sense of unease kept her lying still, pretending to sleep.

There were unfamiliar footsteps. She held her breath.

“Here?”

“Yeah, nothing special. Just a bunch of girls playing with bugs, they won’t cause any trouble.”

“It’s close enough to the Zhiyuan Immortal Sect perfect for a forward base, easy to advance or retreat.”

The hushed voices carried a sinister edge, grating like the croak of a duck, the most despised pollutant in their village: the voices of men. The vulture-like cultivators passed by the window, their footsteps soon fading away.

Wu Ruo’s heart skipped a beat. A fresh wave of disgust for the cultivation world rose in her chest. Only when she was certain the voices were gone did she hesitantly wake her roommate, A-Xiang.

“A-Xiang, did you hear that?”

The other girl, perhaps too excited the day before, was still half-dead in sleep. She yawned, rolled over, and promptly dozed off again.

Left with no choice, Wu Ruo rummaged through her belongings in the room, slipping into a secluded corner to adjust her plans for the day.

Who were those people? Could they be connected to the recent busyness of the Witch Envoy?

She laid out all her precious tools from the cabinet, carefully packing them into small glass vials.

By the time she had worked for nearly two hours, A-Xiang finally stirred awake. But when Wu Ruo relayed her concerns with tense seriousness, the other girl brushed it off.

“Ruo-Ruo, were you dreaming? I didn’t hear a thing! Maybe the graduation stress is getting to you. Don’t worry, our village is covered in barriers. No one could just waltz in like that!”

With that, A-Xiang playfully pinched her cheeks. “Let’s go out and have fun. Keep your spirits up, okay?”

Frustrated but helpless, Wu Ruo could only sigh. She had stayed up unusually late the night before, and now she even began doubting her own memory. For the moment, she decided to act as if nothing had happened, following her usual routine of dressing and washing up.

Then came the graduation ceremony.

“Wu Ruo, you keep boasting about reviving the lost art of love potions. Where is it? Show us!”

A girl in yellow robes, cradling a gray basin the size of a melon, sat haughtily in the top seat reserved for graduates, the seat that had always been Wu Ruo’s.

She was the daughter of the village’s former priestess, spoiled and indulged since childhood. Though talented, she was fiercely competitive and loved making trouble for Wu Ruo.

“Hmph, Jin Hua, don’t think you’re so great just because you brewed a Golden Thread Potion! Our Ruo-Ruo mastered that last year she’s just aiming higher now!”

Before Wu Ruo could respond, Ah Xiang had already jumped in, hands on her hips, shielding her friend. “Give Ruo-Ruo her seat back!”

“Never mind, never mind.” Wu Ruo waved it off, tugging at A-Xiang’s sleeve.

Still unsettled by the morning’s events, she had no desire to clash with her classmates. Seeing Jin Hua determined to keep the seat, she simply found another spot nearby.

“Ruo-Ruo, how can you let her push you around like this?”

Ah Xiang’s words caught in her throat as a row of graduates gaped at the Priestess standing before the altar.

Her steps seemed to have aged considerably, the Blessing Spirit Staff, a symbol of her status now serving more like a cane, supporting her weary frame as she moved forward.

“Children today, we have an important announcement to make.”

Though only middle-aged, her voice carried the weight of years, still bearing the patient, instructive tone of her usual teachings. Yet, Wu Ruo detected a faint hoarseness in it.

Whispers broke out among her peers: “No way, are we going into the secular world?”

“Joining the cultivation realm? On par with the Zhiyuan Immortal Sect next door? No way, I’ll faint if I catch a whiff of those Nanren!”

Most voices around were tinged with hopelessness, except for Jin Hua’s, which stood out sharply.

“Hmph, spineless fools. Isn’t this a good thing? From now on, we’ll be the renowned Five Saints Immortal Sect of the cultivation world, revered by all, with countless pilgrims paying homage to us.”

“But…”

Wu Ruo could guess what Ah Xiang wanted to say. She covered her friend’s mouth and whispered, “Don’t.”

Many, like Jin Hua, still clung to dreams of their tribe’s glorious reputation spreading far and wide. But the rumors beyond their borders told a different story.

Wu Ruo would never forget the time she left the tribe for training and spent a year refining a medicinal gu to cure a neighboring village of a persistent fever.

Yet, when she returned, proud of her success, a child pointed at her retreating figure and tossed a stone into a puddle.

“She’s a Miao woman, she must have ulterior motives for healing us! What if she’s feeding us gu to use us as ingredients for her potions?”

The reputation of Miaojiang in the eyes of the world,notorious wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

Prejudice was a mountain, isolating them from the outside world. If the Miao tribes sought to integrate into the cultivation realm, the path ahead would be anything but smooth.

Lost in her worries, Wu Ruo suddenly noticed several figures appearing on the platform beside the altar.

Their accents were thick, and she didn’t catch much, only a few words, disciples, exchange.

It seemed the opposing sect and their Miao tribe would each send two outstanding disciples to the other’s sect for a year, exchanging cultivation techniques before returning.

“Ruo Ruo!”

Ah Xiang yanked her by the collar, shaking her so hard it felt like her brains might spill. “We can use this chance to go out and see the world!”

Yesterday’s dreams flashed before Wu Ruo’s eyes. Her heart raced shamelessly at the thought of the love gu she still couldn’t decipher.

Perhaps their commotion was too loud, Jinhua shot them a sidelong glance. “They want the two best disciples. Me, and well, Wu Ruo, you’ll do.”

“Only two? Can’t it be three?”

Ah Xiang’s enthusiasm deflated instantly. She slumped back onto her stool, her braids drooping over her shoulders, as dejected as their owner.

Her sorrow wasn’t just about dashed dreams of the outside world, it was also the pain of parting from her friend. She wasn’t a particularly gifted girl, just hardworking. But in gu cultivation, diligence alone was never enough.

The unfamiliar sect leader on the stage spoke with resounding authority: “Then, for the exchange of disciples, we shall select the top two graduates from your Miaojiang tribe’s final evaluation.”

Ah Xiang wiped her tears, only to suddenly feel something being pressed into her hand. Immediately, a soft “shh” whispered in her ear.

“Great Witch Envoy!”

Wu Ruo raised Ah Xiang’s hand and declared clearly: “My friend Ah Xiang has successfully refined the Five-Colored Gu King. Surely that qualifies as first place, doesn’t it?”

“Ruoruo, you!”

The sect leader quickly approached the two, lavishing praise on the gu insect cradled in Ah Xiang’s arms. The Great Witch Envoy followed closely behind, seemingly wanting to say something but ultimately remaining silent, allowing the two to proceed.

Wu Ruo didn’t regret it.

She had plenty of opportunities to leave, but Ah Xiang had always been such an obedient and sensible child. If she missed this chance and was separated from her, how heartbroken would Ah Xiang be in the future?

She watched as A-Xiang and Jin Hua’s names were recorded in the register, held tightly by A-Xiang as the latter sobbed uncontrollably. After repeatedly reminding her friend to be careful outside and leaving her a communication gu, Wu Ruo reluctantly parted ways.

“Great Witch Envoy.”

The farewell procession finally dispersed. Only after being separated from her friend did Wu Ruo belatedly recall the ominous memory from that morning.

She spoke softly, her words barely out of her mouth when she saw the elderly woman’s lashes brim with scalding tears.

The woman pressed her lips together but finally succumbed to the weight of her emotions: “I’m sorry, little Ruo. This isn’t an exchange. It’s a hostage situation.”

“Those bastards. They want our land, our people, and now they’re taking our tribe’s most outstanding girls as hostages.”

Hostages?

A chill surged through Wu Ruo’s heart. If she hadn’t swapped her and A-Xiang’s graduation projects, she would have been the one leaving now.

She had harmed her own friend!

Clutching at a final shred of hope, she hesitantly asked, “Are these people truly immortals from the cultivation world?”

But the answer came in the form of the Great Witch Envoy’s pained expression and lips as pale as paper.

“No, they’re demonic cultivators. The cultivation world won’t accept us. Only the demonic cultivators acknowledge us, believing we walk the same path.”

Tears as large as beans rolled down the elderly woman’s face. She had done her best to support the crumbling tribe alone, but against the terrifying demonic cultivators, the simple Miao people were as fragile as paper.

Wu Ruo’s face turned equally pale.

She had thought this was an opportunity for her friend and had willingly given the chance to her best friend. But it turned out to be a colossal deception, a desperate act of self-preservation by the weak and powerless Miaojiang, sacrificing pawns to save the king.

For the future of the tribe, she would have been willing to sacrifice herself. But she knew exactly what kind of scum demonic cultivators were. The Pleasure Sect, cauldrons. If her best friend died because of her, she could never forgive herself!

She pushed the Great Witch Envoy aside and stumbled forward, running in the opposite direction of the tribe.

She had to go to the immortal sects, to seek help from powerful cultivators. She had money to commission help. She couldn’t just stand by and watch her friend come to harm!

The mountain path was steep, flanked by lush trees, with rustling sounds constantly emerging from the dense forest.

Wu Ruo followed the spider’s guidance, crawling step by step down the mountain.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, every muscle aching, but an unyielding determination kept her going.

What should I do? If she really encountered a cultivator, how could she make her request? She didn’t even know which demonic sect those demonic cultivators belonged to.

Lost in thought, a voice suddenly came from behind her. It was like the long growl of a beast before the hunt, filled with bloodthirsty delight.

“Well, well, what do we have here, a little beauty.”

Demonic energy.

Almost instantly, Wu Ruo felt a hand clamp around her neck. A searing pain shot through her fragile throat, nearly suffocating her.

It hurts, I can’t!

The assailant lifted her off the ground, her feet dangling helplessly, as if he intended to crush her neck. This person was likely a powerful demonic cultivator his voice somewhat resembled those who had come to their tribe earlier, yet it also merged with the voice she had heard outside her window that morning.

“Consider this an unexpected.”

It’s over. Wu Ruo closed her eyes in despair.

Though she was the most talented child in the Miaojiang tribe, the sheer gap in cultivation left her completely immobilized. Against such overwhelming disparity, she couldn’t even twitch a finger, let alone summon the battle-ready gu insects hidden in her sleeves to save herself.

Am I going to die? I was indeed reckless. I shouldn’t have left in such a hurry, shouldn’t have led myself and my friends into this hopeless situation.

Would my life be enough to ensure Ah Xiang’s safety?

But in that moment of resignation, death did not come.

In the blink of an eye, the surrounding demonic energy abruptly vanished, and the pressure on her neck suddenly loosened.

Crack.

Wu Ruo collapsed weakly to the ground. What landed before her was a severed hand belonging to the demonic cultivator.

Thick blood dripped onto the ground. The muscular arm had been cleanly sliced off by a sword as fine as a cicada’s wing.

The cut was flawlessly smooth, much like the watery, pristine blade held by the woman standing just a few steps away her presence as cold and untouchable as frost.

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