After Infusing Love Poison to the Cold Sword Sovereign - Chapter 57

What?

Lan Ting was repairing the bronze lock with her back turned to the two behind her. Throughout the journey, she had been hiding at the back like a rat in the gutter, her face obscured by a hood and disheveled hair, not uttering a single word.

That was her best friend, her only hope in the demon realm all these years, the sole reason she endured seven days and nights in the Blood Gu Pool, her flesh splitting open to the bone, her heart devoured by countless gu insects.

Did she not want to reunite? She did, she dreamed of it!

But now, after tempering in the Blood Pool, undergoing the baptism of demonic energy, and being steeped in the foul miasma of the demon realm for over a decade, she had become a full-fledged demonic cultivator.

Her hands were stained with countless lives. She had acted as the right-hand enforcer’s accomplice, becoming the sharpest blade under the very demons who had once tormented her.

Even sustaining her own life required drinking fresh blood.

She was no longer that quiet girl from the Miao village, the one who used to follow behind Chuncao.

“Lan Ting?”

Seeing her remain silent, Du Chuncao called her name again. It was just like over a decade ago, in the vibrant Miao lands where wildflowers bloomed and birds sang, when a joyful girl would lean close to her ear and loudly call her name.

The voice wasn’t loud—it was soft. But the tone, the cadence, was exactly the same as before.

Lan Ting’s eyes suddenly stung.

In all her years in the demon realm, she had never shed a single tear. She thought she had cried them all dry in the Blood Gu Pool.

When she saw Chuncao, she didn’t cry. She hid outside the prison cell, her back turned to Wu Ruo and Chuncao, like a cold, disciplined sentinel, silently waiting for their reunion to end so they could escape together.

She merely tightened her hood, retreating into her own little world, quietly listening as Wu Ruo guided Chuncao, leading the injured girl away swiftly. She wordlessly brought up the rear, her steps silent. The prison was dark, no one could see her.

But hearing her name spoken by her old friend, she closed her eyes, instinctively wanting to turn away, only to realize she was already facing the opposite direction Chuncao couldn’t see her face.

“Lan Ting, is it you?”

The voice called her again. She shut her eyes tightly, crushing the traitorous tears before they could fall. She raised a hand to wipe them away but forced it back down, only letting out a soft, barely audible sniff.

Then, with feigned harshness, she hissed, “You’re mistaken. This one is not your so-called friend!”

Du Chuncao gave a helpless, bitter smile, signaling for Wu Ruo to release her so she could walk on her own. Then, without warning, she took two steps forward and slowly embraced the hooded figure from behind.

The figure was bundled in bulky robes, but when held, it didn’t feel large instead, the frame was alarmingly thin. There was hardly any flesh on the body, just bones that pressed painfully against skin.

A thick demonic aura emanated from beneath the hood, a faint black mist. Unlike the aggressive, corrosive darkness typical of demonic cultivators, this energy was deliberately restrained, gentle, soft.

“Lan Ting!” Du Chuncao called again. “How have you gotten so much thinner?”

She carefully wrapped her arms around the other’s waist, resting her cheek against their neck, yet kept a slight distance, thoughtfully leaving them some private space.

She murmured again, “Lan Ting, I’ve missed you so much.”

“…”

Lan Ting froze in place, her half-raised hand hovering in the air, muscles stiff, neither lowering nor lifting it.

Her eyes stung once more, and those shameless tears welled up again. She fiercely crushed the droplets in her eyes, but her voice turned hoarse.

“Let go. I can overlook your insolence.”

“Lan Ting.”

The person still held her, stubbornly calling her name again by her ear.

In the past, if any demonic cultivator dared treat the exalted Guardian Lan Ting this way, she would have long since seized their throat, snapped their neck, and left their corpse exposed in the wilderness, with no one daring to retrieve it.

Yet she only stood rigid, tears and fine beads of sweat falling together. Where the other touched her felt like a searing brand, throbbing painfully.

“Lan Ting, you’ve gotten so thin these years. Have you been has the food here not been good?”

Du Chuncao hesitated mid-sentence, carefully choosing her words. She wanted to say so much more—she had enough words to fill three days and nights. She still seemed like that carefree little Chuncao, speaking without thinking, warm, bright, and radiant.

But she only cautiously corrected herself, slowly loosening her arms around the other’s waist and lowering her head.

It was her fault. She seemed to have disturbed her friend.

“I’m sorry,” Du Chuncao whispered. “Let’s go! I shouldn’t have said that here. Teacher, I’m sorry. Let’s leave quickly.”

Wu Ruo nodded. She had been observing their surroundings with her divine sense—no one had passed by, and the First Hell remained undisturbed. She had indulged them a little, silently calculating the time.

She hadn’t expected Chuncao to be the one to suggest leaving.

“Let’s go.” As their elder, Wu Ruo glanced at Chuncao’s condition and, seeing she had steadied somewhat, took the lead. Concealing their presence, they passed through the fourth layer without incident.

The two jailers still lay unconscious on the ground, the spider silk around their necks now imperceptible, their wounds already healed, though they remained in a deep slumber. Wu Ruo returned the key to its place and stood at the entrance of the tunnel.

“Chuncao, take this Disguise Pill. We’ll both transform into demonic cultivators. It’ll help us avoid drawing attention when we leave.”

Du Chuncao accepted it, then cast a searching glance back at Lan Ting, who immediately turned away, unwilling to meet her gaze.

Chuncao’s eyes flickered with hurt before she obediently swallowed the pill, transforming into the likeness of a demonic cultivator.

“Move.” Wu Ruo took the lead, climbing into the tunnel first. Lan Ting brought up the rear, and the three of them retraced their path. As the tunnel’s incline gradually steepened, their pace slowed.

“Teacher?”

As they neared the exit, faint light seeped in from outside. Chuncao stretched her arms but noticed Wu Ruo had halted ahead.

“Quiet. There seems to be demonic energy outside. We must be careful.”

Lan Ting, who was covering the rear, suddenly let out a surprised “Huh?” but quickly fell silent. Wu Ruo didn’t press further, only murmuring softly, “Be careful.”

“No!”

Chuncao, standing behind Wu Ruo, stared at the world beyond the cave entrance and let out a pained cry: “It’s that thing!”

What?

There was no time for Wu Ruo to think. In the next moment, the grotesque, half-exposed face of a massive, green-skinned, fanged monster appeared at the cave entrance, crawling on all fours!

“Wooroar!”

The beast let out a deafening roar and began frantically digging at the cave entrance. In moments, the diameter of the opening rapidly expanded, widening by over a foot in mere seconds!

“It’s her.” Chuncao’s entire demeanor slumped, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

The agonizing memories from over a decade ago had become an inescapable nightmare. Every time she struggled in her dreams, she would recall that green-skinned, fanged monster and the woman with half a mask, her face crisscrossed with scars.

Then came the sudden slap—one that nearly knocked her soul out of her body. Pain gathered in her chest, yet she couldn’t break free.

And her friend, that voice calling out to her, over and over again.

“Chuncao.”

The hooded woman who had been silently trailing at the back suddenly lifted her head. No longer mute, no longer stiff like a cowering quail resisting her dearest friend’s touch.

Lan Ting stepped forward, gripping Chuncao with her gloved left hand. Just like back in the Miao village, when they had clung to each other to escape, and the other had shielded her, unyielding.

Perhaps the resistance wasn’t so strong anymore.

She had always been ashamed of her past as a demonic cultivator, of the years wasted in the demonic sect’s stronghold. But she had also gained something—she knew these damned demonic creatures inside out, didn’t she?

Beneath the glove, her skeletal fingers held Chuncao’s hand firmly. Chuncao noticed but only gave a pained, wordless caress.

“That monster, it’s something bred in the Blood Gu Pool. Its exact species is unknown, but it’s incredibly strong.” Lan Ting raised her head, flashing a knowing smile. “It’s highly sensitive to scents, but it has a fatal weakness, an irresistible attraction to blood.”

With a casual wave, a row of prepared blood vials materialized in the air. These were the source that sustained her life, and now, they were also the best means to save her friend’s life.

Aiming for the narrow gap at the cave entrance, she flung a vial. It whizzed past the monster and landed on the open ground behind it.

The vial shattered instantly, filling the air with the thick, metallic stench of blood.

The monster’s digging slowed abruptly. Then, lifting its front claws, it let out another “Woo—roar—!” and abandoned the tunnel entrance, charging toward the spilled blood to feast.

“I’ll take the lead.” Lan Ting pulled off her hood, released Chuncao’s hand, and switched places with Wu Ruo.

The monster devoured the small vial of blood in an instant. Seeing it about to turn back, Lan Ting seized the moment and hurled several more vials outward, each landing farther away, leaving behind a trail of splattered crimson and shattered porcelain.

“Go!” She grabbed Chuncao’s hand and shot Wu Ruo a glance. Taking advantage of the monster’s distraction, they swiftly scrambled out of the cave entrance!

“…”

Lan Ting led Chuncao up first, then immediately positioned herself in front of the younger girl. Even though she knew the other party currently appeared as an ordinary demonic cultivator, she stubbornly shielded her. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t look.”

Wu Ruo realized something was amiss and swiftly followed. As her feet touched the ground, she spotted a woman clad entirely in red standing not far away.

The woman lounged lazily against another massive beast, watching with idle amusement as her monstrous pet lapped at the pools of blood. She made no move to stop it instead, she seemed entertained, as if observing some delightful spectacle.

Her attire was thick and layered, unlike Lan Ting’s revealing demonic robes. Instead, it was stitched together from swathes of silk, meticulously covering her arms and legs.

Yet, the most striking feature about her wasn’t her clothing, it was the gold-and-black mask covering only half her face.

The mask currently concealed the left side, leaving the other half exposed, a ruin of ravaged skin, crisscrossed with jagged, knotted scars from blade wounds that marred her cheek. The scars twisted grotesquely, a horrifying lattice of violence.

Like a vengeful ghost, descended into the mortal realm.

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