After Killing His Sinful Disciple with His Own Hands, the Immortal Venerable Went Mad - Chapter 5

Inside the study, silence reigned, broken only by the flickering candlelight.

Ling Rong held the brush, his fingertips trembling as he wrote the line Wen Pinglan had once taught him over and over again on the xuan paper—

“Alone, do not lean on the railing; the boundless rivers and mountains are easy to depart from, but difficult to meet again.”

The ink bled and bloomed on the paper. Many days had passed since the day he let his Master go. During these days, he often met his Master in his dreams, but upon waking, only the empty bedchamber and his own filled heart remained, full of longing.

Suddenly, with a crisp “snap,” the brush broke in his hand. Ling Rong stared at the sharp point where the brush had snapped, pressing it against his neck. The cool sensation stirred a craving for release within his heart. He truly wanted to die. He wanted to end this life, which was soaked in pain and regret and, in his eyes, dirty and squalid.

Qinggui seemed to have a telepathic connection, appearing instantly before his eyes, gripping his hand tightly, panicked: “Master, do not throw your life away! If something happens to you, what am I to do?”

Ling Rong’s expression was desolate: “I was a lowly person to begin with, committing many unforgivable sins by deceiving my master and destroying the path. Qinggui, why do you still follow me? Someone like me is not worth following.”

Looking at the pain and self-loathing in Ling Rong’s eyes, Qinggui felt both anxious and angry, his eyes gradually reddening: “Master, how can you say that about yourself! You shouldn’t have fallen in love with that Wangshu Immortal Venerable! It was he who made you become so negative! He doesn’t understand your sincerity at all; he hurts you time and time again! You gave so much for him, but he…”

Ling Rong interrupted Qinggui, laughing bitterly, his voice laden with exhaustion: “But if there were no love, I would have died long ago.”

“My lowly body was never meant to survive in this world.”

“I am vicious, I am hypocritical, I kill without blinking an eye; to become the Demon Venerable, my hands are stained with blood…”

“I have done too many wrong things; there is no place for me in this world.”

“That is not true! Master, listen to me!” Qinggui argued eagerly, tears glistening in his eyes, “You are good, you have always been good!”

“You are kind and gentle. Do you remember when you first got me? I refused to be disciplined and accidentally injured you. Not only did you not blame me, but you still regarded me as a treasure, patiently working through our differences.”

“And those people you killed which one of them wasn’t a villain filled with evil? What you did was righteous; you are the greatest master in my heart!”

Qinggui grew more agitated as he spoke, his voice trembling: “Master, you will always be the master I revere most. Do not leave me. In this world, I recognize only you as my master. Without you, where is the meaning of my existence?”

“If you go, I will never live alone!”

Listening to Qinggui’s words, Ling Rong could no longer hold back. He hugged Qinggui tightly, tears streaming down his face as he choked out: “Qinggui, you are the only one left by my side…”

Qinggui let go of his trembling hands, nestling in Ling Rong’s embrace like a wounded child. Just then, a series of rapid knocks on the door broke the study’s silence. Ling Rong went rigid all over, quickly raising a hand to wipe away the tears at the corners of his eyes, his fingertips still lingering with the undried warmth.

Qinggui sensed the change in his Master’s emotions, instantly retracted his aura, turned back into the form of a sword, and hid silently within the scabbard.

“Who is it?” Ling Rong took a deep breath, trying to make his voice sound steady, though it still carried an imperceptible hoarseness.

“Demon General Commander Bai Xiao requests an audience!” A rushed and respectful voice came from outside the door.

Ling Rong frowned, a sense of unease rising in his heart. At this time, for Bai Xiao to request an audience, something urgent must have happened.

“Come in,” he said in a deep voice.

The door was pushed open violently. Bai Xiao strode into the study and knelt on one knee, his armor clashing with a crisp sound. Bai Xiao’s face held a rare panic: “My Lord! The World of Cultivation has attacked!”

Hearing this, the broken brush held in Ling Rong’s hand dropped to the floor with a snap: “What?”

Ling Rong stood up abruptly, frowning: “Bai Xiao, explain yourself clearly!”

Bai Xiao raised his head, anger flashing in his eyes: “The major sects of the World of Cultivation have formed a coalition army, leading tens of thousands of disciples into the Demon Realm! They kill everyone they see, and many of our innocent Demon Realm subjects have met a tragic end!” He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white from the force: “The leader is none other than the Wangshu Immortal Venerable, Wen Pinglan, whom you let go some days ago!”

This sentence exploded in Ling Rong’s ears like a thunderclap. He felt his vision go black, and it was as if a tightly coiled string in his mind had snapped. His legs went slightly weak; he stumbled to hold onto the desk, his knuckles digging deeply into the surface, leaving deep marks.

“Impossible…” Ling Rong muttered to himself, his voice trembling violently. “Why… why is it him…”

Seeing Ling Rong’s state, Bai Xiao couldn’t bear it, but bit the bullet and said: “My Lord, it is absolutely true! Wen Pinglan, holding the Demon-Slaying Sword, personally led the team to break through the South City Gate. Now, the demons have suffered heavy casualties, and the defensive lines are retreating step by step!”

Ling Rong closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to settle the surging emotions in his heart. When he opened them again, the dark red demonic patterns on his pupils were flickering, and the aura around him became icy and dangerous: “Pass down the order, gather the entire army. Since they want to fight, then let us fight to our heart’s content!”

Ling Rong knew that no matter what, the subjects of the Demon Realm were innocent. He did not want to see his clansmen suffer because of his own personal grievances.

The smoke of war had not yet dissipated before the South City Gate. The scorched earth was littered with the bodies of cultivators and demon soldiers. Ling Rong leaned on the Qinggui sword with one hand; the aftereffects of having exhausted his spiritual power were still tormenting him, every breath feeling like a dull blade carving into his lungs.

After bestowing his entire spiritual power to Wen Pinglan a few days ago, Ling Rong’s danfu (cinnabar field) was nearly dry. Despite daily cultivation with demonic pellets, only a few wisps of weak spiritual power had gathered in the depths of his dantian. Each time he mobilized this spiritual power to circulate through his meridians, it was accompanied by tearing pain.

At this moment, facing the torrential tide of the Cultivation World’s army, Ling Rong could feel the Qinggui sword trembling in his hand. He channeled that thread of spiritual power into the blade, barely managing to swing out a few fierce sword qi, downing a few cultivators with shallow cultivation. But this was merely a drop in the ocean; as more high-level cultivators gathered into a sword formation to surround him, he could clearly feel his own powerlessness under their pressure.

Cold sweat slid down his pale cheeks. Ling Rong knew that with only this bit of spiritual power, he couldn’t possibly contend with the entire World of Cultivation. The Qinggui sword emitted a faint hum, as if heartbroken by its master’s weakness. Ling Rong looked down, gently stroking the hilt: “Qinggui, this time… I’m afraid I have implicated you.”

Not far away, Wen Pinglan stood in white robes cleaner than snow, holding the Demon-Slaying Sword before the formation. His gaze was like a knife, digging straight into Ling Rong.

“Lord Demon Venerable, all is well.” Wen Pinglan’s voice was icy to the extreme, each word sounding as if it had been fished out of an ice cellar.

That “Lord Demon Venerable” sounded like both a taunt and a deliberate drawing of a line, completely severing the affection that once existed between master and disciple.

Ling Rong stumbled half a step forward, a salty sweetness rising in his throat: “Master, whether you want to kill me or slice me, I am at your disposal…” He began to cough violently, drops of blood seeping between his fingers. “But leave the Demon Realm alone, leave my subjects alone… they are innocent.”

Before the words were finished, the cries of the demon clansmen came from behind him. Ling Rong turned to look; several children were hiding behind the ruins, trembling, their eyes filled with fear.

Wen Pinglan narrowed his eyes slightly, the Demon-Slaying Sword shimmering with cold light in the sunlight: “Fine. Kill me or slice me, you are at my disposal that is what you said yourself.”

He paused, his tone becoming increasingly icy: “Today, as long as you come with me, I will withdraw the army.”

“Master truly speaks the truth?” Ling Rong looked back, staring fixedly into Wen Pinglan’s eyes, trying to find a trace of warmth in those familiar yet strange pupils. “As long as I go with you, you will spare everyone in the Demon Realm?”

“Naturally.” Wen Pinglan turned his face away, unwilling to meet Ling Rong’s eyes. “I swear by the name of the Wangshu Immortal Venerable; if there is a single word of falsehood, I shall suffer the pain of being scorched by heavenly lightning.”

Ling Rong gave a miserable smile and suddenly tossed the Qinggui sword behind him. The blade turned into a stream of light and submerged into the crowd of demons, drawing forth a burst of exclamation. He lifted his eyes and walked toward Wen Pinglan, his footsteps floating: “Good, I will go with you.”