After My Death, the Immortal Venerable Became a Demon for My Sake - Chapter 1

It was agonizing.

It felt as though she were being roasted over an open flame. Every breath she drew wasn’t a spark of new life, but a desperate struggle against the brink of death. The air in her lungs felt squeezed out of her, dragging her down into a dark abyss. She felt encased in a thin, suffocating membrane—conscious of the world, yet unable to break free.

“Wangxiao, Wangxiao!”

A voice called out, muffled at first, then growing sharp and clear. Song Wangxiao snapped back to reality, her eyes focusing on a woman standing uncomfortably close to her.

“Wangxiao, what are you daydreaming about? I’ve been calling you for ages!” The woman, dressed in a well-fitted cultivator’s robe, waved a hand in front of her face.

As her consciousness fully returned, Wangxiao’s brow furrowed. She looked at this stranger who spoke to her with such unearned intimacy, and a surge of primal wariness rose in her chest.

The woman didn’t notice the coldness. Seeing that Wangxiao had finally “woken up,” she stood and began tidying the items on the table.

“Today is a big day. We need to hurry and get down the mountain. Immortal Venerable Zongyue and the Sect Leader are already waiting below.”

Those words hit like a crack of thunder in a silent night. Wangxiao’s frayed nerves snapped. She looked around at the ancient, non-modern decor and the practitioners passing by in their strange garb. Finally, the realization set in.

Immortal Venerable Zongyue? The Sect Leader?

If her memory served her correctly, she had transmigrated into a Xianxia novel. The “cannon fodder” side character shared her exact name—a classic trope she’d joked about just yesterday while skimming the first few chapters. Now, that joke was her reality.

She only knew the broad strokes: the protagonist was a woman named Jiang Cishuang, a “Child of Fortune” destined for greatness. And Wangxiao? She was the stepping stone. In the original plot, her character was sacrificed to the Demon Race to boost their power, only for Jiang Cishuang to swoop in, defeat the horde single-handedly, and ascend to godhood amidst a chorus of divine light.

The righteous sects would sing the heroine’s praises while spitting on Wangxiao’s blood-stained, discarded corpse.

Wangxiao’s spine turned to ice. She had felt sorry for her namesake when reading the book, but the tragedy felt much less poetic now that she was the one intended for the slaughterhouse.

“According to sect rules, disciples of the Xiyi Sect aren’t allowed to leave the mountain without permission. This is your descent token—keep it safe.” A woman named Zhang Su handed her a jade plaque and stood up.

“Immortal Venerable Zongyue and the Sect Leader have just crushed the Demon Race at Heyue City. As they return to the sect, the commoners have organized a welcoming ceremony. We must head down to greet them. It’s almost time; let’s go.” Zhang Su reached out, grabbing Wangxiao’s wrist to pull her along.

Crushed the demons at Heyue City? Wangxiao’s heart hammered against her ribs. She remembered this part.

In the original story, the “original” Wangxiao had sensed danger and planned to flee. She thought she could slip away during the chaos of the ceremony, but she didn’t realize that she was the guest of honor, for all the wrong reasons.

The moment she would have stepped foot off the mountain, the Sect Leader’s men would have seized her on a trumped-up charge of “treason.” They would have sealed her spiritual veins and thrown her into a pitch-black dungeon, only bringing her out into the sunlight on the day of the Great War… to be sacrificed.

Wangxiao’s blood ran cold. She dug her heels in, jerking Zhang Su to a halt.

“What is it?” Zhang Su turned, looking confused.

“I… I just remembered,” Wangxiao said, her voice steady despite the chaos in her mind. “Immortal Venerable Zongyue asked me to prepare something, and I left it in my courtyard. I have to go back and get it.” No matter what, she could not meet them today.

“Oh, that…” Zhang Su hesitated, looking troubled. “But the ceremony starts soon. We’ll be late.”

The Sect Leader had given her strict orders: Song Wangxiao must be delivered on time.

“It’s fine. My courtyard is close. If we run now, we’ll make it.” Without waiting for an answer, Wangxiao hurried out of the disciples’ hall.

Anxious, Zhang Su had no choice but to follow. “Then hurry! We can’t keep them waiting.”

I’m not keeping them waiting, Wangxiao thought, her face pale as ash. I’m avoiding my appointment with the executioner.

…

Wangxiao led Zhang Su away from the main paths, weaving through the mountain until they reached a desolate, overgrown corner.

“Wangxiao, this isn’t the way to your courtyard.” Zhang Su slowed down, glancing at the eerie silence of the woods. She saw Wangxiao stop ahead of her. “Let’s just get the item later. We really need to head down now…”

“You’re right,” Wangxiao whispered, looking down. “Let’s go.”

Zhang Su sighed in relief and turned to lead the way back. “Good. The Sect Leader and the Immortal Venerable are likely already—”

Thwack.

A sharp pain exploded at the base of Zhang Su’s neck. Her vision went black, and she collapsed into the dirt.

“I’m sorry,” Wangxiao murmured. She unsheathed her sword, but not to kill. She shredded Zhang Su’s outer robes, hacked at the surrounding trees and bushes, and left shallow nicks on the unconscious woman’s skin to simulate a struggle.

Finally, Wangxiao took Zhang Su’s blade and drew it across her own palm. She watched the crimson blood well up, then walked a dozen paces down the trail toward the mountain’s exit, letting the blood drip steadily onto the stones.

Once the trail was “set,” she swallowed a Spirit-Stabilizing Pill to dull the pain, wrapped her hand in a scrap of cloth, and suppressed her spiritual aura entirely.

When the sect found Zhang Su, the blood trail would lead them to believe she had fled down the mountain toward the city. She would do the exact opposite. She turned and sprinted upward, toward the peaks.

…

At the foot of the mountain, the town was alive with the roar of drums and cheers.

Immortal Venerable Zongyue and Sect Leader Wu Qianshan walked through the throngs of adoring citizens. Zongyue waved graciously, but his hand hidden in his sleeve was clenched into a white-knuckled fist. He caught the eye of a scout in the crowd; the man gave a subtle, frantic shake of his head.

Zongyue’s expression darkened.

Suddenly, a Xiyi Sect disciple burst through the crowd, breathless and disheveled. He leaned in, whispering urgently.

“Sect Leader, Immortal Venerable… she’s gone. We found Zhang Su unconscious and wounded. Song Wangxiao has fled.”

The mask of the “benevolent” Sect Leader cracked. Wu Qianshan’s smile vanished. He wanted to take flight and hunt her down immediately, but they were swarmed by commoners.

“What’s wrong, Immortal Venerables? Is something the matter?” the people asked, sensing the shift in atmosphere.

“Can we help with anything?”

The very crowd they had gathered to trap Wangxiao had now become their own cage. Wu Qianshan forced his voice to remain calm, though his hands trembled with rage beneath his robes.

“Do not worry, friends. A mere disciple has gone astray. I have already sent men to bring her back.”

A short distance away, a woman in white stood within the crowd. To any observer, she looked like an ordinary cultivator, but her gaze was as deep and cold as an ancient well. She had overheard their hushed exchange.

She looked up toward the distant peaks of the Xiyi Sect. She’s not here.

The woman turned and vanished into the shadows of an alley. Despite her movement, the people standing right next to her didn’t even seem to notice she had left.

….

On the other side of the mountain, Wangxiao reached Mount Xiling. The distant noise from the town below only made her move faster.

Her ruse wouldn’t hold for long. Once the elders realized they’d been tricked, the mountain would be swarming with seekers.

According to the original host’s memories, Mount Xiling had a chaotic spiritual field that interfered with the sect’s boundary arrays. It was the perfect “hole” in the fence.

Gritting her teeth against the backlash of suppressing her power, Wangxiao forced her internal energy into her dantian until she felt like she might explode. She stepped through the shimmering veil of the boundary.

The strain was too much. Her chest felt like it was being crushed, and the copper taste of blood filled her mouth. She ignored the agony, swallowed more pills, and kept running through the night.

By dawn, the sect was a distant silhouette against the horizon. Wangxiao finally collapsed behind a massive tree, coughing up blood flecked with internal tissue.

She leaned back, gasping for air. A hysterical, painful laugh bubbled up in her throat. I made it. I’m alive.

As long as she hid, as long as she stayed away from the plot, she wouldn’t have to die. The future actually looked bright.

She staggered to her feet to find a safer place to rest, but as she rounded a bend in the mountain path, the air changed. The scent of pine was replaced by the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood.

A figure lay in the middle of the road.

It was a woman in white. She had clearly been in a brutal fight; her robes were soaked in spreading crimson, and her face was a mask of pale, frozen elegance. Even in unconsciousness, her brow was knit in pain. A cold, unsheathed sword lay inches from her hand.

Wangxiao froze. For a fleeting second, the sight of the woman felt like a stone dropped into a still lake, sending ripples through her soul. But the feeling vanished as quickly as it came.

She steadied herself. She was a fugitive with internal injuries and an army potentially on her heels. She couldn’t afford to be a Good Samaritan to a mysterious, dangerous stranger.

Wangxiao hardened her heart and walked past the dying woman without a word.

The wind whistled through the mountain pass, ruffling the stranger’s hair as she lay silent on the dirt.

A long moment passed. Then, the sound of footsteps returned. Wangxiao stood over the woman once more, letting out a heavy, defeated sigh.

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