After My Death, the Immortal Venerable Became a Demon for My Sake - Chapter 10

The night was filled with a cool breeze, leaving only the faint, rhythmic rustle of banners in the air. Jiang Cishuang’s wide sleeves billowed in the wind as strands of her hair danced before her eyes. She stood with a deep furrow in her brow, her gaze fixed intently on the person before her.

How could there be demonic energy inside Song Wangxiao?

Jiang Cishuang was no stranger to demonic energy. The Immortal and Demon races had been at war for centuries, with countless skirmishes of all sizes; she had personally clashed with them more times than she could count. Moreover, since she was still recovering from wounds inflicted by a demonic artifact during a recent ambush, she was intimately familiar with that specific aura.

However, the demonic energy within Song Wangxiao was different from any she had seen in demon cultivators. The innate cruelty and bloodlust typically associated with such energy had been perfectly stripped away, leaving behind only the most primal, fundamental essence of the Demon race.

Jiang Cishuang watched the sleeping girl on the grass bed, her eyes clouded with confusion as she once again circulated her spiritual power to investigate.

Song Wangxiao’s spiritual core was enveloped in the clear, pure energy characteristic of the Immortal race. Yet, intertwined with that energy was this jarring demonic presence. Not only did the two forces fail to clash, but they actually coexisted peacefully, both nourishing the core. Even more strangely, the girl’s own spiritual energy showed no signs of being corrupted by the darkness.

Why would a ‘Primordial Saint Body’ a physique meant to suppress demons harbor the aura of the Demon race? And how could it exist in such perfect harmony with her spiritual energy?

Jiang Cishuang recalled their infiltration of the Xiyi Sect Leader’s pavilion. She had sensed something unusual in the air then, and during her battle with Wu Qianshan, she had seen a thick black mist surrounding him. That was no orthodox cultivation technique.

It looked more like the precursor to demonic transformation.

Jiang Cishuang’s eyes grew colder, her gaze sharpening into something icy and lethal.

Did he know about the demonic energy inside Song Wangxiao? Was his elaborate plan to capture her truly about protecting the people, or was he using her for something else? The answer seemed self-evident now.

What is his ultimate goal?

She looked down at Song Wangxiao again. The girl had stopped frowning in her sleep, having apparently escaped her nightmare, yet the air around Jiang Cishuang only grew colder.

The next day, Song Wangxiao and Jiang Cishuang packed their things in preparation for the journey to Guanqi Gate.

Since ‘Yin Xiao’ was supposedly “severely injured” from her fight with Wu Qianshan, she naturally couldn’t fly on a sword or exert spiritual energy. Song Wangxiao’s own cultivation was insufficient to sustain a flight for two; she could barely manage herself, let alone a wounded companion.

Fortunately, she had liberated several magical treasures from Wu Qianshan’s secret chamber the day before, including a flying vessel.

Song Wangxiao went to a clearing outside the temple and pulled the person-sized boat from her storage ring. She touched it, attempting to trigger the intent to manifest its true form, but after focusing for a long time, nothing happened.

Song Wangxiao was baffled.

Beside her, Jiang Cishuang couldn’t help but let out a small, amused huff at the girl’s confused expression. “Usually, flying vessels are shrunk by their creators. When you need to use them, you simply bring them out and perform a blood-drop recognition to take ownership; then they can fly.”

Song Wangxiao nodded in realization. After a moment’s thought, she pulled out a small knife and, without the slightest hesitation, sliced the pad of her finger. A bead of blood immediately welled up on her fair skin. She squeezed her finger, letting the drop fall onto the vessel.

The moment the blood touched the surface, it was absorbed like water into a sponge. A flash of light followed, and the person-sized boat expanded rapidly until it was as large as a small house.

Song Wangxiao wiped the cut on her finger absentmindedly and moved to board the ship, only to have her wrist caught by a firm hand.

She turned her head instinctively, looking puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

Jiang Cishuang looked silently at the injured fingertip. She took the girl’s hand in hers and used her other hand to gently brush over the wound, a faint light glowing in her palm.

In an instant, the bleeding stopped and the cut vanished, leaving no trace that she had been hurt at all.

Jiang Cishuang released her hand, looked at the visibly stunned Song Wangxiao, and stepped onto the vessel.

“Let’s go.”

Song Wangxiao finally snapped out of her daze. She nodded blankly and followed, her body stiff. The finger that Jiang Cishuang had touched felt as if it had been scorched; it trembled and curled inward. By the time she sat down on a chair inside the vessel, the full weight of what Jiang Cishuang had just done hit her. Her heart began to drum against her ribs.

“I have concealed the aura of this vessel so others won’t notice its presence. There are two rooms inside; I shall take one.”

Jiang Cishuang’s voice from nearby pulled Song Wangxiao out of her trance. She tilted her head away, not daring to meet the woman’s eyes, and nodded frantically. Then, she heard what sounded like a soft, almost imperceptible chuckle, and her face turned even redder.

Only after she heard the sound of a door closing behind her did she dare to peek back at the room Jiang Cishuang had entered. She then looked ahead and, using her intent to form a hand seal, set the vessel in motion toward Guanqi Gate.

Although she didn’t know the exact coordinates of Guanqi Gate, she could guess the general direction based on her memory of the original novel’s plot.

Thinking of the original story caused her high spirits to sink. The voice from her dream last night and its talk of her “task” seemed to echo in her ears. She let out a bitter laugh.

I worked so hard to escape, only to end up dying on the Immortal-Demon battlefield anyway?

What bothered her most was the “why.” Why did she have to be killed by Jiang Cishuang? In the original novel, there was no connection between her character and the protagonist. The plot was completely off the rails, yet no matter how much it changed, her death seemed to be an unalterable fact.

Reflecting on her fate, she suddenly thought about the reason for the original character’s death.

The demons wanted to kill her to use her as a sacrifice to boost their power. Was the protagonist going to kill her for the same reason to prevent the demons from gaining strength by “sacrificing her to uphold the way”?

That seemed to be the most logical explanation.

But still…

Song Wangxiao sighed and looked toward the room where Yin Xiao was resting.

She was destined to die, but what would happen to Yin Xiao once she was gone? The woman had lost her memory and was so badly injured; Song Wangxiao couldn’t help but worry.

She could only hope that Yin Xiao would find her own sect during the upcoming Grand Sect Assembly. However, the thought of it triggered a sudden pang of resistance in her heart. Instinctively, she didn’t want Yin Xiao to return to her sect.

She rationalized this by telling herself that Jiang Cishuang probably hadn’t been treated well there. After all, what kind of sect raises someone to be so emotionally repressed that they can never show their feelings?

Shaking off the gloom, Song Wangxiao decided to find something to do.

She remembered the treasures she had taken from Wu Qianshan’s secret room and brought them all out to categorize them.

Imagining Wu Qianshan’s face when he discovered his treasures were gone the ultimate case of “going for the wool and coming home shorn” she suddenly regretted not leaving a “Reflection Powder” behind to record the scene. She had missed a good show.

Among the treasures, some were standard spiritual artifacts, while others looked quite strange. One look told her they didn’t belong to the Immortal race. She placed these suspicious items into a separate storage bag and bound it tight with spiritual energy.

As she worked, she noticed an inconspicuous piece of jade hidden among the artifacts. Remembering that it had been stored alongside the high-level treasures, she picked it up, curious.

The jade was clear and translucent, carved with intricate, delicate patterns. It felt quite heavy in her hand, but other than that, she couldn’t see anything special about it.

She traced the delicate patterns with her thumb, instinctively feeling that the design needed to be “lit up.” On a whim, she pulled out her knife again and pricked the same finger Jiang Cishuang had just healed. Blood welled up instantly.

Song Wangxiao squeezed a few drops onto the jade. The blood followed the complex lines of the carving, spreading until the entire pattern was coated, and then it was absorbed.

She watched the jade intently, her heart racing, waiting for a change. Unfortunately, the jade only gave a lazy, brief flicker of light before returning to its original state. Nothing else happened.

After waiting for a while and fiddling with it some more, she realized she couldn’t figure out how to activate it. She tossed it back into her storage ring.

If Wu Qianshan kept it locked deep within his secret chambers, it must be useful for something, she figured.

In a world of soaring flames, screams and the sound of frantic footsteps echoed through a burning manor. The sound of blades slicing through flesh harmonized with the roar of the fire. A man wearing a bamboo hat stood in the center of the courtyard, his silver sword reflecting the flames and dripping with blood. The demonic energy rolling off him felt incredibly eerie against the backdrop of the inferno.

This scene, resembling a living hell, was reflected in the eyes of a young child watching from nearby. The man in the hat turned slowly, and his cold, sinister face was seared into the girl’s memory.

Xue Huaixiu.

Jiang Cishuang snapped her eyes open, her gaze filled with a cold, murderous intent. The scene from her dream echoed in her mind, and something in her spiritual sea seemed ready to burst through its restraints.

She cast a spell to force that surge of righteous fury back into her dantian. She then used her spiritual power to search for the stray thread of energy that had triggered the dream, but as usual, it remained hidden.

She frowned. This rogue energy was becoming increasingly adept at hiding. She had to purge it before the Immortal-Demon war began.

The surging energy within her showed signs of a potential backlash. Jiang Cishuang stood up and opened the door, intending to find an empty space to meditate.

However, the moment she opened the door, she saw a figure sitting in the central chair of the vessel.

Song Wangxiao looked up, startled. she jumped to her feet and rushed over, but stopped short when she saw the woman’s condition. Her voice was full of surprised delight.

“Your injuries are healed!”

Jiang Cishuang suppressed her internal energy and glanced at her waist. Indeed, there was no discomfort. “It seems so. The wounds have closed.”

Song Wangxiao couldn’t help but beam. “I’m so glad. The environment on this ship must be excellent for healing; your injuries improved so much in just two days.”

For some reason over the last two nights, Song Wangxiao hadn’t been able to sleep in her own room. She felt she had to sit in the chair where she could see Yin Xiao’s door before her heart could settle enough for rest.

Luckily, Yin Xiao hadn’t noticed. Otherwise, even if she didn’t say it, she’d surely think Song Wangxiao was some kind of creep.

“We’ve been traveling for two days now, and we’re almost at Guanqi Gate,” Song Wangxiao explained, quickly pushing her stray thoughts aside to focus on their current situation.

As they drew closer to Guanqi Gate, more cultivators appeared in the surrounding sky. Groups of disciples from various sects flew past their vessel. Song Wangxiao was incredibly grateful that Jiang Cishuang had hidden the ship, saving her the energy of having to deal with unwanted attention.

They landed the vessel in a forest a few miles outside the city walls of Guanqi Gate and proceeded on foot to the city gates.

To avoid unnecessary trouble such as running into the Xiyi Sect they had both applied a disguise spell while still on the vessel.

The guards at the gate saw two people with ordinary faces but the unmistakable, ethereal bearing of immortals. Knowing that Guanqi Gate had invited many sects to discuss affairs and hadn’t set strict entry requirements, they let them pass without issue.

However, just as the two stepped through the gates and into the city, a silhouette appeared silently at the entrance, staring fixedly at their retreating backs.

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