After My Death, the Immortal Venerable Became a Demon for My Sake - Chapter 9

Jiang Cishuang reached the foot of the mountains surrounding the Xiyi Sect. Beneath the shroud of night, she turned slowly to look back at the sect, where the faint glow of torches flickered in the distance. The scattered points of fire reflected in her eyes like a rising conflagration.

The night was deathly quiet. She could almost hear the echoes of the confrontation between Song Wangxiao and Wu Qianshan drifting down from the heights. Her brow furrowed slightly. Then, she turned and formed a hand seal. Abundant spiritual energy surged from her body, swirling around her in a vibrant dance there was no trace of the “shattered core” or the dying weakness she had displayed moments ago.

In a heartbeat, her figure vanished into the vast darkness, reappearing a second later in the ruined temple hundreds of miles away.

The campfire they had lit before leaving was still burning. She sat down by the wood, the dancing tongues of flame in her eyes shifting from the torches of the Xiyi Sect to the immediate heat of the hearth, yet the deepest depths of her gaze remained pitch black.

She reached out for a branch to stoke the fire, but her finger was accidentally singed by a stray flame.

She looked down at her hand, only then realizing it was stained with blood.

Wu Qianshan’s strike, which had cost him over half of his internal power, had not been entirely without effect. She could feel the wounds that had just begun to heal splitting open once more. The turbulent spiritual energy within her thrashed through her meridians, bordering on a violent rampage, but she simply let it churn, allowing it to collide repeatedly against her newly recovered dantian.

Jiang Cishuang sat cross-legged and traced a complex array in the air with her spiritual energy. The glowing formation descended slowly onto the ground beside her. She glanced at the completed array, then closed her eyes to rest.

What even she failed to notice was that the aura she exhaled was no longer a pure, pristine white; the colors flickering within it looked strikingly similar to the energy that had burrowed into her spiritual sea that day.

Silence returned to the ruined temple, broken only by the crackle and pop of the burning wood.

Before long, the light of the array on the ground began to pulse. Its brilliance intensified until a figure abruptly materialized within the circle.

Song Wangxiao looked down at her intact body, then at the familiar, welcoming surroundings of the temple and the person sitting in meditative repose by the fire. The joy of a successful plan was instantly eclipsed by a rising sense of unease as she looked at Yin Xiao.

“Yin Xiao, take this pill, quickly!” She scrambled out of the array and rushed to Jiang Cishuang’s side, trying to read her expression by the firelight. She still remembered Wu Qianshan’s claim about her “shattered core.”

Since Wu Qianshan had used half of his internal strength and she didn’t know Jiang Cishuang’s true cultivation level, she genuinely believed the woman was a Body Integration stage cultivator in critical condition.

Shadows leaped against the walls in the firelight. Jiang Cishuang’s face flickered between light and dark, her expression as stern and stoic as ever. She slowly opened her eyes. Without her even realizing it, her usually indifferent gaze caught the warmth of the fire the moment she saw Song Wangxiao.

She watched Song Wangxiao, in no hurry to answer the girl’s questions.

“Are you injured?”

“I’m fine. Wu Qianshan wouldn’t have done anything to me. You need to take this pill first.” Song Wangxiao held the medicinal pill to Jiang Cishuang’s lips, her fingertips accidentally brushing against the woman’s soft mouth.

The firelight in Jiang Cishuang’s eyes stilled. She looked at the frantic girl before her and, somewhat helplessly, opened her mouth to swallow the medicine.

Seeing her take the pill brought a moment of relief, but Song Wangxiao’s heart remained tightly wound. She knelt down, leaning in close, and reached out to take Jiang Cishuang’s hand to check her spiritual flow. However, the moment her skin touched the woman’s, she froze and looked down.

Under the orange glow of the fire, Jiang Cishuang’s hand was covered in blood. Following the trail of red, she saw that the clothes over the wound at the woman’s waist which had only just begun to heal were once again soaked a deep, dark crimson. That sight pierced Song Wangxiao’s heart like a jagged blade, a sharp, visceral pain blooming in her chest.

Ignoring how intimate their position had become, her trembling fingers moved to Jiang Cishuang’s wrist to check her spiritual pulse.

As soon as she channeled her spiritual power, Song Wangxiao felt a crushing pressure descend upon her shoulders. The energy she had sent into Jiang Cishuang’s body recoiled violently the inevitable backlash of a lower-level cultivator attempting to probe someone of a much higher realm.

A sharp pain flared in Song Wangxiao’s chest. She furrowed her brow, swallowing a groan, and forced herself to push through the backlash to sense Jiang Cishuang’s internal state.

The moment she entered, she felt a storm of violent, rampaging spiritual energy. Sensing an outside presence, the chaotic energy surged toward her like it had finally found an outlet. Unable to withstand the pressure, Song Wangxiao withdrew her energy, gasping for breath. Though only seconds had passed, it felt as though she had been under for an hour.

Jiang Cishuang reached out to steady her by the shoulders, her voice gentle.

“I’m all right. I can control the energy. I just moved a bit too fast during the escape and the wound reopened. I’ll have to trouble you to bandage it for me again.”

Song Wangxiao continued to pant, her mind filled with Wu Qianshan’s words about the “shattered core.” She bowed her head, overcome with self-reproach.

“It’s my fault. If I hadn’t come up with this plan, your injuries wouldn’t have gotten worse.” Her voice trembled uncontrollably, her eyes wet with lingering fear.

Their plan had been for Wu Qianshan to capture Song Wangxiao so that Yin Xiao could escape and set up the teleportation array. Song Wangxiao would gather information and then teleport away.

She hadn’t cried when she found herself alone in this dangerous world. She hadn’t cried when she was locked in the Xiyi Sect’s dungeon, facing near-certain death. She hadn’t even cried when she was bound by the Spirit-Binding Cord, unsure if the array would even work. But now, seeing Jiang Cishuang hurt, her eyes burned with tears she couldn’t suppress.

Song Wangxiao blinked hard, pushing back the wave of fear, and reached out to unfasten Jiang Cishuang’s clothes.

“You’ve lost too much blood. I need to wrap this up immediately.” As she spoke, she had already undone the outer robe.

Jiang Cishuang froze. She instinctively moved to raise her hand, but Song Wangxiao’s grip was firm and brook no refusal. She was forced to submit to the girl’s blatantly inappropriate actions.

It was only after Song Wangxiao peeled back the inner layers to reveal the slender, firm physique hidden beneath that she realized how far she had overstepped. Her face flushed a deep crimson, though the firelight masked the intensity of her blush.

She stood up, cleared her throat awkwardly, and said in a strictly formal tone:

“Lie down on the bedding first. I’ll go prepare the supplies.”

Jiang Cishuang’s eyes flickered with a strange tremor, but she eventually stood and lay down as instructed. The thin layers of her remaining clothes made her silhouette appear even more lithe, her waist seemingly narrow enough to be held in one hand.

As Song Wangxiao prepared the bandages with a restless mind, a heavy, aching sensation began to spread through Jiang Cishuang’s heart.

Song Wangxiao followed the same bandaging routine as before. Whenever her fingers accidentally brushed against that pale, smooth skin while wrapping the cotton cloth, her mind would conjure an image of a pair of misty, tear-filled eyes eyes that looked fragile and piteously bullied.

Song Wangxiao’s breath hitched, her hands trembling as she tied the final knot.

Once the bleeding was stopped and the wound was secured, she stared at the dressing. The white cloth covered the garish injury, but the surrounding scars, pale and jagged in the firelight, still caught her eye.

Song Wangxiao’s mind went blank. A wave of bitterness and regret washed over her, leaving her with only one overwhelming thought:

She wanted to kiss those scars. She wanted to take the woman’s pain and pull it into herself.

Song Wangxiao closed her eyes in defeat, nearly drowning in her own sadness and guilt.

Throughout the process, Jiang Cishuang had simply watched her intently. Seeing the girl finish, she sat up and pulled her clothes back into place. She used a cleansing talisman to clear the blood from her hands and then looked at the dejected Song Wangxiao. Her emotions were a tangled mess; before she realized what she was doing, she had reached out to cup Song Wangxiao’s cheek.

Clearly, things weren’t supposed to be this way.

“I am fine. You bandaged it very well,” she said softly. Her usual cold, untouchable aura seemed to dissolve in that moment, leaving only a gaze that was as soft as moonlight.

Song Wangxiao stared at her blankly, feeling the slight chill of Jiang Cishuang’s hand against her face. Emboldened, she raised her own hand to cover the woman’s, gently holding it under Jiang Cishuang’s soft, permissive gaze.

“Okay.”

Having endured so much emotional turmoil throughout the day, Song Wangxiao was exhausted. The moment she hit the bed, she felt the weight of sleep pulling at her. Before drifting off, she looked at Jiang Cishuang, who was sitting cross-legged nearby to heal, and with her worries finally stilled, she fell into a deep slumber.

However, her dreams were not so peaceful.

One moment she was asleep; the next, she felt as if she were being sucked into a massive vortex. Her head felt heavy and swimming. She fought to open her eyes, only to find herself standing in a vast, empty void.

She frowned, instinctively falling into a defensive stance as she looked around warily.

“There is no need for such caution.” A vast, ancient voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere rang out in her ears. She froze.

“Who are you? Where is this?”

“It does not matter who I am. This is your spiritual sea. There are only the two of us here.” The voice remained cold and emotionless.

“Who are you really? Why did you bring me here?” Song Wangxiao wasn’t swayed by a few vague words; instead, she grew even more alert.

“You do not need to know. But as the date approaches, I must inform you of your task.”

Song Wangxiao’s brow knit together. “What are you talking about? What task?” She paused, a bitter, mocking smile touching her lips. “To sacrifice my life as a tribute to increase the power of the demons?”

“No,” the voice replied.

In that flat, toneless voice, Song Wangxiao thought she detected a hint of pity. She laughed, frustrated. “Since you’ve come for me, you must know I’m not from this world. Are you the one who brought me here?”

The voice did not answer, continuing on its own path. “That is no longer your task. Your task is to be killed by Jiang Cishuang on the Immortal-Demon battlefield to uphold the righteous path.”

Song Wangxiao’s eyes turned cold. Killed by Jiang Cishuang to uphold the righteous path? Killed by the original protagonist?

“What are you saying? Killed by Jiang Cishuang? You dragged me to this place where I know no one just so I can be murdered?” The words were so far beyond her understanding that she thought back to what she had told Wu Qianshan. She smiled bitterly.

“So it turns out… I really can’t control my life, and I can’t even control my death.”

The voice seemed momentarily silenced by her sigh. After a long pause, it continued: “It is not quite like that. After you are sacrificed by Jiang Cishuang, you will not die. Only your physical shell will perish; your soul will survive. I will preserve a wisp of your essence and allow you to be reborn when the time is right.”

Song Wangxiao found this absurd. “Kill me and then resurrect me? You’re really planning to fool the Heavenly Dao right under its nose.”

“I have the power to deceive the eyes and ears of the Heavenly Dao.”

Song Wangxiao had never met anyone so self-important. She found it almost funny. “You’ve decided my life and death based on a single sentence. You’ve planned it all out very nicely, but how can I be sure you’ll actually bring me back once I’m dead?”

“I said I would not let you die, and therefore you shall not.” The voice paused again. “With your current cultivation, you cannot stay here for long. I will return to tell you the full process next time.”

Before Song Wangxiao could respond, she felt a massive wave of energy crash toward her. she reached out to block it, and the next moment, she lost consciousness.

Jiang Cishuang sat in meditation, suppressing the strange, unfamiliar emotions that had sprouted within her today. When she finally opened her eyes, they were once again clear and devoid of desire.

She stood and walked over to Song Wangxiao’s side. She moved to lift the corner of the quilt to settle in for the night, but she immediately noticed the girl was trapped in the throes of a deep nightmare.

Frowning, she reached out toward Song Wangxiao’s forehead, spiritual energy flowing from her palm to soothe the girl’s distress. But before the energy could even begin to circulate within Song Wangxiao’s body, Jiang Cishuang’s brow snapped into a tight furrow. She pulled her hand back and stared intensely at the girl’s face.

There was demonic energy inside Song Wangxiao.

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