After My Paranoid Act to Woo My Cold Master Failed - Chapter 13

The surging demonic qi swept over everyone with an overwhelming pressure. It felt as if a mountain were weighing down on Shen Shuheng’s back, determined to force her spine to bend and make her bow to the man before them.

Some disciples knelt painfully on the ground, their hands clawing at the earth until soil embedded itself under their fingernails, their vision blurred by sweat.

“Where did the Star-Shattering Sword Immortal go? If she were here, how could we be in this state?” The round-faced disciple finally noticed that Fu Xueke was missing from the group. “Why is she gone? Could it be that she’s conspired with the Demon Race to lure us here to our deaths?” he questioned Shen Shuheng hysterically.

The moment those words were spoken, doubt took root in everyone’s hearts. They began to believe that Fu Xueke had indeed colluded with the demons otherwise, why would she flee just as the battle began?

“Cease your baseless slanders! My Master would never collude with the Demon Race. I am here; there is no need to trouble her,” Shen Shuheng retorted. She could not let these people know that her Master’s condition had taken a turn for the worse.

“Easy for you to say! Do you think your silver tongue is enough? It was Fu Xueke who sent us to our deaths today. How can we possibly defeat him?”

Shen Shuheng glanced at them and let out a cold laugh. “How will you know unless you try?”

As she spoke, most of the group knelt on the ground in resignation, while only a few disciples pressed their hands firmly against the earth, struggling to stand. A sword cultivator’s specialty was fighting above their rank; her sword existed to clear all obstacles for her Master.

The man in black was surrounded by billowing dark mist, his pale face marked by eerie black patterns that extended down to his veined neck. He scanned the crowd like a spectator at a play, a look of mockery flashing in his eyes. “You people of the Yuheng Sect are just as fond of internal strife and suspicion as ever.”

“We are members of the Righteous Sects; it is not for a demon like you to point fingers,” a blue-robed disciple muttered. His head was pressed against the ground, yet his body struggled upward, desperate to rise.

The man laughed softly, then his eyes suddenly filled with ruthlessness. “The ‘Righteous Sects’ are worse than us. We kept our promise, yet you broke the treaty and plotted to kill our Demon Lord. The Yuheng Sect must pay this debt in blood!” He partially closed his hand in the air.

A disciple lying on the ground let out a horrific scream, followed by the sound of bones shattering.

Shen Shuheng plunged her sword into the ground, using all her strength to straighten her back. She tilted her head up, her eyes sparkling like a galaxy. As a gust of wind blew, her robes fluttered loudly and her dark hair danced. She drew her sword and pointed it at the man; she would fight him.

Grit her teeth, she leapt, leaving only a trail of afterimages. The Sword Rises: A Thousand Drifting Snowdrifts. Her strike carried a biting chill as it reached for the man’s throat. Wind and snow swirled around the blade, coating him in a layer of white frost.

Yet, he stood motionless, showing no sense of crisis at having a blade at his throat. Shen Shuheng gathered all her spiritual energy into her hands and swung with all her might. The silver blade struck his seemingly fragile neck, only to produce a metallic thud.

Her sword could not inflict even a sliver of damage. Her full-force strike was like a pebble sinking into a vast ocean, failing to cause even a ripple. Suddenly, the man’s hand transformed into sharp claws, lunging for her shoulder.

Warning bells rang in Shen Shuheng’s mind. She slammed her sword back and retreated instantly. He only caught her afterimage. “Of this group, you’re the only one with any spine,” he said, seemingly in praise.

“Don’t waste your energy. You can’t hurt him. We might as well just wait for death; it’s all because your Master betrayed us.” It was those same passive-aggressive disciples again. Shen Shuheng silently noted their faces.

Chu Qingshui and Gu Mian struggled to their feet. “If you want to wait for death, do it alone. We will fight alongside Fellow Daoist Shen. Dying in battle is better than being slaughtered like a lamb.”

Shen Shuheng held her sword in one hand and controlled the Abnormal Fire with the other. The fire made a face at the man from her palm before a small spark leapt onto the snowy-white tip of her blade. The tiny flame surged upward, the crimson glow turning the steel beneath it a glowing red. Her sword was now coated in a layer of Abnormal Fire.

Shen Shuheng switched techniques. This time, she did not use the style her Master had taught her; instead, she used the sword intent she had realized through combat. Every move sought only absolute lethality.

Using the Star-Shifting Step, she vanished from the man’s sight and reappeared behind him. The flames surged, engulfing the man’s long hair and surrounding his body. Shen Shuheng continued to thrust her flaming sword at him. The scorching heat of the Abnormal Fire began to slowly dismantle his iron-clad defense.

At that moment, Chu Qingshui arrived with her sword. Streaks of sword light flew toward him, forcing the man to retreat repeatedly. Gu Mian had already set a formation; the moment he stepped into it, he would be trapped.

Shen Shuheng saw the man stop abruptly as a pale green light flared. Beneath his feet, a circle of ancient runes rotated slowly, shackling him to the spot. The man hammered at the green barrier with his fists.

Shen Shuheng and Chu Qingshui rushed to the edge of the formation and stabbed at him relentlessly. The Abnormal Fire seized the chance to burn upward from the tips of his hair, swallowing him in an instant. Fighting both the fire and their swords, the man began to lose ground.

The disciples who had been pinned to the ground finally felt the pressure ease and stood up to surround him. The sword cultivators slashed at him while the talisman users hurled every charm they had. Before long, while he hadn’t suffered major physical wounds, his priceless Dharma robes were burnt into a tattered mess of holes.

“You ‘Righteous’ disciples are truly loathsome,” he said, looking at his ruined robes with genuine pain. The moment he spoke, the formation holding him shattered.

“Get back!” Shen Shuheng warned the others. They scattered immediately, looking for a better opening from a distance.

A pitch-black sword appeared in the man’s hand. Next to the hilt were two skulls whose hollow sockets emitted a crimson glow. “To think you could force me to use my sword… today, every disciple of the Yuheng Sect dies here!” He swung the blade, and the dark sword light transformed into several hideous beast heads that lunged at the crowd.

One disciple was bitten by a beast head; his flesh began to rot immediately until he was reduced to a pile of white bones. How can his sword light be so ghastly? Shen Shuheng had never seen such a technique. She noticed the red light in the skulls on the hilt grew even brighter, as if they were feeding on the flesh and blood they consumed.

“They say your flesh is delicious. Humans are always so tender,” the man said with a faint smile, as if complimenting a common dish.

The crowd’s skin crawled. They turned pale, their bodies trembling, and some could no longer even hold their swords steady. Shen Shuheng realized the true terror of this man—he hadn’t even been using his full strength until now. The man stood still, sending out waves of dark sword light.

I cannot let his blade touch me, she thought, dodging the eerie strikes.

Suddenly, a golden light flared, and a snowy-white figure stood before her. “Master!” Shen Shuheng grabbed her and pulled her to the right. Her Master’s eyes were still blood-red; she couldn’t let the others see. In a panic, she tore a strip of cloth from her robe and tied it around her Master’s eyes.

The man sensed the newcomer. A wave of bloodline-based pressure emanated from her, making him feel an instinctive urge to submit. Could she be a demon who infiltrated the Yuheng Sect, gained their trust, and then betrayed them? What a brilliant move—even smarter and more malicious than me.

The man’s eyes shifted as he thought. He looked at Fu Xueke with a face full of admiration before quickly putting on a fierce expression again. “I’ll count you as skilled today. But I, Nie Xing, will not let this go!”

While Shen Shuheng was still on guard for another attack, he turned into a plume of green smoke and vanished.

With the cloth tied over her eyes, Fu Xueke’s expression was hard to read, but a slight curve could be seen on her lips. “Master, are you alright?” Shen Shuheng whispered, tugging her sleeve. Her Master did not respond, only smiling faintly as her finger traced the place where she had bitten Shen Shuheng earlier.

“Fellow Daoist Shen… what is wrong with the Sword Immortal?” Chu Qingshui asked. She had always felt their relationship was more than just master and apprentice; today’s events confirmed her suspicions.

“My Master is… helping me heal,” Shen Shuheng said, pointing to the wound on her neck. Before Chu Qingshui could say more, Gu Mian pulled her away.

Seeing her Master had not yet recovered, Shen Shuheng had no choice but to let it be. At that moment, several disciples approached them. “I don’t want to stop the demons anymore. I want to go back.”

Shen Shuheng recognized them—the ones who had just accused her Master of collusion. “As you wish. You’re useless to us anyway.” These people had hidden during the fight and only offered cold remarks; they were better off gone.

Other disciples glared at them. “Cowards! How can you face our fallen brothers? A senior brother used his own body to block arrows for you!” Red-faced and speechless, the deserters turned and left.

Shen Shuheng ignored them. Her focus was entirely on her Master. After a moment’s thought, she brought them both into the space within the alchemical book.

With a flash of golden light, they entered the miniature realm. The once-empty space was now filled with rolling green grass and a gentle breeze that felt like silk against her skin. Shen Shuheng untied the cloth from her Master’s eyes.

Once the obstruction was gone, Fu Xueke’s vision cleared. She blinked at her disciple, her eyes shimmering like water. Suddenly, Master grabbed her hand and pinned her down onto the grass. Her warm, moist breath swirled in the crook of Shen Shuheng’s neck.