After My Paranoid Act to Woo My Cold Master Failed - Chapter 17

The clear moonlight slanted in through the vermilion latticed window, reflecting on the floor like a slowly flowing river. Only then did Shen Shuheng realize that night had fallen; she did not know how long her Master had been waiting for her here.

Master stood not far from her, and between them lay a river formed by the moonlight. As Fu Xueke walked toward her, the shadows of bamboo from outside danced across her face. A gust of wind blew, and the play of light and shadow on her features flickered, now bright, now dim.

Shen Shuheng stared at her Master’s face. In the dimly lit room, her Master’s eyes seemed exceptionally bright, like a moon resting upon a crystal-clear lake, drawing all of Shen Shuheng’s attention. She felt as though she had fallen into a moon-drenched lake herself, the gentle ripples washing over her. As she watched, her heartbeat suddenly quickened until it pounded like a drum.

Her disciple always liked to stare at her like this. Fu Xueke remained still, allowing her to gaze directly into her eyes.

“Master,” Shen Shuheng whispered, tugging at her sleeve.

The corners of Fu Xueke’s lips curved slightly, her gaze tender. She raised her hand and caught the one tugging at her clothes, their palms slowly pressing together. Shen Shuheng felt a cool, soft sensation; her Master’s palm was much softer than her own. She didn’t understand how—despite both of them practicing the sword—there were fine, thin calluses on her own fingers while her Master’s remained like silk.

Inside the Great Hall of the City Lord’s Mansion.

Butler Ye bowed to the City Lord, feigning a look of deep contemplation as he spoke earnestly. “That person who refined the pills for the Young Lady, do you truly intend to let her go?”

“What is your meaning?” the City Lord asked.

Butler Ye’s black beard took on a greasy sheen under the dim lamplight, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “From my observation, she is by no means an ancient expert in disguise. For one of her age to possess such extraordinary alchemical skills… does the City Lord not wish to keep her for our own use? Or would you rather let someone else have such a prize?”

The City Lord squinted. He, too, believed that recruiting someone like Shen Shuheng would bring immense benefits.

Butler Ye’s eyes narrowed further, a flash of ruthlessness crossing his clouded pupils. He had learned that his son had been killed by Fu Xueke—not even a sliver of his soul remained.

“If treasures cannot make her stay, then…” Butler Ye mimicked a blade with his hand and swept it across his neck, demonstrating his point.

The City Lord looked at him hesitantly, starting to speak and then pausing before saying, “There is a Soul Transformation stage cultivator by her side. Can we even touch her?”

Butler Ye laughed sinisterly. His withered face was covered in dark age spots, and the pale light made his smile look even more gruesome. “Do we not have many Demon Slaves? Among them are quite a few at the Nascent Soul stage. With so many slaves, why fear them? That Soul Transformation cultivator will likely be too busy to even save herself.”

He was determined to persuade the City Lord; he would never allow the person who killed his son to live, and those lowly Demon Slaves were the perfect tools for his revenge.

The City Lord smiled, but the expression was superficial and cold. “We shall do as you say. We will set an array here and have the Demon Slaves lie in ambush. If she does not know what is good for her, then she can go to her death.”

Even if he couldn’t gain Shen Shuheng as an ally, he would never let anyone else have her. If one cannot possess something, it is better to destroy it.

The City Lord cast a hand seal. A dark red seal lit up in mid-air, covered in ancient runes that rotated slowly. This seal was a contract passed down from his ancestors, allowing him to command every demon in the city. He released his divine sense to communicate with the seal, summoning all the powerful demons within the city walls.

Soon, the demons arrived. Every one of them grit their teeth, their eyes filled with bone-deep hatred. If looks could kill, the City Lord would have died a hundred deaths.

One Great Demon lunged at the City Lord with claws outstretched, but just before touching him, he suddenly collapsed to his knees with a pained roar. “Master… mercy…”

A thousand years ago, their ancestral lands had been seized by enemies, and they had been forced into hereditary servitude. How could they not hate?

Fu Xueke led Shen Shuheng into the Great Hall. The room was brilliantly lit, the white light striking the rosewood chairs as if carving away their corners. The wind wailed as it rushed through the cavernous space.

“These are the refined pills,” Shen Shuheng said, producing them from her storage bag.

The City Lord accepted them with a beaming smile, looking at her kindly. “Little friend, are you willing to stay in the city? If you do, the benefits will be boundless. I am a man who cherishes talent.”

Shen Shuheng shook her head. “I have more important matters to attend to. I will not stay.”

The City Lord’s kind smile vanished instantly. “In that case,” he said coldly, “you shall not leave this place alive.”

“Come forth!” He already had the pills in hand; they were enough to cure his daughter’s “Soul-Departure Sickness.”

With a loud BOOM, hundreds of demons suddenly appeared in the hall, surrounding Shen Shuheng and Fu Xueke. The silver longsword unsheathed itself, the cold glint of its blade overpowering the lights in the hall.

“Do not be afraid. Your Master will protect you,” Fu Xueke said, her hand resting against Shen Shuheng’s cheek as she gazed at her tenderly.

Shen Shuheng tilted her head up. “A-Heng is not afraid. I hope that one day, I can also protect Master behind me and say those same words to you.”

The demons surrounding them immediately summoned their treasures and engaged them. Shen Shuheng’s sword coordinated perfectly with her Master’s. Two streaks of silver light formed a seamless defense and offense. Shen Shuheng held her blade, sending out waves of sword light toward any demon that dared approach her Master; she would never give them a chance to hurt her.

Fu Xueke swung her sword in a horizontal sweep. Instantly, waves of snow surged, and a bone-chilling frost lunged at the demon crowd. In truth, Fu Xueke could have taken their lives at any moment, but she sensed something was wrong. This place had belonged to the Demon Race a thousand years ago before being seized by humans; these demons should hate the City Lord. Why were they following his orders so submissively?

Unlike humans, demons and the Demon Race naturally receive inheritances through their bloodline, which include memories.

Fu Xueke struck again, but this time her sword qi was different. Usually, it carried a biting chill, but this strike was filled with a pure, righteous aura as if a massive spring snowfall were cleansing a corrupt world. The “Thousand Snowdrifts” rose with the wind, the sea of snow swallowing the surrounding demons and sweeping them all to one side.

She leapt into the air, unleashing a streak of sword qi toward the City Lord. The City Lord’s lips moved as he chanted a string of incantations. Suddenly, a demon lunged in front of the City Lord, intending to use its body to block the strike.

If this strike hit her, she would suffer the fate of a shattered soul. She wanted to move, but her body was shackled by a mysterious power; no matter how she struggled, she remained frozen.

Seeing this, Fu Xueke stepped through the air to reach her own sword qi, raising her blade to block her own attack.

Suddenly, Butler Ye appeared behind Fu Xueke. Taking advantage of the fact that she was distracted by blocking the sword qi, he prepared to plunge a knife through her heart.

Seeing the man appear behind her Master, Shen Shuheng charged out like a madwoman. Demons continuously tried to block her path. She gathered all her spiritual energy into her hands, her sword cleaving through anyone who stood in her way.

The sword in her hand was as fast as lightning; it was no longer a solid object but a series of phantoms. Her speed was so great that the human eye could not track it. She swung relentlessly, and warm blood sprayed incessantly onto her face and clothes. Her azure robes were covered in red spots, like a tree of blood-red plum blossoms, painting a ghastly picture.

By the time Shen Shuheng reached Fu Xueke’s side, she looked like someone who had crawled out of a sea of blood. Only her eyes remained untouched by the crimson; they were a profound black, cold to the extreme.

She plunged her sword into Butler Ye’s neck. His windpipe was severed, and he could not speak; he could only let out a roar-like gurgle. Shen Shuheng twisted the blade in his throat with force. Again, warm, foul-smelling liquid splashed across her face and flowed slowly down her skin.

Butler Ye fell silent forever. His vicious curses lasted only a fleeting moment. Blood dripped from the sword onto Shen Shuheng’s hand, the cold, viscous liquid filling the gaps between her fingers.

After Fu Xueke blocked her own sword qi, she bypassed everyone and appeared directly before the City Lord. A silver sword light flared.

THUD.

The head fell to the floor, bouncing several times before coming to a rest. The City Lord’s severed head still had its eyes wide open; the last image reflected in them was of the white-robed woman and the lightning-fast sword light.

Fu Xueke walked over to Shen Shuheng and stood before her. Shen Shuheng wanted to reach out and touch her Master, but then she realized her hands were covered in blood—her entire body was covered in it.

She instinctively took a step back. She was filthy, while her Master was still as snowy-white as the bright moon in the sky. She couldn’t stain her; the bright moon should hang in the heavens, not be dragged down to the mud.

Fu Xueke saw her disciple’s sudden retreat. She took a step forward and pulled the girl into her embrace with one arm. Her other hand reached out to the blood-covered face, trying to wipe it clean.

It was in vain; her hand only became stained with red, failing to clean her disciple’s face, which remained covered in blood except for those dark eyes staring back at her. The blood from Shen Shuheng’s body seeped into Fu Xueke’s white robes, like plum petals fallen onto a snowfield.

“Master, you can’t wipe it clean like this. You need to use a Cleansing Spell,” Shen Shuheng said softly.

Only then did Fu Xueke snap out of it. she hastily cast several Cleansing Spells.

“Don’t kill these demons! Please, I beg you to save them! They did not wish to be your enemies!” suddenly, a woman’s voice rang out.

One demon struggled to rise from the ground. “Heh… since when did the City Lord’s daughter become so kind-hearted?”

“Oh, the City Lord is dead, so the contract naturally passes to you. If we die, you simply lose some slaves.”

“Hypocrite!”

A flash of surprise crossed Shen Shuheng’s mind. The City Lord’s daughter had appeared, yet she showed no concern for her father’s death—only for the demons.