My Demon Lord Junior Sister Is Pretending to Be Good to Seduce Me - Chapter 52

Suddenly, a sharp sword light slashed towards Mu Li, who sidestepped to avoid the sharp attack.

“Qi Shiyu, I haven’t even gone to find you yet, and you’ve delivered yourself right to my door?”

“Today, I’m taking her with me.” Qi Shiyu’s light blue long dress glowed faintly in the night.

Mu Li curved her lips into a smile, her eyes full of mockery. She lifted her chin and looked down at Qi Shiyu, “If you can’t protect her, then I will.”

Qi Shiyu did not speak; the Kunwu Sword in her hand was already hovering before Mu Li.

Mu Li smiled, withdrawing the Destruction Wheel in her hand.

Her fingertip tapped twice beside Lin Yumo, saying, “If we fight again, she’s going to die.”

Qi Shiyu’s face was cold. She sheathed her sword and walked to Lin Yumo. Her pupils suddenly constricted, “All five meridians severed, all seven vessels destroyed.”

“What difference is there between her and a corpse now!”

Mu Li leaned against the red jade, smiling, “Of course there’s a difference, don’t be so anxious, Wine Immortal.”

She leaned in and whispered in Qi Shiyu’s ear: “I know a way to save her. I wonder if you dare try it?”

Qi Shiyu nodded. After hearing Mu Li’s method, she revealed a bitter smile, “I can save her, but I need an antidote. You know, this is the corpse poison the Demon Clan uses to create puppets (Kui).”

“Take her away.” Mu Li tore off the silver armor on her body and tossed the antidote to Qi Shiyu.

Stripped of the armor, her red robe was fully revealed. With her hands behind her back, she said, “If you fail to save her, I will lead the Demon Army straight to White Emperor City.”

Qi Shiyu clenched her fist and carried Lin Yumo away from the Demon Clan.

Mu Li had taken Lin Yumo back a long time ago but had delayed saving her. Now, she could easily hand Lin Yumo over. Qi Shiyu knew exactly why.

It was nothing more than the fall of a generation of heaven’s favorites in the cultivation world, plus…

A Celestial Venerable.

Inside White Emperor City, the moonlight was faintly cold.

Mu Xuewei waited outside the door for a long time until Qi Shiyu emerged.

Her eyes gazed at Qi Shiyu, hazy, as if veiled in mist, making it impossible to discern her thoughts.

Qi Shiyu gave a bitter smile, led the person away from the courtyard, and spoke only after ensuring a distance from Lin Yumo, “Perhaps others haven’t seen your pair of grey eyes, but I certainly have.”

Mu Xuewei still looked at her, her gaze darkening. Although she appeared indifferent, Qi Shiyu knew Mu Xuewei was slightly guarded against her.

Qi Shiyu said, “The Ming family lineage from the Nine Abysses is born with grey eyes.”

“More than twenty years ago, I met one. That person was named Ming Xueqing.”

“She is the most terrifying lunatic I have ever seen, stopping at nothing to achieve her goals. Rumor has it that before she was crowned King in the Demon Clan, she played the fool, acted deaf—truly a woman of profound cunning.”

“But I am very curious why someone of her strength is only content to be a King, instead of replacing the previous Demon Sovereign.”

Mu Xuewei offered a slight smile, briefly bowing like a refined young lady, “Elder Qi, this junior does not understand a single word of what you are saying.”

Qi Shiyu took a sip of wine, nodded, and tapped her fingertip on the table.

“Little girl, do you know what the ink-wash bracelet on your wrist is?”

“My Senior Sister gave it to me.”

“That was the token of love between her mother and me.” Qi Shiyu’s tone shifted, a sharp gleam flashing in her eyes. She said, “The Immortal and Demon worlds are ultimately separate. I hope you will be merciful, not disturb Yumo’s Dao heart, and not drag her down into the abyss.”

Mu Xuewei’s fingertip trembled, and she bowed again, “This junior has noted it.”

“However… this junior has a question. I don’t know if I should ask it.”

“Ask.”

“Elder Qi and Celestial Venerable Xumo were both from the same immortal sect, not separate. Why did things turn out this way?”

Qi Shiyu looked up at her, the fingertip tapping the table stopped. She seriously scrutinized the woman before her, the cold light in her eyes intensifying.

She raised her hand, and a flower petal flew towards Mu Xuewei’s face, only to stop one inch away.

This was Qi Shiyu’s warning, and her restrained killing intent.

The candle in the room was lit; Lin Yumo had probably woken up.

Mu Xuewei had just taken a step forward when Qi Shiyu blocked her.

Mu Xuewei looked at the silver threads at Qi Shiyu’s temples, took a step back, and remained where she was.

At the same time, a person draped in a black robe hovered above the turret of White Emperor City.

She carried a long, silver-white scythe on her back. A blood moon hung behind her, adding a touch of eerie gloom.

She landed steadily on the roof, her aura like the arrival of the God of Death.

However, this time, she wasn’t wearing a mask, but a white veil covered her eyes.

Faintly visible silver eyelashes peeked out from beneath the white veil.

Lin Yumo climbed up from the couch. The scent that invaded her nostrils was the fragrance of peach blossom wine.

Her mind felt a dizzying shock. After a moment, her vision brightened, and she finally saw the person in front of her clearly.

“Elder… Elder Qi?”

Qi Shiyu sat beside the couch, turning her head to look at her, “You’re awake? How do you feel?”

“Having gone through the gates of hell… I feel… like I’m about to die.”

Qi Shiyu was amused by her and chuckled, “You’re already awake, why are you still about to die?”

“I feel… my spiritual power is abundant yet chaotic, both chilling to the bone and powerfully rigid. Most likely… it’s a final burst of energy before death.” Lin Yumo hugged her knees, her fingertip fiddling with the ink-wash bracelet on her wrist. With just a light touch, it shattered.

She caught the broken pieces of the bracelet in her hand.

“How is my Junior Sister? She wasn’t hurt, was she?” Lin Yumo asked.

Qi Shiyu curved her eyes in a smile, “She’s fine, not a single injury.”

“Phew…” Lin Yumo finally relaxed. She looked at Qi Shiyu, her gaze falling on her temples, where a few white strands were mixed in with her dark hair.

Her eyes moved to Qi Shiyu’s face, and her heart couldn’t help but tremble.

It is said that Immortals have long lifespans and can maintain eternal youth. But now, Qi Shiyu was no longer the youthful beauty glimpsed from afar that day in White Emperor City, but a woman halfway into old age.

Wrinkles had crept up around her eyes, her fair skin had turned sallow, her eyelids were creased, and her nasolabial folds were pronounced.

Her gaze darted back to Qi Shiyu’s hair; the whiteness at her temples had increased again.

“Elder… Elder Qi… you, what is this…?”

Qi Shiyu took out a scroll from her sleeve and said, “This is the method for brewing Futu Wine. Keep it safe.”

“Oh, and yes.” She added, “The Path of Heartlessness doesn’t suit you. Your temperament is unstable. Find your own Dao as soon as possible, instead of… instead of just learning whatever your mother tells you to learn.”

“This Futu Wine can temporarily slow down the two currents of energy in your body and help stabilize your current mental state. It will not harm you.”

“Also, I’ve asked someone to re-forge the Drunken Immortal Sword for you. It should be more comfortable to use when it’s delivered…”

“Elder Qi…” Lin Yumo was moved as she looked at her increasingly white hair. She could sense a subtle wrongness in the atmosphere; Qi Shiyu seemed to be giving her final instructions and farewells.

Qi Shiyu looked up at her, yet she wasn’t looking at her, but at someone else. Her fingernail traced through Lin Yumo’s hair and rested on her chin, with boundless tenderness.

“Yumo, it’s a beautiful name.” She composed herself and asked, “Could you… call me ‘Auntie’ (Xiao Niang)?”

Lin Yumo’s heart trembled, and she said, “Aun… Auntie.”

Qi Shiyu said, “Come on, Auntie will take you for a drink.”

She took Lin Yumo’s hand and walked toward the peach blossom forest. Under a massive peach tree, she dug up a jar of wine—one she had buried thirty years ago.

From the moment she first saw Xu Mo, she decided this jar of wine would be opened for her.

Xu Mo didn’t come, but now, opening it for her daughter was the same.

She opened the jar, poured two cups, and sat with Lin Yumo beneath the peach tree, admiring the moon in the sky.

Resting on the peach tree was the Kunwu Sword.

The Kunwu Sword also retracted its chilling gleam, becoming softly radiant.

She gently touched her wine cup to the Kunwu Sword, took a sip, and her gaze followed the peach forest toward the distance.

A gentle breeze passed, stirring up petals of peach blossoms, which whirled up and then scattered, revealing a secluded path.

A woman walked out of the forest, dressed in a red bridal gown, the Kunwu Sword fastened at her waist. Her dark hair was tied with a red string, and her peach blossom eyes looked toward Qi Shiyu, a smile gracing her lips.

‘Little Martial Uncle, I’ve come to marry you.’

Qi Shiyu seemed to see Xu Mo reaching out to her, so she also extended her hand.

Xu Mo, I’ve come to marry you.

The wine cup in her hand dropped to the ground, shattering into pieces. Her head suddenly fell onto Lin Yumo’s shoulder, as quiet as if she had fallen asleep.

The wine stain on the Kunwu Sword dried. Qi Shiyu’s appearance was restored to its original state—the youthful beauty of Dragon Valley, Xu Mo’s Little Martial Uncle, Qi, her wife.

Below the White Emperor City turret, a crowd gathered, with Wei Qingyi and Ji Nangui leading at the very front.

Standing below the turret, they could only see the woman’s silver hair drifting out from under her cloak, giving her an ethereal appearance. Yet, her blood-red lips added a touch of eeriness.

“I’m here to find someone,” she said indifferently, completely ignoring the Immortal cultivators.

The matter of the Battle of the Central Plains proved that there was clearly an internal traitor among the Immortal cultivators. At this moment, no one dared to strike first to test this person’s background.

“Ming Xueqing.” Wei Qingyi tightened her grip on the Jade Bamboo Sword, “This is the Immortal Realm, not the Demon Clan.”

“Don’t forget the Hundred-Year Alliance.”

Ming Xueqing tightened her grip on the scythe in her hand and furrowed her brow. She closed her eyes, slightly turning her face toward the courtyard where Lin Yumo was.

She smiled again, a faint smile.

The scythe rotated in her hand, and the entire turret of White Emperor City instantly collapsed into ruins, raising clouds of dust.

She lightly tapped her foot and swept towards Lin Yumo’s direction.

Perhaps feeling it wasn’t enough, she struck down another blade, drawing a deep trench between herself and the Immortal cultivators, blocking their pursuit.

She lightly stepped onto the peach tree, raising a pale hand to remove the white veil covering her eyes.

She looked down at Qi Shiyu leaning against the peach tree and said coldly, “Hah, so you’re dead already.”

There seemed to be a hint of regret in her voice.

The Drunken Immortal Sword suddenly unsheathed and stabbed towards her, yet she stood her ground, not dodging at all.

Simply by standing there, the Drunken Immortal Sword could not get within an inch of her.

She lifted her eyelashes. Her grey pupils met Lin Yumo’s gaze, instantly shaking Lin Yumo violently.

Lin Yumo spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground, her whole body tingling with numbness. She barely managed to stand up and steady herself with the help of the Drunken Immortal Sword.

She looked at those eyes, identical to Mu Xuewei’s, and roughly guessed Ming Xueqing’s identity.

Ming Xueqing looked at the Drunken Immortal Sword in Lin Yumo’s hand, her rage intensifying. She held the scythe horizontally in front of her, gathering power. If this strike landed, Lin Yumo would definitely be unable to block it.

A figure stood between Lin Yumo and Ming Xueqing, completely shielding Lin Yumo’s body.

Mu Xuewei held the Yangshan Snow sword, looking up at Ming Xueqing.

In the previous life, Ming Xueqing only revealed herself and took her back to the Demon Clan during the slaughter of Xuanling Mountain.

Now, everything was accelerating.

Ming Xueqing lowered her gaze, scrutinizing Mu Xuewei thoroughly and condescendingly.

Her hand gripping the long scythe did not loosen at all; instead, it tightened further, and the veins on the back of her hand slowly bulged.

She slightly furrowed her brow and ruthlessly swung the long scythe down. The force was clearly aimed at taking both of their lives.

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