My Secret Cultivator Spouse Is the Demon Lord - Chapter 15

Xu Xianqing had naturally heard Song Erjiao’s words, but without any spiritual energy to her name, she couldn’t reply now that she had already ridden so far ahead.

Sitting atop her mount, she couldn’t help but chuckle softly. If she ever managed to survive this path and return one day, she would definitely take a trip back to Mount Bai’an.

Yet, with the road ahead shrouded in uncertainty and her life hanging in the balance, she didn’t dare make any promises about the future.

Fortunately, she wasn’t completely without a backup plan. Ever since the Yin-Sinking Formation blew up back on Mount Bai’an, the System had prompted her with a skill upgrade notification:

• Task-bearer: Xu Xianqing
• Age: 19
• Gender: Female
• Race: Unknown
• Level: 0
• Cultivation: 5
• Initial Skills:
  • [Heaven and Earth Chessboard (Level 1): Yin-Sinking Formation (Novice)]
  • [Miraculous Touch (Level 1): Mana-Restoration Art]
• Innate Skill: None
• Cultivation Method: None
• Mental Technique: None
• Points: 400

“System, when can I level up?” Xu Xianqing had assumed that once the Yin-Sinking Formation exploded, her level would rise. To her surprise, it had merely refreshed her status to “Novice.”

[Once any of your initial skills reaches the Advanced level, you will gain one skill point bonus.]

“Meaning I have to upgrade either the Yin-Sinking Formation or the Mana-Restoration Art to Advanced before I can raise my Cultivation level?”

[Correct. Please work hard to upgrade your skills, Host.]

Xu Xianqing wasn’t in a rush to push her skills, though, mostly because both paths were absurdly difficult. She was traveling alone in the middle of nowhere, with no towns or taverns in sight. She lacked a cauldrons or furnace to refine pills, nor did she have any Nine-Heavens Lightning Talismans or high-grade spirit stones left to research formations. Worse still, even if she had the materials, she didn’t possess a single alchemy recipe and had zero clue how to refine medicine.

Instead, Xu Xianqing found a strangely shaped wooden stick along the road. Using her dagger, she shaved and carved it into the rough shape of a sword, then set about practicing the Wuxiang Sword Art.

The very first stance of the first form was simply drawing the blade. She spent several days repeating that single movement.

[I truly admire Host’s unyielding perseverance.]

A simple draw of a sword was a dry, mind-numbing exercise. Most people gave up after a few tries, yet Xu Xianqing had been endlessly repeating it for days.

“I was just thinking about that line left behind by the sword manual’s creator,” she mused. “They said if you master the first stance, you don’t need to practice any of the rest. But if you fail to master it, only then must you learn the remaining forms. It sounds like a joke on the surface, but I have a feeling that is the true essence of the Formless Sword Art.”

That said, Xu Xianqing wasn’t a true sword cultivator…or even a proper cultivator at all…so she couldn’t tell if her realization held any real truth.

And so, wooden sword in hand, she continued her journey, stopping to practice whenever inspiration struck.

Not everyone in the Spiritual Realm was a cultivator. There were also ordinary villages that differed little from the mortal realm. The people there lacked spiritual roots and couldn’t cultivate; to survive, these villages would band together and hire stronger rogue cultivators to defend them from rogue demon beasts.

Other villages attached themselves to major sects or prominent clans. In exchange for protection, they regularly provided grain, produce, and coarse cloth for garments and shoes…essentials needed by the low-level chore disciples inside those major sects.

Those low-tier disciples might never go far on the path of immortal cultivation, but possessing spiritual roots meant they could still practice. Whether they achieved enlightenment depended on their own destiny. Major sects and clans never completely closed their doors to such seekers; after all, a sect required everyday labor to run smoothly. They needed a steady influx of chore disciples, and supporting them relied heavily on the mortal villagers living at the foot of the mountains who couldn’t cultivate at all.

This was the reality Xu Xianqing observed as she traveled.

It dawned on her with a quiet realization: not everyone in the Spiritual Realm was an immortal pursuer. If she ever wanted to, she could easily find a quiet little village and settle down into a peaceful life.

Opening her map, she noticed a marker labeled “Rootless Village” just ahead on her route…the only settlement for miles around.

Beyond it, it would take another ten days to half a month of travel before reaching the next major town.

Noticing her rations were nearly depleted and her spirit horse was exhausted after days of non-stop travel, Xu Xianqing decided it was time to give them both a rest.

Holding the reins, she guided the horse toward Rootless Village.

As she approached the village entrance, Xu Xianqing spotted a long, winding procession in the distance. She quickly pulled her horse to the side of the path to make way.

It was a funeral procession. Yellow joss paper fluttered thick in the sky like falling leaves, accompanied by sorrowful, gut-wrenching wails that seemed to vibrate right against the ear.

“No road to Heaven, no gate to Hell…”

“Wronged souls and departed spirits, journey on through the Netherworld…”

“One cry for parental love, two sighs for the laughter of children…”

“Vengeful ghosts, do not turn back; walk only toward the path ahead…”

“No road to Heaven, no gate to Hell…”

“The wrongfully dead pass by; let living souls step aside…”

Xu Xianqing watched the procession slowly draw near. A bright, blood-red coffin was draped in strips of stark white cloth. A few burly young men wearing straw hats and wrapped in white linen carried the heavy coffin on their shoulders, walking silently with their heads bowed low.

Leading the way was a Daoist priest clad in a yellow robe. Holding a brass bell, he took a step, paused, and rang it once. Every three steps, he stopped completely, while the acolyte beside him scattered a handful of joss paper into the air. Every five steps, the priest stopped to chant an incantatory verse, repeating the eerie cycle endlessly.

An unexpected prickle of fear crept into Xu Xianqing’s heart. It wasn’t the fear of an approaching enemy, but rather a visceral dread triggered by the suffocating atmosphere.

Realizing her own fear, she suddenly let out a faint, dry laugh.

In her past life, she had been a Daoist priest herself, and had even helped her master conduct several funeral rites.

Why was she suddenly getting spooked just because she was in a different world?

Xu Xianqing forced herself to calm down and listened closely to the priest’s chants.

Before long, her brows furrowed. The verses were completely different from what her master had taught her back home. And what did they mean by a “wrongfully dead person”?

Was the person inside the coffin someone who had suffered a violent, unnatural death?

Though she didn’t fully understand the chanting, Xu Xianqing knew basic funeral etiquette. Reaching into her cloth satchel, she pulled out a spare piece of clothing and swiftly wrapped it over the spirit horse’s eyes.

In her previous world, legend had it that ox and horse could communicate with the spirit realm through the Ox-Head and Horse-Face guardians of the Underworld. To avoid terrifying or provoking departing spirits, one had to cover the eyes of draft animals during a funeral passage.

Xu Xianqing didn’t know if the rules held true in this realm, but she followed her old habits all the same.

Just as she bound the cloth over her horse’s eyes, she felt as though the bell-ringing priest flicked a quick glance toward her.

However, given the distance, she couldn’t be entirely sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

The procession…all clad in stark white cloth…marched closer, bearing the stark crimson coffin.

The dread Xu Xianqing had managed to suppress came surging back. Thankfully, her chronic, aching heart condition flared up at the same moment; under the weight of that severe physical pain, her psychological fear began to dull and fade away.

Yet, just as the blood-red coffin passed right beside her…

A blood-curdling scream pierced the air!

One of the young carriers slipped. The wooden beam holding the coffin slid right off his shoulder. Before the others could react, they could only watch in terror as the heavy coffin crashed down.

BANG!

The coffin struck something hard on the ground and tilted violently onto its side.

The lid burst open and rolled away, spilling its contents onto the dirt.

A female corpse tumbled out. She was dressed in a vibrant red bridal gown, her eyes stretched wide open, bleeds leaking from all seven facial orifices. Driven deep into her flesh were nine pitch black Soul Staking Nails.

The corpse lay flat on her back, staring straight up at Xu Xianqing.

Those wide, blood-soaked eyes locked onto her.

And in that fleeting second, Xu Xianqing could have sworn…

It smiled at her.

Support