Reborn as a Human Cauldron, But I'm the Top - Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Don’t Come Near Me! I am the Venerable One’s Woman!

Caught off guard and hit with a blast of cold wind, Shen Yirong’s voice scattered above the clouds. In a moment of panic, she tightly hugged the person in front of her.

She let go as if electrocuted, her apology distorted beyond recognition by the strong wind.

She had a slight fear of heights. Although not severe, she still closed her eyes and cautiously tugged at Song Yin’s sleeve. Seeing the person remain silent, she held on tighter.

Feeling a bit more at ease, she recalled a memory from her previous life, before her falling out with Song Yin. Song Yin was taking her to escape. At that time, looking at Song Yin’s face, her heart was filled with inescapable fate. It was only now, with that bondage lifted, that she gradually remembered that she was afraid of heights.

Song Yin was also afraid of heights. The Northwest Peak where the Sword Venerable lived was the highest peak in the Great Peace Sect (太安宗). The mountain was treacherous, with only a narrow, steep stone staircase. At the higher altitudes, the stairs were almost vertical. Immortals, having long since distanced themselves from worldly affairs, resided at the summit.

When Song Yin became a disciple, she was barely twelve. Shen Yirong looked down at her from the peak, watching her black hair tied up in two buns, the hair ribbons on either side of her head dancing in the wind like butterflies trying to fly.

Even then, Song Yin already showed signs of the beauty she would become, but she was still childish. She tightly gripped a vine dangling from the cliff, stubbornly refusing to let go, no matter how the gale blew.

Shen Yirong closed her eyes, letting out a soft sigh. The howling wind between the peaks suddenly became gentle.

Wiping the blood from her lips, Shen Yirong turned around, her back conveying a sense of helplessness.

“Host, why bother? She won’t die.”

Shen Yirong did not answer. She pushed open the simple wooden door, sat back on her bed, and closed her eyes to meditate. The gentle circulation of spiritual energy in her body brought searing, gut-wrenching pain. She had to stop and lay on the bed, gasping for breath.

Fine beads of sweat dripped from her forehead. It took a long time before she found her voice again, “System, what happens if I abandon the mission?”

Unlike before, the System answered very slowly this time. The prolonged silence gave Shen Yirong the illusion that it was contemplating.

“There will be another host. If Song Yin fails to successfully blacken, she will also be trapped in this cycle of reincarnation.”

Shen Yirong’s eyes darkened. She sat up but did not meditate, just watched the flying birds in the distant mountains through the window until Song Yin stood before her door when the clouds were edged with gold.

The girl looked disheveled, her white robe tattered. Her beautiful phoenix eyes reflected Mo Xun, who was broken and worn inside the room.

The girl knelt, her forehead pressed tightly to the ground, her voice hoarse and devout.

“Please, Immortal Venerable, accept me as your disciple.”

Her thoughts had been stolen by the past. When she woke up, she was already the cultivation vessel of this era, making these events feel as if they had only just happened.

However, Song Yin was doing well now. Her cultivation was unparalleled, she commanded the Demonic Palace, and many people accompanied her. No one would ever bark orders at her again.

Her heart suddenly felt restless. In the Demonic Palace, she always wanted to escape, yet the further she got from the Palace, the more she thought of that person. But the present and the past were ultimately different. One must always look forward and let go of those small regrets.

Shen Yirong keenly sensed a hint of ghostly energy. Immediately afterward, she was lifted by the back of her collar and tossed onto the ground.

Shen Yirong stumbled but quickly regained her balance. Before she could react emotionally, she was entangled by the ghostly energy in the area. A chill rose from the soles of her feet. Something seemed to wrap around her waist, extending a cold tongue to lick her. The circulation of her spiritual energy slowed down. Although she could still see her hands and feet, she couldn’t command them to move.

A rush of warmth surged from her shoulder throughout her body. Shen Yirong was finally freed, and the strange feeling around her waist disappeared. She turned to see the Protector standing behind her, a snake-like mass of mist trapped in her hand. The mist constantly roared, its appearance hideous, but in the next instant, it was crushed.

Shen Yirong’s eyes lit up. If not for so many mishaps, she would really like to roam the world with her sword, slaying injustice. To do that, one needed power.

Is this the Nascent Soul stage?

Although her cultivation in her previous life was far higher than the Nascent Soul stage, she was severely wounded and recovery was difficult. She had trouble even walking. Sometimes, when the pain was bad and she really wanted to go out, she would order Song Yin to carry her on her back.

Only on Song Yin’s back did Shen Yirong dare to look at her freely, noticing her earlobes flushed crimson, more brilliant than the evening glow in the sky.

Shen Yirong felt guilty, always feeling that she was too well-nurtured, which put so much pressure on Song Yin.

“Focus. Be vigilant.”

The four simple words were laced with coldness, and one could even detect a slight underlying distaste.

Shen Yirong felt apologetic. Her strength was truly negligible. To avoid causing trouble, she instantly darted to stand behind the Protector.

The ghostly energy here was so dense it formed a blood-red mist that obscured the houses ahead. Laughter and crying sounds occasionally emanated from the blood-mist, causing people to shiver.

It hadn’t seemed scary before they came, but actually being here, Shen Yirong’s courage shrank. She tugged at Song Yin’s sleeve again. Seeing the person look back, she said pitifully, “Protector, I’m sorry, I’m really scared.”

It was not her imagination; Shen Yirong noticed the distaste in the other person’s eyes deepen.

Fortunately, Shen Yirong was thick-skinned and remained unfazed.

Song Yin suppressed the urge to throw the person away. Her already cold face became even more unpleasant. She then turned and walked into the thick mist.

The world within the thick mist became clear. The earlier bizarre scene seemed like an illusion. Shen Yirong rubbed her eyes.

Houses and fields, chickens crowing and dogs barking, smoke curling from chimneys, and a steady stream of people walking by.

Such a scene could easily be called a paradise, but it was highly likely an illusion.

Shen Yirong had read many books. She knew that ghosts could not directly kill people, as they were separate from the mortal world. They could only deceive people’s senses and make them commit suicide.

However, with such dense ghostly energy, this place was likely a battlefield.

Song Yin moved again. Shen Yirong quickly followed. Staying close to a living person was reassuring.

Shen Yirong watched the people, always feeling that they would rush toward her with gaping, bloody mouths in the next second, and bite her neck.

Feeling uneasy, she began to talk more, even though the person in front of her was as cold as a ten-thousand-year-old block of ice.

“My Lady, why do demon cultivators have to deal with ghosts?”

“My Lady, my Lady, was this place originally a battlefield?”

“Hiss, can I get those thousand high-grade spirit stones quickly after the mission is over?”

“My Lady.”

Before she could ask her next question, the “My Lady” in front of her turned around and pinched her face. The fingers on her face were very cold. Shen Yirong almost thought she had been grabbed by a ghost.

But she felt that the person in front of her was even more terrifying than a ghost. Her eyes seemed to want to eat her alive.

“Shut up.”

Shen Yirong flinched, then nodded frantically, and her face was released.

Rubbing her reddened cheek, Shen Yirong felt that this person looked more and more like Song Yin, especially that phrase, “Shut up.”

But how could Song Yin, the Demon Lord, do such a boring thing?

This Protector Li seemed to highly respect the Venerable One, or perhaps she was learning Song Yin’s speech and behavior out of respect. But why learn the bad parts?

Relying on the fact that she was currently the most “favored” cultivation vessel next to Song Yin, Shen Yirong dared to continue rambling even after being snapped at.

She chirped behind Song Yin like a cheerful sparrow, acting as if everything she said was for her benefit.

“Protector, that won’t do. No one will like you with a cold face.”

“See, I smile a lot, that’s why the Venerable One likes me so much~”

Shen Yirong had a certain malicious streak in her. She liked to tease people and then carefully appreciate the expression on their faces. If she succeeded, she would even show a very perverted smile.

The Protector indeed paused due to her teasing, but the expression on her face was not what Shen Yirong had imagined.

Shen Yirong had never seen such a terrifying smile. Moreover, the person was approaching her with that smile, forcing her to take a step back.

Her chin was pinched again. Shen Yirong yelped in pain, tears welling up in her eyes. A moist, warm breath brushed against her neck, and before she could react, a low, husky laugh reached her ear.

“Do you like it when I smile like this?”

Shen Yirong gasped. The distance was too close, and the person’s words were too ambiguous. So, the well-read person once again got the wrong idea.

What is this? Is the Venerable One’s woman being coveted too?

Shen Yirong, an honest person, was repeatedly encountering such stimulating plotlines. She couldn’t understand and could only blame it all on Song Yin.

Those who touch vermilion will be stained red, those who touch ink will be stained black. A lustful superior leads to lustful subordinates.

Shen Yirong felt her reputation was about to be ruined. She reached out to push, but couldn’t. She simply retreated rapidly, clutching her chest and looking wary.

“Don’t come near me! I am the Venerable One’s woman!”

Song Yin stopped in her tracks. A face similar to her Master’s paired with that phrase indeed carried some force.

This imitation wasn’t truly fond of her; she was merely using her as a shield.

Seeing her nervousness, Song Yin felt contemptuous yet also a little disappointed.

Her Master would never act like this. A person as proud as her Master would only raise her hand, slap the person, and scold, “You wicked creature!”

What was the Great Peace Sect thinking, sending such an incredibly foolish spy? Did they think the Demonic Palace was not worth their effort?

Song Yin’s face turned cold. Seeing the person still clutching her chest, she suddenly spoke with malice, “Delusional.”

She walked straight ahead, not caring if Shen Yirong would follow.

With ghosts all around, how would Shen Yirong dare not follow? She couldn’t gauge the other’s mind and obediently trailed behind her.

This time, it was Song Yin who spoke, but her voice was flat.

“This area belongs to the Southern Territory, and the Southern Territory belongs to the Demonic Palace. The residual resentment from these battlefields is harmful to the Demonic Palace.”

This subverted Shen Yirong’s understanding. She thought demon cultivators only fought with righteous cultivators and caused destruction everywhere.

While thinking, Shen Yirong suddenly bumped into Song Yin. She cautiously backed away, but then saw the person look up, so she followed her gaze.

Immortal mist curled, mountains embraced, and a blue stone staircase ascended directly to the peak, disappearing into the sea of clouds. A bell gently chimed from the high mountain, and immortal cranes spread their wings and flew. A single glance brought peace to one’s heart.

Although she rarely ventured out in her past life, Shen Yirong recognized this place instantly.

The Great Peace Sect.

Shen Yirong almost blurted it out, but thankfully, she retained her sanity. She, a mere cultivation vessel, shouldn’t recognize the Great Peace Sect.

But taking another look, Shen Yirong held her breath again.

Logically, she shouldn’t be able to see that far, but these ghosts were forcing her to see clearly.

On that steepest peak, someone was struggling to climb up.

The small figure, exhausted, accidentally lost her grip. Shen Yirong’s heart leaped to her throat. Panic flashed in her eyes for a moment.

Suddenly feeling someone watching her, she looked up and met the other person’s scrutinizing gaze.

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