Reborn as a Human Cauldron, But I'm the Top - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Love at First Sight, The Exclusive Cultivation Vessel

Shen Yirong couldn’t comprehend the current situation. She stared intently at the face until the familiar scent of orchid wafted to her nose. Only then did she hastily withdraw her sword and kneel beside Song Yin.

She stood no chance against Song Yin and couldn’t understand why Song Yin, who could easily kill her, had suddenly relented.

Her mind was blank. Shen Yirong didn’t know how to face the situation. She tremulously confessed, “Please forgive me, Venerable One.”

Song Yin slowly sat up, her gaze resting on Shen Yirong’s trembling body.

Now, she doesn’t resemble her again.

The illusion continued to shift before them. The dilapidated little hut on the peak gradually became refined. Song Yin’s appearance had also changed; she had grown up, becoming gentle and serene, far less vibrant than in her youth.

A jade teacup was tossed out of the house, smashing at Song Yin’s feet.

Snow was swirling down, but the voice of the person inside was even colder, “Get lost.”

This was an illusion, a fragment of the past. The current Shen Yirong knelt beside her former disciple, her heart filled with bitterness and dread.

This illusion was truly fanning the flames. She felt she was about to be utterly doomed.

Song Yin, however, stared blankly at the illusion. She watched her past self pick up the jade cup, then climb the spiritual tree in the courtyard to collect snow water. The spiritual tree was transplanted by Liu Qianfeng from elsewhere and grew very tall. Standing on it, she would get dizzy and almost fall off.

Master’s body was too frail. Even the Valley Master of the Medical Immortal Valley could only shake his head and sigh after a visit. As the divine physician left, he glanced at the spiritual tree in the courtyard and said that snow on the spiritual tree leaves would be much more effective for decocting medicine.

At that time, Song Yin always believed that her Master’s bad temper was due to her illness. Once she recovered, she could return to her former self.

But Master’s illness wouldn’t get better. She wouldn’t return to her former self. She died, killed by her own disciple’s hand.

Song Yin descended into the demonic path in a daze, then, still in a daze, took control of the Southern Territory and became the Demon Lord.

Yet, Song Yin also felt that Master hadn’t died; Master was just hiding.

The Sword Venerable vowed to slay all demons and monsters under heaven. She would eventually appear before her, the Demon Lord, with her sword drawn.

But she waited for a long time, and nothing happened.

“Hmph, liar.”

Shen Yirong was waiting for Song Yin to act when she suddenly heard the word “liar.” She almost thought her cover was blown, but she hadn’t spoken a single truth on this journey, so being called a liar was accurate.

Ah! Really, she had even spread rumors in front of the real person, claiming the other person liked her.

Forget it, what’s done is done. Now, how to save my life?

The System only mentioned that Song Yin would start a harem after becoming the Demon Lord, but nothing else. One thing was certainly true: the other person was a lecherous philanderer.

I should have paid my respects to a spirit before leaving!

Shen Yirong bit her lip and looked up, tears welling in her eyes. She picked up the sword on the ground, choked with emotion.

Song Yin watched her with interest, wanting to see what trick she was trying to pull. But in the next second, her expression changed, and she waved her hand, knocking the sword out of Shen Yirong’s grip.

Her wrist stinging, Shen Yirong gave a sad smile, “If the Venerable One hates this face, I will destroy it.”

As she was still planning her next move, her face was pinched again. Shen Yirong’s tears instantly flowed even more profusely, partly from the pain and partly from fear.

Shen Yirong was forced to look up and meet the anger in the other’s eyes. The flame was so searing that just looking at it made her feel like her soul would be burned away.

The pressure on her face continued to tighten. Shen Yirong didn’t struggle. She simply stared blankly at Song Yin’s face.

“Who gave you the right to decide!”

Shen Yirong was choked speechless. She maintained her deeply devoted look until the other’s anger melted away.

Song Yin released her hand. Shen Yirong slid to the ground, supporting herself with one hand in a fragile posture. She then looked up at Song Yin’s face, her eyes filled with deep affection.

Song Yin felt the anger that had just subsided surge again. The sword cultivators of the Great Peace Sect are still so shameless.

Master would never show such an expression. But beyond the anger, a difficult-to-suppress hint of joy seemed to emerge.

She frowned and suddenly raised her hand, shattering the illusion.

Countless shrieks of vengeful ghosts echoed from the peaceful Great Peace Sect. The sounds of gathering snow water and the suppressed soft coughs from inside the hut on the peak were pulverized, replaced by a thick, suffocating smell of blood.

The red mist was like a gradually rising tide. Shen Yirong remained sprawled on the ground. This posture made her easy to be swallowed by the mist. She wanted to stand up, but Song Yin was still looking at her.

Helpless, Shen Yirong could only maintain this posture and continue to feign devotion.

The red mist quickly reached her neck. Shen Yirong raised her head slightly, holding her breath, but this mist was not something her current cultivation level could resist. A sharp pain shot through her mind, and scenes from the past flashed before her eyes.

The taste of iron in her mouth, gradually blurring vision, the pain in her chest, and the annoying rain.

It was the feeling of near-death from her previous life.

She repeatedly told herself it was an illusion, thrashing her arms like a drowning person. Finally, she grasped someone’s robe corner, no longer sinking.

Song Yin looked at Shen Yirong, who was clutching her sleeve, and saw the relieved smile on her face, like a tired bird returning to its nest, as if saying, “It’s all over.”

The red mist gradually took shape. They dared not provoke Song Yin but turned the mist into crimson chains, slowly climbing onto Shen Yirong’s body.

The serene expression on Shen Yirong’s face was suddenly replaced by a struggle. She opened her eyes, her pupils unfocused, reaching out vaguely toward Song Yin.

Seeing Song Yin remain still, the red mist surged even more frantically.

They had never encountered a soul as special as Shen Yirong’s, warm like the sun but not scorching, and gentle like the spring breeze.

Very delicious, much more delicious than the twisted soul of the person standing there, and not dangerous.

Shen Yirong’s hand slowly dropped. She felt something gnawing at her brain. Having been reborn with such difficulty, she didn’t want to die like this, so she bit her lip.

The real pain kept her conscious. She struggled to break free from the illusion, but it was no use.

A hint of grievance appeared on Shen Yirong’s face.

Suddenly, someone grasped her hand. The hand was very cold but dispelled all the illusions. Gasping heavily, having escaped death, she regained her sanity and followed the connected hands upwards, meeting Song Yin’s indifferent face.

Shen Yirong couldn’t decipher the other’s thoughts, but she quietly offered her thanks.

The red mist disappeared. What came into view was lush green grass dotted with white flowers.

Shen Yirong felt something rough against her hand. She thought she had touched a stone, but looking down, it was a section of leg bone buried in the dirt. She withdrew her hand in shock. Then, Song Yin’s inquiry came from above her head.

“You like this Venerable One? What do you like about this Venerable One?”

Shen Yirong was stunned internally. She carefully reviewed every moment she had spent with Song Yin in this life, trying to find even a single thing worth mentioning. She finally realized with despair that there was nothing.

Withholding her spirit stones was one thing, but her life had been in danger several times, and her neck was still faintly throbbing now.

Should I say I like her face? That’s too shallow.

Life is a play, all relying on acting. Shen Yirong decided to make something up, “Does the Venerable One believe in love at first sight?”

Song Yin paused. She remembered the scene when she first met Master, though she didn’t have any improper thoughts at the time; it only changed later.

“This Venerable One will have many people in her heart, but will not care about you.”

Shen Yirong felt internal disdain, cursing the other person for being a philanderer, but then she thought the sentence carried a hint of pique.

Shen Yirong felt that she must have been messed up by the illusion to have such a thought. This was the blackened Song Yin; such childish emotions couldn’t possibly belong to her.

Ignoring this, Shen Yirong humbled her posture, “As long as I can stay by the Venerable One’s side, I am willing to do anything.”

Shen Yirong looked into Song Yin’s eyes, trying to find some emotion, but found none.

In the past, those eyes were obedient and docile. No matter how much she scolded her, no resentment was visible, only showing slight fluctuations in those later few times.

One time was when she expelled her from the sect, and another time was when she handed her over to the demon cultivators.

Now, those eyes had lost their former docility, replaced by stillness and depth. What was once hard to understand was now completely inscrutable.

She quietly awaited the final verdict, gripping the grass on the ground uncontrollably.

“Get up. Come here.” A tone of complete command.

Shen Yirong jolted. She didn’t sense any killing intent, so she obeyed.

Song Yin seemed to enjoy pinching her chin. This time, however, she carefully examined her face and smiled coldly, “You think this Venerable One hates this face?”

Before Shen Yirong could react, Song Yin continued, “Who gave you the audacity to speculate about this Venerable One’s thoughts.”

“This lowly one dare not.”

“Dare not? This Venerable One thinks you are quite audacious.”

“This lowly one is guilty. Please punish me, Venerable One.”

Seeing Song Yin staring at her neck again, Shen Yirong was filled with bitterness. She felt that this time, she might not escape.

Song Yin’s pupils glowed crimson. Shen Yirong couldn’t help but close her eyes.

A damp sensation spread across the skin of her neck, followed by a sharp, tingling pain. The pain gradually intensified, forcing Shen Yirong to open her eyes.

She had never been so intimate with anyone. Her cheeks flushed red. She felt shame, but also a fierce itch. She wanted to pull away but clenched her fists and endured, considering her current predicament.

She felt like prey captured by Song Yin. The hunter was about to bite through her carotid artery in the next second.

But Song Yin didn’t continue. Shen Yirong’s body relaxed in response.

For some reason, she felt an itch at the back of her neck. The itch seemed to penetrate her skin and travel upwards, making her brain itch too.

In a place she couldn’t see, the Cultivation Vessel Seal belonging to the Demonic Palace slowly changed its appearance.

A crimson butterfly was entwined by chains of the same color, flickering a few times before vanishing.

Shen Yirong softly moaned and collapsed into Song Yin’s arms. She tried to get up but found her body completely weak. In panic, she met Song Yin’s eyes.

Although her consciousness was perfectly clear, Shen Yirong couldn’t muster any resistance towards the person in front of her. Only complete and utter submission remained.

Cultivation Vessel. Shen Yirong had never cared about this identity since her rebirth, but now she understood the meaning of those two words.

At this moment, she truly became Song Yin’s possession.

A clear voice softly sounded, “You guessed wrong. This Venerable One likes your face very much.”

Shen Yirong closed her eyes, carefully hiding her despair. Her voice was weak but grateful, “For the Venerable One to like it is this lowly one’s honor.”

Hmph, a face-lover. Doesn’t hate her enemy, but likes her enemy’s face?

But her transformation seemed to be partly her responsibility.

Shen Yirong couldn’t sort out the complicated feelings, so she remained silent, closing her eyes.

Her nerves were no longer taut. She felt very sleepy.

But in her dream, she saw Song Yin again. She stood high on a tree, turning her head and calling softly, “Master.”

A tear slipped from the corner of Shen Yirong’s eye, wetting the back of Song Yin’s hand.

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