The Possessive Beauty Desires Me in Vain - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Inner Demon

Time flies, and now Pu Xuefeng and Chen Hexuan stand before the forbidden grounds of the Nine Pools of Fortune, with several elders flanking them.

To open a forbidden zone of the Xingzhou Sect, at least three elders must simultaneously place the sect’s official seals upon the Great Opening Array.

Pu Xuefeng’s hand pressed firmly onto Chen Hexuan’s shoulder. He stared at him and said, “Hexuan, I will wait for you to come out.”

Chen Hexuan smiled, bowed with cupped hands, and replied, “This disciple will not fail Master’s high expectations.”

Watching Chen Hexuan’s figure gradually vanish into the concentric circles of the glowing light array until the formation dimmed, Pu Xuefeng’s expression grew heavy and solemn.

The elders exchanged glances. One stepped forward and asked, “Xuefeng, now that Hexuan has entered, our plan…”

Pu Xuefeng gazed into the void, lost in thought, and did not answer for a long time.

Another younger elder added, “We have already selected a suitable candidate. We are just waiting for your order.”

“Proceed as planned,” Pu Xuefeng turned toward them, stroking his beard. “By the way, what is the cultivation level of the person you chose?”

“To avoid alerting the target, we only chose three: two at the middle stage of Nascent Soul and one at the late stage,” the elder said. “Given that Hexuan is only at the middle stage, the array he laid shouldn’t be difficult to break.”

“No, you are thinking too simply,” Pu Xuefeng smiled candidly. “Even someone at the Void Refinement stage ($Void Refinement$) would find it nearly impossible to break his seal.”

The elders looked shocked. “No matter how talented he is, he is currently just a mere Nascent Soul cultivator.”

“If he couldn’t even achieve this much, then we’ve spent all these years looking for the wrong person,” Pu Xuefeng shook his head. “I suspect the cultivation level he shows us is but the tip of the iceberg.”

An elder frowned. “Not even Void Refinement? There are only a dozen or so people in the entire cultivation world above that level.”

Pu Xuefeng said slowly, “My disciple… I shall go and test him myself.”

He cut off the elders’ protests and continued:

“Besides, I want to see for myself just how far Hexuan has grown.”

…

As Pu Xuefeng expected, breaking the barrier Chen Hexuan had set was no easy task.

He withdrew his palms, his expression pained. The centers of his hands felt as though they were being scorched by the core of a flame; the burning sensation from the backlash began to spread. He quickly stopped the circulation of his spiritual energy, struggling to halt the progress of the injury.

But looking at the faint golden barrier shimmering in mid-air, Pu Xuefeng felt that no amount of pain mattered.

He summoned his full spiritual power once more. His Primordial Spirit split into multiple clones, all attacking the mid-air barrier with swords in unison.

Bang—

Bang—

Bang—

The collisions between the barrier and the swords produced heavy, resonant sounds that echoed through the small secret realm. The violent clash of energy sent invisible ripples through the space.

As the barrier became more visible, Pu Xuefeng’s face grew paler, yet his eyes shone with an increasingly desperate joy.

Clutching his chest, Pu Xuefeng felt his blood surging. He ripped the mask from his face and coughed up a large amount of blood. He thrust his sword into the ground, leaning on the hilt, and laughed heartily.

As his laughter subsided, streaks of blood leaked uncontrollably from the corners of his mouth.

At that moment, the golden barrier finally manifested fully.

A thick, dark bronze sword stood suspended in the air. Its color was deep and heavy, its hilt carved with ancient runes, and the lines of the blade were extremely thin and sharp, exuding a faint air of desolation.

It was a sword without a sheath, but undoubtedly a masterwork.

However, this fine blade had a glaring flaw.

Rust-colored bloodstains seemed to still be flowing like winding vines, creeping from the tip to the middle of the blade, resembling a mysterious and tragic ancient curse.

Pu Xuefeng wiped the blood from his lips, staring greedily at the sword. His gaze slid over every inch of it as he murmured happily, “So beautiful…”

…

The Nine Pools of Fortune, a forbidden zone of the Xingzhou Sect, was perpetually shrouded in ice and snow.

Bitter winds pierced the skin, rain and snow fell dismally, and solid ice stretched across the wilderness to the horizon. Aside from the boundless white, not a single other color could be found.

Suddenly, a figure in silver robes appeared, dissolving into the blizzard before reappearing in front of a small pool.

The water was exceptionally clear, reflecting a bright white like crystal, yet it emitted a bone-chilling mist.

Chen Hexuan sat down in the pool. The water was piercingly cold, making his whole body tremble. The moment he stepped into the forbidden zone, he felt the surrounding spiritual energy abruptly vanish. He couldn’t sense even a trace of it.

Having grown accustomed to the exchange of energy between his body and the world, this feeling—akin to suffocating—was foreign and agonizing. Nevertheless, he immediately stored his remaining internal energy into his Nascent Soul ($Nascent Soul$).

If not for that bit of power, he would have been frozen into a block of ice the instant he entered the pool.

Chen Hexuan frowned. He knew his internal energy wouldn’t last long, but finding energy in this barren place was like looking for a needle in a haystack. He closed his eyes, concentrating on finding any speck of power in the space, but found nothing.

As a layer of ice formed over him, Chen Hexuan wondered if he had made a mistake in his reasoning, or if he had been wrong from the very beginning.

He closed his eyes again, attempting to accept the cold that seeped into his marrow. Though the cold was indeed damaging and his body shook, he persisted. This was a daring gamble; one slip, and the cold could invade his Nascent Soul and damage his foundation.

But Chen Hexuan had no choice. He could no longer endure the stagnation of his cultivation. He had to try anything.

Just as his internal energy was about to run dry, he finally saw tiny white specks of energy in the air. These specks seemed to notice him and surged into his body.

Before he could even direct them, they merged into a stream, flowing through every vein and gathering in his Nascent Soul. At first, it wasn’t obvious, but as time passed, his Nascent Soul began to grow.

He felt a surge of joy. He hadn’t cultivated like this in a long time; previously, every attempt ended with a dream of Qi Yu.

However, a trace of strangeness was mixed with this joy, but Chen Hexuan instinctively ignored it.

After an unknown amount of time, his Nascent Soul had grown significantly larger.

Chen Hexuan snapped his eyes open. His black pupils gradually turned red, revealing an eerie, unsettling demeanor. He scanned his surroundings with those crimson eyes, then looked down at his reflection in the pool.

If someone familiar with Chen Hexuan were there, they would realize this was not the man they knew.

If Qi Yu—the natural Demon Seed—were there, one look at those red eyes would tell him: what occupied Chen Hexuan’s body now was his Inner Demon.

The demon looked at his reflection in the pool and thought: I am certainly not that coward who has to hide even his love.

He didn’t consider himself a “demon”; he felt he was simply the side of that coward hidden deep in his heart.

That coward couldn’t help but love, yet didn’t dare speak it. He had to hide it away, and as that love accumulated day after day without outlet, “He” was born.

Whatever, forget it. I’m going to find my sword.

He stood up from the pool. The heat from his Nascent Soul was becoming more pronounced, forcing a raspy, guttural growl from his throat.

His sword had been touched.

Rage. He felt an extreme, overwhelming anger. He couldn’t understand why someone would touch the array he had so carefully laid. The thought of his sword being coveted—or worse, stolen—filled him with fury.

He only wanted to return to his sword’s side as quickly as possible.

A long daydream drifted through his mind: The little thing hidden inside the sword—my treasure—must be terrified. So weak.

The thought that once he went over and drove away the villains, his treasure would instinctively curl up in his arms, trembling and seeking protection, sent a surge of hot blood through him. He quickened his pace to find the exit.

As he searched, he fantasized, and as he fantasized, he grew angrier.

The burning heat from his Nascent Soul became more intense, hitting his heart in waves. Sensing the barrier had been revealed, he suddenly spat out a mouthful of hot blood.

Dammit. Someone found my things.

The appearance of the barrier meant the sword he had hidden was now exposed.

The pain of the backlash was nothing compared to the fury in his heart. He ran across the wasteland like a madman, breaking every pocket of spiritual energy he found, hoping each would be the exit.

But none were. He had searched every hilltop, and his hopes were dashed time and again. But he refused to believe it; even though his hands were bloodied from striking the air, he kept searching.

Under his influence, the surrounding spiritual energy suddenly turned riotous.

…

“Hahahaha…”

Pu Xuefeng couldn’t stop laughing at the sky. A monumental joy had hijacked his thoughts, leaving him no energy to care for his own body.

Having suffered too many backlashes, his internal state was a wreck. The spiritual energy maintaining his life was in chaos, and most severely, his Nascent Soul was shrinking at a terrifying speed.

He stared intently at the sword floating in mid-air and took a step forward, his face full of longing as he whispered:

“With you, our great cause is complete…”

Joy surged, and Pu Xuefeng’s eyes bulged with excitement. He had lost all the calm poise of a sect leader, leaving only the feverish madness of an addict. He raised a sword and, channeling his full power, struck at the golden barrier.

A few star-shaped cracks appeared on the perfect golden surface.

Pu Xuefeng wiped the blood from his mouth, his face growing paler, and struck again. The cracks suddenly widened.

…

The demon stood aimlessly in the snow. His high-grade protective robes were torn to shreds, allowing the cold to invade his body directly.

But he could no longer feel the cold. He only felt a throbbing ache in his Nascent Soul and his chest—a dull, sour pain. Compared to the cold and his physical wounds, it wasn’t “painful” in the traditional sense, yet it made his heart tighten uncontrollably.

He knew his barrier was about to break. He clutched his chest and thought: My sword is being stolen. My treasure is going to be taken…

The next moment, he let out a thunderous, primal roar of rage. If he couldn’t find the exit, he would simply break this forbidden zone into pieces to get out.

…

Outside the forbidden zone, several elders stared at the projection stone with complex expressions, watching Chen Hexuan’s fury.

“Why has his temperament suddenly changed?” the leading elder mused. “Could it be an Inner Demon?”

The other elders exchanged surprised looks, their expressions growing somber. They all knew that if Chen Hexuan truly had an Inner Demon, it was like a priceless jade vessel suddenly developing a massive crack.

“No, he probably just sensed something,” the oldest-looking elder said, stroking his beard slowly. “He has always had extremely sharp intuition.”

“But if we don’t let him out soon,” another elder spoke up, “The Nine Pools of Fortune will be destroyed by his hands.”

Another added, “But… the Sect Master’s order was to keep him locked in there. We aren’t allowed to let him out.”

“If we let him out, he will ruin our great plans,” one elder said with worry. “The Sect Master’s judgment wasn’t wrong—he really is incredibly powerful.”

“For the sake of our cause, so what if we sacrifice the Nine Pools of Fortune?” a younger elder sighed heavily. “We have already sacrificed far more than just this pool.”

…

Under Pu Xuefeng’s repeated strikes, even the strongest barrier reached its limit, covered in a spiderweb of cracks.

Just one last strike, Pu Xuefeng thought.

The joy on his face couldn’t hide his deathly pallor. He hadn’t noticed that his Nascent Soul was now only the size of a child’s fist. Or perhaps he noticed, but compared to the thrill of breaking the barrier, such damage meant nothing.

Pu Xuefeng circulated his remaining spiritual energy once more, gathering everything from his Nascent Soul into the tip of his sword. The blade emitted a blinding white light.

He slowly raised the sword, leapt high into the air, and swung it in a semi-circular arc, striking the seemingly fragile barrier.

BOOM—

It was a long, heavy sound. The barrier shattered completely, its fragments dissolving into nothingness.

Pu Xuefeng was sent flying by the massive impact, crashing violently into the ground. His Nascent Soul shattered completely.

As he watched the barrier break, a smile slowly spread across his face, but before it could fully form, his eyes closed heavily.

The secret realm fell into absolute silence. To go from extreme noise to extreme quiet took only a single instant.

Just then, the sword—now unprotected—was exposed to the air. The bloodstains on it flowed faster, and silver hidden patterns appeared.

Suddenly, the sword turned into a streak of white light and gradually materialized into a human form. He looked around blankly at first until his gaze landed on the prone figure of Pu Xuefeng.

His eyelashes fluttered, and he immediately floated over.

“Master,” he called out softly.

Qi Yu went to help Pu Xuefeng up, only to find his hand passed straight through Pu Xuefeng’s body.

…

What a twist! Pu Xuefeng is actively working against his own disciple, and Qi Yu’s “spirit” or “consciousness” seems to have been trapped inside Chen Hexuan’s sword! This explains why Chen Hexuan was so distressed about the blood on the blade.