When the Immortal Venerable Picked-Up the Demon Cub - Chapter 30.1

What could Zhu Ning do? It was only natural for Lin Xiayan to distrust her. Standing there, her spirits sank. The thought of teaching Lin Xiayan cultivation techniques had lost its appeal.

Head bowed, she walked to a nearby rock and sat down. Her white robes stood out against the landscape, a stark contrast that seemed both desolate and sorrowful. Lin Xiayan knew she couldn’t remain silent any longer. Obediently, she took small steps toward Zhu Ning, her delicate hands tugging at the corner of Zhu Ning’s robe. She blinked her eyes, hoping to win forgiveness.

“Immortal Venerable, it’s not that I don’t trust you,” Lin Xiayan said. “During the sword dance, my final move was aimed in your direction. In a moment of impulse, I wanted to see if you would catch the sword energy. I never imagined you’d truly lost all your magical power.”

This was the first time Lin Xiayan had ever given a proper explanation to anyone, a rare occurrence for her. Zhu Ning wasn’t easily hurt. After a moment, she stood up again, smiling as if nothing had happened.

“It’s fine,” Zhu Ning said. “If I were you, I might have felt the same confusion. But it’s true, I’ve lost all my magical power.” She gave Lin Xiayan a wry smile, leaving the explanation at that. She didn’t want to say more. The wound on her chest was slow to heal in the freezing weather, but Lin Xiayan’s competition was approaching, and time was pressing.

Zhu Ning’s white robes weren’t a hindrance. She simply rolled up her sleeves, revealing her graceful waistline. In her hand, she held an ordinary longsword, yet her stance already showed the beginnings of proper form.

Perhaps it was thanks to inheriting the original owner’s physique, but Zhu Ning felt her body could maintain even a one-legged stance indefinitely. She stood holding the sword for a long time without losing her balance.

“Lord Immortal Venerable, please instruct me,” Lin Xiayan said, bowing respectfully with her head lowered. Her smiling eyes remained fixed solely on Zhu Ning. Her white robes flowed like a celestial vision as she danced through the forest, sword in hand. Zhu Ning naturally wasn’t putting much effort into it, especially since she herself had no real swordsmanship. She could only try to translate the knowledge from the books into practical instruction for Lin Xiayan. These flashy, deceptive techniques would be exactly what Lin Xiayan needed for the upcoming competition.

The longsword traced a perfect arc through the air. Zhu Ning was nearly mesmerized by her own performance, but as she finished the move, the motion tugged at the wound on her chest. She lost her grip, and the sword clattered to the ground with a crisp clang.

“What’s wrong? Is your wound hurting again?” Lin Xiayan rushed forward, her eyes filled with panic. Zhu Ning’s face instantly paled, and she nodded weakly. It seemed you really couldn’t get too cocky; one moment you’re showing off, the next you’re facing a life-threatening situation.

Lin Xiayan frowned as she helped Zhu Ning up, not mentioning the martial arts training again. She firmly led her toward Mùdōng Courtyard, brooking no argument.

“I need to examine you properly to find out why you can’t use your magical power. And this chest wound… if you can’t use your power to protect it, it’ll never heal,” Lin Xiayan said, her voice tinged with anger. She couldn’t understand why Zhu Ning remained so nonchalant even now, as if losing her magical power was no big deal.

Zhu Ning didn’t dare argue. Fortunately, Lin Xiayan wasn’t walking too fast. Zhu Ning managed to catch her breath, her pale complexion gradually regaining its color, and even her voice regained its strength. “Let me rest first. Can we talk about this later?” she asked cautiously. To her relief, Lin Xiayan didn’t insist. She simply nodded, her main concern being to get Zhu Ning back to Mùdōng Courtyard, rather than letting her recover in this sunless, icy wilderness.

The medicinal scent still lingered in Mùdōng Courtyard. Zhu Ning was helped onto the bed, her gaze falling on the intricately carved bed frame. She looked utterly exhausted, her peach-blossom eyes barely able to stay open. She closed them gently and drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

Lin Xiayan hadn’t even realized Zhu Ning was asleep until she heard her soft, shallow breathing.

So tired, Lin Xiayan thought, pulling up a small stool to sit beside the bed. She rested her chin in her hand, watching Zhu Ning’s sleeping face.

Even in slumber, Zhu Ning was beautiful. Her eyelashes drooped weakly, casting shadows across her eyelids, her aura fragile yet aloof, radiating an untouchable air.

As Lin Xiayan observed Zhu Ning’s sleeping face, Zhu Ning’s Divine consciousness had already entered her Pocket Dimension. Inside, she frantically searched through books on how to use Magical power, but none seemed to hit the mark.

Zhu Ning collapsed to the ground, flipping through books haphazardly in a fit of desperation. Just as she was on the verge of breaking down, she saw a fiery-red cat stride gracefully toward her, a thin booklet clutched in its mouth.

“You know what I need?” Zhu Ning’s eyes lit up, her gaze toward the cat now filled with fervent hope, all traces of her earlier despair vanished.

The elegant cat tossed the booklet in front of Zhu Ning, then rubbed its paw against it, radiating a proud sense of accomplishment. Zhu Ning couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke its fur, her heart brimming with delight.

Zhu Ning had intended to study the booklet’s contents diligently, but as soon as she opened it, a sharp pain shot through her head, and the booklet in her hand turned to ash.

Startled awake on the couch, Zhu Ning’s mind raced with the booklet’s contents. She hadn’t realized her Divine consciousness possessed such a function. Having kept her eyes closed for so long, she blinked against the sudden brightness, her vision blurring for a moment before clearing.

Lin Xiayan, who had been dozing by the couch, had expected Zhu Ning to sleep longer, given her exhaustion. But not only did Zhu Ning wake up quickly, she was now surrounded by a faint aura of Spiritual Power.

“What’s with this Spiritual Power?” Lin Xiayan wondered. In this era of dwindling Spiritual Power, it was impossible for it to gather spontaneously unless it was cultivated through personal practice. Yet Zhu Ning hadn’t shown any such aura in recent days. Could a single nap have brought this about?

Zhu Ning had clearly noticed the strange things happening around her. Though the flickering blue light vanished quickly, she had never seen anything so magical before.

When she focused on the spells in her mind again, she realized that each one now came with clear instructions: the right tone to use, the proper way to cast it. Could this be her first cheat code from transmigrating into the novel?

Lin Xiayan, seeing Zhu Ning’s lack of reaction, was about to ask again when she met Zhu Ning’s eyes, still misty with lingering moisture. Suddenly, she didn’t know what to say.

“It’s probably just my Spiritual Power slowly recovering,” Zhu Ning explained to Lin Xiayan, her face calm and her heart steady. She believed that as long as her expression was convincing, no one would suspect anything was amiss.

Though Zhu Ning knew this was just wishful thinking, what could Lin Xiayan do even if she did suspect something? It wasn’t like she could guess Zhu Ning was a transmigrator.

Since arriving at Yun Cang Mountain, Zhu Ning had found herself surprisingly idle, almost frighteningly so, aside from Yue Qing’s occasional attempts to annoy her.

Now that her Spiritual Power was gradually returning, Zhu Ning decided to start preparing for the competition in a few days.

Lin Xiayan snapped back to attention. She was curious but didn’t know how to ask more, so she swallowed her questions and said nothing.

“Lord Immortal Venerable,” a young disciple reported from outside Mùdōng Courtyard, “Elder Yue has claimed illness and delegated all sect affairs, saying… saying the upcoming competition in a few days is entirely your responsibility.”

Zhu Ning nearly bumped into the doorframe. She felt something shatter inside her, into tiny pieces.

Yet she had to pretend to be worried about Yue Qing. She pulled open the wooden door and asked in an awkward tone, “Is the Elder’s illness serious? Has a physician been called? Should we fetch medicinal herbs from the back mountain?”

Three questions at once overwhelmed the young disciple. His mind was filled with Zhu Ning’s apparent concern for Elder Yue. After a moment of recollection, he shook his head. “This disciple hasn’t seen Elder Yue, only came to deliver the message. If the Immortal Venerable is worried, perhaps you should visit him.” He bowed respectfully and withdrew.

As Zhu Ning watched her junior disciple leave, her expression immediately shifted. She didn’t believe Yue Qing was truly ill. He had been full of energy just moments ago, stirring up trouble. Now he was suddenly bedridden? To mock him, Zhu Ning decided to go check on him herself.

With this thought, she took a step forward, then turned back to look at the room. Lin Xiayan still showed no sign of coming out. It seemed she would have to go alone this time.

Zhu Ning sighed, lifting her gaze to the white clouds. The clouds clung together, almost merging into one mass, with slivers of sunlight piercing through the gaps like bursts of golden light.

Yue Qing’s quarters were as austere and gloomy as everyone else’s. Stepping inside felt like a weight pressing down on her chest.

Two disciples stood guard at Yue Qing’s door, holding dusters. They showed no surprise at Zhu Ning’s arrival, bowing respectfully before entering to announce her.

Zhu Ning stood listlessly at the door. Her white robes, slightly dirtied from her sword practice in the small valley, still retained their elegance. She lowered her gaze to smooth her sleeves, and when she looked up again, the disciples had already opened the door and invited her in.

The room looked much the same as before. Yue Qing wasn’t lying weakly in bed but sat calmly at the table, sipping tea.

“Elder Yue, if you’re ill, you shouldn’t be drinking tea,” Zhu Ning said, snatching the cup and placing it on the table under the guise of concern. “Besides, tea can counteract medicine, you know that, right?” Her tone was rather forceful.

Yue Qing didn’t seem bothered. He simply stroked his beard instead, keeping himself occupied. His gaze never once fell on Zhu Ning.

“I’m the only Elder at Yun Cang Mountain,” Yue Qing finally retorted, catching Zhu Ning off guard. “The Sect Leader can’t keep assigning me tasks forever, can he?”

Could he just not want to do this anymore? Zhu Ning wondered, guessing at Yue Qing’s motives. Is he trying to pass the buck to me? It seemed she had no choice but to take on the responsibility.

Annoyed with Yue Qing and unwilling to stay a moment longer, Zhu Ning pushed open the door and stepped out, letting her pent-up frustration escape in a long sigh.

She slowly circulated her True Qi, focusing her Spiritual Power on her wounds. The pain eased considerably, and Zhu Ning began her busy day.

Lin Xiayan didn’t have time to wander around aimlessly. She needed to master Yun Cang Mountain’s techniques before the competition. So Zhu Ning had to handle all the arrangements alone.

Standing in the Grand Hall, Zhu Ning dipped a brush into thick ink and sent invitations to six renowned sects, both large and small. Then she instructed her disciples to prepare the competition stage.

The stage was half the size of the Training Ground, rising three meters above the ground and surrounded by mountains, giving it an air of mystery.

Zhu Ning stood below, gazing at the imposing stage, her heart filled with complex emotions. How many regrets and triumphs had this platform witnessed?

The days passed in a blur of busywork and quiet routine, yet they flew by. By the time Zhu Ning had finalized all the arrangements, the day for the six sects to arrive at Yun Cang Mountain had already come.

At dawn, the mountain was unusually lively. The main Training Ground was already packed with people, and more disciples trickled in from their dormitories, hurrying toward the arena.

A heavy snowfall had blanketed the ground two nights prior. To ensure the disciples could spar without hindrance, Zhu Ning had cast a spell early that morning to clear away all the snow. Though the event was billed as a competition of skills, only the Chief Disciples of the sect Elders would actually take to the stage. The rest were merely there to go through the motions, so they focused on making the most of their attire.

Though everyone had to wear their sect’s robes, their hair ornaments and swords were dazzling, adding a splash of color to the drab winter day.

“Honored Master, I’m a little… nervous,” Zhu Ning said in Mùdōng Courtyard, as she styled Su Mi’s hair. Lin Xiayan stood nearby, holding a steamed bun, her face full of innocent wonder, as if she’d never seen someone’s hair being styled before.

Zhu Ning had only offered to style Su Mi’s hair out of curiosity. Luckily, her fingers proved nimble enough, her delicate, pale fingertips dancing through Su Mi’s strands to quickly create an elegant updo.

Only then did Zhu Ning offer reassurance. “Don’t be nervous. They’re just here for a friendly spar. Besides, we’re on Yun Cang Mountain. If they act arrogant, I’ll kick them out myself.”

Su Mi fidgeted, nodding reluctantly. Just as she was about to pull Zhu Ning aside to ask about talisman drawing, she noticed Lin Xiayan waddling over to the vanity mirror. The little girl held up a wooden comb, waving it at Zhu Ning with an unmistakable gesture.

Zhu Ning couldn’t help but laugh. She had already been heading out, but she gently freed her hand from Su Mi’s grasp and hurried back to tie Lin Xiayan’s hair into a small bun.

Su Mi stood frozen in the doorway, a flicker of envy crossing her eyes. She had long noticed Zhu Ning’s excessive fondness for Lin Xiayan, even more than for herself, the Chief Disciple. Now, Zhu Ning was willing to abandon important matters just to tie Lin Xiayan’s hair into a little bun?

Lin Xiayan, seeing Su Mi’s reflection in the bronze mirror, smirked, clearly pleased with herself.

Zhu Ning, however, was delighted. She loved playing with people’s hair, and having such a notorious villain sitting obediently before her, letting her do as she pleased, was simply too much fun.

The cute little bun, however, proved surprisingly difficult to tie. Zhu Ning’s usually nimble fingers suddenly felt clumsy, and no matter how she tried, stray strands kept escaping. Though it didn’t ruin the look, it wasn’t quite neat either.

“There, it looks great already!” Lin Xiayan, sensing Zhu Ning’s frustration, hopped off the stool and shook her head proudly, grinning foolishly at Su Mi in the doorway.

Following Lin Xiayan’s gaze, Zhu Ning finally noticed Su Mi. She smiled apologetically and started to walk over to speak to her, but then she heard the voices of Zhenju Mountain’s female disciples gathering outside Mùdōng Courtyard. Zhu Ning recognized their deep blue robes instantly.

“Why are they here?” Zhu Ning asked Su Mi, who had been standing by the door and likely knew more than the others.

Su Mi shook her head, about to offer an explanation, when Lin Xiayan darted out to ask. Before Zhu Ning could react, she saw the Zhenju Mountain disciples glaring with contempt, as infuriating as Fan Mo.

Standing in Mùdōng Courtyard, Zhu Ning couldn’t hear their words clearly, but watching tiny Lin Xiayan surrounded by the women, she looked pitiful.

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