Why is the Demon Venerable Like That? - Chapter 6

The warm yellow sunlight crested over the back mountains of the Fengchi Sect. It flickered through the gaps in the trees outside the window to dance upon the silent face of the man, softening the stillness between his brows.

The System sighed as it watched the unconscious Lu Yuan. If a beautiful lady had not come to rescue him back in Lin’an Town, the System would currently be filling out its resignation report. Having nothing else to do, it decided to check the host’s attribute panel.

Physical Strength: 15/100 Compared to an eighty-year-old man, his only advantage was the lack of osteoporosis.

Cultivation: 5/100 He was roughly on the same track as an ordinary mortal. The only difference was that his headaches and fevers might heal slightly faster.

Reputation: -20/100 He was notorious within the Fengchi Sect for shamelessly clinging to a noble young master of the White Jade Capital. The good news was that this infamy was limited to the interior of the sect, as outside its gates, no such person existed.

Appearance: 60/100 System’s Sharp Review: This is the only thing that is even remotely presentable.

This identity was perfectly suited for the protagonist of a “Face-Slapping” counterattack novel. It was a match made in heaven. The System rubbed its hands together, once again filled with motivation.

Lu Yuan’s eyelids flickered slightly, a clear sign that his sleep was extremely restless. He knew he was trapped in a nightmare but found himself unable to break free. Finally, he seemed to escape the shackles. When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer lying on the couch in the Fengchi Sect.

The only thing that remained unchanged was that he was still lying down, looking up at a person. That person held a carving knife and was scrutinizing him with immense care, seemingly looking for the correct place to make a cut. The blade of the carving knife briefly reflected the face of the person holding it.

That person had black hair like a waterfall and a cold, stern face. His pitch-black pupils were as calm as water, and the unavoidable shadows beneath his eyelashes added a touch of exhaustion to his features. Yet, he remained focused on the task at hand.

That person was unexpectedly his own face.

“Lu Yuan” seemed dissatisfied with what he saw. His brows knitted slightly as he let out a soft sigh and set down the carving knife. The man’s sleeves brushed over Lu Yuan’s prone body as he stood up to consult a nearby ancient text.

The candlelight was weak, making the silhouette of “Lu Yuan” as he walked back look like a spectral phantom in the darkness. His shadow was strangely elongated and distorted against the bookshelf, swallowing and squeezing every inch of space.

A rustling sound came from outside the door, suggesting someone had arrived. “Lu Yuan” casually covered Lu Yuan’s body with a large felt cloth. After the person outside hesitated for a long time, there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Lu Yuan” waited for a moment before saying in a deep voice, “Enter.”

The wind rushed in, carrying a faint scent of moisture that caused the felt cloth over Lu Yuan to flutter slightly. “Lu Yuan” looked at the visitor with surprise. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Junior Brother, why have you come?”

Ling Chuandu had just come from the bath and wore only a thin layer of inner clothing. He saw Lu Yuan sitting straight at the desk, dressed in formal robes with dark ink-wash patterns that made him look elegant and noble. Lu Yuan’s features were deep, and his dark eyes were looking directly at him.

Ling Chuandu subconsciously took a step back, curling his fingers. He almost dared not look up at the other man. His long hair was still wet and draped over his shoulders. The moisture seeped into his clothes and clung to his skin in a cold, sticky manner. He suddenly realized how awkward this was.

Ling Chuandu began to regret his quick hand in knocking on the door. He almost wanted to turn and leave, but under Lu Yuan’s smiling gaze, he had to force himself to speak. “I saw that the light in your study was still on, so I wanted to ask how your injuries were.”

Ling Chuandu was the exact opposite of gentle or submissive. His words of concern were stiff and roundabout. He did not sound like someone checking on an injury; he sounded more like someone checking to see if Lu Yuan was dead so that he could celebrate.

Lu Yuan watched Ling Chuandu stand at the door without entering. He sighed and pulled the man into the room.

“Are you still a child? You do not even know how to dry your hair.” Lu Yuan used a spell to dry the long hair and handed over a heavy cloak hanging nearby. “Wear this when you leave. The wind is strong outside.”

Ling Chuandu clutched Lu Yuan’s cloak, momentarily becoming clumsy. Some people talk too much when they are embarrassed, while others become mute. Clearly, Ling Chuandu was the latter.

After the two stayed in silence for a while, Lu Yuan remembered something and asked casually, “Are you here to see my injuries?”

Ling Chuandu held the cloak but did not put it on. He turned and sat on the chair closest to the door, nodding while pursing his lips.

Lu Yuan could not help but laugh. “You are so far away from me. How can I show you the wound?”

Ling Chuandu stared at him silently, his eyes retorting with the question of who said he wanted to see the wound. He claimed he only came by because of their bond as fellow disciples. In the dim light, Ling Chuandu’s lips moved, but he ultimately said nothing to argue.

He watched Lu Yuan walk over and lean down with a sense of pressure. The shadow gradually inclined toward him, leisurely enveloping him in darkness. Lu Yuan rarely saw panic on Ling Chuandu’s face. With an amused expression, he unfastened his belt with one hand. On his well-defined abdominal muscles, a hideous scar ran across his waist. Although it had already scabbed over, one could still see how terrifying the injury had been, as if it had almost cut him in half.

Ling Chuandu’s heart skipped a beat. Just a little more, and this person would have died before him, turning into a lifeless corpse. He would have been someone without words, without a pulse, lying cold in the celestial tombs. He could not resist reaching out to touch it, asking, “Does it hurt?”

Ling Chuandu carefully touched the dark red scar, feeling every inch of the rise and fall of Lu Yuan’s breathing. The cool sensation of his fingertips caused Lu Yuan’s abdomen to tighten. His Adam’s apple moved slightly as he grabbed Ling Chuandu’s restless fingers. His voice was low and carried a hint of a threat. “If you keep touching it…”

He was extremely close to Ling Chuandu. His long hair fell, and the tips of the strands brushed against the back of Ling Chuandu’s hand as the wind blew. Lu Yuan carried a faint scent of wood, a naturally soothing aroma that made Ling Chuandu feel lightheaded. He looked up at Lu Yuan, shrinking back only slightly while allowing the other to hold his hand.

Lu Yuan stood up straight. His clothing inadvertently brushed against Ling Chuandu’s burning cheek. He looked down innocently and said, “If you keep touching it, it will become very itchy.”

Ling Chuandu’s eyelashes fluttered as if he had only just understood Lu Yuan’s meaning. His eyes gradually cleared, but the panic still flickered within them. He looked at Lu Yuan’s playful gaze with annoyance, pushed Lu Yuan’s shoulder away, and hurriedly grabbed his cloak. He fled through the door as if a ghost were chasing him.

“Lu Yuan” watched the silhouette of the angry departure in silence. He withdrew his smile and sighed in relief. He pulled back the felt cloth, his eyes turning cold as he looked down at the prone Lu Yuan. This time, he did not hesitate. The man’s hand was steady and ruthless, filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he suddenly stabbed down toward Lu Yuan.

Lu Yuan felt trapped in his current body, unable to move an inch. He could only watch as the carving knife came straight for his eyes. The mirror-like blade rushed toward his face. In that instant, time seemed to stretch. The reflection on the blade showed a wooden-textured human face.

Lu Yuan suddenly jolted awake from the nightmare. He gasped for breath, feeling as if every bone in his body had been broken and then clumsily pieced back together. He lay on the couch, unable to regain his composure. What had he done in his past life? In that split second, he recognized it. The wooden face in the reflection was the face of his current body.

The System floated above Lu Yuan’s head. “You are still alive. Are you surprised?”

Lu Yuan blinked slowly. “Why are you still here?”

The System jumped in frustration. “Do you think I want to be here? I cannot leave until you complete the mission. You hateful human!”

Lu Yuan tried to move his stiff body. He shook his leg but found it would not move. Had he truly become a wooden man? He struggled to prop up his upper body and saw a chubby young boy slumped over his legs through the quilt, sleeping soundly.

What was happening? Lu Yuan stared in confusion and grabbed a pillow to hit the boy on the head. If the boy kept sleeping, his legs would go numb.

The youth, wearing the robes of an outer disciple, let out a yelp and rubbed the back of his head. Seeing Lu Yuan’s expressionless face, he cried out in joy, “Ah! Senior Brother Lu, you are awake!”

It was rare. Aside from Shen Xun’an, this was the first time someone had called him Senior Brother. Lu Yuan looked at the boy’s slightly plump face and asked, “Who are you?”

“Senior Brother Lu, my name is Zhang Chafu. I am a cleaning disciple. I am mainly responsible for sweeping the path from the martial arts field to the back mountain.”

Lu Yuan asked, “Zhang Chahu?”

“No, it is Fu,” Zhang Chafu replied. He tried to straighten his tongue to speak clearly, but with little success. “I was assigned to take care of you. You were very seriously injured in Lin’an Town.”

Lu Yuan looked silently at the round indentation slept into his quilt. “Thank you.”

“Senior Brother Lu was practically calm in the face of danger, fearless in the face of peril, undaunted in the face of death, and…” Before Zhang Chafu could finish his praise, his head slumped back onto the bed.

A faint flow of spiritual energy moved through the air. Someone had forcibly put him into a deep sleep.

“Lu Yuan.”

The voice was cold and clear, like ice or jade. A scent like fresh snow filled the room. The door closed quietly as the visitor entered.

The System exclaimed, “It is this fairy lady! If she had not saved you in Lin’an Town, you would have been long gone!”

Lu Yuan looked up at the newcomer. She looked familiar. Looking again, she looked very familiar. Lu Yuan finally recognized her. “Lin Jiangxue?”

Lin Jiangxue was the current Sect Leader of the Fengchi Sect and the Grand Preceptor of Nanyin. Because of her beautiful face and extraordinary sword dance, scholars once noted that her dance reflected her beauty while her sword brought forth profound frost. Thus, she was also known as the Profound Frost Sword Immortal. When she was young and traveling for experience, she had met Lu Yuan.

In Lu Yuan’s memory, her appearance was stunning and bright. She was agile, with sharp eyes like a strong bamboo in the wind, flexible yet unbreakable. However, the Lin Jiangxue before him was dressed in white with only a wooden hairpin holding her hair. Her face was plain and her expression indifferent. If someone gave her a white jade vase, she looked as though she would start sprinkling water on people’s heads with a willow branch.

Lu Yuan asked, “Have you become a nun? Not that there is anything wrong with being a Buddhist cultivator. I just feel that this is a very large leap for you.”

Lin Jiangxue’s icy expression instantly melted, and her imposing aura as a leader retracted.

“With a mouth that annoying, it really is you.” Lin Jiangxue seemed to lose all her strength as she slumped back into a chair, abandoning her dignified image.

“Lu Lingyue, you are back.”