Chapter 41: (“You’re curious?”)

When Cen Wuwang stepped off the stage, the atmosphere in the venue reached its peak. The crowd was still savoring the earlier confrontation between Cen Wuwang and Yan Zhi. Though they could no longer hear gossip from Cen Wuwang, Yan Zhi—one of the key figures—was still present. So, both overt and covert glances were directed at Yan Zhi, leaving the next performer, Feng Yuemian, with virtually no presence.

Of course, compared to the refined elegance of the guqin, a juicy love story was far more captivating.

But that wasn’t all. Ao Fugui, who had been engrossed in studying stepmother literature, suddenly looked up—perhaps due to some soul-deep intuition—and locked eyes with Feng Yuemian on stage.

The Dragon Princess beside him chimed in, “Whoever my baby likes, I’ll make it happen for you.”

Ao Fugui inexplicably felt an itch to mess with Feng Yuemian. Then he remembered: this was the East Sea Dragon Palace. Those bald chickens from the Phoenix Clan wouldn’t dare cause trouble here.

His gaze swept over Feng Yuemian’s ample chest, and, acknowledging their shared “altitude,” he uttered a rare human-like remark:

“Fake.”

From peak to plain in an instant—Feng Yuemian’s performance earned the lowest score of the night. Offstage, his smile faltered as he lifted the broadsword hidden under his skirt, ready to kill.

“Bro, chill! Bro, chill!”

Feng Yuemian’s expression darkened, and without a word, he unleashed another beating. Before he could even speak afterward, a few minor demons whispered behind his back.

“See that? So much for being a noble lady from a respectable sect. She’s rotten to the core, beating people up for no reason.”

“Yeah, even when people eat squid, they make sure it’s safe and painless. She beats people and doesn’t even eat them afterward. What’s wrong with her?”

Before Feng Yuemian could snap, “None of your damn business,” his longtime sponsor, Brother Turtle, approached him with a warning.

“Xiao Mian, this isn’t good. Your image is crumbling, your popularity’s plummeting. Look at your score—this time, forget top ten, you might get kicked out entirely.”

Feng Yuemian panicked. If he failed this selection, his next starting point wouldn’t be as a Crown Princess candidate—he’d be nothing more than a scallop served as a side dish.

As he pondered how to fix this, Xue Ying slipped backstage and found Cen Wuwang in a corner.

“Sister Cen.”

The two left one after the other. Watching their retreating figures, Feng Yuemian recognized one as the Sword Immortal’s disciple. Suddenly, an idea struck him.

“Brother Turtle, don’t worry. I can fix this.”

Cen Wuwang, huh? A love triangle, huh? These gossip-obsessed minor demons have no real substance, yet they dare dream of being number one?

Pah!

Meanwhile, the two sat side by side on a high platform outside. Cen Wuwang carried two swords, first polishing the ancient blade before switching to Bailu, chatting idly.

“Where are the two senior brothers?”

“They went ahead to escort Mingong back.”

Before Xue Ying could bring up the matter of the Female Marquis, Cen Wuwang spoke first.

“The Phoenix Clan has come to the East Sea.”

Xue Ying was startled. “The Phoenix Clan?”

She quickly realized they were probably here for the Five-Colored Divine Feather.

That feather truly was a treasure—coveted by the Demon Realm, the Dragon Clan, and now the Phoenix Clan.

Cen Wuwang noticed Xue Ying’s expression. “Curious?”

Xue Ying genuinely was. “Mortals always say ‘dragons and phoenixes bring prosperity,’ like emperors being dragons and empresses being phoenixes.”

How did they become sworn enemies, each desperate to seize the feather and destroy the other?

Cen Wuwang replied, “It’s a long story.”

Xue Ying said, “Then make it short.”

Cen Wuwang obliged. “Simple. They argued, then fought.”

Xue Ying fell silent for a moment. “I’d prefer the long version.”

That was too short—no context at all.

Cen Wuwang shot her a displeased glance. “So young, yet so greedy.”

Even so, he proceeded to recount the saga of love and hate between the Dragon and Phoenix Clans.

Since the birth of the Four Realms, the Demon Realm had been a land of prosperity. The Phoenix Clan was the first to rise, leveraging their early start to develop the Demon Realm aggressively. Their urbanization campaign spread all the way to the coast, knocking on the Dragon Clan’s door.

As the saying goes, heroes regret meeting late. Though not human, the two clans initially got along splendidly.

Back then, they considered each other soulmates, sharing heartfelt talks under the moonlight, vowing to rule the Four Realms together.

Then they realized…

Monopolizing power felt even better.

A dead dragon (or phoenix) was the best ally.

When negotiations failed, they resorted to fighting—first with words, then bricks, escalating to full-blown warfare. Once passionately in love, they now fought to the death.

This wasn’t particularly novel. Partnerships dissolving was as old as time. The problem was, the Dragon-Phoenix conflict wasn’t some village brawl—it was a world war. The Demon Realm suffered, and the other three realms were dragged in.

At the time, two visionaries, moved by the suffering of dragons and phoenixes, vowed to pacify the Four Realms and fight for the people’s happiness.

Then they promptly joined the Dragon and Phoenix Clans as strategists.

As the saying goes, empires crumble from within. Thanks to their relentless scheming, the Dragon and Phoenix Clans were thoroughly ruined—one exiled to the East Sea, the other retreating into seclusion in the Demon Realm.

And they were endlessly grateful to their strategists.

Take Cangwu, for example. Or the founding ancestor of the Taichu Sect.

Now, the appearance of the Five-Colored Divine Feather has rekindled their ambitions. Feng Yuemian plans to reclaim the feather and restore his clan’s glory, while Cen Wuwang, upon seeing Feng Yuemian, decides to revive his ancestor’s old trade—sabotaging both clans from within.

While they’re busy saving the Demon Realm, you’re itching to start trouble again. How annoying.

Xue Ying asked, “So, the Phoenix Clan’s leader is here too?”

Cen Wuwang said calmly, “Busy with the selection, trying to become Crown Princess.”

Xue Ying had an epiphany. “So Sister Cen joined the selection to prevent another clash between the clans, defeating the Phoenix Clan within the rules without bloodshed. I’m truly impressed.”

“No. The selection waives travel fees.”

Xue Ying: “…”

Abandoning flattery, she cut to the chase. “So, Sister Cen, what’s your brilliant plan?”

Cen Wuwang offered a straightforward solution: “Beat them in a sack.”

If they refuse to leave, beat them again until they submit.

This was indeed the Sword Immortal’s way of solving problems. But Xue Ying doubted the Phoenix Clan would back down—they’d likely blame the Dragon Clan instead. She tactfully said, “Threats alone won’t deter the Phoenix Clan. They’ll only grow more determined.”

Cen Wuwang, ever the pragmatist, was open to better ideas. “What do you suggest?”

Xue Ying analyzed, “The Phoenix Clan isn’t attacking head-on, meaning they have reservations. Why not address the root cause? Keep competing in the selection until we win first place and crush their hopes outright.”

Cen Wuwang nodded. “Agreed.”

Neither saw anything wrong with this plan. After finalizing it, Xue Ying updated Cen Wuwang on the Female Marquis’ capture and mentioned Cangwu.

“Senior Cangwu… has he been to the Demon Realm before?”

Cen Wuwang roughly guessed what the Female Marquis wanted to know, but specifics required a direct conversation. For now, he answered Xue Ying’s question. “Yes.”

Not daring to gossip in front of Cen Wuwang, Xue Ying changed the subject. “After capturing the Female Marquis, will we besiege the Demon Realm or reinforce the barrier?”

She tentatively reached for Bailu, hoping to reclaim her sword, only for Cen Wuwang to smack her hand away.

“Stop fooling around.”

Cangwu had said that given the Demon Realm’s millennia-long isolation, barging in with a hungry Golden Crow and shouting, “Neighbors, open up! We’re here with aid!” would likely be met with suspicion.

After thousands of years of unanswered distress signals, suddenly claiming salvation? Yeah, right.

Moreover, the Golden Crow Qiuqiu’s temper was unpredictable—one moment docile, the next ready to devour you, often unable to distinguish friend from foe. Cangwu couldn’t guarantee Qiuqiu wouldn’t cause chaos in the Demon Realm.

The best solution was to plant a Fusang Tree. Fusang Trees are the Golden Crow’s roost. As the Daoist Master said, great demons have strong territorial instincts. Once Qiuqiu claimed the tree as its nest, it would protect the Demon Realm. With Cangwu and others guarding it, the Golden Crow’s innate Solar True Fire would purify the miasma. After a few centuries, the Demon Realm’s corruption would be cleansed, and the barrier between the Human and Demon Realms could be lifted.

Sounds simple—just deliver Qiuqiu as a miasma purifier. In reality, it’s a logistical nightmare.

The Fusang Tree is a divine plant, extremely delicate. To protect it, the Sect Leader still hasn’t returned. Meanwhile, Shen Jin keeps stirring trouble. If he unleashes chaos in the Three Realms, neither Cangwu nor Cen Wuwang can guarantee his safety. Add a newly awakened Qiuqiu to the mix, and it’s a complete mess.

But no matter how troublesome…

Cen Wuwang carefully polished Bailu and handed it to Xue Ying.

“Don’t worry. Just keep moving forward.”

The path of seeking immortality and the Dao is complex and ineffable. But Cen Wuwang had long found his answer.

Pioneers lead the way, awaiting those who follow.

Xue Ying sensed deeper meaning in his words. Gazing at her sword, she said, “Sister Cen bears the great responsibility of saving the Four Realms. I admire you deeply. May I have Bailu back now?”

Getting it confiscated for eloping was one thing, but now that the Female Marquis is captured, why not return it? What’s the deal?

Cen Wuwang sheathed Bailu, his tone calm. “Yours is good.”

Though the ancient sword from Cangwu was fine, Cen Wuwang wasn’t used to it. His original Yaoguang had served him for years—a divine weapon, sharp and formidable. But now, in his demon form, wielding Yaoguang was inconvenient.

The moment he took Xue Ying’s Bailu, it felt right. Tempered by her sword intent, Bailu had developed an edge, yet wasn’t as razor-sharp as Yaoguang.

Unlike Wen An and Du Yizhou’s swords—Wen An’s gentle sword intent clashed with Cen Wuwang’s, and Du Yizhou was a spellcaster with different techniques—Bailu shared the same origin, sword intent, and cultivation method as Cen Wuwang. A perfect substitute.

This disciple was worth keeping.

Xue Ying held out her hand. “Give it back.”

Cen Wuwang ignored her. The atmosphere shifted. Seconds later, swords were drawn.

With Bailu in hand, Cen Wuwang fought even more smoothly, pounding Xue Ying into a crater. True to his “act first, explain later” philosophy, he comforted her afterward.

“Your devotion moves me. This ancient sword is yours for protection.”

Face-down in the crater, Xue Ying struggled to flip him off.

“F*** you! Get lost!”

Cen Wuwang stared at the middle finger for three seconds, then grabbed Bailu and beat her again.