Chapter 55:

Xue Ying was afraid that Cen Wuwang might pull out a head and ask her what a begonia was. She led the baby a little farther away and asked about the outcome.

“Does Luyeyuan plan to send you back?”

The narrow path didn’t offer much to see—few flowers or plants, just a lone bodhi tree at the end, its roots tangled and its massive canopy blocking half the moonlight. The baby trotted ahead and hid under the tree’s shadow, pretending to be a ghost.

“Why would they send me back?”

The baby snorted. “I’m the Asura King. I can be exchanged for a lot of things.”

He might be short, but his brain was still growing. After finally getting the chance to deal with the Asura Clan, there was no way Luyeyuan would let him go.

Originally, the plan was perfect. Xue Ying was beautiful and soft-hearted—easy to trick into going to the Asura Clan, where they could drug her or plant some curse, making her a pawn between the two factions. Spies, schemes, all sorts of games could be played.

But as the saying goes, no matter how much you scheme, you can’t predict the human heart. Did Xue Ying believe the baby’s story? Yes. Was she drugged? No. She called the cops.

This sword cultivator simply refused to follow the script.

She directly trapped him in Luyeyuan, exposing his background in the process. Now he was stuck with the enemy, being sold by the pound.

Xue Ying’s response to this was, “No way. ‘One takes on the color of one’s company.’ The Buddha’s disciple is so kind, so Luyeyuan, which raised him, must be good too.”

The baby strode forward with his short legs, hands clasped behind his back, exuding the air of a sage. “Don’t you know that the same rice feeds a hundred different people?”

“We cultivators don’t eat rice.”

Again and again, she contradicted him. He shot her a glance—three parts mockery, three parts indifference, four parts nonchalance. It should have been a cold, ruthless look, but on his chubby baby face, Xue Ying’s reaction was:

“You look kinda cute when you’re angry.”

The baby: “…”

He was fuming!

Returning to the main topic, after teasing the child, Xue Ying got to the point. “Luyeyuan will soon meet with Tianyinge to discuss the demon realm. If you stay in Luyeyuan, the Asura Clan will suffer. So, you came to me because you want me to rescue you.”

The baby’s face stiffened. He lowered his voice, his innocent tone now laced with a chilling edge. “You’ve figured it all out.”

Of course, Xue Ying wasn’t stupid. In Luyeyuan, she was the only neutral party—or perhaps a fence-sitter. Shen Jin was powerful, sure, but he was a demon, and a demon in a monastery full of monks couldn’t fight. Plus, he wasn’t close to the baby.

After this exchange, both sides fell silent. The baby found a spot to sit and reassessed Xue Ying. This sword cultivator was far beyond his expectations—no wonder Zhang Yue couldn’t forget her. If he could win her over, the entire Shijie could be his. But she was upright and hated evil. Their paths diverged—what a shame.

“Fine, but you’ll have to pay more.”

Xue Ying met the baby’s shocked gaze, unbothered by the apparent shift in her character. She was, after all, a penniless sword cultivator. Earning some extra cash wasn’t strange. But since she’d be smuggling him out of Luyeyuan, she’d need to avoid their pursuit.

“Give me more hush money. I’ll need to silence the monks too.”

“Then why should I even hire you?!”

“Simple. I’ll sneak you out quietly, as if nothing happened. The chronicles will just say, ‘On such-and-such date, the Asura King visited.’ But if we negotiate openly, who knows how much they’ll write? Future generations will say, ‘That negotiation marked a new chapter.’ Then they’ll dig into how the Asura King was captured, and everyone will think you were Luyeyuan’s spy, deliberately sabotaging the Asura Clan. People will spit on your name as they walk away.”

“Shut up!”

Xue Ying wasn’t done. She hadn’t even finished her conspiracy theories—like how the Asura King, burdened by a tragic past, staged this incident to test his people’s loyalty—no, their *Asura* loyalty.

The baby’s mind was in turmoil. The more he thought about it, the more terrified he became. He’d entered this game for fame. If he were sent back publicly, his reputation would be ruined.

No. He comforted himself. He’d been missing for a while—the Asura Clan must have a plan. He trusted their combat prowess. These monks had been chanting sutras for centuries—how could they compare to the Asura Clan, who spent their days waging guerrilla warfare and running pyramid schemes?

You can’t rely solely on yourself—sometimes, you need others.

Clenching his tiny fists, the baby declared in his childish voice, “I won’t fall for your tricks!”

What tricks? He just thought her price was too high. Xue Ying tried to persuade him. “You get what you pay for. Besides, the more I charge, the more cautious the monks will be. Think about it—if I asked for too little, wouldn’t that imply the Asura King isn’t worth much?”

“No deal! Get lost! This is a political drama, not some tragic xianxia romance. Scram!”

Xue Ying clenched her fists—not because the baby told her to scram, but because of his mention of tragic xianxia romances. She looked up and asked, “Who got abortions or cheated?”

The baby: “Since when are xianxia dramas so dark?”

In the end, they parted on bad terms. Xue Ying returned in a huff. In the side hall, Cen Wuwang was still lost in thought, showing no reaction to her return. She broke the silence first.

“I’m upset. I want to fight.”

Cen Wuwang glanced at her. As a spirit, he couldn’t physically interact unless he materialized—a troublesome process usually avoided to preserve his energy.

But as his feet touched the solid stone floor, he summoned a longsword and met her gaze.

“Let’s fight.”

Blades clashed, their figures weaving under the moonlight.

Meanwhile, Luyeyuan was nervously holding a high-level meeting. Shijie was a three-way standoff—Luyeyuan and Tianyinge were at odds but had begrudgingly allied against the unpredictable Asura Clan.

Now that the Asura Clan had exposed ties to Tianyinge, they debated whether to strike while the iron was hot. A three-party summit would expose Tianyinge’s hypocrisy in front of their followers.

Tianyinge, a matriarchal sect, had used men to deceive people. Men were still men—how outrageous!

And after being ostracized, their “Sacred Male” had turned to the dark side, becoming Shijie’s underworld boss. What was this—playing both sides?

After the discussion, the elders—some fingering prayer beads, others feigning sleep—remained silent. A monk asked, “Elder, we await the Buddha’s disciple’s decree.”

Lixiang, gripping his vajra, looked every bit the stern guardian deity, untouched by worldly schemes. “The Buddha’s disciple has sacrificed himself for peace, trapped in the Mirror Platform, offering his body to demons. He is exhausted. Do not disturb him further.”

Youtan—who ate well, slept well, and sang well.

The monks chanted a sutra, tacitly agreeing to keep Youtan in the dark. Lixiang added, “The Asura King shows no fear in Luyeyuan. He must have a plan. Our best move is subterfuge—infiltrate and extract him. The worst is a siege. Either way, Luyeyuan is at a disadvantage.”

Murmurs of concern spread. An elder beside Lixiang sighed. “Then let it be as the Elder says. Invite both sides to the summit.”

A smear campaign.

In short, they’d expose each other’s scandals to win public favor. In Shijie, reputation was everything—better standing meant more followers, and more followers meant greater power.

The monks exchanged knowing glances. The elder sighed again. “Amitabha.”

News of the summit soon reached Xue Ying. Holding the invitation, she hesitated. “Elder, as a disciple of Taixuan Sect, I must consider my sect’s reputation.”

Constantly meddling in Shijie’s affairs would paint Taixuan as self-righteous busybodies—or worse, troublemakers. Her mission was to save the demon realm, not vacation in Shijie.

She wanted to ask for more money, but Lixiang’s stern expression made her swallow her words. Instead, she asked, “Once the summit ends, can we proceed to the demon realm?”

Lixiang exhaled inwardly, relieved to save Luyeyuan’s funds. “Naturally.”

The invitation was for Tianyinge. Given their history of mutual disdain, Lixiang couldn’t just waltz in and announce his trap. Plus, a monk entering a women’s sect? The consequences could be… complicated.

Tianyinge lay on the opposite side of Shijie. While Luyeyuan adorned its walls with gold, Tianyinge paved its grounds with diamonds.

Multiple corridors stretched in all directions, arched bridges draped in gauze spanning lotus ponds. The air hummed with song.

On the surface, Shijie seemed impoverished—but its two major sects were filthy rich. Xue Ying muttered, “Damn capitalists,” and followed the crowd to Tianyinge’s main hall.

Upon stating her purpose, the attendant’s surprise was fleeting. “The Holy Maiden is recommending products to followers. Would you like to join?”

Xue Ying hesitated. “Can I really?”

The attendant smiled. Every customer counted, no matter how small.

“But I’m broke.”

“…”

Nothing worse than a penniless guest.

Luckily, Zhang Yue’s livestream ended just then. She rushed over, beaming. “Xuexue came to see me!”

Xue Ying’s guard went up. Zhang Yue’s friendliness was suspicious—she clearly harbored ill will, but her motives were unclear.

Then again, Zhang Yue was Tianyinge’s Holy Maiden—no fool. No matter how much she disliked Xue Ying, she’d prioritize the sect’s interests, like forging ties with the demon realm.

Or, say, the fact that Xue Ying could punch harder.

Bolstered by these thoughts, Xue Ying straightened. “Elder Lixiang asked me to deliver this.”

At the mention of “bald donkeys,” Zhang Yue’s expression soured. The invitation was full of flowery language—*Let’s catch up and deal with the Asura Clan’s scams. Life’s been hard lately. How about we team up and crush them?*

All platitudes. Zhang Yue saw right through it.

*Old monk, I know your game. ‘For Shijie’s future’? More like for your retirement fund.*

She accepted the invitation with a tinkling laugh. “Why not? But I’ve heard the Demon Lord is visiting. As half of Shijie’s rulers, Tianyinge should greet him properly. My sisters would love to meet him.”

Xue Ying balked. Shen Jin was still disguised as Cen Wuwang—risky. After a pause, she offered, “No real face, but you can see his alternate identity?”

Zhang Yue blinked. “The Demon Lord is elusive. A meeting would be wonderful.”

So she insisted. Xue Ying touched her veil and gritted her teeth. “Fine.”

Once Xue Ying left, Zhang Yue’s smile vanished. A disciple sneered, “That sword cultivator has no manners. A Daoist meddling in Shijie and the demon realm?”

Zhang Yue lifted her chin. “Luyeyuan’s hired thug.”

As a kind, lovely fairy, she’d never resort to underhanded tactics—like, say, love potions.

Xue Ying expected Lixiang to refuse Zhang Yue’s request—the summit had nothing to do with the demon realm. But he agreed immediately, assuring her not to worry.

*If you want to embarrass yourself in public, that’s on you.*

Xue Ying couldn’t fathom Lixiang’s plan. In her mind, Luyeyuan was as pure as Youtan—why dig up dirt?

Her only precaution was making Shen Jin wear a mask at the summit—to avoid linking him to her.

Lixiang’s response? *Overcompensating much?*

If only the two of them wore face coverings, people would talk.

Xue Ying cared about Cen Wuwang’s reputation. “An affair is better than my master sleeping with the Demon Lord.”

Fair point.

The summit proceeded as scheduled. The baby only learned of it the day before. After their falling-out, he begged Xue Ying to take him away—for extra pay.

Xue Ying didn’t know, but the baby guessed: three parties—Tianyinge, the Asura Clan, and Luyeyuan. The summit was a trap to crush both rivals.

Unfortunately, Cen Wuwang’s spirit had weakened—apparently from their sparring. Guilt-ridden, Xue Ying refused the baby.

“I can’t. I need to tend to my master. There’s no time anyway.”

The baby eyed the faint figure by the shrine and Xue Ying’s doting—*How’s the incense? Want a paper effigy?*—like some lovestruck fool.

“Women are all the same.”

With that, he ran off crying. Xue Ying frowned. “Who did I wrong?”

“Bailu.”

“Shut up! *You* forced her!”

As predicted, the summit was a public trial—leaders on stage, spectators below.

Xue Ying had little interest in verbal sparring. Power trumped words. Her only worry was Shen Jin stirring trouble, so she kept a close eye on him.

Zhang Yue, meanwhile, watched *her*. She sat beside Xue Ying, chattering nonstop, ignoring Luyeyuan’s protests. Then she produced a jug of wine—”homemade”—and offered it with a smile.

Xue Ying, “…”

Truly the Holy Maiden of Tianyin Pavilion, even doing bad deeds so openly.

Lixiang couldn’t stand it anymore. You, Zhang Yue, are stirring up trouble at the Three-Party Conference—are they still going to tell their “switching the prince with a cat” story or not?

After repeated invitations to return failed, Lixiang simply began speaking directly. “This humble monk has something to inform everyone. On a winter day ten years ago, it was very cold, with sleet falling. I was still attending morning lessons, studying the *Lotus Sutra*, specifically the fifth chapter on the Parable of Medicinal Herbs. My fingers were frozen red…”

He had barely uttered half a word about Tianyin Pavilion’s unclear relationship with the Asura Clan when Baobao immediately jumped out, toddling over on his short legs to hug Lixiang’s thigh, shouting in a deeply emotional tone, “Daddy.”

Lixiang, “…”

To be fair, Lixiang’s storytelling skills were truly terrible. In the first ten minutes, he rambled about what he ate that day, what he read, then reminisced about prices from ten years ago, recalling the days when one copper coin could buy two steamed buns, and even mentioned how the old woman selling them had a missing front tooth.

The audience grew drowsy. Xue Ying finally understood why everyone avoided monks’ sermons—listening to such stories was a form of slow suicide.

At this critical moment, Baobao jumped in. With concise, powerful words and a resonant tone, he instantly elevated the story to its climax.

The crowd perked up. Lixiang was left speechless, reflexively retorting, “Asura King, please restrain yourself.”

The onlookers grew even more excited. Listen to this story—the Asura King’s father is the sworn enemy, a high monk from Luyeyuan! Wow, it perfectly fits the standard of a tragic xianxia romance.

Baobao pinched Lixiang’s thigh hard, making him yelp and shake the child off. By the time he regained his composure, Baobao was already being lifted by the Asura crowd, his big eyes brimming with tears. “Daddy, I’m the Asura King now. I haven’t disgraced you.”

The line sounded all too familiar.

A monk from Luyeyuan stepped forward to accuse Baobao, “Nonsense! You’re clearly the Holy Maiden of Tianyin Pavilion. Due to a mistake by the previous Holy Maiden, they brought back a male like you.”

Thus, Tianyin Pavilion, which had just taken a bite of the melon, was also dragged into the mess.

A follower timidly added, “Even so, he should be about the same age as Zhang Yue. How is he still a child?”

The monk explained matter-of-factly, “Ten years ago, the boundary of the Shijie was in turmoil. He was sent to seal the rift but was corrupted by the miasma, leaving him in this stunted form.”

The crowd was half-convinced. Meanwhile, Baobao continued his act. “Daddy, you said that if I unified the Shijie, our family could be together again.”

He then cast a meaningful glance at Tianyin Pavilion—no words were needed. Three parts sorrow, four parts restraint, and one part longing. The remaining two parts were left to the audience’s imagination.

Eighteen years ago, a high monk from Luyeyuan and the Holy Maiden of Tianyin Pavilion fell in love at first sight and had a child. The Holy Maiden tried to hide it, but the child was unwelcome in Tianyin Pavilion and was reluctantly sent away.

Eighteen years later, that child became the Asura King but never forgot his father’s promise. Though ruthless, drenched in blood, and responsible for countless ruined families, he remained a child yearning for home.

“So touching,” Xue Ying and Shen Jin exclaimed in unison—one marveling at Baobao’s ability to twist the truth, the other shocked at how convoluted Shijie’s relationships were.

“You’re supposed to be the purest of the Four Realms!”

Lixiang wasn’t a silver-tongued debater. Baobao had derailed him, and instead of countering with something even more shameless, he followed Baobao’s script, flying into a rage and raising his vajra pestle to strike.

Baobao stood firm. “If Daddy thinks I’ve done wrong, then kill me. I’m a butcher, an irredeemable villain, unworthy of salvation. But Tianyin Pavilion…”

He trailed off, leaving the rest to the crowd.

A son unwilling to see his parents turn against each other—how filial!

The misled onlookers chimed in: “Master, stop!”

“He’s just a child. Forgive him!”

Lixiang nearly spat blood. “I don’t have such a son!”

A classic case of baseless fabrication.

As Lixiang teetered on the edge of madness, an elderly monk nearby suddenly spoke. “What does Tianyin Pavilion think of this?”

Zhang Yue, sitting beside Xue Ying, giggled. “What can we do? Watch from the sidelines, of course.”

She wasn’t stupid. She knew Baobao, and Luyeyuan’s claims were true. Regardless of their personal grudges, she and Baobao shared one principle: settle disputes behind closed doors. Air them publicly, and it’d be ugly.

So, while Baobao slandered Luyeyuan, she tacitly accepted Tianyin Pavilion’s role as the “mother.”

With both Luyeyuan and Tianyin Pavilion tainted, the public would naturally sympathize with the “weaker” party—Tianyin Pavilion, which seemed slightly better.

Though neither was any good.

The old monk saw through Zhang Yue’s scheme and sighed. He deployed a mutually destructive tactic: “In that case, strip Lixiang of his guardian status, remove him as the hall master, and administer five hundred lashes.”

The crowd silently agreed. Just as Zhang Yue smirked, the old monk turned to her. “Luyeyuan has set an example. What will Tianyin Pavilion do?”

If Luyeyuan lost face, Tianyin Pavilion wouldn’t escape unscathed either.

Zhang Yue’s smile vanished. She cursed the old monk’s ruthlessness—forcing Tianyin Pavilion to bleed. Meeting Baobao’s gaze, she quickly declared, “The previous Holy Maiden has long passed. Punishing the dead is meaningless. Since Tianyin Pavilion is at fault, punish me alone.”

Xue Ying interjected lazily, “Three cups of wine as punishment?”

She wasn’t a pushover. If they were going to make things difficult for her, she’d return the favor.

Zhang Yue choked back her anger, forcing a smile. “You jest. Such a serious matter cannot be treated lightly.”

Xue Ying, “Then drink three cups and prove it.”

Zhang Yue, “…”

Her silence drew Luyeyuan’s attention. Sensing the wine might be poisoned, the old monk said ambiguously, “Wine is a poison to the gut. Don’t force Holy Maiden Zhang Yue.”

Given an out, Xue Ying played along. “My apologies. I didn’t know Tianyin Pavilion abstains from alcohol.”

Zhang Yue nearly strangled Xue Ying. What nonsense—if they didn’t drink, why brew wine? Sword cultivators were truly her lifelong nemeses.

As Tianyin Pavilion’s credibility plummeted among the onlookers, Zhang Yue had a flash of inspiration. She yanked off Shen Jin’s mask. Having seen Yuhengzi years ago and recognizing the body Shen Jin inhabited, she cooed, “This Demon Lord looks familiar. Are you also a sword cultivator? Oh, the two of you sitting side by side—do you know each other? The Sword Immortal’s disciple and the Demon Lord…”

She paused deliberately, then feigned regret. “My mistake.”

Whether it was a mistake or not, the crowd’s thoughts had already derailed. Before they could digest Lixiang’s romantic history, here came the Sword Immortal’s disciple allegedly involved with the Demon Lord. They were stuffed.

Xue Ying didn’t curse. She simply asked, “I heard the Holy Maiden goes berserk at the sight of blood. True or false?”

Lin Jiujiu had told her this, though Xue Ying hadn’t taken it seriously. Still, she didn’t mind testing it.

The followers murmured. Unlike Xue Ying, an outsider, they knew one thing: never provoke the Asura Clan, because Asuras go mad at the sight of blood, slaughtering indiscriminately.

Zhang Yue paled. This was easily verifiable—denial was futile. But how did Xue Ying know?

The old monk intensified his chanting. Just as Zhang Yue hesitated, an Asura woman beside Baobao shouted, “I didn’t want to reveal this, but since it’s out—Zhang Yue is the true Holy Maiden of the Asura Clan. I sealed her Asura blood myself and sent her to Tianyin Pavilion. Even Baobao’s corruption ten years ago was our doing.”

“We Asuras are born of the Blood Sea, live in the Shijie, and die in the Blood Sea. We are its true masters!”

The onlookers—no, the melon-eating “zha”—were now stuffed to bursting.

So far, Lixiang’s romantic scandal topped the charts, with the Sword Immortal’s disciple and the Demon Lord a close second. Before they could dissect that, the revelation of Zhang Yue’s true identity left them numb.

They’d thought it was a feud between Luyeyuan and Tianyin Pavilion, with the Sword Immortal’s disciple dragged in as Luyeyuan tried to suppress Tianyin Pavilion. But the silent Asura Clan turned out to be the mastermind.

*Which layer am I even on?*

Zhang Yue quickly shifted from panic to calm. True or not, she was still a Holy Maiden—just in a different place. No loss. Luyeyuan, however, had truly lost on all fronts.

As she prepared to attack Luyeyuan, commotion arose in the distance. Monks parted, bowing respectfully to the newcomer.

“Buddha’s Child.”

Lixiang hurriedly asked, “Why has the Buddha’s Child come?”

Zhang Yue sneered. “What, calling in the Buddha’s Child now? Hoping he’ll save you? Don’t tell me there’s another eighteen-year-old story.”

“You—!”

Youtan’s gaze was serene, the look of someone on the fifth floor watching the second. “I came to deliver news.”

“The boundary between the Shijie and the Demon Realm has collapsed.”

His tone was as if telling everyone to stop eating melons—their houses were crumbling.

The crowd instinctively turned toward the Blood Sea. Normally turbulent, it now raged violently, devouring the shore. The stench of blood filled the air.

Behind them, Youtan remarked with eerie calm, “Ah, Holy Maiden, it seems your home is gone.”

Zhang Yue, “…”