Chapter 57:

As soon as these words were spoken, someone immediately shouted, “Lord, the more beautiful a woman is, the more deceptive she becomes. Please reconsider, my Lord!”

Xue Ying touched her own face, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Oh, how flattering.”

The person: “…”

Who was flattering you?

Shen Jin pressed the person down and calmly asked, “According to what you all said, if the Sect Master of Taichu Sect is in the Demon Realm, where is she now?”

When reclaiming the Demon Realm, he had scoured half of it. Forget about anything green on top—even if it was mushy, Shen Jin would have scraped it off and eaten it. Let alone something as conspicuous as a massive Fusang Tree.

The exact location of Xiaofang would have to be asked of Cen Wuwang, but the man had been as silent as death since arriving in the Demon Realm.

Xue Ying knew what Cen Wuwang was scheming—nothing more than wanting to switch bodies back as soon as possible. There was nothing wrong with that, but Shen Jin refused.

“No. If you switch back, the two of you will fly off together, and who will I turn to for justice?”

Cen Wuwang finally spoke up, “The Lady Marquis and Lord Ming are still in Taixuan Sect.”

The implication was clear: even if the two of them didn’t run, Shen Jin would still have to go to Taixuan Sect to demand them.

Shen Jin held the person down, his anger flaring—a protest against the landlord class. “So, you’re saying I should just let you manipulate me?”

Cen Wuwang replied, “When have you not been manipulated?”

Thus, Shen Jin became the one being persuaded. The person shouted for the Lord to calm down, warning that just because the other side was shameless didn’t mean he should stoop lower.

The cultured and well-mannered Shen Jin endured it.

But the anger was too much to swallow, so Shen Jin laid out a condition: “I’m coming with you.”

Cen Wuwang’s gaze was profound, perhaps due to his weakened soul, making it hard to discern the emotions in his eyes.

“I’ve never seen a Demon Lord who needs to report to outsiders just to stroll around his own territory.”

The Demon Realm was Shen Jin’s domain. Why should he report to anyone?

Shen Jin: “…”

He swore he would take advantage of the situation, act like a despicable villain, and beat Cen Wuwang to death—this damned scoundrel!

With a third party joining midway, the blood pool for the body swap became a bit crowded. Xue Ying watched as that person ran around. Due to his status, he was the most humble—even if he was a high-ranking official outside, here he was just a lackey, a walking tool.

In the end, three grown men lay in the blood pool. The tub was only so big, yet they insisted on squeezing in three. Cen Wuwang suddenly felt inspired and began lecturing like a teacher. “Having an extra person in anything is inconvenient. Divided attention leads to failure.”

Xue Ying nodded along. Cen Wuwang was quite a responsible teacher—never withholding knowledge.

“Except in matters of love. The more, the merrier. The messier, the better. We’re cultivators—be bold. Having three wives and four concubines is normal.”

Shen Jin used Cen Wuwang’s face to its fullest potential, his expression screaming, “What the hell?”

Now he understood where Xue Ying’s temperament came from. Like teacher, like disciple. Hmph.

After much fuss, the three men were stuffed into the blood pool. The ceiling above flashed with seven rays of red, yellow, and blue light, and dry ice effects were lavishly sprayed. Moments later, Cen Wuwang stepped out, stepping on Shen Jin’s face. He wrung the water from his sleeves and immediately looked at Xue Ying.

Or rather, at the Yaoguang in Xue Ying’s arms.

Master and disciple locked eyes for a moment. Xue Ying asked, “Planning to settle scores later?”

Even without his sword, his posture remained as straight as bamboo, exuding an unyielding aura. “Abusing power for personal gain is still on the table.”

Xue Ying hugged Yaoguang and sneered, “Power? What power? The power of a Sword Immortal?”

Cen Wuwang didn’t elaborate. “The power of the elder bullying the younger. Remember, Yaoguang is only lent to you temporarily. Return it to me afterward.”

Xue Ying ignored him, clearly intending to keep it. Behind them, Shen Jin, whose face had been stepped on, was seething. His bright red hair stood out as he glared at the two in their cold war. Soon, however, the corners of his lips curled up, and his hair turned pink—indicating his improved mood.

Cen Wuwang was weak now. Once Xue Ying left to fight for the Demon Realm, he would beat the crap out of him.

A villain who doesn’t stab others in the back isn’t a proper villain.

Xue Ying, unaware of Shen Jin’s schemes, noticed his hair changing from red to pink and exclaimed in surprise, “Shen Jin, your hair really changes color?”

“Pink hair is kinda kawaii.”

The person wisely stayed silent. He knew his Lord hated being called a pink-haired man. In truth, he usually saw Shen Jin with red hair.

People whispered that the Lord’s hair turned red when he was angry. If they saw his red hair every day, did that mean the Lord was always angry?

Like the blowfish from ancient texts—intimidating without even trying. Truly befitting a Lord, whose extraordinary traits even matched those of legendary fish.

Of course, Shen Jin disliked being called pink-haired. His temper flared again, and he snapped, “Enough nonsense. Lead the way.”

Just as Cen Wuwang was about to step forward, Shen Jin added, “Wait. This concerns the Demon Realm. We can’t be careless.”

“Can’t be careless” translated to Shen Jin gathering his weapons and forces, standing before Xue Ying and the others with his guards.

Xue Ying remarked, “Your warriors look quite spirited.”

As everyone knew, honor guards were often called “idol factions.” Pretty as flowers, but not exactly strong fighters.

Shen Jin kept a straight face and didn’t respond. In truth, all his forces had been dispatched to deal with the Boundary of Consciousness. When Xue Ying infiltrated enemy territory, Shen Jin could only muster a few showpieces.

Quality aside, the numbers were at least impressive.

Upon learning that the Taichu Sect Master was hiding at the end of the Dark River, Shen Jin frowned—not because he was surprised she had evaded detection for so long, but because he wondered how she sustained the Fusang Tree.

“There’s nothing at the end of the Dark River.”

“Literally nothing.”

Not even turbid energy, let alone spiritual power. The crimson soil beneath their feet gave way to cracked, dry earth, where a lifeless river flowed. The Sect Master lingered by the riverbank, her figure even more indistinct than before, her voice softer.

“I was wondering when you’d come.”

She lazily yawned. After Xue Ying explained the situation—how the boundary between the Consciousness and Demon Realms had fractured—she sighed listlessly. “The Boundary of Consciousness is beyond our concern. Taichu Sect has dedicated all its resources to maintaining the Four Realms. If we divert Taixuan Sect to aid the Boundary of Consciousness, who will protect Taichu Sect?”

“And whether it’s feasible?”

Xue Ying eagerly declared, “Sect Master, I can do it. I’m not a child anymore—I’m an adult. I rank first in the annual sect exams and can beat two and a half Demon Lords.”

“Uh…”

Shen Jin: Who are you using as a unit of measurement?!

The Sect Master chuckled. “Very well. Youthful arrogance—let you try, then.”

Xue Ying, gripping her sword, sensed unspoken words. “And if I fail?”

The Sect Master’s face was innocent, like a maiden unaware of the world. Her voice was gentle. “Don’t worry. We’ll help you.”

The fate of the Four Realms was no trivial matter. They had already prepared for the worst. If Xue Ying failed, Cangwu would step in.

The Immortal Tree had rooted in the Demon Realm for millennia. Piercing the boundary between realms was possible—just costly, rendering it rootless. When this plan was proposed, Cangwu was remarkably composed, saying that early or late, death was death. At least it wouldn’t end up as furniture.

Cen Wuwang, for once, agreed with the Sect Master. Without discussing the aftermath, he simply said, “If it fails, leave it to me.”

In Cen Wuwang’s expression, Xue Ying saw unwavering resolve. She suddenly remembered something: from the start, Cen Wuwang had opposed her involvement. She stood here now only because he had been injured and forced to step back.

What if Cen Wuwang hadn’t met those misfortunes?

Would she have remained ignorant like her junior siblings, cursing him as an incompetent teacher? Would she have stripped him of his last title as Sword Immortal upon his return?

“Between master and disciple, can we not even be honest with each other?”

Leave it to him? Cangwu said Cen Wuwang’s cultivation had plummeted—he could no longer handle this. The Sect Master asked if he had sacrificed his soul.

She could visit his grave next year. Wonderful.

Cen Wuwang avoided Xue Ying’s gaze, offering only, “You are my disciple.”

So even if battered and bruised, he would shield her from the storm.

The same answer as back in Taisu Valley. Xue Ying laughed bitterly. “I am your disciple, but also the rival of your remaining years. Don’t forget why you took me in. Respecting one’s rival is a swordsman’s basic virtue.”

For the first time, Cen Wuwang looked away.

Humans are selfish. Before a rival, there are bonds—master and disciple, family, comrades. Too many concerns to remain rational.

The tension between master and disciple lasted only a moment. The Sect Master didn’t pry. She stepped forward, took Xue Ying’s hand, and guided her through Yu Steps. As the hidden formation dissipated, the Fusang Tree emerged—a towering giant, its trunk reaching the heavens. Unlike before, when its leaves formed a lush canopy, now not a single mulberry leaf remained, signaling its completion.

The Sect Master smiled brightly, her eyes shimmering. “A masterpiece of the ages, crafted by my hands.”

The gloomy sky split open, revealing swirling colors and countless flickering stars. Xue Ying was momentarily entranced but quickly snapped out of it.

“Those are things beyond the Four Realms. Beware of their allure.” The Sect Master held an ancient mirror, setting up a formation for Xue Ying. “Your task is simple: slash them open with all your might to create a passage.”

She seemed to notice Shen Jin’s gaze and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her hair ornaments tinkling. “The Demon Lord may try as well.”

Shen Jin couldn’t do it. Even ignoring his recent body swap and incomplete soul fusion, even at his peak, he lacked the power to cleave through.

How much weaker was Xue Ying compared to him? Her first strike left only a white mark, draining most of her spiritual energy. Fortunately, the Sect Master’s mirror replenished her. After three strikes, the Sect Master identified the issue. “Yaoguang is fine, but not the best match.”

The synchronization between wielder and sword wasn’t optimal. A pity. She stepped closer, scrutinizing Xue Ying before tilting her head. “Yuheng… I recall Langhuan Pavilion has a heart sutra.”

Cen Wuwang frowned. “What are you implying?”

She flicked Yaoguang’s blade. Xue Ying’s Bailu was lost in the East Sea—man proposes, heaven disposes. Yuheng was injured; Yaoguang was no longer what it once was. This path seemed blocked, but she excelled at unorthodox methods.

“Soul Synchronization.”

Both Cen Wuwang and Xue Ying fell silent. Shen Jin looked utterly lost. The Sect Master covered her smile with her sleeve. “Nothing novel. Simply put—dual cultivation.”