Transmigrating as the Heart Demon of the Ruthless Sword Venerable – Chapter 11

Sect Arc — Shadow-Recording Stone

A Breath of Relief

“Yu Zhaoming! Are you an idiot! Why did you just admit to it!”

            

Tang Wenchun had never been this angry before. Her gaze turned hostile when she looked at those Sword Sect disciples. But she was inside Yu Zhaoming’s spiritual consciousness — even if her glare could cut like a blade, those disciples couldn’t sense her at all.

Not only could they not sense her, but because Yu Zhaoming had admitted to it without hesitation, they suddenly grew self-righteously indignant.

The male disciple named Deng Wen immediately turned to the elders and said loudly, “Elder Fang, look — Yu Zhaoming has already confessed. Someone this selfish, someone who disregards the welfare of her fellow disciples — how can she be Eldest Senior Sister?”

            

“Hm? What does that mean? Who does he want as Eldest Senior Sister… or Eldest Senior Brother?” Tang Wenchun’s eyes narrowed.

Yu Zhaoming’s gaze immediately fell on Deng Wen. “Who do you think would be suitable?”

Deng Wen didn’t think too much of it. Yu Zhaoming had always been a woman of few words, seemingly mild-tempered, letting others speak their fill. He promptly said, “Naturally—”

            

“Ahem.”

Someone nearby gave a low cough, cutting Deng Wen off. Tang Wenchun looked over and let out an “ooh.” “That one — what was his name, something-Dan? What a green-tea-faced green tea man¹!!”

“Han Dan,” Yu Zhaoming said softly. Her gaze fell on Han Dan’s face, but she couldn’t see anything remotely tea-related. Finally her eyes landed on his green robes, and she gave a subtle nod — it must be because he dressed too green.

            

Han Dan felt a thread of fear under Yu Zhaoming’s stare. Her presence was like her sword — a cold scrutiny that seemed to hold no regard for propriety or morality, as though she might thrust at him in the next moment.

Don’t be nervous. The Eldest Senior Sister might not understand worldly matters, but she’s the most proper and rule-bound person there is.

Han Dan silently bolstered himself. He glanced at Deng Wen again and thought: if anything truly goes wrong, the shidi² should be the one to bear it. With that thought, he composed himself considerably, put on a smile, and said, “Eldest Senior Sister, this time we entered the Desolate Heaven Secret Realm and reaped almost nothing. Our Sword Sect already lags behind the other sects. Now we return empty-handed, without enough resources to train our disciples. I’m afraid that by the time the sect rankings come out after the new year, we’ll have fallen off the Six Major Sects.”

            

At these words, everyone in the hall — elders and disciples alike — showed traces of grief.

Tang Wenchun watched the scene and couldn’t help but sigh. “Looking at it like this, they really do seem broke.”

Yu Zhaoming said nothing, but Tang Wenchun’s tone shifted. “Then again, what does this have to do with us? If the family’s out of money, isn’t that the parents’ responsibility? Ordinary disciples only have so much ability — how much can they really earn? And back then, if they hadn’t been let out, were they supposed to just go die? A bunch of ungrateful brats!!”

            

The Heart Demon’s tirade was so loud that Yu Zhaoming rubbed her own forehead. She looked up at the elders. “In that case—”

“In that case what? There is no ‘in that case’!”

A crisp female voice rang out. The tone was lively — even threaded with anger, it still carried an undercurrent of amusement, as though she’d been born with a smile permanently on her face. Tang Wenchun’s eyes lit up, and she pounded the ground. “What a gorgeous voice! Turn around, turn around — let me see the beauty.”

            

Yu Zhaoming was silent for a moment, then turned around unhurriedly and bowed. “Greetings, Shizun³.”

For some reason, Yu Zhaoming’s voice and movements were the same as always, yet Tang Wenchun detected a hint of reluctance in them. But when she thought about it carefully, she couldn’t figure out why, so she chalked it up to overthinking.

She was brimming with curiosity and looked in the direction Yu Zhaoming was facing.

            

The woman before her wore an extraordinarily elaborate palace dress — not the ethereal, flowing Taoist robes Tang Wenchun had seen on her journey, but something with a soft, alluring quality.

An alluring smile naturally graced her features, yet when she raised a brow, it carried a rakish edge that revealed her sharpness — giving her an air of untamed nonchalance. She held a long smoking pipe between her fingers, eyes slightly narrowed.

Behind her stood Bian Man — the female disciple who had spoken up for Yu Zhaoming earlier — pressing her lips together. It seemed she was the one who had fetched the beautiful Shizun.

            

“Wow… a beautiful Shizun.”

Tang Wenchun felt that despite being killed every day and having a deeply worrisome future, every person she’d seen since transmigrating was beautiful. Her weakness for pretty faces was thoroughly satisfied.

This was probably the only perk of transmigration.

            

Thinking about it like that — both heartbreaking and thrilling.

“Good disciple, you’re back.” The woman patted her disciple’s shoulder. That youthful face, which looked no older than twenty, wore a maternal expression that felt somehow incongruous.

The two elders rose as well. Their expressions toward the woman were less than warm. They gave perfunctory nods. “Xuanjiu-shimei⁴…”

            

Xuanjiu released her grip and looked at the two elders with a cold laugh. “Our sect is the Sword Sect. You won’t make the disciple with the finest swordsmanship the Eldest Senior Sister — who do you want instead? Whoever has the most money gets to be Eldest Senior Sister…” She glanced at Han Dan, who had taken a step back, and gave a soft snort. “Or Eldest Senior Brother, I suppose. If you love money so much, why don’t you join the Money Sect?”

The square-faced giant man hastily wiped the sweat from his face. “There’s no such thing as a Money Sect… but the disciples do have a point. The Desolate Heaven Secret Realm opened, and we finally had so many entry slots — and what happened? We sent them in, and within days they all came right back out.”

“The Sect Grand Competition is coming up, and we simply don’t have the resources to support our disciples.” Elder Fang sighed beside him. “Sword cultivators are poor to begin with. In our Sword Sect, only the Alchemy Peak lineage can earn any spirit stones…”

            

The conversation reached a point where it wasn’t convenient to continue. The two elders shot meaningful looks at Xuanjiu.

The disciples stood with hands lowered at the side, Yu Zhaoming among them — but her Sea of Consciousness⁵ was buzzing with chatter. Tang Wenchun clapped her hands. “I get it now. The Sword Sect is broke and wants to rely on the Alchemy Peak for income, so naturally they have to give the Alchemy Peak some perks.”

Tang Wenchun scoffed again. “They might as well rename themselves the Medicine Sect. Why even call themselves the Sword Sect? Spineless!”

            

“You might as well rename yourselves the Medicine Sect — why keep hanging the Sword Sect’s sign?”

Xuanjiu’s crisp voice rang out, overlapping with Tang Wenchun’s scoff.

Yu Zhaoming raised her eyes slightly and saw her Shizun standing there, her habitual smile entirely gone — like a long sword drawn from its sheath. She gripped her sword and, cold-faced, was about to turn away. “In that case, I’ll chop down the Sword Sect’s sign right now. Why leave it hanging there making a fool of ourselves!”

            

“Ah, Shimei, don’t, don’t…”

The square-faced Elder Yuan hurriedly called out and grabbed Xuanjiu, his face covered in cold sweat. He kept glancing toward Elder Fang, hoping his senior fellow would say a few words to defuse the tension.

Elder Fang cleared his throat and put on a righteous expression. “Setting aside the matter of choosing the senior disciple for now — but Zhaoming disregards her fellow disciples, is arrogant and willful, selfish and reckless, acting entirely on her own. That much is fact, isn’t it?”

            

Xuanjiu paused, turned to her disciple, and frowned. “How did they ask you? And what did you say?”

At this question, Tang Wenchun knew that this beautiful Shizun understood her disciple very well — and was likely the fiercely protective type. Her growing dissatisfaction with the Sword Sect dissipated somewhat. She urged, “Yu Zhaoming, you have to tell the truth… too bad you can’t hear my voice.”

Yu Zhaoming thought for a moment, then said, “Deng-shidi asked me whether I had searched for treasure alone, disregarding their safety, and whether I had demanded they use Transmission Talismans to exit the Desolate Heaven Secret Realm. I said yes.”

            

Tang Wenchun and Xuanjiu didn’t know each other, but in that moment they shared a subtle, mutual sense of exasperated kinship.

When someone asks you a question, do you really have to answer so literally?!

Xuanjiu took a deep breath. This was the disciple she’d chosen. Her own choice. She patted her disciple’s shoulder firmly, looked into those calm eyes, clenched her fist, and was just about to turn away when she heard Yu Zhaoming’s level voice.

            

“Your disciple was worried about not phrasing things well, so I recorded it with a Shadow-Recording Stone.”

Xuanjiu’s eyes lit up. Han Dan’s face immediately turned ugly.

Inside the Sea of Consciousness, Tang Wenchun laughed uproariously — but the laughter cut short: “Wait, how did you think to use a Shadow-Recording Stone? You… you don’t actually hear everything I say, do you?”

            

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