Transmigrating as the Heart Demon of the Ruthless Sword Venerable – Chapter 32
by Little PandaSword Sect Disciple (4)
Salted Fish Sword
Watching Xuanjiu walk into the main hall until not a trace of her figure remained, Tang Wenchun dropped her stiff smile and hastily spun around, grabbing the hem of Yu Zhaoming’s robe just as she was about to leave.
Yu Zhaoming paused mid-step and turned to look at her. Tang Wenchun felt like a thief with something to hide, glancing left and right. The Sword Sect grounds were truly deserted with hardly a soul in sight, but she still lowered her voice guiltily: “The disciple soul tablet—doesn’t it require placing a strand of your soul into it? You… you know about my situation. Do you have any way around this?”
Yu Zhaoming’s pupils were a pale shade, and in the sunlight as she looked at Tang Wenchun, they seemed all the more colorless, as though devoid of emotion. She studied Tang Wenchun for a few breaths, then curved her lips slightly. “I saw how quickly you agreed before Shizun. I thought you had some method up your sleeve.”
“I don’t have any—”
Before Tang Wenchun could finish, she heard Yu Zhaoming say with unhurried ease: “After all, you even changed the color of your techniques.”
Tang Wenchun never expected Yu Zhaoming to have noticed that detail. Her expression shifted slightly, and her wrist instinctively twitched upward, wanting to press against her chest. But she immediately realized that Yu Zhaoming was watching her with sharp, burning eyes—such a movement could never escape Yu Zhaoming’s notice.
Tang Wenchun forced herself to stop mid-motion.
If Yu Zhaoming discovered the clues and thereby learned the truth—Yu Zhaoming might not expose her, but regarding Yunzhongjun, who had already been successfully possessed by a heart demon, Yu Zhaoming would surely report it to the sect. Though she had no real bond with Yunzhongjun, the other party was also a heart demon and had given her tremendous benefits. If anyone learned of her existence…
For a moment, Tang Wenchun felt a pang of sympathy—like a fox mourning a dead hare1.
She lifted her head and deliberately let out a loud hmph. “That is my exclusive secret technique, not for outsiders to know!”
Yu Zhaoming pondered for a moment. “In that case, the soul tablet will also have to rely on your ‘not-for-outsiders-to-know’ method.”
“No, no, don’t!” Tang Wenchun instantly lost all bravado, urgently tugging at Yu Zhaoming’s hem, her voice low and deferential. “I really don’t have any way to deal with this. I can only count on you.”
She could see Yu Zhaoming’s teasing and probing. Right now, she could only humble herself and submit. Besides, Tang Wenchun thought, she wasn’t entirely without options.
Tang Wenchun raised her eyes, looking at Yu Zhaoming cautiously, and pressed her lips together—seemingly nervous, yet also seemingly enticing. “After all, I’ve always admired you. I’m your simp, you know.”
Tang Wenchun said, enduring the shame, but her gaze remained fixed on Yu Zhaoming, focused specifically on her earlobes. She had noticed before that while Yu Zhaoming appeared outwardly impassive, her earlobes would quietly betray her.
Like now. The tips of Yu Zhaoming’s ears had flushed faintly pink, yet her gaze remained sharp—though if one looked carefully, one would detect a faint, guilty flicker within.
They gazed at each other like this, as if locked in a contest of wills.
After a moment, Yu Zhaoming turned her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as if to cover it up. “Alright, let’s go.”
Tang Wenchun followed behind Yu Zhaoming, a smug smile forming on her lips. Sure enough—as long as she stopped being a decent person, she literally wasn’t one!
Yu Zhaoming led Tang Wenchun forward in silence the entire way. Tang Wenchun couldn’t help feeling smug. She and Yu Zhaoming had clashed openly and covertly so many times, and generally it was Tang Wenchun who suffered crushing defeats.
This was the one victory worthy of going down in history!
Of course, this wasn’t because Tang Wenchun had abandoned all decency—though she had already tasted a certain pleasure in being shameless—but… Tang Wenchun smiled, glancing at Yu Zhaoming’s back. Yu Zhaoming, the future Emotionless Sword Venerable, didn’t seem quite so emotionless after all.
“We’re here.”
Yu Zhaoming said, stopping in her tracks and turning to look at Tang Wenchun. Tang Wenchun looked up at the raised platform ahead—a square foundation topped by a circular hall enclosed in pitch-black walls. At the entrance hung an ancient placard inscribed with the large characters “Soul Shrine.”
“This is…”
“Since the founding of our Sword Sect, countless predecessors have all been here.” Yu Zhaoming turned to look at Tang Wenchun. “Though I don’t know where your so-called soul tablet creation method comes from, as your Eldest Senior Sister, I bear the responsibility of guiding you.”
Seeing Yu Zhaoming’s earnest demeanor, Tang Wenchun set aside her smugness and listened quietly.
Seeing this, Yu Zhaoming gave Tang Wenchun an extra glance, her gaze carrying a touch of gratification.
“Do you know what the ultimate realm of cultivation is—achieving Unity with Dao and ascending?”
Tang Wenchun shook her head blankly. Wasn’t this just a standard power-fantasy cultivation novel? What realm did one need to cultivate to? Could it be: “…Moving mountains and filling seas, um… overturning heaven and earth?”
“Those are Daoist techniques. What we cultivate is the self. We Refine Essence into Qi2, Refine Qi into Spirit, Refine Spirit to Return to Emptiness, Refine Emptiness to Unite with Dao, ultimately attaining the state of a True Person. A True Person holds sway over heaven and earth, grasps yin and yang, breathes in essential qi, stands independent and preserves the spirit, muscles and flesh unified as one—thus can they live as long as heaven and earth, without end. This is the Dao of life.”
Yu Zhaoming spoke, and this was content never mentioned in the novel, yet it was far grander than the original story, unfurling before Tang Wenchun a magnificent world entirely different from the novel’s.
“Given this, the soul is of paramount importance. If the soul is damaged, how could one attain the state of a True Person? One’s great Dao would likely be severed long before that. Remember this: if any sect wants to excise your soul, it must be some evil cultivator’s method. Never agree to it.”
Tang Wenchun nodded. Seeing this, Yu Zhaoming’s expression softened slightly. “Our disciple soul tablet only requires infusing a strand of spiritual consciousness.”
With that, Yu Zhaoming pushed open the doors of the Soul Shrine. The doors were extremely heavy, letting out a harsh scraping sound of metal dragging against the ground. Only then did Tang Wenchun realize that the Soul Shrine’s doors were actually two extremely thick, broad sword blades. The blades were entirely pitch-black, and when placed together, they resembled a pair of double doors—no wonder Tang Wenchun hadn’t detected any clues beforehand.
She stared at the blades in astonishment, at the deep scrape marks they left on the ground as they were pushed open, and when she looked up, she saw countless swords suspended in the dark space.
These swords—some long, some short, some exquisitely crafted as if carved in fine detail by artisans, others so crude they resembled an ordinary iron rod; some radiated immortal grace with shimmering luminescence, while others were rustic and unassuming, like the common disciple swords everyone carried. As for materials, they were even more diverse—common wood, stone, metal, and even paper-carved ones, in endless variety.
Most of them, however, had long lost their luster, simply hanging quietly beneath the dome, exuding an aura both ancient and solemn.
This made Tang Wenchun feel: “Like a graveyard for swords.”
“Don’t speak nonsense…” Yu Zhaoming frowned.
“You could put it that way, and you wouldn’t be wrong.” An aged voice came from the darkness.
Yu Zhaoming paused slightly, turned on her heel, and bowed toward the depths of the darkness. “Great Elder.”
Great Elder? Tang Wenchun peered into the darkness. An old man with hair and beard entirely white slowly emerged. Since transmigrating, every cultivator Tang Wenchun had seen was in the prime of youth. The only elderly figures she had encountered were the sword spirit in the Divine Tomb—and now this man.
“A new disciple?” The Great Elder looked at Tang Wenchun.
Yu Zhaoming pressed her lips together and turned to look at Tang Wenchun, who hastily bowed. The Great Elder nodded, then turned to gaze at the seemingly boundless, silent, lusterless swords suspended in the hall.
“In the past, ten thousand swords vied for brilliance, and this hall was ever radiant as the sun and moon. But now… only these scattered sparks remain.”
“A single spark can start a prairie fire,” Tang Wenchun said softly. She heard the weight of age and hardship in the Great Elder’s voice. Though Tang Wenchun didn’t know how the Sword Sect had fallen from its peak to its current decline—but with Yu Zhaoming here… in the future where this Emotionless Dao Sword Venerable stood, the Sword Sect flourished and thrived.
The Great Elder paused, then turned back, his gaze toward Tang Wenchun now carrying a kind smile. “Well said, quite well said. Come, good child. Share a strand of your spiritual consciousness. This will manifest as the Dao your heart yearns for most.”
Saying this, the Great Elder handed her a small wooden sword. Tang Wenchun examined the wooden sword, then instinctively glanced at Yu Zhaoming. Yu Zhaoming was also looking down at her, her gaze flickering, deep in unknown thoughts. At that moment, Tang Wenchun suddenly asked, “Yu Zhaoming, which one is your sword among them?”
“Mine?” Yu Zhaoming blinked, turning to look instinctively.
The Great Elder chuckled. “Little miss has quite the ambition. Do you wish to stand shoulder to shoulder with our Sword Sect’s Eldest Senior Sister? Look—that one there.”
Tang Wenchun followed the Great Elder’s pointing finger. Among the assorted glowing swords, one stood out—an ice-snow blade. It stood apart from all the others, hovering faintly above them, its tip inverted—not pointing downward, but aimed at the heavens, as if ready to be drawn and raised at any moment.
Cold, aloof, yet brimming with fighting spirit.
“Ah… it’s that one.” Yu Zhaoming heard the heart demon whisper. She looked over at Tang Wenchun, who was gazing fixedly at her soul sword with wide, entranced eyes. Yu Zhaoming pressed her lips together, feeling as though she were being seen through.
“It’s so beautiful…” The heart demon sighed with admiration. Yu Zhaoming lowered her eyes. She felt heat rising from the base of her ears again. This can’t go on, she thought.
“Your turn,” Yu Zhaoming said.
Tang Wenchun turned her head and looked at her with displeasure. “It’s really beautiful! What’s wrong with looking a bit longer? So stingy!!”
The Great Elder stroked his beard, smiling amiably as he watched the two bicker, saying nothing. But Tang Wenchun didn’t dare argue with Yu Zhaoming for long, so she quickly closed her eyes and infused a strand of spiritual consciousness into the small wooden sword in her hand.
The small wooden sword instantly slipped from Tang Wenchun’s palm. Tang Wenchun let out a gasp, eyes snapping open, and reached out to grab it. But the Great Elder was faster. He spread his five fingers and gave a slight squeeze, and the sword obediently settled into his hand.
“Ah, this…” The Great Elder fell silent as he looked at the object in his hand.
Tang Wenchun also fell silent. She never in a million years imagined that her small wooden sword would transform into a salted fish3—a floppy, limp one at that. From the way the Great Elder was holding it, the material looked identical to the salted fish plushie back at her home—soft, squishy, and probably very pleasant to the touch…
“I… um, this, that… um…”
Could it be that subconsciously, she actually wanted to be a salted fish? It wasn’t a bad life, but the mortification of having one’s hidden desires materialized like this was truly…
Tang Wenchun wanted to cover her face. Watching the salted fish cheerfully wag its tail made her want to cover her face even more.
“Let, let me make my case… no, explain…”
The Great Elder smiled gently. “I’ve seen all manner of swords, but this is the first time I’ve seen one like this. It’s quite amusing. Don’t worry—as your Dao path evolves, it will change along with you.”
“Besides, there’s nothing wrong with being a mortal.”
Tang Wenchun lifted her gaze slightly, glancing at the thoughtful Yu Zhaoming, and thought to herself: it seems like everyone’s misunderstood?
Well that was… a wonderful misunderstanding!
The author has something to say:
Great Elder: This child was probably a fisherman’s daughter in her past life. Still can’t forget about catching fish and drying them in the sun.
Yu Zhaoming: …What does ‘salted fish’ mean? She wants to eat salted fish??
Tang Wenchun: Don’t look at me, don’t look at me…
Routine request for comments!!
Footnotes
- 兔死狐悲 | tu si hu bei | Chinese idiom literally 'the fox grieves when the hare dies'; meaning to feel sorrow for someone in a similar predicament, as their fate foreshadows one's own.
- 炼精化气 | lian jing hua qi | First stage of Daoist internal alchemy (neidan), a real-world spiritual self-cultivation tradition. The four-stage progression culminates in unity with the Dao.
- 咸鱼 | xianyu | Chinese internet slang for a slacker or couch potato with no ambition; literally 'salted fish,' a traditional preserved food. Here the slang is manifested literally as the shape of Tang Wenchun's soul sword.
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