Transmigrating as the Heart Demon of the Ruthless Sword Venerable – Chapter 45
by Little PandaNascent Soul (Part 2)
The Nascent Soul Has Arrived
In this world, whether demon, ghost, or monster, mortal or spirit cultivator, bird or beast, living by any means necessary seemed carved into the very nature of all things. Even Tang Wenchun before this—hadn’t she fought so desperately for the same reason? To live, to live freely?
The instant Yu Zhaoming raised her sword, she had already prepared herself for Tang Wenchun to resist with everything she had. Yu Zhaoming could forgive every effort made in the name of survival. Even if Tang Wenchun suddenly turned on her, exhausted every method to put her to death. Yu Zhaoming wouldn’t feel the slightest revulsion or resentment toward Tang Wenchun—even though everything Tang Wenchun had came from her.
To live—this was the instinct of all living things. Even Yu Zhaoming herself had done many things she shouldn’t have, all to keep living.
So why, all of a sudden, would Tang Wenchun say such things to her?
Was it genuine? Or a probing feint, advancing in order to retreat?
Yu Zhaoming’s lowered fingers loosened, then tightened, then loosened again.
Tang Wenchun looked at the sheer bewilderment written across Yu Zhaoming’s face. She let out an “Ah,” suddenly understanding. “Are you reluctant to let me go? It’s fine, I’ll probably come back to life after I die. But dying will hurt a bit, so remember to be fast about it. Make it quick and clean.”
Yu Zhaoming fell silent for a moment, then swept her sword up, the tip landing on Tang Wenchun’s chest. Tang Wenchun hastily raised her hand. Yu Zhaoming’s brow twitched, a look of “just as I expected” beginning to form—only to see Tang Wenchun’s hand cover her own eyes.
“Sorry, Yu Zhaoming, I’m still a little scared. I won’t watch how you stab me to death. Remember—be quick.”
The Heart Demon’s voice trembled slightly, carrying an innocence and fear untainted by worldly experience, yet her actions were unexpectedly brave.
Yu Zhaoming gripped the sword. Her hand was steady; the blade she held didn’t tremble at all. And yet, it was as if some invisible thing blocked her hand, keeping her from going any further. Yu Zhaoming lowered her eyes. One step further, and she could smoothly ascend to the Nascent Soul stage. One step further, and she would be one step closer to her goal.
She had already abandoned too much for that day, disappointed too many. She knew that in the future she might abandon more, take on more. She had thought herself sufficiently prepared. Even before Tang Wenchun spoke, she had already made her resolve.
So why, after Tang Wenchun—her Heart Demon—had honestly told her to kill her, could she no longer thrust the blade?
Her Heart Demon stood before her eyes, covering her own eyes, her body still trembling faintly. Yu Zhaoming recalled how pampered her Heart Demon was—unlike most people in this world. She feared bugs, feared beasts, feared the dark and ghosts alike. She was like a delicate flower raised in a vase; the slightest storm would fill her with worry and fear, even make her shrink back.
She feared death, too.
And yet she insisted on pretending to be brave.
Why? Yu Zhaoming didn’t understand. She found she never understood what her Heart Demon was thinking, or why she thought that way.
The sword tip trembled, just barely.
Tang Wenchun cracked her eyes open. She saw Yu Zhaoming staring at her, motionless. Tang Wenchun looked down. The sword tip still rested on her chest, as though it would pierce straight through her at any moment.
The visual impact was honestly kind of terrifying. Tang Wenchun’s first instinct was to flinch away, but she quickly remembered Yu Zhaoming’s situation—she’d been unable to break through because of her. Yu Zhaoming should have been a peerless genius, but she’d been held back by her. The worst part was that everything had been stolen from Yu Zhaoming in the first place.
The thought steadied Tang Wenchun. She held still, only her gaze toward Yu Zhaoming growing much softer.
Yu Zhaoming already knew that her existence would affect her cultivation, yet she still hadn’t killed her. Five years together, almost every day and night side by side. Of course Tang Wenchun knew how much Yu Zhaoming cared about her cultivation.
And so the other’s hesitation moved Tang Wenchun all the more.
What earth-shaking sisterly devotion was this!
What had started as a fondness for a character had been polished by five years into genuine admiration and affection for Yu Zhaoming the person. Now Yu Zhaoming’s hesitation added yet another layer to that affection.
Even though she was terrified of dying, having made this decision, Tang Wenchun felt as if something had been lifted from her heart. She no longer needed to feel guilty and self-reproachful toward Yu Zhaoming. Everything she had gained from Yu Zhaoming would eventually be returned.
“If… you can’t bring yourself to do it, how about we spar?” Tang Wenchun said. She flipped her wrist, looking at Yu Zhaoming. “We’ve been fellow disciples for five years, and we’ve never once sparred, have we?”
Yu Zhaoming, still in a daze, clenched her back teeth and finally nodded.
Her sword was hard-pressed to strike down someone who offered no resistance. But a fight was different. The will to live birthed the will to fight. Perhaps Tang Wenchun didn’t truly want to die, and that was why she’d made this suggestion. To die in combat—this was the end a sword cultivator acknowledged as honorable.
She thought that perhaps this way, she too could cast aside those pointless hesitations in her heart.
“Sword Sect’s Tang Wenchun, requesting instruction from the Eldest Senior Sister.”
Tang Wenchun shifted her wrist, angled the sword tip downward, and performed the Sword Sect’s salute toward Yu Zhaoming.
Five years. Tang Wenchun’s bearing was now filled with the grace of a Sword Sect disciple. Her sword salute was elegant and perfectly proper. Time always left its marks without you noticing. After a few decades or a hundred years, who would be able to tell that the person before her was her Heart Demon?
The thought surfaced abruptly in Yu Zhaoming’s mind. She gathered herself and returned the salute. Their sword tips touched—identical Cangfeng blades meeting, ringing out with the same sword chime.
They began with the Entry Five Styles every Sword Sect disciple learned upon induction, then shifted into the mercurial Twenty Styles of Drifting Wind and Whirling Snow, and then sword intent erupted. One side was all ice and snow filling the sky, cold wind howling, devoid of any trace of humanity—pure force of nature. The other side conjured up the fireworks of the mortal world, as though on Lantern Festival night, lanterns stretching ten li along the long street. When you lifted your head, the moon hung like a golden wheel, the moon and the lanterns sharing the sky.
Yu Zhaoming remembered this conjured vision.
It was Tang Wenchun’s third year after joining the sect. Lantern Festival. Tang Wenchun had dragged her and Bian Man and the others into sneaking down the mountain. The mortal city was boiling with voices. Firecrackers and fireworks crackled without cease. Children shrieked and laughed. Men and women carried lanterns, walking in clusters or in twos and threes, smiles on every face.
Even the disciples who’d sneaked down the mountain wore faces full of smiles.
Amid the laughter, Junior Brother Jin of Mountain-Cleaving Sword raised his wine cup and flung its contents out beyond the tavern’s edge. Tang Wenchun channeled her spiritual energy, and the wine transformed into a sky full of flying snow, drifting down in flakes, drawing gasps of delight from the passersby.
The white snow, still carrying the fragrance of wine—and within that fragrance, Tang Wenchun scooped up a handful of snow steeped in the scent of wine and pressed it to Yu Zhaoming’s lips, smiling brightly. “Eldest Senior Sister, let me share with you these lanterns and this moon, this snow and this wine.”
The memory crashed over her. Yu Zhaoming drifted, as if she could smell that intoxicating wine fragrance again.
Only, hidden within this revelry was killing intent.
Yu Zhaoming’s mind snapped clear. She turned her blade and blocked the incoming thrust. She looked up. Tang Wenchun had put away the smile she always wore. Her brows drew together, her eyes faintly red, the aura around her entirely transformed—just like when they first met, spiritual qi swirling with the red and black of the demonic path.
Sure enough, the past memories were all illusion. Those words had all been excuses.
Her Heart Demon was, in the end, a proper Heart Demon—she wanted to kill her!
Yu Zhaoming’s heart twitched faintly—another subtle pang. But her gaze quickly turned cold and hard. As her blade reversed, the spiritual qi around her grew colder still, freezing the illusions Tang Wenchun’s Red Dust Sword Intent had conjured, scattering them into ice crystals—pure snow and ice that could deceive no one again.
“Yu Zhaoming…” Tang Wenchun raised her eyes. Red light flickered in their depths, shifting to black from moment to moment, making her look all the more eerie.
“…You’ve improved considerably.” Yu Zhaoming spoke, her figure slowly rising, gaze cast down toward Tang Wenchun. Ice and snow spiritual qi formed a massive frozen tornado, lifting Yu Zhaoming’s form, making her look like a deity—no sorrow, no joy, only cold detachment.
Heaven and earth are not benevolent; they treat all things as straw dogs.1 Everything in the world fell within her eyes—Heart Demon or human, fellow disciples of five years—all no different from weeds. She seemed to be the Heavenly Dao itself. Only the rules of the world flowed through her eyes, and nothing else.
Tang Wenchun raised her eyes. Yu Zhaoming’s figure filled her vision—lofty, cold, devoid of emotion. Like a beautiful ice sculpture. She watched this ice sculpture raise its sword and point it at her. In an instant, spiritual qi condensed into countless blades, raining down toward her.
But the next moment, spiritual energy suddenly gained an indescribable heaviness.
Yu Zhaoming startled faintly. The red light in Tang Wenchun’s eyes blazed—and as one diminished, the other surged. All of Yu Zhaoming’s heaviness transformed into a violent spike in Tang Wenchun’s spiritual energy.
This was the dungeon—the runes above were designed to suppress the host while boosting the Heart Demon’s power! Yu Zhaoming had been prepared. She simply hadn’t expected her spiritual energy to be siphoned so quickly. In an instant, the two had reversed.
In that fleeting moment, Yu Zhaoming came back to herself. She watched Tang Wenchun swing her sword toward her, and a despair she couldn’t dodge welled up in her heart. Tang Wenchun’s progress over these five years had exceeded Yu Zhaoming’s expectations. She thought—she truly hadn’t expected to be defeated by her Heart Demon.
Should she self-detonate her Golden Core?
Yu Zhaoming watched Tang Wenchun draw closer and closer. The thought flickered through her mind, but in the end, she didn’t move. Tang Wenchun wasn’t a bad person. What was wrong with fighting desperately to live? She had lost. So her Heart Demon claiming what was rightfully hers—that was only fair.
Only—the blade was right before her eyes. Yu Zhaoming saw Cangfeng suddenly reverse and plunge straight into Tang Wenchun’s own chest.
Tang Wenchun had been charging so fast that her entire body crashed into Yu Zhaoming’s arms.
Yu Zhaoming stood frozen, holding Tang Wenchun. She watched her raise her eyes and offer a smile. “Sorry, Yu Zhaoming… I think I, I couldn’t quite control myself just now…”
It was because of the runes…
But Yu Zhaoming couldn’t voice those reasons as she normally would. She only held Tang Wenchun, feeling her tremble all over. Blood flowed down, then transformed into dark flames that flickered and burned—cold, as if they would freeze Yu Zhaoming along with her.
“…Why?” Yu Zhaoming asked.
“It hurts so much. I told you to do it earlier… but no, in the end I had to do it myself. It really hurts…”
Tang Wenchun mumbled in a low voice, her body shaking even harder. Spiritual qi drained away, returning to Yu Zhaoming’s body. Her Sea of Consciousness heaved. The Ice Spirit Root surged like a tsunami, raising waves of ice.
Tang Wenchun lifted her eyes slightly. She saw Yu Zhaoming still looking at her. She smiled suddenly, reaching up to touch Yu Zhaoming’s cheek. “Why make that face… You look like you’re about to cry. We’ll meet again. Yu Zhaoming… next time… goodbye…”
The Heart Demon dissipated. The Ice Spirit Root finally regained enough spiritual energy, letting out a joyous hum. Cracks appeared across the increasingly perfect Golden Core, and a tiny humanoid form within began to take shape—like a fetus about to be born, ready to break free.
The Great Dao is formless, giving birth to heaven and earth; the Great Dao is emotionless, running the sun and moon; the Great Dao is nameless, nourishing all things.2
Only through this formlessness, emotionlessness, and namelessness could one achieve Unity of Heaven and Humanity—the ultimate state.
The Emotionless Dao turned. Her Sea of Consciousness was like the cosmos at the dawn of creation—sun and moon revolving, everything operating in perfect order. Only, within this order, a faint heaviness lay hidden, adding an invisible crack to this state of nature.
Thunder crashed across heaven and earth. Layer upon layer of dark clouds gathered above Xunyang City.
Countless people looked up at the sky, faces dark.
The Nascent Soul Lightning Tribulation had arrived.
The author has something to say:
Yu Zhaoming: Why does my wife always surprise me!! Woman, you’ve caught my interest
Tang Wenchun: Ooh, ooh, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts
Those lines about the Great Dao are from 《Dao De Jing》
Yu Zhaoming was moved by Tang Wenchun bit by bit, like dripping water penetrating stone3.
Tang Wenchun: Yep yep, slow grind4, huh…
I especially love the Lantern Festival part, hehe
Footnotes
- 天地不仁，以万物为刍狗 | Tiandi bu ren, yi wanwu wei chugou | From Chapter 5 of Laozi's Dao De Jing: 'Heaven and earth are not benevolent; they treat all things as straw dogs.' Straw dogs (刍狗) were sacrificial effigies woven from straw in ancient Chinese rituals, revered during the ceremony then discarded, illustrating nature's absolute impartiality.
- 大道无形，生育天地，大道无情，运行日月，大道无名，长养万物 | Dadao wuxing, shengyu tiandi; dadao wuqing, yunxing riyue; dadao wuming, changyang wanwu | From the Qingjing Jing (Classic of Purity and Stillness), a Tang-era Daoist text: 'The Great Dao is formless, giving birth to heaven and earth; emotionless, running the sun and moon; nameless, nourishing all things.' The author attributes these lines to the Dao De Jing.
- 滴水穿石 | dishui chuanshi | A classical Chinese idiom literally meaning 'dripping water penetrates stone,' describing how persistent, incremental effort overcomes great obstacles. Originates from Song dynasty historical records.
- 水磨功夫 | shuimo gongfu | A colloquial idiom comparing patient effort to a water-powered mill slowly grinding grain, describing meticulous, time-intensive work that achieves results through persistence rather than force.
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