Transmigrating as the Heart Demon of the Ruthless Sword Venerable – Chapter 63
by Little PandaGrand Sect Competition (1)
New Dungeon
Spiritual energy poured, bit by bit, into her dantian, slowly raising a high platform. After a long while, the spiritual energy there finally stacked itself into a step.
Tang Wenchun slowly opened her eyes and let out a long breath. Finally. Finally, Foundation Establishment!!
Ever since the day they’d seen the Sect Master and he’d told them to focus on preparing for the Grand Sect Competition, Yu Zhaoming had gone into seclusion — and Tang Wenchun had gone into seclusion too, to try out the self-cultivation method she’d dreamed up.
As it turned out, a heart demon really could cultivate — Foundation Establishment proved as much. As for why — whether it was some property of heart demons, or something about the Illusion Wood, some deeper question — Tang Wenchun chose not to think too hard about it.
By the time Yu Zhaoming finally hauled her out of the cave dwelling, she realized the day of departure for the Grand Sect Competition had arrived. She looked up at the sky, still a little dazed. All those days she’d been immersed in cultivation, nearly forgetting time itself — and now, abruptly confronted with sun and sky again, she finally felt the passage of days.
“They say cultivation knows no years1 — turns out it’s really true…”
She turned her head — and found Yu Zhaoming watching her quietly. The moment their eyes met, Tang Wenchun couldn’t help recalling that one line — “Will you be my Dao Companion?” — and her heart started drumming again, the extra heat rushing upward.
She hastily turned away, breaking off the gaze before her face could blush.
“…The Grand Sect Competition is almost upon us, and the Sect Master is waiting. Is there anything else you need to bring?” Yu Zhaoming asked.
Tang Wenchun shook her head without looking back. Yu Zhaoming’s gaze traveled over her, then she drew her onto her flying sword and took off on sword flight. Cold wind rushed against Tang Wenchun’s cheeks, trailing threads of chill — but Yu Zhaoming’s hand held her waist firmly in place, and the heat in her face refused to come down.
“…If you don’t like it, I won’t say those things anymore.”
Yu Zhaoming’s voice landed suddenly at her ear, and Tang Wenchun’s heart lurched. Put that way, it almost sounded like there was something between them. But the moment she turned her head, her lips pressed against Yu Zhaoming’s cheek — and both of them widened their eyes slightly at once.
Tang Wenchun scrambled backward in a panic; Yu Zhaoming’s hand shot out to catch her — but Tang Wenchun only panicked harder and stepped out again. Then she let out a shriek, and the whole of her toppled into empty air.
“Huh? Ahhhhh!!”
Her scream made even the distant immortal cranes falter mid-flight. Yu Zhaoming’s hand closed on nothing; for an instant she froze — then spiritual energy flooded her blade, and her sword plunged down with her, catching Tang Wenchun in her arms just as she flailed helplessly at the sky, grasping for anything at all.
Catching hold of something solid in freefall, Tang Wenchun clamped onto Yu Zhaoming like an octopus. Her heart hammered away. Right now, Yu Zhaoming felt like the single most secure anchor of her entire life — even the hand gently patting her back seemed heart-stirringly tender.
Resting in Yu Zhaoming’s embrace, she even felt an urge to just keep leaning there forever.
No — no, that’s not it. This is definitely the suspension bridge effect!
Tang Wenchun argued hard with herself.
“…Nascent Soul cultivators can tread the void.”
Yu Zhaoming’s voice, unhurried as ever, fell on Tang Wenchun’s ears like a bucket of ice water dumped straight over her spiking temperature. Every romantic notion, every racing heartbeat, vanished in an instant, leaving behind only one cold, flat “oh.”
“Oh… next time for sure.”
She’d truly lost her mind — actually feeling her heart flutter. It was an illusion, obviously! Flutter, nothing. Absolutely impossible!!
By the time the two of them landed at the Martial Field, Tang Wenchun’s face had settled into a calm beyond calm — the numb serenity of someone with nothing left to live for.
Plenty of disciples already stood in the Martial Field. Scanning the crowd, Tang Wenchun spotted several familiar faces — Elder Qin Chu’s disciples, Junior Brother Jin, and Bian Man. Watching the two of them descend from the flying sword hand in hand, Bian Man wiggled her eyebrows at Tang Wenchun.
Tang Wenchun: “…” Her mood was complicated right now. She really didn’t care for that look.
“You’re here.” Lang Xing’s manner was, as ever, easygoing — but beside him Qin Chu looked over, brow knitting. “Why aren’t you back in formation?”
Tang Wenchun’s temperament was flighty, and after five years she was an old regular at the Disciplinary Hall. Though her cases always ended raised high and set down gently, it was still like an honor student spotting her teacher, or a mouse spotting a cat — she flinched instinctively and dragged Yu Zhaoming straight into the ranks.
“Shijie… don’t be so fierce with them,” Lang Xing murmured. “Those two poor kids have suffered enough already.”
Qin Chu shot Lang Xing a glance. “I was born with this face. What — should I trade it in for that milk-fed baby look of yours?”
Lang Xing: “…”
The Sword Sect’s shijies and shimeis, one fiercer than the last — he couldn’t out-talk any of them. He cleared his throat and finally said, “…This Grand Sect Competition will be led by Yuan-shidi.”
Elder Yuan’s given name was Yuan Jing — a name as soft as drifting years, utterly at odds with his appearance. He broke into an honest, good-natured grin as he rose, the muscles across his body swelling up like a small mountain; sunlight fell and cast a huge shadow across his towering frame.
The disciples couldn’t help shuffling backward, evading the mountain that was Elder Yuan.
Bian Man seized the chance to grab Tang Wenchun. She tugged hard — and the tug didn’t budge her. Bian Man glanced down and found Yu Zhaoming’s hand clamped firmly around Tang Wenchun’s waist, her gaze swinging over.
Just as a hint of retreat stirred in Bian Man’s heart, Tang Wenchun delivered a slap, and Yu Zhaoming withdrew her hand. Tang Wenchun turned to Bian Man. “What’s up?”
Bian Man: “…”
That whole sequence was entirely too smooth2! What exactly have you two been through?!
Tang Wenchun waved a hand in front of Bian Man’s eyes. Bian Man came back to herself and said quietly, “Um, it’s just… I was a little worried about you.”
Tang Wenchun smiled. “Don’t be… Shizun is still alive.” She turned to look at Yu Zhaoming as she said it. “Who knows — maybe someday we’ll find a spirit herb that fixes Shizun’s problem.”
She looked back over everything since her transmigration: Yunzhongjun had exposed the heart demon’s identity, and the Myriad Realms Mirror was growing more and more like what the novel described — everything seemed to be drifting toward what was written.
So in the future, would Yu Zhaoming really become that Emotionless Sword Venerable who slays heart demons?
“No. I won’t kill you.”
In memory, Yu Zhaoming’s voice sounded again — her eyes firm and earnest, carrying the certainty of someone who does exactly what she says.
Tang Wenchun’s hand trembled faintly, then clenched all at once. Should she believe Yu Zhaoming or not?
The future…
A helplessness welled up in Tang Wenchun’s heart. It felt as though something was pushing them forward — but Tang Wenchun still couldn’t tell whether the great hand of fate behind it all was the novel’s.
Her heart held both unease and defiance.
As a heart demon, she didn’t want to be truly slain by Yu Zhaoming. As a disciple, she couldn’t bear to let Xuanjiu stay in death seclusion until her lifespan burned out. As a shimei, she likewise refused to watch Yu Zhaoming suddenly “see the light” and go off to die the way the novel wrote it.
But where was the way out of this? Tang Wenchun didn’t have the faintest thread of a clue.
“Right — with talent like yours and the Eldest Senior Sister’s, you’ll both be powerhouses to rival the Elders in no time.” Bian Man sighed long and deep, envy creeping into the way she looked at Tang Wenchun.
Geniuses never understand ordinary cultivators — just as cultivators never understand mortals.
Watching a genius stand right beside her, Bian Man thought, sometimes it truly stung with jealousy, and sometimes it just felt helpless.
“Bian Man, you’re amazing too.” Tang Wenchun, as if she’d read exactly what was on Bian Man’s mind, turned her head, her expression earnest and grave. “Your cultivation speed isn’t slow at all, and your foundation is rock-solid. With that, what future is there to worry about?”
“And besides—” she suddenly smiled, bumping Bian Man’s shoulder lightly with her own. “And besides, once I make it big, you think I’d short you? Once I’ve trekked through every Secret Realm out there, you can just sit back and rake it in! Watching your cultivation climb swish-swish-swish — how’s that not a beautiful deal?”
Bian Man pictured the scene and burst out laughing, her mood lifting considerably. The two of them laughed and laughed — until Qin Chu’s gaze swung over, whereupon they both startled, snapped upright, and hastily composed themselves.
Lang Xing looked out at the crowd below, a flicker of amusement and relief crossing his eyes. Because of the Yunzhongjun affair his shimei had entered death seclusion — but the Sword Sect had produced two Nascent Soul cultivators under thirty bone age in a row. The future, one could say, looked bright.
“This Grand Sect Competition is funded by the Treasure Gathering Pavilion, so it’s being held at their sect. Naturally, they’ll cover all food, lodging, and board as well.”
At those words, smiles broke out across the Sword Sect disciples’ faces, and they turned to whisper among themselves.
“The Treasure Gathering Pavilion really is rich. Last time, I remember, we paid our own way.”
“That means we can save our spirit stones for other things!”
“Does the Treasure Gathering Pavilion have a lot of odd jobs lying around?”
“Little Senior Sister says that’s called wage labor.”
“Wage labor! Wage labor!!”
Lang Xing: “…” What were these children even saying! Up on the platform, he could barely hold his expression together. He coughed hard several times, but the elite disciples below — the Sword Sect’s very future — were all soaked in the thrill of fleecing the Treasure Gathering Pavilion, and not one of them paid him any mind.
Finally Qin Chu drifted in with a single line: “Silence.”
Everyone went quiet as if a pause button had been pressed on them. They craned their heads up, gazing at Qin Chu with wide, obedient eyes. Qin Chu folded her hands, and her gaze settled on Lang Xing. “Sect Master, please continue.”
Lang Xing: “…In short — fair winds to you all, and a safe return.”
He waved a hand. All the long speeches, cut short. Nothing for it — he was tired.
The whole crowd bowed to Lang Xing in unison, formed ranks, and boarded the flying boat behind Yuan Jing. Just then someone muttered under his breath, “It’s not as good as Martial Uncle Xuanjiu’s flying boat…”
He was promptly jabbed by an elbow, and only then did he come to himself, looking apologetically toward Yu Zhaoming and Tang Wenchun. Tang Wenchun smiled and told him it was no matter; Yu Zhaoming pressed a hand to her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
No one dared block the way. The crowd parted a path and watched the two of them board the flying boat first.
The surroundings went utterly still. Though Yu Zhaoming said nothing and released not a wisp of spiritual qi, the air around her seemed frozen solid. Only after the two had vanished from sight did someone let out a long, soft breath and murmur, “The Eldest Senior Sister… she feels colder and colder these days.”
Lang Xing watched the flying boat lift off and dwindle into the distance. He sighed and turned to Qin Chu. “Shijie — between Tang Wenchun and Yu Zhaoming, who do you think could take up the Sword Sect one day?” In the past, the Sword Sect had never had a choice. But now, Lang Xing felt, everything was different.
Qin Chu smiled. She was built so burly that even her smile looked like a sneer. “Don’t forget — our Eldest Senior Brother practiced the Emotionless Dao too.”
“Would the other sects ever stand for the Sword Sect raising an Emotionless Dao Sect Master?”
Of course not — because this cultivation world that looked righteous and fair wasn’t what it used to be. One need only look at those corrupted disciples to know.
Footnotes
- 修行无岁月 | xiu xing wu sui yue | 'Cultivation knows no years' — a classical saying descended from tales of immortals sequestered in mountain caves, where seven days of practice pass while a thousand years elapse in the mortal world; stock wisdom for cultivators who lose all track of time in seclusion.
- 行云流水 | xing yun liu shui | 'Drifting clouds, flowing water' — a classical idiom from Song-dynasty literary criticism describing writing or movement so naturally continuous it seems effortless; Bian Man marvels that the couple's slap-and-release routine has been drilled to this level of fluency.
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