Ch 53: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

ARC 4: As a Naturally Aloof Person, I’m Actually a Ruthless Cultivator

“This child has such a pretty face.”

“Ah Ning, want to take him in as a little servant?”

“No way! This beggar is filthy!”

Mu Xing only felt both chilled and feverish, his head dizzy.

It seemed he was lying on cold, hard ground. Through the haze, he sensed someone approach, set something down beside him, then leave.

He struggled to open his eyes, catching sight of an ornate carriage, bells strung at its corners, chiming ding-ding-dang-dang as it rolled into the snowy distance.

Then everything sank back into darkness.

When he woke again, the dizziness had eased.

Opening his eyes, he realized he was in a new place.

Beneath him was soft hay, and before him a small fire burned warmly. Across the flames sat a man dressed in elegant, richly embroidered robes, refined and dignified in bearing.

This was absolutely not the kind of man one expected to find in a ruined temple at midnight.

Though he did not look over, the man clearly knew he was awake:
“There’s food in the bundle beside you.”

Mu Xing’s stomach was burning with hunger. He scrambled up, spotting a small cyan cloth bundle.

The fabric was smooth and fine, better than the clothes on his own body. Inside were several cooled meat buns and a few delicately made pastries.

The same food given to him earlier, from that carriage.

Instead of eating first, Mu Xing said to the strange man:
“Thank you for saving me.”

Obviously, this man had rescued him.

The man pulled out a wine jug from who knows where, pouring himself a drink. At Mu Xing’s words, he glanced over and smiled:
“No need to thank me. Thank your parents instead—for giving you such a beautiful face.”

Mu Xing: ?

The man sighed:
“Alas, I’m not a good person. I just can’t bear to see a pretty beauty in misery.”

A little beauty is still a beauty, after all.

Mu Xing found the man very strange, but said nothing more. He wolfed down two massive buns, each nearly half the size of his face, before burping contentedly.

He must have just recovered from illness. Though newly awake, after eating he felt drowsy again.

The man watched him nodding off like a sleepy little animal, and felt a strange fondness.

“Sleep then, sleep.” He looked at Mu Xing kindly. “Today, this Young Master Bai is feeling charitable, I’ll watch over you for the night.”

Mu Xing drifted into slumber without worry. He didn’t yet understand what situation he was in, but his instincts told him this man was very powerful—and had no malice toward him.

Besides, even if he did, with his weak body now, resistance was impossible.

In sleep, Mu Xing felt someone feed him something.

A sugar-like pellet melted in his mouth, turning into warm, sweet liquid that slid into his stomach, suffusing his body with comforting heat.

He sank into deeper dreams.

The light orb finally appeared.

Mu Xing’s consciousness floated free, becoming a ghost invisible to all, witnessing the entire life of a “demon.”

---

In the immortal sect Yu Dao Sect, the headmaster and his wife, together for a hundred years, at last conceived a child.

It should have been a joyous event. But on the eve of the birth, the head of Tianji Tower—the cultivator world’s foremost seer of fate—visited in the night.

He declared that the child carried the fate of the Heaven-Smiting Lone Star, destined to curse kin and friends alike, bringing ruin to all close to him.

And that very night, the sect mistress went into labor. Draining all her spiritual power, she birthed a son—barely clinging to life herself.

For cultivators, a difficult labor was nearly unheard of. This confirmed the seer’s words, and the headmaster couple believed him utterly.

The newborn possessed peerless spiritual roots, a gift of heaven—yet what should have been a blessing became their burden.

Mu Xing watched as the righteous couple debated through the night. By dawn, they had made their decision.

They could not kill him, so they destroyed his spiritual root, carried him down by sword-flight, and abandoned the infant in a mortal dynasty’s bustling marketplace.

There, a kind couple who ran a bun shop adopted the exquisite little boy, raising him with care until the age of three.

But one day, the husband was beaten to death in a business dispute with a drunken noble wastrel. His pregnant wife, struck by grief, miscarried and died as well.

The boy became an orphan once more.

No one would adopt him again. Neighbors whispered that he was cursed.

He became a beggar child.

At seven, he met a kindly old man, who asked if he would come away with him.

Overjoyed, the boy agreed.

But he didn’t know—the old man was a demonic cultivator. He only wanted the boy’s body. Even stripped of spiritual roots, it was still an exceptionally rare innate spiritual vessel.

The poor child was locked in a lightless underground chamber, force-fed precious elixirs, his body wracked by surging, chaotic spiritual power—forever at the brink of collapse.

That demonic cultivator was a cannibal, planning to raise him as a living medicine and, at fifteen, stew him in herbs for his feast.

The beggar boy seized his chance and killed the old demon first, inheriting his cultivation method. Alone, he began to train.

His talent was indeed monstrous. Within mere decades, he had risen to fame as a notorious demon lord.

He had been raised by a demon in such an abnormal way, with no one to teach him right from wrong. If he wanted something, he seized it; if someone refused, he killed. He became steeped in immeasurable sin.

Later, that face of his was recognized by the righteous sects. Bloodlines were traced, and it turned out he was the son of the Yu Dao Sect’s headmaster.

Of course, Yu Dao Sect would never acknowledge him. The headmaster even believed the Tianji Tower master had been absolutely correct: this Heaven-Smiting Lone Star was destined to bring disaster, kill countless people, and invite endless trouble. He should have been killed at birth.

That coldness and murderous intent from his own kin ground away the last shred of humanity in the beggar boy.

In a world-shaking battle, he single-handedly slaughtered most of Yu Dao Sect. The headmaster and his wife also died by his hand. In the end, he himself was besieged and killed by Tianji Tower leading the righteous sects.

Because of this, the Tianji Tower master’s fame soared. Everyone knew he had warned Yu Dao Sect long ago: had they dealt with this demon at birth, such tragedy would never have occurred.

Indeed, a Heaven-Smiting Lone Star!

But that wasn’t the end.

The light orb reappeared, showing Mu Xing another scene.

In the cold, ethereal Tianji Tower, the Tower Master gazed at the star wheel above, murmuring:
“I long to ascend, yet the path ahead is fraught with barriers. By ordinary cultivation, I fear I’ll never touch the immortal way.”

His talent was limited; ascension was beyond reach. Day and night, he divined, until at last he glimpsed a thread of chance.

If cultivation was lacking, merit could make up for it.

And how to gain merit?

By slaying demons.

His eyes turned eastward. He had once glimpsed the Yu Dao Sect mistress when she was pregnant. Spiritual radiance swirled around her belly. With his fate-seeing eyes, he had seen that child’s boundless, brilliant future.

And so he gave birth to a wicked thought.

One thought—and it ruined an entire life.

Mu Xing’s eyes flew open!

The man, who had somehow procured a soft couch for himself and was lounging while eating candied fruits, tilted his head curiously:
“Your emotions are fluctuating a lot. Bad dream?”

Mu Xing shut his eyes again, calming his thoughts.

Wasn’t that exactly a nightmare?

The beggar boy in that dream was himself.

And by his reckoning, he was now precisely seven years old. Perhaps the demonic cultivator who picked him up in that life was already on the way.

Drawing a deep breath, Mu Xing suddenly turned his head, fixing his gaze on the man.

The man looked back at him, puzzled.
“What is it?”

Mu Xing widened his eyes, blinking innocently, then broke into a bright smile that showed eight tiny teeth:
“Big brother, the moment I saw you, I felt especially close to you. Would you be willing to take in a homeless boy like me?”

Though the man looked no different from a wealthy young master of the mortal world, Mu Xing could faintly sense the powerful aura hidden within him.

If he didn’t cling to a golden thigh now—then when?

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