Ch 46: How To Be A Good Lackey

World 3 – Immortal & Demon Record

【In the spring of the sixth year of Tianqing, an elder of the Kunlun Sect rescued an infant in the Abyssal Lands. He brought the child back to Mount Kunlun, accepted him as his final disciple, and raised him with great care. As the child grew day by day, a long-buried past was slowly unveiled.

The path of immortality is long, and fate is as sharp as a blade. Who owes a debt from a past life? And who made a promise in this one? By the banks of the Three Paths River, amid the sea of Forgetfulness Flowers, a single thought makes one immortal, a single thought turns one into a demon. When the book of fate is opened, how will the story be written… The vast seas turning to dust are but trivial matters. Better to ride dragons and cranes and admire the flowers along the way.】

The setting sun melted like gold, and the sea of clouds surged endlessly. Towering peaks rose thousands of feet high, piercing straight into the heavens.

The elders of the Kunlun Sect had gathered in the council hall of White Tiger Peak. Not long ago, Song Heming, the youngest disciple of Elder Shouyi, had been captured by demonic cultivators on his way to the Seven Wounds Tower and had yet to return.

The sect leader stroked his long white beard and said worriedly, “Heming has a special constitution. Now that he has fallen into the hands of demonic cultivators, I fear he will suffer greatly.”

Elder Shouyi spoke up, “Sect Leader, there is no need to worry. Not long ago, my eldest disciple sent word that they have already rescued Heming and will soon bring him back to Kunlun.”

The sect leader nodded upon hearing this and smiled. “That is good, that is good. Your eldest disciple is diligent in cultivation, skilled in swordsmanship, and possesses a pure heart. When he handles things, I am at ease.”

However, just as he finished speaking, a disciple’s alarmed shout came from outside the hall: “Master, something’s wrong! Master, something’s wrong!”

Moments later, a disciple covered in blood staggered into the council hall. His steps faltered, and he collapsed directly in the center of the hall.

Elder Shouyi was startled and quickly got up, rushing over to support him. While channeling his energy to heal him, he asked, “Zhao Yan? Weren’t you with your senior brother rescuing Heming?”

Zhao Yan was already severely injured, and after traveling day and night without rest, his condition had worsened. Hearing the question, he struggled to say, “Senior Brother… Senior Brother and the others… have all been captured by the demonic cultivators.”

“What!” everyone exclaimed.

Elder Shouyi continued, “Then where is Heming?”

“Junior Brother, he… he is…” Before Zhao Yan could finish, he suddenly spat out a mouthful of black blood. His eyes rolled back, and he fainted.

“Zhao Yan!” Elder Shouyi was shocked. Holding him, he called out to his junior sister, “Yuanxiang, come quickly and take a look at him.”

Elder Yuanxiang, who was well-versed in medicine, hurried over to examine Zhao Yan. After a while, she sighed. “These demonic cultivators are truly despicable. Zhao Yan has been poisoned.”

The poison was particularly insidious. It had originally lain dormant in his body without causing harm, but when Elder Shouyi had just channeled his energy to heal him, it activated the toxin within.

“Can he still be saved?” Elder Shouyi asked anxiously.

Elder Yuanxiang let out a long sigh. “I will do my best.”

“Sect Leader, what should we do?” another elder asked. Now nearly all of the younger generation of the Kunlun Sect had been captured by demonic cultivators. Were they to just sit and do nothing?

With Xiaoyao Palace now growing in power, the Kunlun Sect stood little chance against them.

The sect leader stood up and said solemnly, “Bai Jing, go at once and contact Qingxu Palace, the Giant Sword Sect, Liuxiang Valley, and the other major sects. Invite them to Mount Kunlun to discuss a joint campaign against Xiaoyao Palace.”

A cloud of unease hung over the entire council hall.

Meanwhile, within Xiaoyao Palace, which was soon to be attacked by the righteous sects, the atmosphere was peaceful and serene. The Demon Lord Xue Du lounged sideways on a soft couch, dressed in a black robe. His skin was pale, his features sharp, and his long hair flowed like a waterfall, loosely secured with a wooden hairpin, most of it cascading over the couch.

Resting his chin on one hand, he closed his eyes to rest.

Back then, the old Demon Lord had abducted eight hundred children from the human realm, feeding them carefully refined poisonous gu daily for three uninterrupted years, using their flesh and blood to cultivate his demonic arts.

Very few children survived those three years of poison. Even fewer could endure the daily torment of having their bones scraped and flesh cut away. In the end, only Xue Du remained.

At that time, no one could have imagined that this frail and pitiful-looking child would one day kill the old Demon Lord with a single strike and become the new master of Xiaoyao Palace.

There had always been rumors that the old Demon Lord had actually died at the hands of his four Demon Kings, and that the new Demon Lord was merely a puppet they installed to balance their power. Translated on Hololo novels. In truth, however, the four Demon Kings were as obedient as chicks before Xue Du. When speaking, they barely dared to breathe too loudly, afraid that a single wrong word would lead them to the same fate as the old Demon Lord.

They had personally witnessed how Xue Du sliced the flesh off the old Demon Lord piece by piece. Each slice was as thin as cicada wings, so translucent that it could catch the light under the sun, and when thrown into boiling water, it would cook instantly.

Others might not know, but they did. The old Demon Lord was not yet fully dead. He was imprisoned at the lowest level of the ghost dungeon, kept alive by a single breath. Whenever a bit of flesh regrew, Xue Du would carve it off again in the same manner.

Even more disturbing was that every time Xue Du performed this act, he would summon one of the four Demon Kings to watch. Though they were accustomed to bloody scenes, seeing their once mighty and domineering former master reduced to such a state inevitably stirred complicated emotions.

One of the four Demon Kings, the muddle-headed monk Wan Qian, hurried back and knelt on one knee in the center of the hall. Bowing respectfully, he said, “Reporting to Your Excellency, we have captured all the disciples of the Kunlun Sect. However… this subordinate is incompetent. We have yet to find any trace of Song Heming.”

Hearing this, Xue Du lifted his eyelids and glanced at him lazily, offering no clear response.

“Please rest assured, Your Excellency. Within five days—” Wan Qian cautiously looked up at Xue Du’s expression and quickly corrected himself, “No, within three days, I will definitely find Song Heming for you.”

“Go,” Xue Du said. His tone was flat, as if he had no particular concern about Song Heming’s whereabouts.

Wan Qian, however, did not dare to be careless. He knew that because Xue Du had consumed too many poisonous gu in his childhood, the toxins had merged within his body into an unknown deadly poison. Every night at midnight it would flare up, only subsiding at dawn. When it struck, it felt as though countless insects were gnawing at his bones, his meridians rupturing, the pain unbearable.

Later, a wandering Taoist came to Xiaoyao Palace. After examining Xue Du, he said that the poison in his body could only be suppressed by the blood of the descendants of the Eastern King.

And Song Heming was the only remaining descendant of the Eastern King in this world.

It wasn’t as though no righteous cultivators or demonic cultivators had tried to take advantage of Xue Du’s poison flaring up to end his life. But they discovered that after midnight, Xue Du was nothing like the weak, bedridden invalid they had imagined. On the contrary, he became even more ferocious. Anyone who went to see him at that hour—Wan Qian had yet to see a single intact corpse.

He rose from the ground, respectfully withdrew from the main hall, and immediately led his subordinates toward the ghost prison.

Aside from Zhao Yan, whom he had afflicted with the “life-draining curse,” all the Kunlun disciples who had come to rescue Song Heming had been captured. They were now imprisoned in the ghost prison beneath Xiaoyao Palace.

The ghost prison was dark and cold. A faint stench of rotting flesh lingered in the air, and thin strands of sobbing drifted up from below. Wan Qian knew these righteous disciples were the type to cast life and death aside, forever proclaiming that wealth could not corrupt them and force could not bend them. He had already prepared himself to grind them down to the end.

Though his lord had said nothing, Wan Qian knew clearly in his heart that if he still couldn’t find Song Heming within three days, he himself might be dragged beneath the ghost prison and fed to the old Demon Sovereign.

He had long since ordered his men to separate and imprison these righteous disciples. Now, they were being brought out one by one and subjected to brutal torture.

As expected of disciples from a prestigious righteous sect, Wan Qian sighed inwardly. Over the course of the night, he had used all manner of cruel punishments on four of them, yet not a single one had been willing to reveal Song Heming’s whereabouts.

Now the fifth had also fainted. There was no point pressing further. Wan Qian waved his hand, somewhat irritated. “Next one.”

The cell fell silent. Two demonic cultivators wordlessly dragged the Kunlun disciple bound to the rack into the depths of the ghost prison, then brought another one out.

Wan Qian had anticipated this result. These righteous disciples always talked about loyalty and righteousness, and ordinary torture rarely pried open their mouths.

If it came to it, he would simply pick one at random and execute them in front of all the Kunlun disciples. If they still refused to speak, he would kill another. He refused to believe they could watch their fellow disciples die one after another for the sake of a single Song Heming.

Yet recalling how those righteous cultivators had once risked everything to protect that mother and child, their almost crazed devotion to sacrifice, Wan Qian couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

He really didn’t want to end up as extra rations for the old Demon Lord below.

Before long, his subordinate brought another disciple over. Wan Qian looked up. This one was a young man with a high ponytail, thick brows and bright eyes, darker skin, appearing to be in his twenties. He was tall and strongly built; even beneath the loose blue Daoist robes, it was obvious he had a solid physique.

And just as obvious—this one would be a tough nut to crack. Irritation surged in Wan Qian. He grabbed the whip from the table and lashed it toward the newcomer.

“So you won’t talk either, huh! Let’s see just how stubborn you Kunlun disciples can be!”

Shao Ye had barely arrived before taking two lashes, and he was completely stunned. He stared blankly at Wan Qian. What is going on here?

“Say what?” he asked. After falling into the hands of these demonic cultivators, he had been thrown straight into the ghost prison. The soundproofing there was hard to describe—he couldn’t hear anything happening outside or even in neighboring cells. Only the miserable crying from below came through clearly.

Shao Ye was terrified. He hadn’t dared sleep the entire night. Ever since he was young, he had heard stories of demonic cultivators persecuting righteous disciples—stories in which the demonic cultivators were grotesque, cruel, and utterly inhuman.

How was he supposed to survive in their hands? He was still young. He didn’t want to die.

He never should have agreed to come rescue his junior brother in the first place. What a mistake.

Wan Qian assumed he was being mocked and lashed him across the chest again, anger blazing. “Still won’t talk? I’ll make you talk!”

The whipping tore open Shao Ye’s clothes. In no time, three savage, bloody welts appeared across his bronze chest. Translated on Hololo novels. The whip seemed to have been soaked in something—each strike felt as if hooks were ripping flesh away. Shao Ye sucked in sharp breaths from the pain.

“Then ask the question—!” Shao Ye roared. What kind of person is this?!

Earlier, he had heard the two demonic cultivators say they were going to subject them to harsh interrogation. But where was the interrogation? All he’d seen was the torture!

Wan Qian sneered. “Still trying to hold out, refusing to reveal Song Heming’s whereabouts? I know you Kunlun disciples are all stubborn. You won’t yield easily. But it doesn’t matter. We demonic cultivators have plenty of ways to torment you. Today I’ll let you properly experience this new method I’ve devised—”

Before he could finish, Shao Ye took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and blurted out rapidly, “My junior brother is at Luosi Cave on Old Black Mountain, thirty li east of Lianhua City!”

Wan Qian froze, the torture instrument in his hand pausing midair. He looked up at Shao Ye in confusion. What did he just say? Lianhua… what cave?

Before he could even process it, Shao Ye added, “Do you need me to lead the way?”

Wan Qian: “?”

That was… a little too proactive.

Shao Ye continued, “But if I guide you, you have to let me go!”

Wan Qian suddenly had no idea what to say. The so-called senior disciple of Kunlun Sect was even looking at him with something like a hint of ingratiation.

For the first time, he was genuinely confused. Was this really a righteous disciple? Why didn’t it seem like it at all?

A talent like this shouldn’t be wasted in the Kunlun Sect.

Could this be a trick?

Doubt filled Wan Qian’s mind. Just as he was about to question him further, he suddenly heard a familiar set of footsteps echoing down the corridor behind him.

Even though the person approaching was not close to them, Wan Qian quickly dropped to one knee in salute.

Hearing the sound, Shao Ye raised his head and looked toward the distant corridor. In the dim light, he saw a young man in a dark robe walking slowly along the hallway, then descending the wooden stairs deeper into the ghost prison. The man’s skin was very pale, his hair long. Shao Ye couldn’t clearly see his face, only that he seemed cold and noble, like a lonely moon fallen into the mortal world.

A plump middle-aged man followed behind him, the wooden stairs creaking under his steps as he went down with the man into the depths of the prison. Watching this scene, Shao Ye inexplicably felt a sour pang in his heart, thinking that should have been his place.

Wan Qian, however, understood clearly that his lord was going down again to “trim” the old Demon Lord.

After they left, Wan Qian stood up from the ground. Shao Ye asked curiously, “Who was that?”

“That is our lord,” Wan Qian replied.

Shao Ye asked again, “What’s he going down there to do?”

What did that have to do with him? Wan Qian shot Shao Ye a glare and said, “Mind your own business. Do you really know where Song Heming is?”

“Didn’t I already tell you just now?” Shao Ye said.

“Fine,” Wan Qian lifted his hand. “Untie him. Let him lead the way later.”

Shao Ye let out a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn’t get beaten anymore. It had hurt like hell. If he had just said it earlier, wouldn’t all this have been over already?

Thinking of that made Shao Ye annoyed. He said, “Do you have any medicine? My chest hurts.”

Wan Qian was speechless. Could this guy recognize that he was a prisoner?

Shao Ye added, “It really hurts. I’m afraid I won’t be able to walk later.”

Wan Qian gestured to his subordinate. “Give it to him.”

After taking the medicine, Shao Ye pushed his luck further. “Can I get some water too?”

It was Wan Qian’s first time seeing such a righteous sect disciple. It was oddly novel. He waved his hand. “Give it to him.”

After applying the medicine and drinking the water, Shao Ye felt his meridians clear and his breath settle. He felt like himself again. Walking over, he poked Wan Qian’s arm.

Wan Qian turned his head impatiently. “What now?”

Shao Ye chuckled awkwardly, rubbing his hands together. “Um… brother, are you guys at Xiaoyao Palace still recruiting?”

Wan Qian: “?”

Who are you calling “brother”?!

---

Author’s Note:

【Starting off this intense right away? Aren’t they afraid this kind of torture will cause psychological issues for the volunteers?】

: First, the officials monitor all volunteer data in real time. If any metric exceeds the limits, the plot is immediately adjusted. Second, only No. 6 was tortured like that.

: Huh?

: …stunned

: Why? Did they find out No. 6 was cheating, so they’re deliberately getting back at him?

: Uh, it’s because he’s better at fighting. In other streams, Second Senior Brother Chu Wenji led the juniors to rescue people. Only in No. 6’s stream did they send him.

: No. 6: Is that my fault?

: When will the officials hire a normal person to write the synopsis? This time only the last sentence was decent.

: Fun fact: “The vast seas turning to dust are but trivial matters; ride dragons and cranes to admire the flowers” comes from the Tang dynasty poet Cao Tang’s Minor Immortal Poems.

: The synopsis said the volunteers’ mission is to assist the Kunlun Sect in saving the world, but No. 6 immediately defected. All I can say is, classic him.

: But he defected way too fast.

: Too fast? Don’t talk nonsense, okay? No. 6 has always been this speed.

: Yeah, if Wan Qian hadn’t been so flustered and unable to speak clearly, No. 6 could’ve been even faster.

: No. 6: Then ask properly!

: Poor No. 6, took so many lashes for nothing.

: No wonder Wan Qian is called the muddle-headed monk.

: I originally planned to blindly bet on No. 6 this time, but this opening makes me a bit hesitant.

: Don’t bet. The officials definitely won’t give No. 6 any cheats this time.

: How do you know?

: I’ve got connections.

: Pfft, I thought you were some micro-expression expert.

: I feel like Zhao Yan’s line earlier was kind of off. It made me uncomfortable.

: Why? Was Zhao Yan disguised by demonic cultivators, or controlled by them?

: Ah! Did I miss some hidden plot?

: No, I just feel like what he should’ve shouted was: “Master, Senior Brother has been captured by monsters!”

: …

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