Chapter 2: The Immortal Slaying Sword

“Who is it!?”

The tree demon seemed to realize that this unexpected intruder was not someone to be trifled with.

While putting on a show of bravado, it preemptively shook its branch-like tentacles.

Taking advantage of Qing Xuan being without a sword and momentarily stunned, it wrapped around his legs, dragging the unguarded youth to the ground in an attempt to secure a bargaining chip.

Qing Xuan had already been injured during their earlier fight.

Now, being dragged down again by this demon, his waist struck a protruding stone on the ground, sending a sharp, searing pain through his body.

Yet he dared not cry out, letting only a muffled groan escape as his fingers dug tightly into the dirt.

Whether it was sheer willpower or pride, he refused to become a burden by being taken hostage.

In an instant, a silver light flashed, and the branches entwining Qing Xuan’s legs were severed cleanly!

“You’ve got quite the nerve, daring to lay hands on someone under my protection.”

The voice, as fleeting as a drifting water lily, carried a mocking sneer, yet its tone was cold as frost.

Soon, a tall, slender woman emerged from the thick fog.

In her hand gleamed the very bronze sword that had just flown with a piercing cry.

She was gaunt to the point of frailty, as though a gust of wind might blow her over.

Her pallid, indifferent face carried a faint grayish hue, imbued with a sense of desolation. Yet her crimson dress and skirt blazed brilliantly, as vibrant and untamed as a sunset’s dying glow.

This stark contrast made her seem all the more ghostly and otherworldly.

This woman was strikingly beautiful—not in facial features, but in the sharp, overwhelming aura that radiated from her every gesture and glance.

With just an unintentional flick of her wrist or a fleeting backward glance, she could leave one breathless, her beauty as bewitching as it was unsettling.

“Where did you come from?”

The chilling murderous intent she exuded made the tree demon unconsciously take a step back.

Even the grotesque face in the flower calyx, which had been wailing moments ago, fell silent in fear.

Still unwilling to fully concede, the tree demon forced itself to speak, its voice trembling with barely concealed bravado: “This… this is my domain!”

“Five hundred years of cultivation, yet you sought shortcuts by devouring and imprisoning mortal souls. Aren’t you afraid of eternal annihilation? And yet, you still dare to speak so boldly?”

The woman’s pale face remained unmoved as she effortlessly exposed the tree demon’s deeds.

She casually wiped her sword with her finger, her lips curling into a bitter, mocking smile.

A faint trace of arrogance lifted her sharp eyebrows.

“I have no desire to meddle in worldly affairs. However, this Immortal-Slaying Sword has been sealed for centuries and has not tasted demon blood in far too long. Now that fate has brought us together, why not use a reckless tree demon like you to appease it?”

At the mention of the “Immortal-Slaying Sword,” the tree demon shuddered visibly.

Its gaze darted to Qing Xuan as it stammered, “Y-you… I didn’t mean to harm him! He walked into my trap on his own. He’s just a mortal—if you want him back, you can have him!”

With that, the demon began retracting its branches, trying to burrow underground and flee.

“He is, naturally, mine.”

Though the tree demon vanished into the earth, the woman’s expression remained as calm as a still pond.

Yet a biting chill clung to her lips as her voice turned sharp and resolute:

“But your demon soul—I won’t let that escape either!”

As she finished speaking, she brought her left index finger to her lips and bit it lightly.

A drop of crimson blood welled up, which she flicked onto the Immortal-Slaying Sword.

Under the faint moonlight, the droplet of blood flared up like a tiny flame, turning the blade’s cold blue light into a blinding crimson glow.

With a whispered incantation, the sword soared into the sky before plunging straight into the ground where the tree demon had vanished.

A bone-chilling scream echoed through the forest as countless withered trees snapped in half.

A sinister wind howled, and not far away, a pool of blood appeared out of nowhere.

Within the blood pool, the tree demon struggled desperately but was ensnared by countless ghostly, vine-like claws dragging it deeper into the crimson depths.

The trapped mortal souls within the demon’s calyx began to wail, their mournful cries growing louder and more piercing.

The tree demon stretched its branches helplessly, clawing at the edge of the pool while screaming, “Who… who are you!?”

Standing at the edge of the blood pool, the crimson-robed woman remained expressionless.

Her tightly pressed lips parted slowly, her deep, fiery eyes glowing faintly as she said:

“If you wish to know who I am, ask King Yama in the Nine Hells.”

Finally, the pool’s sinister denizens dragged the tree demon into the depths, its agonized screams fading into silence.

The wind carried a lingering wail, a sorrowful song rising from beneath the water, haunting and hollow.

Once the Immortal-Slaying Sword returned to its sheath, the blood pool vanished, and the forest appeared as if nothing had ever happened.

Yet faint, pale blue souls began rising one by one from the soil—these were the mortal souls the tree demon had devoured.

Without haste, the woman closed her eyes and chanted softly.

Moments later, two shadows—one black, one white—emerged from the earth.

These were envoys of the underworld, tasked with guiding souls to their final destination.

“I’ll trouble the two of you to escort these souls to the City of Unjust Deaths,” the woman said solemnly.

“And do convey to King Yama that the favor he granted Qian Se will one day be repaid.”

The two envoys exchanged glances, seeming to recognize her, but said nothing.

With a slight nod, they gathered the souls and departed.

Qing Xuan, who had been watching silently from the side, stood frozen in shock.

He had long heard tales of his master’s prowess from his martial uncles, but seeing it firsthand left him utterly dumbfounded.

He never imagined that his master, besides subduing demons and slaying evil, could also command underworld envoys—and even King Yama himself owed her a favor!

It seemed the stories told by his martial uncles were not mere exaggerations after all.

The Dongji is a place where wandering immortals gather.

On Yan Mountain in Changle, it’s usually quiet and deserted.

Besides him and his master, only two senior martial uncles and two junior martial uncles occasionally visit.

According to his senior martial uncle, his master picked him up from the mortal world.

However, whatever his master had gone through back then remained a mystery.

When she returned with him, she was gravely injured, almost losing all her cultivation.

Even after years of seclusion, she had yet to fully recover.

His master rarely paid him any attention.

Her daily routine consisted of locking herself in her chamber to transcribe Buddhist scriptures—day after day, year after year—rarely stepping out of her room.

According to his senior martial uncle, she copied the scriptures to atone for her sins.

Yet, no one knew what unforgivable crime she had committed that required such piety for redemption.

Out of curiosity, he once asked her why she transcribed the scriptures.

After a long silence, she coldly replied with a reason he could never comprehend—to repay a debt.

What kind of debt could require such atonement?

He had asked his senior and junior martial uncles about it, but they remained tight-lipped.

Over time, he stopped asking.

After all, these were matters of the immortal world, far beyond the comprehension of a mere mortal like him.

From the time he could remember, he had been apprenticed to his master, serving her diligently.

Yet, he never knew her name.

Even his senior and junior martial uncles avoided calling her by name behind her back.

It was only today that he finally learned her name—Qian Se.

“Qing Xuan!”

A sharp voice jolted him from his chaotic thoughts.

He snapped to attention and saw his master’s cold, expressionless face.

Fearful, he trembled slightly, ignoring the pain from his waist injury, and sprang to his feet.

“Master!”

He lowered his head, mumbling nervously, clearly fumbling for words.

“Weren’t you in seclusion?”

“As my disciple, you dared to leave Yan Mountain without my permission. Your courage grows bolder by the day!”

Qian Se snorted softly, her pitch-black eyes showing no discernible emotion.

Her voice, though calm and slow, carried an icy chill.

She scrutinized him from head to toe, her brows furrowing before she suddenly flicked her sleeve and said something that made Qing Xuan break out in a cold sweat: “Take off your clothes immediately!”

“Ah?!”

Qing Xuan froze in shock, and his mind raced back to what his senior and junior martial uncles had said to him before:

“Qing Xuan, you’re already sixteen, yet your Master still won’t let you leave Yan Mountain. I think she truly treats you like her most prized treasure!”

Scholar-obsessed Senior Martial Uncle had said this with an earnest expression, but Qing Xuan had always felt there was something off about the term ‘prized treasure.’

“Indeed! Back then, your master picked you up with a discerning eye. Look at your appearance, your physique, and your aptitude—you’re practically perfect for dual cultivation…”

Music-obsessed Junior Martial Uncle always spoke with great lamentation, as if deeply moved.

But when Qing Xuan thought about the term ‘dual cultivation,’ cold sweat dripped down his back.

He had never left Yan Mountain, but thanks to his uncles, he understood more than enough.

Dual cultivation was simply a euphemism for intimate acts between cultivators!

“Oh, I’ve heard that a virgin’s first time is even more nourishing than a thousand-year ginseng. Could it be… you are the live tonic your master has been raising so painstakingly?”

Alcohol-obsessed Senior Martial Uncle always said inappropriate things when drunk, and this particular statement had planted a terrifying seed in Qing Xuan’s mind.

The once untouchable and divine image of his master now carried an eerie undertone.

“Look at your master—always retreating into seclusion, her internal injuries still unhealed. Perhaps she’s just too shy to ask you directly. Qing Xuan, why don’t you take the initiative and offer yourself instead…”

Chess-obsessed Junior Martial Uncle always spoke with a mischievous smile.

While the suggestion sounded like a joke at first, upon careful reflection, it seemed to make an uncomfortable amount of sense.

After all, his master had been injured because of him.

But to… to offer himself for such intimate acts?

He would rather die!

In the end, the more he thought about it, the more restless he became.

He decided to leave the mountain and head to Western Kunlun to find the Lingzhi Immortal Herb to heal his master’s internal injuries—and, perhaps more importantly, to safeguard his own chastity.

But unexpectedly, he had barely been away for three days before his master caught him.

It seemed he was truly doomed this time!