Chapter 35: The Demonic Mark and an Unforeseen Arrival

Li Wuxia’s hand subtly gripped the corner of Shen Zhaoqing’s clothes, her fingertips icy, like a piece of cold jade.

Shen Zhaoqing’s body stiffened instinctively.

She gazed at Li Wuxia’s innocent, pure, yet pitiful face, recognizing a little wolf cloaked in rabbit fur.

Shen Zhaoqing felt her headache intensify.

After finally seeing off the reluctant Li Wuxia, Shen Zhaoqing collapsed exhaustedly onto a stone stool, feeling utterly drained.

Irritated, she picked up the Gui Niang Hu from the table, pulled out the stopper, and prepared to take a large swig to numb her frayed nerves. Her movements, however, immediately halted. Her gaze fell upon the gourd’s ancient, cracked surface.

Where her hand usually rested, an almost invisible rose-petal demonic mark had appeared at some point.

It was tiny, no bigger than a fingernail, its color as faint as a lingering trace in an ink wash painting. Yet, Shen Zhaoqing could distinctly feel a faint, yet palpable demonic energy, carrying a hint of scorching dominance, slowly emanating from within it.

This demonic energy was starkly different from Gu Chang’an’s frigid sword intent and Li Wuxia’s chilling poison aura, yet it coexisted with them in an unsettling manner.

Shen Zhaoqing’s hand trembled slightly.

That mad Demonic Venerable Ling Shuangjue had, without her knowledge, left her mark on her precious gourd.

With a resounding “thwack,” she slammed the wine gourd heavily onto the stone table.

Shen Zhaoqing sat in the courtyard, taking a sullen gulp of wine. She looked up at the sky, a swirling tapestry of sword intent, poison aura, and demonic energy, and felt an overwhelming dizziness.

‘Well, that’s truly everything now.’

‘Good heavens, are they trying to set her up with the ‘three insurances and one fund’ of the cultivation world?’

The Asura field in Qingzhou seemed to have only just begun, and she was the unfortunate soul tied center stage, labeled as the ‘target.’

“Crack—”

An incredibly faint, almost illusory cracking sound echoed deep within her Divine Soul.

Shen Zhaoqing’s pupils abruptly constricted.

Upon the realm barrier, once as solid as bedrock and countless times a deterrent to her progress, a barely perceptible… crack had now appeared.

****

The Qingzhou affair was over, but the cultivation world’s drama was far from it.

Shen Zhaoqing’s name was now more sensational in the cultivation world than the phrase “the Heavenly Dao has collapsed.” After all, the Heavenly Dao collapsing was old news, something everyone had grown accustomed to; but Shen Zhaoqing’s ‘melon’ was fresh, hot, and absolutely captivating.

Rumor had it, she was the reincarnation of a “Dao Source Body.” Wherever she went, flowers bloomed; wherever she sat, enlightenment struck. Within a ten-mile radius, Golden Core cultivators could touch the threshold of Nascent Soul, and Nascent Soul cultivators could glimpse the rear of a Soul Transformation expert. Even more absurdly, it was said that a single smile from her could make a ten-thousand-year-old iron tree blossom with three winter jasmine flowers.

Of course, the more widely circulated version was that she possessed a “Charm Spirit Physique.”

A woman who could make a righteous Sword Immortal abandon their sword and descend into demonic cultivation for her, and a Demonic Venerable endure the Immortal-Binding Array on her behalf.

Such a reputation sounded thrilling, provocative, and brimming with unspeakable romantic fantasies.

Consequently, Shen Zhaoqing’s ‘salted fish’ life was utterly bankrupt.

She had initially believed that upon returning to Qingyun Sect, she could continue to laze about in the Sword Tomb, sweeping snow, napping with her bamboo broom, and occasionally sneaking down the mountain to her usual spot to pilfer a couple of sips of newly brewed “Apricot Blossom White.” Reality, however, delivered a resounding slap to her face.

Now, she was the center of attention wherever she went.

When she went to the refectory for food, the senior brother serving would tremble, scooping her three extra spoonfuls of braised pork, his eyes burning as if he were looking at a walking ten-year tonic pill.

When she returned books to the Scripture Pavilion, the elder guarding it would stroke his beard and ask with a benevolent smile, “Zhaoqing, my dear, have you encountered any difficulties in your recent cultivation? Come, come, take this ‘Three Hundred Insights on Golden Core to Nascent Soul Breakthrough’ for your reference, no need to return it.”

Even when she passed the training grounds, the inner disciples, who usually looked down on others with disdain, would invariably halt their sword practice, their gazes collectively fixated on her.

Shen Zhaoqing: “…”

‘This life is unlivable.’

She had no choice but to wrap herself more thoroughly, always wearing three layers of aura-concealing talismans when leaving. She wished she could write “Keep Out, Approach at Your Own Risk” across her face. Her ever-present Gui Niang Hu was tucked into the deepest pocket of her sleeve, fearing that even a hint of its escaping wine aroma might attract something extraordinary.

The ancestral motto, “Survival First,” was becoming increasingly difficult to uphold.

One day, Shen Zhaoqing simply couldn’t bear it anymore. The aura-concealing talismans provided by the sect were becoming less effective. She estimated her “hotspot” power had intensified again. If this continued, she feared that no sooner had Gu Chang’an entered seclusion than some unknown immortal would sneak up the mountain and whisk her away.

A solution had to be found.

She learned from a junior disciple working odd jobs that traveling merchants from the Western Regions had recently brought a batch of peculiar herbs called “Mirage Silk” to the “Hundred Herbs Market” at the foot of Qingyun Mountain. This herb was said to be colorless and odorless. When crushed and applied to the body, it could make one blend seamlessly with the surroundings; not only divine sense, but even a Void Refinement realm mighty expert passing close by would mistake them for an ordinary stone.

This was practically a divine artifact for survival, tailor-made for her.

Shen Zhaoqing immediately decided: she would descend the mountain! She absolutely had to get her hands on it!

To avoid attracting attention, she specifically changed into the most inconspicuous grey junior disciple uniform and even pilfered a straw hat from the kitchen, covering her face completely.

Neck hunched, hugging the wall, she employed every stealth technique she had ever learned from the Drunken Hidden Evasion art. She finally, and without major incident, slipped into the “Hundred Herbs Market” at the foot of the mountain.

The market was bustling with noise, shouts from vendors and haggling voices filling the air, brimming with earthly vitality. Cultivators and mortals mingled, and the air was thick with the mixed aromas of spirit herbs, medicinal pills, and roasted meat.

Shen Zhaoqing took a deep breath, feeling as though she had come alive again.

She adjusted her straw hat and, with practiced ease, navigated through several stalls, heading straight for a pharmacy named “One Herb Hall” in the deepest part of the market. The shop owner, a plump old man named Qian, was somewhat familiar with her face; she used to exchange the excess spirit wine from her gourd for some pocket money.

“Shopkeeper Qian, business is booming,” Shen Zhaoqing said, lowering her voice, trying to make it sound like a weathered, middle-aged man.

Shopkeeper Qian, who had been dozing on the counter, lifted an eyelid at the sound. Seeing a drab figure, he waved them away impatiently. “Go on, go on. Beg elsewhere. My shop doesn’t give credit.”

Shen Zhaoqing’s mouth twitched. She pulled a small bottle of spirit wine from her sleeve and placed it gently on the counter.

The clear, yet subtly vibrant aroma of the wine instantly chased away Shopkeeper Qian’s drowsiness. His nose twitched sharply, his eyes “swish”-ed open with a bright gleam. He snatched the wine bottle, tucked it into his robes as if it were a treasure, and his face immediately broke into a wide smile. “Oh! It’s… it’s young master! A rare guest, a rare guest! Please, come inside. What would you like to exchange for today?”

“Less talk,” Shen Zhaoqing said, still keeping her voice low. “I heard you have ‘Mirage Silk’ here?”

“Mirage Silk?” Shopkeeper Qian paused, then lowered his voice, leaning in conspiratorially. “Young master, who told you about that? That’s a banned item! It’s specifically for those who… do shady work. If the Immortal Sect’s patrol catches you with it, your cultivation will be crippled!”

Shen Zhaoqing’s heart sank.

Having been away from the mountain for too long, she had almost forgotten that items capable of completely blocking divine sense detection were standard equipment for assassins in the righteous path.

“I was just asking,” she said calmly. “Do you have it, or not?”

Shopkeeper Qian smacked his lips, his small eyes darting over her. After a moment, he held up three fingers. “Yes, I do have it, but… for this price.”

“Three high-grade spirit stones?” Shen Zhaoqing nearly jumped.

‘That’s robbery! Three high-grade spirit stones are enough to buy a decent low-grade magic tool!’

“Young master, you don’t understand,” Shopkeeper Qian said, wearing an expression that implied she was getting a huge bargain. “This item is rare and in high demand. In this day and age, who doesn’t have a few secrets? A life-saving item is worth any price, and I’m the only one who has it! Not just in the Hundred Herbs Market, but within a hundred-mile radius, only I possess it!”

Shen Zhaoqing fell silent.

She touched her empty storage pouch, sadly realizing that all her possessions combined couldn’t even make up half a high-grade spirit stone.

‘Poverty is the original sin.’

Just as she was about to slink away, intending to find another solution, a sudden commotion erupted outside the market. The crowd parted as if by an invisible hand, retreating to either side, their faces a mix of fear and curiosity.

A potent and overbearing demonic aura, like a fierce gale, swept through, instantly silencing all the market’s clamor.

Shen Zhaoqing’s heart skipped a beat, and she inwardly cursed her bad luck.

This kind of entrance meant either a top-tier expert or immense trouble. Whichever it was, she couldn’t afford to get involved.

She made an immediate decision, turning to slip out through the pharmacy’s back door.

It was too late, however.

“Thump, thump, thump…”

Crisp, unhurried footsteps echoed closer, accompanied by the heavy breathing of a large feline.

An excessively ornate figure appeared at the end of the street.

It was a young girl, seemingly no older than sixteen or seventeen. Her long, dark blue hair cascaded like a waterfall to her waist, adorned with delicate golden feather ornaments. She sat astride a colossal, pure white tiger with piercing eyes, her posture languid and graceful, like a queen surveying her domain.

The girl’s beauty was exceptional, possessing a wild and enchanting allure. Especially striking were her amber eyes, their outer corners adorned with natural, faint golden feather patterns, which, as they shifted, revealed an undisguised playfulness and amusement.

She wore a robe woven with red and gold feathers, and a crimson feather cloak draped over her shoulders, shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight.