Chapter 40: The Demon Lord Revealed

Qingping heard the young master’s shout from inside the room. Flustered, he rushed in, asking anxiously, “Young master, what’s wrong?”

Su Zhuozhi stood up, intending to say it was nothing, but when he looked up, he first saw Xie Jue entering behind. His lips curled downward; he was very unhappy and didn’t want to see him at all.

So he turned his face away, pursed his lips tightly, and said stiffly, “Nothing, I just saw a storybook where the characters were infuriating—full of lies, despicable and shameless. I wished I could jump in and beat them to death.”

“It’s just a storybook, young master. No need to take it seriously. Getting angry over it will harm your health. Let me find you a light and humorous one instead.” Qingping stepped forward to soothe him, reaching to take the book from his young master’s hand. But he looked around and couldn’t find any storybook.

“No need, I’ve already thrown it away!” Su Zhuozhi said angrily.

Helpless, Qingping could only pick up the pillow from the floor, replace it with a clean new one, and set it back on the bed. At that moment, he inexplicably felt a chill down his spine, as if the temperature around him had dropped.

Demonic qi coiled onto Su Zhuozhi’s shoulder, half-embracing him in a possessive posture, like a vicious dog snarling threateningly, forbidding anyone from approaching its owner.

Xie Jue watched his eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings, stood at the edge of the bed, and asked softly, “Young master, there might be thunder and rain tonight. Do you need me to stay with you?”

Qingping wondered inwardly, So what if there’s thunder and rain? Why would he need company? Our young master isn’t afraid of thunder.

Sure enough, the next moment, he saw his young master reject him, face stern, speaking decisively.

“No need.”

Xie Jue was stunned, looking surprised, as if he had expected the young master to keep him here.

“I’m going to sleep. Both of you, withdraw.”

Su Zhuozhi lay down directly, curling up under the covers, making his stance clear. The “both of you” included the demonic qi.

If Xie Jue dared to have the demonic qi pretend to be a ghost to scare him again, he might really lose control, rush out, grab Xie Jue, and beat him senseless.

Fortunately, the demonic qi was sensible enough—whether because it sensed his bad mood or something else—it didn’t dare touch him, only crouched by the bed, staring at him pitifully.

A night passed.

When Su Zhuozhi woke, he was groggy, half-squinting at the air, raised a hand to cover his mouth, and yawned lazily, tears of drowsiness gathering at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t fully wake up.

He flopped forward, burying himself back in the blanket, recalling the dream he had last night.

He had been thinking about Xie Jue all along. Even as he fell asleep, he was puffing his cheeks, gnashing his teeth, muttering Xie Jue’s name and cursing him under his breath.

In the dream, Xie Jue stood before him.

He couldn’t help but shout, “You bastard!”

Xie Jue looked innocent and confused. “Why are you cursing me, young master?”

Su Zhuozhi’s eyes widened, his face flushed with anger, his fingers trembling. “How dare you ask? Shameless!”

Xie Jue stepped forward, took his hand, and asked with a smile, “May I ask, young master, how am I shameless? Have I harmed you?”

Su Zhuozhi struggled to pull his hand back, wanting to punch him. But as he retreated, his back hit a cold, broad chest, and an arm wrapped around his waist.

Startled, Su Zhuozhi whipped his head around to face the humanoid form made of demonic qi. His heart pounded wildly. Without a second thought, he swung a fist at the black mist’s face, hitting it mercilessly to get revenge for all the times it had scared him.

Of course, he didn’t spare Xie Jue himself either.

In his dream, he beat Xie Jue all night.

When he woke up, he felt exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

Su Zhuozhi didn’t want to move. He washed up with his eyes closed, even having someone else wash his face for him.

He tilted his face up slightly, eyes shut, looking as if he had fallen asleep again.

A wet cloth was gently pressed against his face, wiping slowly, with just the right pressure—neither too light nor too heavy. Every inch of skin was cleaned thoroughly.

Feeling refreshed after the wipe, Su Zhuozhi blinked and opened his eyes.

Xie Jue’s handsome face came into view, gazing down at him with a focused and meticulous expression that even gave off a gentle impression.

Su Zhuozhi was taken aback. When Xie Jue reached out with the cloth to wipe his face again, he instinctively dodged.

Xie Jue’s hand froze in midair, his eyes darkening.

Then Su Zhuozhi snatched the cloth from his hand, wiping his face himself, and threw it onto the edge of the copper basin.

Without even glancing at Xie Jue, he changed clothes and went to eat breakfast.

Only after finishing the meal and resting did Su Zhuozhi look at Xie Jue and say abruptly, “Let’s go to the courtyard. I want to practice swordplay with you.”

Calling it sword practice, but really it was an excuse to beat him up legitimately.

What was the point of beating him in a dream? It didn’t relieve his anger at all. If he wanted to fight, he had to do it in reality.

Su Zhuozhi was holding in a surge of anger. He gripped his sword and stood opposite Xie Jue.

Before they started, Xie Jue asked, “Young master, are you in a bad mood?”

Su Zhuozhi snorted in acknowledgment.

Xie Jue asked again, “Why?”

What else could it be? It’s all because of you!

Su Zhuozhi gritted his teeth, flames flickering in his eyes, “It’s because of that damn storybook I read!”

Xie Jue frowned, lost in thought.

Su Zhuozhi had no intention of chatting with him. He said, “Begin,” and charged forward with his sword, launching a fierce attack.

The sword moves were swift and dazzling.

Qingping, standing nearby, was completely stunned. Although he knew the young master had gone to the cultivation world to become a sword cultivator, this was the first time he saw him sparring with someone. It was so spectacular that his eyes couldn’t keep up with the speed of the blade.

His blood boiled with excitement. He clapped vigorously, cheering for his young master, showering him with endless praise, extolling Su Zhuozhi as unparalleled in the world—above heaven and below earth, truly the best.

Finally, Su Zhuozhi moved swiftly, lunged forward, and pressed his sword against Xie Jue’s neck. Lifting his chin, he said arrogantly, “You lost.”

Xie Jue looked down at the sharp blade inches from his vital point, but showed no fear. Instead, he pressed his lips together and said, “Indeed, you won, young master. Is your mood a bit better now?”

Hearing this, the exhilaration from the sword fight instantly dissipated. Su Zhuozhi pouted and snorted.

A demonic cultivator capable of infiltrating the Ten Thousand Swords Sect undetected must have extremely high cultivation. It was impossible for him to be easily defeated. Of course, Su Zhuozhi knew Xie Jue was letting him win on purpose. Hearing Xie Jue admit victory only made him more irritated.

“Better my ass. Not even a little bit.” Su Zhuozhi sheathed his sword, crossed his arms, and turned to leave.

Qingping was bewildered. In his view, the young master was unhappy, and it made sense for Xie Jue to coax him. But why was the young master still in a bad mood even after winning?

He glanced at Xie Jue, then quickly followed his young master. Regardless, the fault must be Xie Jue’s. He hoped Xie Jue would apologize quickly and soothe the young master.

But strangely, this time the young master wasn’t so easy to appease.

Although Su Zhuozhi didn’t deliberately distance himself from Xie Jue or show a cold face, Qingping and Wanying, who had been by his side since childhood, could sense something was off. When he first returned from the Ten Thousand Swords Sect, the two of them were so close they didn’t seem like master and servant. But in the past few days, the atmosphere had become tense.

It was almost time to return to the sect, and then they would be alone. Qingping couldn’t help but grow anxious.

Just then, Xie Jue started going out every day, busy with who knows what. Whatever it was, nothing was more important than the young master.

When Qingping muttered his complaints, Su Zhuozhi overheard.

He said indifferently, “It’s better if he stays outside. Even better if he never comes back.”

Qingping was shocked. Had the young master come to hate Xie Jue that much?

In truth, Su Zhuozhi’s emotions were very complicated now, and even he couldn’t sort them out clearly.

Xie Jue had deceived him, and he was naturally very angry and displeased. But upon careful reflection, Xie Jue had never harmed him; on the contrary, he had helped him a great deal. The most detestable thing he’d done was pretending to be a ghost to scare him.

Analyzing from these events, it seemed that Xie Jue had hidden his identity as a demonic cultivator to enter the Su residence without malicious intent. Maybe he had a request? That would explain why he was so ingratiating. Otherwise, Su Zhuozhi couldn’t think of any reason why a powerful demonic cultivator would willingly serve as a lowly attendant, day after day.

But before all that, Xie Jue had still toyed with him, and he deserved to be retaliated against.

He would pretend to be a ghost and scare Xie Jue to death.

Decision made, he acted immediately.

Simply dressing up as a ghost wouldn’t work. Before he even appeared, Xie Jue would sense his presence. Su Zhuozhi used one of the magical artifacts left by his ancestor—a bracelet that could perfectly conceal his form and aura. With it on, anyone below the Nascent Soul stage would be unable to detect him. Even against higher-level cultivators, as long as he stayed still, it would be hard for them to notice him.

Su Zhuozhi donned a white robe, let his black hair loose, and painted his face a ghastly pale. He sneaked into Xie Jue’s room and hid in a corner of the bed, planning to suddenly appear when Xie Jue lay down to sleep. He would lean over Xie Jue’s face, let his hair brush against it, stare straight at him, and then stick out his tongue—a ghost who died with his eyes open. It would definitely scare Xie Jue out of his wits.

Just imagining Xie Jue’s shriek of terror made Su Zhuozhi feel satisfied.

He sat on Xie Jue’s bed and waited for over an hour. If it weren’t for the mirror communicator to pass the time, he might have fallen asleep.

Finally, the door moved, and Xie Jue’s tall figure stepped inside.

Hearing the sound, Su Zhuozhi looked up sharply, eyes sparkling.

Finally here! Just wait till I scare you!

Holding the edge of the bed curtain, Su Zhuozhi peeked out cautiously.

Xie Jue stood upright, expressionless. His tall frame cast a long shadow on the floor.

His demeanor was dark and unreadable, his eyes pitch-black, devoid of any emotion, cold and inhuman—like a vengeful demon crawling out of hell rather than a living person.

Su Zhuozhi froze, suddenly feeling that the person before him was utterly unfamiliar. Xie Jue was never like this in front of him. Could it be that Xie Jue had a twin brother who looked exactly like him?

Unaccountably, a bad feeling crept over him.

His heart sank.

Based on his long time with Xie Jue, he had judged that Xie Jue was a good demonic cultivator who wouldn’t harm him. Had that judgment been too hasty? The way Xie Jue looked now was hardly that of a good person.

Worse, the next moment, his fears came true.

A mass of black mist flew swiftly into the room, landed, and transformed into a man in black robes. He knelt before Xie Jue and said with utmost respect, “Supreme One.”

Su Zhuozhi’s mind buzzed; his face turned pale. He couldn’t believe it.

That unfamiliar man was undoubtedly a demonic cultivator. And the only one a demonic cultivator would address as “Supreme One” was—

The Demon Lord.

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