In The Cultivation World, Are There Only Demonesses Left?

Chapter 20: Night Changes the World

Lu Changyuan raised his brows: “You would so obediently follow your Ancestor’s arrangements?”

Su Yuwan’s expression did not change, she truly looked like a Bodhisattva whose state of mind had reached perfection: “Yuwan feels there is nothing improper.”

The Sacred Bodhisattva was right before his eyes.

If Lu Changyuan simply stretched out his hand, he could make this Bodhisattva weep softly, and finally sing like an oriole.

So Lu Changyuan said: “I will not marry. What about the other matter?”

Su Yuwan nodded, neither sorrow nor joy in her tone: “Then let us set aside the matter of marriage for now. The second matter, the Blood Demon Palace has come for the sword within our dynasty’s National Treasury. Granny asked me to pass this on to you.”

“Mm, I know.” Lu Changyuan yawned, not in the least surprised: “By now, that Second Prince should have already begun his coup. I can smell the stench of blood rushing into my nose.”

“Indeed. Second Brother has never been convinced, always wanting to ascend the throne. Yesterday when I entered the palace, I already learned that several divisions of the Imperial Guards had been bribed by him, but I did not interfere.”

The moon had already passed halfway.

Now it was a new day.

【Four days remain until the Heaven-Mending Pill appears】

“Guests fighting you ignore, and when your own family makes a commotion, you also ignore?”

Su Yuwan’s unbearably beautiful face moved slightly under the candlelight, her long lashes quivered up and down.

She let out a light laugh, her tone betraying no emotion.

“When a woman marries, she follows her husband. Family disputes have never been matters where women could speak.”

These words could only fool Xia Lianxue.

That Su Yuwan was still unmarried was one thing, but with her status, she could very well intervene in the succession of the Glazed Dynasty’s throne.

As long as she wished, even if the Second Prince ascended tonight, tomorrow he would be forced to roll off the throne.

Yet this Sacred Third Princess seemed unwilling to interfere in this matter, thus casually found an excuse to sit by the shore as an onlooker.

She seemed to have no emotions, only a witness.

“In that case, I should take my leave.”

The maiden looked at Lu Changyuan, as if waiting for him to respond, or perhaps for him to change his mind.

Lu Changyuan suddenly said: “I have answered quite a few of your questions, so you should also answer mine. That would be fair.”

Su Yuwan thought for a moment, then said: “So it is. Please ask, Young Master.”

“That cage you carry—what is inside it?”

From the moment Lu Changyuan had met this Third Princess, she had been blindfolded, carrying a birdcage shrouded in black cloth.

No one knew why this Bodhisattva of the cultivation path carried such a cage.

Naturally, Lu Changyuan was curious.

“What it holds—is Yuwan.”

A sudden knocking sound echoed, and a soft voice came from outside: “Young Master?”

When Lu Changyuan turned his head again, Su Yuwan had already disappeared.

Only then did Xia Lianxue open the door in embarrassment: “Um... I accidentally fell asleep.”

“When hungry, eat. When tired, sleep. That is what it means to live free. Cultivating immortality is also cultivating freedom.”

Lu Changyuan spoke with perfect seriousness, not the slightest sign that he had just been discussing marriage with a Sacred Bodhisattva—this place had nearly become a site where a maiden’s tears fell.

“Um... Young Master.”

“What is it?”

“Please, step outside.”

Lu Changyuan walked out with confusion, only to see the Immortal Fairy suddenly draw her sword.

That slender sword, light in appearance yet heavy in substance, stirred a wave of wind before letting out a muffled boom.

Crimson Summer!

She had actually mastered it!?

“I only took a short nap, and somehow... I learned it. Could it be that Young Master did something to me?”

Of course, Lu Changyuan had done nothing.

This Jade Palace True Disciple truly had impressive talent.

But still, Lu Changyuan said: “I infused a little sword intent into you while you slept. You must have comprehended the sword in a dream.”

Xia Lianxue blinked her beautiful eyes, her delicate nose slightly raised, and thought to herself it must be so: “Thank you, Young Master.”

Lu Changyuan waved his hand: “Go back to sleep early. Tomorrow will be busy.”

Only after Xia Lianxue returned to her room did Lu Changyuan resume gazing at the stars.

That streak of white across the heavens remained dazzling.

Su Yuwan left the place where Lu Changyuan was temporarily staying, carrying her birdcage, slowly heading toward the most chaotic place of the night.

Step by step she walked, yet the soldiers locked in combat seemed unable to see her at all, feeling only a passing breeze.

Men were slain, fell, and bled, yet not a drop could stain the royal princess’s robes.

At last, she reached the edge of the palace.

There happened to be someone hurrying this way, holding a bronze treasure mirror.

Su Yuwan thought.

How coincidental, even somewhat early.

She should have stayed to drink another cup of tea at that young master’s house.

She could see through the purposes and intentions of everyone here—everyone, except him.

Even in the fate-deduction of her cultivated Dao, there was no trace of his existence.

Thus tonight she went to test him.

Yet he was impervious to oil and salt, not even the least lustful thought arose, as though he had severed all desire.

So be it.

Of fifty strands of fate, one is spared.

In the end, there will always be a variable.

“Third Princess!?”  

The old man halted in front of Su Yuwan.

His hair was snow-white.

The National Preceptor of the Glazed Dynasty, of the Fifth Realm, Jade Balance.

He had been the childhood companion of the late emperor, and even a senior to the recently deceased emperor.

All his life he had worked for the continuation of the Glazed Dynasty.

Tonight was no different.

The National Preceptor stared at Su Yuwan in disbelief: “Your Highness, are you here to stop me?”  

Su Yuwan inclined her head, silver-white hair fluttering with the wind, her slender neck revealed by the movement, making her appear fragile, like a spring blossom that blooms for only three days.

“Indeed. May I ask the National Preceptor not to interfere in tonight’s matter?”  

“You support the Second Prince!?”  

“Not so.”  

The National Preceptor raised the treasure mirror: “Then why does Your Highness block my path?”  

Su Yuwan softly murmured: “All is ordained.”  

“Then forgive this old minister his discourtesy!”  

The power of the Fifth Realm poured entirely into the mirror.

The National Preceptor aimed to temporarily incapacitate the Third Princess, then enter the palace to execute the traitors.

He had already come too late.

Someone had concealed the threads of fate, causing him to misjudge.

Only a soft pop was heard, as the air split with arcs.

Su Yuwan stretched out her beautiful, slender hand, tossing the birdcage into the sky.

The black cloth unfurled like a curtain opening for a grand play.

The National Preceptor looked down at his body in disbelief—he could not move at all.

“Third Princess!”  

His voice was drowned out by the roar of battle below.

Su Yuwan gazed upon the sky filled with firelight, and said: “All beings suffer.”  

The National Preceptor, trapped within the birdcage, trembled: “Your Highness has already broken through the Fifth Realm?”  

“No. But nearly. My master told me to suppress my cultivation.”  

Su Yuwan sealed the National Preceptor in the cage, covered it again with black cloth, and left the skies above the palace.

Before long, she reached another wooden stargazing pavilion.

She waved her hand, and countless fragments, like broken starlight, rained down, then suddenly exploded.

“Your Highness, it is one thing to capture me, but why destroy the palace’s protective formation as well?”  

Su Yuwan gave no reply.

Within the cage, the National Preceptor violently struggled, trying to break it open, to no avail: “Your Highness, your family affairs are none of my business, but—Your Highness! The Second Prince has colluded with the villains of the Blood Demon Palace! They have already borrowed the blood of immortals, and the blood of mortals. Now the dragon vein is unstable, and they plan to seize the Demon-Suppressing Sword!”  

The Second Prince did not know what the Blood Demon Palace sought, but the National Preceptor did.

At first he thought it was only an ordinary coup, so he was reluctant to get involved.

But just earlier, when he divined the heavens, he realized he had been deceived.

A great disaster loomed over Upper Jade Capital.

So he rushed here, only to be stopped by Su Yuwan.

“If the sword is drawn, Upper Jade Capital will be destroyed! This is the ancestral commandment, Your Highness!”  

The Bodhisattva wore her blindfold, neither joy nor sorrow on her face.

High above the Nine Heavens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

The Hand-Eating Monk was furious enough to burst his lungs.

Compared to this group of small and medium sect cultivators, he was undoubtedly far stronger.

But there was that damned sword—wherever he went, it blocked him.

Several times the pill was right before his eyes, yet that cursed sword-light forced him to miss the chance.

“Who is it!? Get out here!”  

The Hand-Eating Monk burned with rage.

Ever since the Food-Buddha Sect had been besieged, they had suffered misfortune after misfortune.

This time, he and the Heart-Eating Monk had come to seize the Heaven-Mending Pill.

Yet until now, there was no sign of the Heart-Eating Monk, leaving the Hand-Eating Monk to struggle alone.

Originally planning a swift battle, he had not expected constant obstruction.

He formed a palm with his hand, recited a five-character true word, and slapped a rival cultivator who had been trying to snatch the pill, making the man cough blood.

Behind him, a colossal evil Buddha statue took form.

The three-headed Buddha upon its shoulders reached out, seizing a cultivator’s leg, and tore his shoulder off in one wrench.

With a cry of agony, the monk grabbed the man’s severed hand.

But before he could act further, sword-light once again descended.

“The Food-Buddha Sect is as vile as ever. Do you still count yourselves human?”  

A languid voice drifted over.

On the roof of the pavilion, beneath the full moon, stood a sword-bearing man with a wine gourd at his waist.

At that moment, he uncorked the gourd and took a long drink.

The Hand-Eating Monk screeched: “Li Qingcao! Do you think my Food-Buddha Sect fears your Green Grass Sword Sect, that you must pursue us to the end!?”  

The man did not turn his head, only spoke to the moon: “What a foolish question. Would you look at the moon and ask, ‘Are you the moon’?”  

“Then let us see whose arts are superior!” The Hand-Eating Monk roared, the wind carrying his malice as he lunged: “This monk will cut open your chest, rip out your organs, and bring them back for my sect’s feast!”  

But halfway there, the Hand-Eating Monk transformed, his body sprouting pitch-black fur.

The hair grew with the wind, becoming countless black hands.

The man named Li Qingcao sighed: “You’ve ruined the drinking mood. Are you imitating Cihang Palace’s Thousand-Hand Guanyin? Their hands are delicate and jade-like, and you? Like the unshaven paws of a mongrel.”  

He stood crookedly, lifted his head for another drink, then nudged up a roof tile with his toe, sending it flying toward the monk.

“My master always said, ‘Of laws, laws, laws, none are laws. Of emptiness, emptiness, emptiness, all is...’”  

The Hand-Eating Monk shattered the tile with a punch—only to see a flash of cold light behind it.

Li Qingcao had drawn his sword.

“Enough. Seeing you with so many hands, it seems unhealthy. Let me trim your branches. After all, humans should only have two hands and two legs.”  

With one strike, half the monk’s many hands fell at once, crashing to the ground and corroding the stone road with countless holes.

Snarling!  

The Hand-Eating Monk suddenly vomited out a foul, yellowish substance.

The unknown thing writhed into wormlike shapes resembling hands, crawling—not toward Li Qingcao, but toward the homes of ordinary townsfolk.

Li Qingcao frowned.

His long sword instantly split into many, falling from the air to pin the revolting things to the ground.

When Li Qingcao turned back, the Hand-Eating Monk had already fled without a trace.

It seemed he had been frightened by that single sword strike.

Li Qingcao gave a helpless smile, shaking his wine gourd.

The wine was gone.

He suddenly whipped his head toward the palace, feeling a prickling sensation, sharp as needles, spreading through the air.