The black snake was not particularly clever. Though it feared Sima Jiao and loathed him as a wretched master, when faced with trouble, it still sought him out.
In all its years, only two had ever fed it: Sima Jiao and Liao Tingyan. Hoping to secure more of those delicious drinks in the future, it risked its life to drag her unconscious body into the central tower.
Sima Jiao, however, was not known for saving anyone. The monks had once mockingly bestowed upon him the title Dharma Lord of the Compassionate Repository. A joke. In all his life, the word “compassion” had never once brushed against him.
So when his longtime pet slithered boldly forward with a hiss, his only response was to raise a hand and swat its head away.
The black snake landed heavily, stunned, then shrank against a pillar and coiled there in silence. It dared not approach again. Liao Tingyan remained sprawled on the floor, pale and still.
After a while, she stirred faintly. Cold seeped into her bones. Without opening her eyes, she reached out, groped for a blanket, and tugged it over herself before going still once more.
Sima Jiao’s gaze sharpened. That spy from the Demon Realm had just pulled his robe over herself like bedding.
He leaned forward, curiosity briefly rekindled. Hooking her chin with one cold finger, he tilted her face to study it more closely.
“Come here,” he ordered the snake.
It slithered over eagerly.
“What did she do to make you save her?”
The snake shook its head.
“Do you know why she’s here?”
Another shake.
Sima Jiao’s expression darkened. “You know nothing, yet you bring her before me? Do you want to die?”
The snake trembled. It had seen him in his frenzies before.
Then, without warning, Sima Jiao lifted the woman upright. His palm pressed against her abdomen. For an instant, it almost looked as if he intended to save her.
The snake froze, utterly uncertain.
He dismissed the poison as a petty Demon Realm trick, the kind of minor control technique he could crush in countless ways. He chose the simplest.
For years, he had fed his serpent by pricking himself against its fangs. Out of instinct, he tried the same with Liao Tingyan, slipping a finger between her teeth. But human teeth were worthless. With a flicker of irritation, he withdrew, seized the snake, and forced its jaws open, nicking himself against its fangs before returning his bloodied finger to her lips.
One drop of Sima Jiao’s blood entered her mouth.
Unconscious, Liao Tingyan shivered. Her body had been wracked with cold, her stomach like a block of ice. Now, warmth surged through her, a sweetness on her tongue. Heat poured down her veins like an army marching with banners high, driving out the frost, storming the frozen heart of her abdomen until the icy fire trembled and curled in defeat.
Relief swept her body. Comfort, warmth, and at last—sleep.
She snored softly.
Sima Jiao’s eyes narrowed. She was cured, yes. But she had not awakened—she had merely rolled back into her dream.
That snore was almost insulting.
The snake recoiled against the pillar, wishing it could disappear.
He stared at her again. She wasn’t bold-hearted. She was carefree-hearted. He remembered seeing her sunbathing and napping as if the mountain were her garden. Now, sleeping beneath his gaze.
So this is the Demon Realm’s spy?
Perhaps, he thought, they had declined to such a pitiful state that they sent… this.
But on second thought—perhaps this was all deliberate. Not approaching him. Quietly winning the snake. Appearing harmless while plotting deep. Yes, her scheming must be profound.
Satisfied with his own conclusion, he murmured, “Not bad.”
Such profound scheming certainly suited that face—seductively wicked, yet unreadable.
When Liao Tingyan finally opened her eyes, the first sight was that murderous man leaning over her. It struck her with the same horror as that night she had awakened to the black serpent’s bloody maw.
Her heart nearly stopped. She clutched her chest and gasped so loudly it echoed in the chamber.
Sima Jiao’s smile curved. Authentic. Truly excellent acting.
She very nearly screeched like a goose. Her last memory was collapsing from cramps—no, poison, it had to be poison—and now she was in the Ancestral Master’s tower, wrapped in his robe.
Oh no. Dead. I am already dead.
Under his cold gaze, she smoothed the robe, folded it with shaking hands, and bowed her head. “Please forgive this disciple, Ancestral Master.”
He lounged like a venomous serpent about to strike. His tone could have killed on its own.
“Your courage is remarkable.”
Liao Tingyan: ??? This was the second time he’d called her brave. Brave? She wanted to cry. If she were truly courageous, she wouldn’t currently feel the urge to flee to the outhouse.
His gaze grew colder. Excellent acting. Too excellent. He raised a finger to her forehead.
“Why have you come here?”
Her lips moved against her will. “To adjust my sleep schedule and relax my mind and body.”
…A vacation.
Her mind screamed. This isn’t me! This is some kind of truth-compelling cheat skill! Fantasy worlds are broken!
Sima Jiao had expected an assassination plot. Instead—naps. He asked again. She answered the same.
Unshakable.
For a moment, he was silent. Then suspicion flickered. Demonic cultivators are said to rot their minds. Perhaps it’s true after all.
He leaned close, gripping her chin. “You don’t want to kill me?”
She blinked, face stiff. “…Don’t want.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
Her mind: Because I’m not suicidal, you lunatic!
Her lips: “Because there’s no grudge. No reason.”
His smile twisted. “In this world, killing requires neither grievance nor reason.”
She: …Okay, well, my world had laws, police, social order. Sorry our philosophies don’t align.
He leaned in, murderous aura spilling like smoke. “For instance—right now, without grievance or reason, I want to kill you. How does that feel?”
Her lips betrayed her again: “That’s fine. I can’t defeat you anyway.”
Oh god, why did I say that? At least let me beg!
He raised his hand. She braced for death. Then, abruptly, he lowered it.
“You want me to kill you, but I don’t feel like it.”
…An angsty teenager. He was acting like an angsty teenager.
Instead of killing her, he said, “From now on, you will come to attend me.”
She died a little inside. But no one could refuse the Ancestral Master. In the workplace of life and death, she was just another corporate drone. The boss demanded; she obeyed.
Thus, Liao Tingyan became—against her will—a colleague of the black snake. And the first of her group to survive approaching the Ancestral Master.
Previous/Next
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
