Chapter 4: Lotus Against the Blade

                              

The demons checked the demon babies born from the demon puppets again and again, and the twelve patriarchs finally reached the same conclusion—use troops against the Painting City.

But demon puppets and the demon race shared the same roots. Their purpose was never slaughter. So Demon Venerable Yingchi chose to go himself.

The moment Xu O set foot back in Painting City, a war letter arrived from the demon clan. It was penned by Yingchi himself, the words unexpectedly sincere. He emphasized repeatedly that conquest was not the goal and hoped to “replace the blade with tea and sit to discuss.”

Xu O’s reply was simple—he lined up his troops at once and ambushed five thousand of Yingchi’s elite soldiers on the only road leading into Painting City. The demon puppet’s audacity shook the demon clans to uproar.

Nine Abyss Immortal Sect.

Every great sect possessed a set of magic artifacts that would not be activated unless the sect’s survival was at stake. Now, the disciples raised a massive mysterious-light mirror at the heart of the Mirage Tower.

The phantom projection of the Demon Sanctuary rose into the air, and the Nine Veins’ Palm Courtyard faces reflected deep solemnity.

Under Painting City’s gates, Demon Venerable Yingchi’s lips pressed into a thin line, his pupils tinged with purplish demonic energy. Behind him, the chief guard Xian Ning whispered, “Demon Venerable, this battle is unavoidable. Those old ones have already said too much.”

Of course Yingchi understood. The army amassed before the walls was meant to intimidate, yet the moment blood was spilled, the war would be unstoppable. He had to gain something—otherwise, what justification was there for his side losing five thousand troops?

How could the elders of the twelve clans be willing to retreat empty-handed?

He brushed a fingertip across the dark-red gem set in his ring and, after a long pause, said, “Attack the city with full force—until the demon puppet is willing to surrender.”

“It will not surrender,” Xian Ning said. Yingchi’s gaze turned cold as winter, but Xian Ning, unlike the others, did not fear him. “From the moment you used the Goddess’s Weeping Dew and the blood of the Lewd Serpent, you should have known she would never bow. If this battle begins, it can only end in death.”

Yingchi struck him across the face. Blood instantly covered Xian Ning’s cheek, yet he merely wiped it away without stepping back.

The demon soldiers charged. Painting City was swallowed by war.

The four demon puppet aspects—Greed, Thought, Rage, and Obsession—now moved as four kings at the front lines, and the Greed King took the lead. Yingchi watched the battlefield, but his gaze drifted, searching for someone. The demon puppet had lived secluded within Painting City, rarely revealing itself, never stepping onto a battlefield. Its strength remained a mystery.

Now he realized: demon puppets were not physically dominant. Sword and blade cultivators were rare among their ranks; instead, they excelled at formations. Yingchi felt a bit relieved—whoever died, whichever side bled, it would still be a loss to him.
Yet… why had that person not appeared?

Nine Abyss Immortal Sect.
Before the mysterious-light mirror, the purple-black demonic aura swirled like a storm. Tianquzi’s eyes darkened. Even without knowing the true might of the demon puppets, the defensive formation alone was enough for him to calculate the situation.

Painting City had no spiritual veins.

Immortals and demons alike required spiritual power to cast magic. When a disciple entered a sect, the first step was always to temper their body with spiritual energy. Spiritual veins not only contained refined qi; they shaped mountains and rivers, nourished plants, trees, sun and moon, letting energy circulate and regenerate. If properly maintained, spiritual veins not only did not deplete—they grew stronger.

Such treasures were rare. He was not surprised that Painting City lacked them.

Within the entire Immortal Sect, Rongtian Mountain possessed nine spiritual veins, birthing the number-one sect of the realm and supporting the entire immortal world. The Demon Shrine held only four. And the Nine-Slaughter Sky Net, which used such power as its core, was feared even by immortals.

In this battle, the demon puppet had almost no chance of victory.

Nine Abyss Immortal Sect could not sit idle while the demon race attempted to imprison the demon puppet. But how to intervene—and when?

And as for her… what was she planning?

If Painting City was destined to fall, would she consider the sect’s conditions?

He was lost in thought when a low exclamation came from beside him. Tianquzi lifted his gaze, and in the mirror, Xu O appeared—hair bound with silk ribbon, clothes adorned with pearls, clad entirely in white. In her slender hand, she held a lotus lamp. She did not look like someone upon a battlefield, but like a lady wandering beneath moonlit blossoms.

Yingchi’s attention locked onto her.
The lotus lamp’s glow sharply intensified, and its falling light ignited wherever it touched. Demon soldiers screamed.

Behind him, Xian Ning muttered, “Cleansing-World Lotus Lamp…”

Cleansing the world. Pardoning sins. Life and death, reincarnation.

She walked forward with the lamp, forming seals with one hand. Each step spawned an array. The battlefield became a sea of blood. The demon army’s charge was useless—this was a peak-level array cultivator. Her formations were swift, precise, and terrifyingly efficient. Rocks, dust, light—everything became her array foundation.

She seemed close enough to touch, yet her array’s shifting aura distorted distance itself. The eye deceived the heart. What looked like clear open ground became towering dunes of illusion.

The demon soldiers stumbled in confusion.
The lotus lamp’s overlapping radiance disoriented them completely.
Deaths mounted rapidly.

Before the mysterious-light mirror, the Nine Veins leaders exchanged astonished looks.

Yu Lanzhao murmured, “She… is this really array cultivation?”

The Array Sect’s dean, Dian Chunyi, stared at the mirror as though spellbound. The Blade Sect elder, Fu Chunfeng, said coldly, “Yingchi underestimated the demon puppet. Sending those fools was sending them to die.”

Below the walls, demon casualties quickly exceeded one-tenth.

There was no room left for retreat.

Yingchi shed his twelve-patterned cloak and drew his sword. Its name was Voidbane.

Xu O stepped on demonic aura, robes fluttering, lotus lamp blazing. Wind and cloud surged. Yingchi slashed, sword qi breaking through several layers of array. Xu O’s lamp flared into solid light, blocking the blow.

The light-wall shattered into countless fragments, falling like meteor showers, brilliant and deadly. She stood at the center of the broken starlight, veils sweeping, lotus lamp dripping blood—half demon queen, half celestial maiden.

Below her feet, bodies burned like kindling. Flames spread in an instant.

The screams rose endlessly.
As if called by command, the demon puppets began a fierce counterattack.

Yingchi ignored the carnage. His sword never paused, blade pressing down upon the lotus lamp.

Sword cultivators and blade wielders were natural counters to array masters. Arrays required time, foundations, flawless timing—too easily disrupted by relentless offense.

Xu O’s knuckles whitened as she held the jade handle of the lotus lamp.

Yingchi bore down, voice trembling, “Follow me—can’t you?”

Xu O lifted her pale hand slowly. “I want to kill you more.”

The pearl ring on her hand shattered. A talisman circle collapsed.

Yingchi’s eyes reddened faintly.
“Even if it means sacrificing countless clansmen?”

Xu O said, “It is better to die generously than to survive humbly.”

Ying Chi’s sword pressed down again. The jade handle of the lotus lamp gave a soft, mournful sound. Xu O suddenly reached out and seized the blade, forcing it aside with five blood-streaked fingers. The jade bracelet on her wrist shattered, fragments scattering like broken frost. Blood rolled from her fingertips like scarlet beads. Ying Chi shook his head, voice trembling: “Don’t do this, Xu O… don’t do this.”

Xu O turned sharply. Her robes billowed, light and shadow flaring in her wake. The faint scent of osmanthus spilled forth, diluting the metallic tang of blood. In the blink of an eye, a triple-layered magic circle surged upward—and separated her from him entirely.

Then came another brutal slaughter. The absolute formation, uncontrolled, swept across the battlefield like a wild god unleashed. The demon army’s casualties soared to twenty percent. The wick of the lotus lamp sizzled; if one listened closely, beneath that sound were the faint, agonized screams of fragmented divine consciousness.

To have paid such a price—how could she possibly return empty-handed?

But Xu O—salty lemon—would never surrender. A mountain of corpses, a sea of blood—none of it could intimidate Painting City. Instead, the carnage ignited the demon puppet’s boundless fighting spirit. Even if she entered the battle alone, she could anchor the very soul of Painting City. She would not tremble, nor fear storm or slaughter.

But Ying Chi could not allow the demon puppet to fight to the last breath.

His gaze followed her, voice low, hoarse: “Xian Ning… contact the High Priest of Painting City… Tai Shi Changling.” He paused, as though each word cost him a piece of his soul. “The demon clan is willing to offer a spirit vein… in exchange for Painting City’s surrender. Afterward, the demon puppet clan will be governed by the priestly temple.”

Within the Nine Abyss Immortal Sect, every face changed.

Painting City was revered by the puppets; though the priestly temple handled daily matters, they held no true authority. And a spirit vein—its value surpassed even the aura of a mid-upper sect’s foundation. It was more than enough to establish a sect of their own—let alone negotiate for power.

Now, with the Demon Venerable’s army pressing upon them—what could they possibly gain by continuing the fight?

Before the Xuanguang Mirror, Tian Quzi abruptly stood. Zai Shuanggui quickly asked, “What are you doing?”

Tian Quzi’s lips tightened. “I’m going to Painting City.”

Even the Eight Veins Palm Courtyard—famous for shirking blame—did not support him. Yu Lanzao exclaimed, “You’re crazy! Ying Chi has already lost more than thirty percent of the demon soldiers under Painting City. He can’t retreat anymore. The demon clan cannot rest now. What exactly do you think you can do?”

Yes—what indeed?

Tian Quzi said, “Gather our elite disciples. If Painting City agrees to surrender to Jiuyuan, we rush to assist.”

Fudo Bodhi asked, “You intend to negotiate with the puppet leader?”

Tian Quzi hummed in assent. Dian Chunyi said, “I support it. I’ll assemble the disciples and stand by outside the Heavenly Demon Sanctuary.”

Yu Cyanzao stared in shock. “Since when were you this… proactive?”

Dian Chunyi twirled the beads in his hand—each containing a different magic formation. “I simply find the demon puppet pleasing to the eye.”

Mu Kuangyang, always eager for battle, stretched her limbs until bones crackled like firewood. She answered, “We’ll wait for your word.”

Tian Quzi swept his gaze across the others. No one objected. If a demon puppet could continue the Immortal Sect’s bloodline—then even sacrifice would be worth it.

He descended the mountain at once. Without demon aura masking him, he was discovered immediately upon entering the Heavenly Demon Sanctuary.

Ying Chi received the news, but he had no time to spare. He had already lost troops and generals beneath Painting City, and now the Immortal Sect sought to claim a share. He closed his eyes briefly; when they opened again, brilliance burst forth. His right hand flew into rapid seals.

Tian Quzi barely had time to draw his sword. More than anyone, he understood: Ying Chi, forced this far, had only one means left—release his guardian formation, the Spirit Emperor’s Demon Seal—and crush the situation. Otherwise, with such massive casualties, how could he ever explain himself to the twelve clan leaders?

Black clouds crushed the sky above the Heavenly Demon Sanctuary. Tian Quzi pressed himself against the seam between yin and yang, traversing a thousand miles in an instant.

Above Painting City, lightning cracked open the sky, as though heaven itself were split apart. Wind roared, clouds surged. Tian Quzi appeared at the heart of the rift, sleeves fluttering, lightning illuminating his figure.

Ying Chi glanced up at him—and hatred flared. Even knowing Ying Chi commanded fifty thousand demon soldiers here, this man dared come alone. Not only alone—but with such overwhelming presence.

The Nine Abyss Immortal Sect—arrogant beyond measure.

Behind him, Xian Ning asked, “Demon Venerable, shall we encircle and kill?”

Ying Chi’s gaze was sharp as needles, fixed on Tian Quzi. After a long moment, he shook his head. “No.”

Xian Ning was baffled. Retreat was not Ying Chi’s style. Without turning, Ying Chi spoke, “Tian Quzi is cautious by nature. If he dares to come alone, then he has absolute confidence he can leave unharmed. If we attack him now, all we do is shift the spearpoint—and grant the demon puppet a breath of relief.”

Xian Ning froze. “He came alone—just to divide our forces?”

Ying Chi sneered. “So what? He comes empty-handed—and will leave empty-handed. He gets nothing.”

Tian Quzi ignored the surrounding soldiers—and even Ying Chi—completely. He strode straight toward Xu O. She saw him coming and frowned slightly; clearly, she did not think highly of him.

He stepped on mist, threading through complex formations with practiced ease. Xu O finally asked, “What is the meaning of this, Head of the Academy?”

Her voice held little warmth—no respect for a senior—but even so, every syllable was pleasing to the ear. Tian Quzi was already close; a stray ribbon at her waist, lifted by the wind, brushed his hand. Her clothes were soaked in blood, yet her scent remained fresh and sweet. He shifted his gaze away, trying to keep his voice steady. “I come on behalf of the Nine Abyss Immortal Sect. We seek alliance with the puppet clan—to resist the demon clan together.”

His words were proper. His tone was cold. His gaze avoided hers. Everything about him suggested deep reluctance.

Xu O laughed lightly. The battlefield raged, yet she still spoke with thorns in her voice. “Oh? Will the Nine Abyss Immortal Sect offer aid out of pure kindness and justice?”

Tian Quzi felt as though pricked by a flower’s hidden thorn. But time was running out. He said quickly, “If the demon puppets agree to leave the Heavenly Demon Sanctuary, change their name, and submit to Jiuyuan—Jiuyuan will assist at full strength.”

Bureaucratic. Practical. Hollow.

Xu O asked, “Reasonable enough. And after returning to Jiuyuan?” She spoke as though discussing business—but her hands formed seals without pause. Wherever she passed, demon blood flowed like a river.

Tian Quzi faltered. The lotus lamp glowed blood-red in her hands. He followed her through the battlefield, keeping a careful distance. Even amidst combat, Xu O sensed his presence—deep and enigmatic. He seemed intent on persuasion, yet moved through her formations with uncanny precision.

Tian Quzi drew closer again, keeping a formation’s distance. “The Nine Abyss’s intentions… the puppet leader already understands.”

Xu O avoided a charge of demon soldiers and asked calmly, “What is the difference between Jiuyuan and the demon clan?” Cold light flickered through Tian Quzi’s mind. She raised her eyes, and asked again, “What is the difference between you—and Ying Chi?”

Their gazes met. Her breath smelled of cold sweetness, serene yet sharp. Tian Quzi was caught off guard, losing his composure instantly. He turned his face aside—yet the gesture looked like silent admission.

Realization struck him; he immediately turned back. “Of course I am different! Jiuyuan would never imprison or restrict the demon puppets. We only hope—”

Xu O finished softly, “Only hope the demon puppets will remain on Rongtian Mountain, breed with Jiuyuan disciples, and continue your bloodline.”

Tian Quzi fell silent.

There was no difference.

Jiuyuan had come so far, risking everything—how could they expect nothing in return?

He said nothing. Xu O continued, “I understand Jiuyuan’s conditions. But… I do not accept them.” Below her feet was hell itself; she walked through it as though through drifting clouds. “Your sect’s goodwill is appreciated. But living beneath another’s roof—is never a long-term path. Headmaster Xiqi, please return.”

But Tian Quzi could not simply leave. He could not watch her walk toward death. He said urgently, “One must first live—before one can plan.”

His words washed over her like rain on stone. Xu O believed he despised demon puppets. Therefore, she ignored him completely. She said faintly, “To survive by abandoning one’s principles—is no different from death.”

Ying Chi flicked his fingers. The array beads of the Spirit Emperor’s Demon Seal descended from the sky. Tian Quzi grabbed Xu O’s hand holding the lotus lamp. “You must retreat first!”

At that touch, Xu O’s gaze filled with undisguised revulsion. The goddess’s tears and the blood of the lust-serpent within her made her body long for physical intimacy—but she loathed that urge. She despised sudden closeness—especially from someone she held in poor regard. She yanked her hand away.

Tian Quzi, never in his life rejected so harshly, froze. If this disgust had come from anyone else, it would not have mattered. But from the one he yearned for—his pride was wounded deeply. Like a snail finally daring to peek from its shell, only to be scalded by flame, he recoiled instantly, dropping his gaze in silence.

The Spirit Emperor’s Demon Seal surged upward like a wall of water—separating them completely.

Ying Chi watched coldly. Xu O’s refusal was expected. She was not wrong. No power helped without purpose. If she wished to submit—would she not choose her own kin, the demon clan, over Jiuyuan?

Tian Quzi’s cold indifference was amusing to Ying Chi—but seeing him leave empty-handed was even better. He ignored him entirely and ordered the full assault on the demon puppet fighters trapped within the formation.

Xu O’s burden increased. She spared Tian Quzi not even a glance.

He stood outside the formation, watching the silhouette of her robe flutter behind the waterlike barrier.
If only she could retreat—even pretend to yield—just once.

The Nine Abyss Immortal Sect was not without options. The Yin-Yang Institute alone had hundreds of elite disciples ready to enter the Heavenly Demon Sanctuary. If all nine branches acted together, Painting City could force the demon clan to retreat.

But forcing their way in meant sacrificing at least forty percent of Jiuyuan’s best. Such a price required compensation. And she—leader of Painting City—refused even to feign obedience.

And his hidden, unspoken yearning—could it possibly outweigh the lives and cultivation of his disciples?

Tian Quzi understood perfectly: without a spirit vein, Painting City could never defeat the Spirit Emperor’s Demon Seal.

Ying Chi’s formation was linked to the Nine Execution Net, drawing infinite spiritual energy. The only drawback: when used, it drained the Nine Execution Net, decreasing its power.

This formation was a ruler’s weapon—just as Tian Quzi himself carried the “Machine of Grasping Fate,” linked to the Yin-Yang Institute’s mountain-protecting array.

As demon puppet warriors fell in waves, the priestly temple—long watching the battle—finally wavered.

The demon puppets’ ability to bear children with both immortals and demons should have made all powers seek them eagerly. Yet their former leader hid this truth, forbidding any revealing of their nature.

Xu O, inheriting the position, instead traveled widely, bringing back numerous secret techniques for her people to learn.

Their life had been hard—but loyalty never faltered.

Now the secret was exposed. The demon clan coaxed tirelessly. The Demon Venerable himself disguised as a rogue cultivator, spent months at Xu O’s side. When she learned the truth, she rejected him bluntly and expelled him.

Now, the demon army pressed in—and still she ordered a fight to the death.

The priestly temple finally rejected her decision. With Painting City all but defeated, the demon clan still offered a spirit vein.
Why choose annihilation when negotiation could bring prosperity?

The High Priest Tai Shi Changling sat across from ghost general Gui Yelai, who lazily rolled a cup between his fingers. “The Demon Venerable bears no ill will toward the demon puppets. Surely, High Priest, you know this well. If you delay further, once the puppets are exterminated and Painting City falls… the twelve clan leaders may not be as generous.”

Tai Shi Changling’s fingers dug into the chair arm. “The Demon Venerable truly promises… the priestly temple will govern Painting City?”

Gui Yelai narrowed his eyes, amused, but smiled sincerely. “You may rest assured. His word is gold.”

Tai Shi Changling swallowed hard, slapped the armrest, and stood.

Below Painting City, puppet warriors had fallen in heaps. Xu O’s body was torn open by the Demon Seal, stained entirely in blood. At that moment, the city gates closed.

Tan’s pupils shrank. “Leader?”

Xu O did not turn. Instead, she asked softly, “Do you regret it?”

Tan straightened, expression grave. “To follow the leader—through life and death—never regret.”

Xu O murmured, “Only a race truly brave can look down upon freedom. Sacrifice is worth it. Believe me.”

Tan’s voice was unshakable. “I have never doubted.”

The battlefield had become hell incarnate. Corpses rose like mountains, blood flowed as rivers. Even the passing wind smelled of slaughter. Xu O’s steps slowed. After such brutal battle, the lotus lamp’s wick was nearly extinguished.

Meanwhile, the Demon Seal’s power remained endless—four spirit veins supplied its force. And with the city gates closed, she had no retreat. Tan, pierced by arrows, collapsed.

Xu O finally turned slightly.

Tian Quzi opened his mouth—but Ying Chi spoke before him, voice trembling even through the formation: “Will you not reconsider?”

Through the barrier, his voice shook.

Xu O brushed her bloodstained robes. Blood dripped like pearls. “Reconsider?” Silver-flecked lust-serpent blood shimmered in her palm. “What qualifications do you have for me to reconsider?”

Ying Chi froze. Inside the Demon Seal, a violent surge erupted.

Painting City’s defensive formation—

Why was she activating it only now?!

Tian Quzi’s expression changed instantly.

Fragments of consciousness twisted and burst from the lotus lamp, blood becoming water, bones melting into mud. From that mire, a single bud broke through—

Then grew, towering rapidly, branches spreading like wings, half-shielding Painting City. Pale yellow buds swelled, blooming layer after layer, scattering golden light. Blood streamed down its bark, staining its beauty.

The fragrance of osmanthus flooded the city.

Though the Demon Seal devoured the Nine Execution Net, Ying Chi had been holding back, still hoping to persuade her. Now it reeled under the onslaught.

But it was still too strong.

Just a little more—

Ying Chi sensed something wrong, rushing to stabilize the array. Xu O finally lifted her head. Though drenched in blood, she remained proud, noble—like a plum blossom blooming on frost-laden cliffs.
Unbroken by life. Unbowed by death.
She asked again, “What qualifications do you have for me to reconsider?”

The lotus lamp’s final flame surged up her arm, igniting her very soul. Ying Chi staggered back. Her consciousness blazed into light—and the dying lotus lamp burst forth once more in final radiance.

Light spread, mingling with the osmanthus tree. The Demon Seal cracked with a deafening sound. The fissure widened. A towering osmanthus tree shattered its restraints and bloomed into the sky.

The lotus lamp fell apart.

Ying Chi retrieved the Demon Seal, staring at the divine tree that reached the heavens. He whispered, “Fragrant osmanthus stretching across the sky, flourishing within the moon… this is…”

Tian Quzi finished, “The Immortal Wood.”
A true osmanthus branch from within the moon. No wonder all demon puppets bore its scent. Who would have thought such a divine artifact resided in Painting City?

Xu O had used the blood and consciousness of demon soldiers—both clans' dead—to forge an artificial spirit vein. With the osmanthus as the array spirit, and her own burning soul as sacrifice, she awakened the divine tree’s power—and finally forged a true defensive formation to protect her city.

She succeeded.

The spirit vein descended into the world—and chaos surged across the realms. Ying Chi’s grief was indescribable. Yet some people… were not even qualified to be hurt.

Tian Quzi turned his back to the Xuanguang Mirror. He swiftly sealed the air, gathering scattered fragments of divine consciousness from the ruins of the Demon Seal and the hostile backlash of the lotus lamp. He bent and picked up the broken lotus shards.

They were sharp, cutting into his palm.
But he felt nothing.

In this story, he was always only a phantom—watching the love and hatred of others.
He had no right to joy or sorrow.

He could only remain expressionless.

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