The Sect Leader's Seat (12)

Xu Zheng prodded Lin Qianshuang’s shoulder with his folding fan before leaning in with exaggerated curiosity. “Xiao Liu, I’ve heard the Demon Realm’s Domain Lord prefers female company. Don’t tell me she took liberties with you?”

He slung an arm around her like a confidant, adding mock-seriously, “But honestly, given her stunning beauty, no harm done if she did touch you. Did you memorize any demonic techniques while you were there? Reporting them to the City Lord would earn you major favor.”

Lin Qianshuang shrugged him off, wiping her cheek with icy detachment. “Thousands of manuals filled those shelves. You think I could memorize a single one from a few rushed glances? Even if I had, the Domain Lord would’ve erased the knowledge outright.”

As Xu Zheng opened his mouth to reply, a scarlet streak shot across the skeletal-flecked stone bridge, demonic energy surging toward him. He scrambled backward, the hostile force driving him away from Lin Qianshuang.

Purple mist dissolved into wisps as crimson robes rippled around her, revealing Han Shengyao in all her imposing grace.

Lin Qianshuang’s expression flickered with surprise, a hint of panic flashing in her eyes. Had her master chased her down to punish her earlier impropriety—or because she’d remembered something?

“Envoy, you left your mask at my residence.”

Han Shengyao withdrew the mask from her sleeve and pressed it into Lin Qianshuang’s palm.

“My thanks, Domain Lord.”

Relief softened Lin Qianshuang’s features as she accepted the mask with a deferential nod, securing it swiftly over her face.

Han Shengyao’s gaze drifted lazily to the two youths lingering near Lin Qianshuang before adding, “I’ve taken a liking to you, Envoy. While in Tianshu City, do continue assisting me in organizing the ancient texts—if you’d be so obliging.”

Lin Qianshuang lowered her head, her voice soft. “Domain Lord, the City Lord will assign others to assist you. As for me… I’ll soon be… wed.”

Han Shengyao regarded her with regret, then followed Lin Qianshuang’s fleeting glance toward the young man beside them. He clutched a folding fan, sneaking peeks at Han Shengyao with a sleazy, self-satisfied air that grated on her nerves.

This little demon cultivator chose this hypocrite as her partner?

Disdain flickered in Han Shengyao’s phoenix eyes. “Du Shuang mentioned your situation. Is this the one you’re marrying?”

Lin Qianshuang nodded. The mission demanded it—even a sham marriage served its purpose.

Han Shengyao lazily averted her gaze. “Truly awful taste.”

Xu Zheng coughed awkwardly behind his fan.

Lin Qianshuang smiled, turning to Han Shengyao with soft concern. “It’s late, Domain Lord. You should rest soon.”

Han Shengyao’s phoenix eyes narrowed at the sleazy youth. This little demon cultivator has appalling taste—a fresh blossom wedged into cow dung. Her irritation flared inexplicably when Lin Qianshuang displayed that gentle, fleeting smile.

Lin Qianshuang hovered, unwilling to dismiss herself first. “Domain Lord…?” she prompted hesitantly.

To Han Shengyao’s senses, the girl’s true form manifested—a fluffy lion-like creature peering up with luminous blue eyes, delicate ears quivering in nervous flickers.

Her heart softened, and she couldn’t resist tousling Lin Qianshuang’s silky black hair.

Han Shengyao’s stern expression eased, her crimson eyes dimming faintly. The previous Demon Emperor once kept a Persian cat…this texture feels just the same.

Why did this fleeting thought strike her as so familiar? Had she pondered this before?

Lin Qianshuang stood frozen, the Domain Lord’s warm hands stroking her hair as one might pet a cat. Flushing, she seized Han Shengyao’s wandering wrist and whispered, “Domain Lord.”

Han Shengyao snorted, but her irritation dissolved when the girl’s fluffy beast-form—a small white creature with pleading blue eyes—materialized in her senses. Those velvety paws resting on her wrist made her heart melt.

Han Shengyao outwardly maintained her frosty composure, gazing at Lin Qianshuang. “Tomorrow, I require your personal accompaniment to Tianshu City.”

Lin Qianshuang watched the Domain Lord depart, wiping sweat from her brow. The memory of Han Shengyao’s palm resting on her head still chilled her—for a breathless moment, she’d truly believed her life might end there.

Her pulse raced as the crimson silhouette vanished into the distance. Suddenly, her mind hollowed—every demonic technique she’d memorized in the archives, every obscure passage from the Legacy Mansion’s tomes, all dissolved like smoke.

At Penglai Immortal Sect, Xiao Lanle sat motionless in Qingxin Hall. Bucket after bucket of frigid pool water crashed over her head, drenching her thin pink robes until they clung to her skin. Strands of hair plastered her temples as the icy deluge quenched the restless heat of her Fire Spiritual Root.

Water had always terrified her. She’d endured this torment countless times to conquer that fear.

Last night, Xiao Shen had raged and forced her to kneel before her mother’s grave until dawn—punishment for refusing the betrothal to Senior Brother Chen Shangqing and demanding to attempt the Penglai Immortal Sect’s leadership trials.

Someday, Xiao Lanle vowed as icy water streamed down her neck, I’ll prove to Father I’m worthy. To avenge her mother. To claim her birthright.

She set down the wooden pail, shrugged off her soaked outer robe, and unsheathed the Plain Inquiry Sword. A flicker of sword light carried her through the forest canopy before plunging into the pool below—its depths dark as jade, cold as forgotten graves.

Water closed over her head. Tremors seized her limbs. Breathe. The calming mantra trembled on her lips. Control the flames. She envisioned the Glazed Temple Gem’s glow—her sole memory of maternal warmth—spinning protective threads of qi to drive back the drowning dark.

After three circuit-breathing laps, she hauled herself ashore. Rivulets streamed from her hair as she raised a hand to summon drying qi when a cloak draped across her shoulders. Warmth blossomed between her shoulder blades as a slender hand channeled spiritual energy through her meridians. Damp silk stiffened to crisp dryness.

Xiao Lanle turned, her voice bright with surprised recognition. “Senior Sister Qianshuang! What brings you here?”

Lin Qianshuang had spent days shuttling between the Penglai Immortal Sect and Tianshu City. Fresh from settling Demon Realm affairs in the cooler climes of Tianshu, she squinted against the mortal world’s fiercer sunlight, her paper umbrella clutched like a shield.

“Junior Sister,” she said, smiling down at Xiao Lanle through the glare, “I saw you dive in earlier and feared the worst. But it seems I worried for nothing—your skills in water are impressive.”

Xiao Lanle took her hand with unabashed delight. “Senior Sister, you’ve come on my birthday! Was this visit meant for me?”

Yes, Lin Qianshuang thought. Entirely.

Today marked Xiao Shen’s impending assassination, with Liang Jingxuan poised to storm the sect. Her mission: keep Xiao Lanle distracted, far from the carnage. Let the blade fall before returning.

She couldn’t let Xiao Lanle witness such brutality.

How could she possibly explain Sect Leader Xiao Shen’s impending death? That Xiao Lanle’s father had murdered her own mother and relatives for the Glazed Temple Gem? That the Chen family weren’t the true culprits behind the village massacre—that she had massacred everyone during a loss of control? That her lifelong vendetta was nothing more than someone else’s scheme?

Such truths would shatter anyone.

Lin Qianshuang looped her arm through Xiao Lanle’s, adopting the casual air of friends out for a stroll. “Why not head down the mountain today?” she suggested brightly. “Anywhere you like—I’m free.”

Xiao Lanle stared at her, fingertips brushing Lin Qianshuang’s cheek as if testing a dream. “Senior Sister,” she murmured, eyes hazy with wonder, “you’re… different today.”

In her nightmares, that senior sister wore the same warm smile while betraying her before disappearing…

Lin Qianshuang’s expression froze momentarily before softening into a gentle grin. She playfully tapped her cheek. “Is it the dark circles? Or have I aged so poorly?”

Xiao Lanle tugged a strand of Lin Qianshuang’s hair, huffing, “If you’re considered old and ugly, this sect might as well announce its retirement from youth. You achieved Foundation Establishment three years ahead of me. By appearances alone, you should be calling me senior sister!”

Lin Qianshuang cupped her face, recalling her master’s praise of the Nine Spirit Sword Physique. Without Liang Jingxuan’s interference, the original “White Moonlight” senior sister truly might have ascended to immortality through flawless swordsmanship.

Xiao Lanle grasped her hand, mischief sparking in her eyes. “How about this? I’ll call you junior sister, and you call me senior sister. You carried me to Tianshu City last time—today, I’ll carry you down the mountain!”

Let Junior Sister Xiao carry her?

Lin Qianshuang glanced at Xiao Lanle’s delicate, slender frame and waved her hands dismissively. “No need! I’m heavy, and your true qi isn’t stable enough. What if you accidentally break a bone? That’d be a disaster.”

“Lin Qianshuang, don’t underestimate me!” Xiao Lanle scowled, yanking her sleeve. “Even without true qi, I’m still stronger than you. My physical stamina’s miles ahead of yours!”

She crouched halfway, tilting her head with a playful smirk. “Come on, junior sister. Up you go—I’ll carry you!”

Lin Qianshuang eyed the girl’s paper-thin back and willow-thin waist, retreating in alarm. “Junior sister, let’s discuss this later. If anyone’s carrying anyone, I should be the one—”

“Senior sister,” Xiao Lanle corrected sharply, springing up. Before Lin Qianshuang could protest, Xiao Lanle swept her into a bridal carry, arms secure beneath her knees and shoulders. “If you won’t let me carry you on my back,” she said, grin widening, “then how about a princess carry instead? Hmm, junior sister?”

“Senior sister, your timid little junior here would never hear the end of it from the Sect Leader if you tripped and died on my watch.”

Lin Qianshuang squirmed awkwardly in Xiao Lanle’s arms. Her senior sister’s delicate frame seemed alarmingly fragile—veins visible through paper-thin skin, every wobbling step threatening to send them both sprawling.

Xiao Lanle tightened her grip, fingers playfully digging into Lin’s waist. “Relax, junior sister. I could carry you even if you ballooned into a blimp,” she declared, smug as a wolf flaunting its kill. “What kind of wife would I be if I couldn’t even haul my own spouse around? The Five Sects would roast me for centuries.”

Lin stared. With her soft features and barely an inch of height advantage, Xiao Lanle resembled a scrappy pup trying to drag home a prize ten times its size—equal parts ridiculous and endearing.

“Wife?” Lin jabbed Xiao’s bony shoulder. “Snap out of it! Put. Me. Down.”

The mere thought of being paraded through Tianshu City in this absurd pose ignited her face like a lantern. But struggling risked injuring that idiot’s pride—or worse, her alarmingly breakable arms. Fuming, Lin poked the hands clamped around her ribs. “Let go already! The place I’m taking you—it’s special. A birthday surprise. Stop ruining it!