Chapter 116: The Immortal-Slaying Pavilion

Qi Min was a native of the Demon Realm.

Since childhood, his greatest love was seeking out fights and causing trouble. However, he did not bully the weak; in fact, every time he picked an opponent, he chose someone whose strength was just a bit higher than his own. Being injured without dying, with a chance to escape, was, to him, absolutely wonderful.

He could no longer pinpoint when he fell in love with that sensation of pain, yet he sincerely did not wish to die. In the Demon Realm, wanting to die is easy, so he could not fully indulge his nature. Addicted to pain while instinctively resisting life-threatening danger, Qi Min lived a life of slaughter. As he grew older, he found it harder to obtain the pain he desired because his opponents became fewer and fewer.

In the previous Beast Stage tournament, he became the champion. A representative from the Immortal-Slaying Pavilion specifically invited him to join. Qi Min only asked: "If I go, what will the Master have me do?"

The man, thinking he understood Qi Min's psychology, smiled meaningfully: "Rest assured, we certainly won't let Young Master Qi live such a displaced life again. The tasks assigned will not be too difficult for you."

"Not too difficult" meant "the opponents are simple."

"The opponents are simple" meant "it won't hurt at all."

Qi Min fell silent for a moment. He turned around and looked out the window indifferently: "Apologies, I feel I still need to practice. Currently, I do not live up to the Master's expectations. Let me temper myself at the Beast Stage for a while longer before deciding."

"..." The triumphant smile on the visitor's face stiffened for a moment. But since Qi Min hadn't offered a total rejection, the man suppressed the ferocity in his eyes and forced a smile. "I understand. I shall report this truthfully to the Master."

"Thank you."

Qi Min knew that entering the Beast Stage meant entering the sphere of influence of the Immortal-Slaying Pavilion. He hadn't expected to take first place, and having done so, he couldn't reject them too harshly, or he wouldn't know how he died. He had heard that Master Lu enjoyed the "one-strike kill." He couldn't defeat the Master, but he didn't panic; having lived for over a hundred years, he had done well enough by Demon Realm standards.

Even knowing this was a dragon's den or a tiger's lair, Qi Min wanted to come in and see if there was anyone who couldn't kill him but could grant him pain. Naturally, he could find an ordinary person to do it, but Qi Min regarded this as a secret he would rather die than speak aloud. No one in the Demon Realm could be trusted; one had to be wary even of children.

Loving pain was a secret only he knew. It wasn't out of shame, but simply because, in his view, it was a fatal weakness. He couldn't uproot it, but he didn't intend to indulge it completely by just finding someone to beat him. If he became totally addicted and lost his vigilance, he would lose his life through negligence. He pursued pain inconspicuously while hiding this secret.

In the next round of matches, he had heard news of the young pair of practitioners. He assumed they were just another pair of young, reckless demonic cultivators.

In the match before the finals, Qi Min gripped his opponent's neck as usual. The opponent's terrified, trembling pupils rolled upward from lack of oxygen, his mouth open like a fish, making raspy, gasping sounds. His face turned flushed, then quickly purple.

It's time to kill him,

Qi Min thought.

This match had only brought Qi Min a single wound. The blood on his arm flowed freely, and a dense pain traveled to his brain, bringing a nerve-like tingling. He couldn't help but move that arm.

Upstairs, a youth watched coldly with his arms crossed. His broken forearm was already healed. After leaving Zora's room, he had come to this match venue. Having observed several matches, Vane's original intent was to assess the strength of Zora's opponent, but he unexpectedly discovered the man's disgusting nature.

Qi Min thought his secret was hidden perfectly, but in Vane's eyes, every subtle movement and expression revealed that he took extreme pleasure in "wounds" and was by no means angry at others for hurting him.

Truly disgusting.

At the thought that when Zora stepped on him, this man would actually be in a state of pleasure, Vane's brow furrowed tightly, and killing intent surged. Had it not involved Zora, Vane wouldn't have spared him a second glance. But this was Zora's opponent; how was he worthy?

Vane lowered his eyelids slightly. His spiritual power entered as if into uninhabited territory, easily testing the demonic cultivator's level and retreating fully.

A weak demonic cultivator...

How was he worthy? How was he worthy to show a trembling joy under her sword? This violated the purpose of Zora's match.

The youth irritably rubbed his fingertips. His usually calm expression showed a rare outward display of emotion—extreme annoyance.

Kill him. Right now.

Using spiritual power, no one would notice. That group of weaklings wouldn't even be able to find the killer.

Unknowingly, his right hand gripped the inside of his left wrist. He needed pain to act as water to cool his feverish brain. Soon, a bloodstain appeared on the skin of the youth's wrist, yet his eyes remained fixed on the massive circular stage below.

The dark, sunken pupils initially held a flicker of killing intent, but now only a dead silence remained, calm as stagnant water. Yet, blood continued to appear on his wrist.

Wait a little longer.

Perhaps Zora would kill him without discovering Qi Min's abnormality... but Zora wouldn't use her full strength; Qi Min could survive at least one move. Zora was different from others; Vane knew where it hurt most to wound a person, while she only memorized which spots were fatal.

Therefore, those might also be the most painful.

She would likely find out. She was easily attracted by people's different reactions, which sparked her interest.

...Better to just kill him.

Vane's brow pressed down slightly, but he ultimately restrained himself. He could not go against Zora's wishes and take her prize without permission.

...

Qi Min finally killed his opponent. As the judge loudly announced his victory, Qi Min seemed to sense something and looked up toward the pavilion on the left.

It was empty.

He withdrew his gaze and couldn't help but savor the wound on his arm, licking his lips. He wondered what tomorrow's final opponent would be like and what pleasure they would bring him.

Zora rested as usual for a few days. On the day of the match, she arrived at the venue with her sword on her back, looking as steady as ever.

As the previous champion, Qi Min always had countless people rushing to flatter him. When he arrived, a swarm of people was there offering adulation. One held his weapon, another talked incessantly.

"Young Master Qi, the Immortal-Slaying Pavilion has made a grand gesture this time. I heard the winner will receive Jade-White Stones—precious treasures for cultivation! I congratulate Young Master Qi in advance."

Qi Min didn't pay much attention to the crowd. Hearing this, he felt that if he rejected the Pavilion again, it might bring danger. Jade-White Stones? Decent enough materials. Feeling regretful that the Beast Stage offered no better entertainment, Qi Min finally saw his opponent's face.

He froze for a moment.

—Too young.

Not just in appearance, but her eyes. The eyes of someone who has lived hundreds of years are different from someone who has lived decades. This person looked like a newcomer who had just ventured out; she cared for nothing except what she was focused on, and her eyes were crystal clear, devoid of the murky emotions common in the Demon Realm.

How did such a person survive in the Demon Realm?

Moreover, he actually couldn't see through her cultivation. Qi Min was startled and immediately straightened his posture to observe her seriously for a moment.

The girl didn't care about his gaze, turning her head to shove some food into Vane's hands. Only then did Qi Min look at the person beside her. Although this youth had a stern aura, he looked much more like a denizen of the Demon Realm; even the smile on his lips seemed ill-intentioned.

Vane was indeed ill-intentioned. He was speaking softly to Zora.

"If he is too disgusting, do not wrong yourself."

Kill him, or let him kill Qi Min.

Zora, whose logic never included "wronging herself," gave him a puzzled look: "?"

Zora stepped onto the circular stage. There seemed to be people from the Immortal-Slaying Pavilion upstairs. She thought back to what Vane had said this morning.

Zora had woken up late today, sitting drowsily before the mirror. Vane straightened her slightly messy hair bit by bit, tying two buns on the sides of her head while the black hair at the back fell loose, sliding through his fingers.

Vane had learned many hairstyles, but the twin-buns were the ones Zora was most used to. He had once tried to style her hair in other beautiful ways, but because it was too complicated and took too long, Zora grew impatient. After asking three times about the progress, she leaned back directly, bumping into his abdomen.

Vane looked down. She tilted her face up, the top of her head against his waist, and said unhappily: "Too slow. Are you weaving flowers?"

Since then, Vane never easily tried new styles, only occasionally varying the way the buns were tied. The first time, they looked like bulges pressed in the middle by ribbons, split into two sections; now, he occasionally tied two round flower-bud buns. He always did more within the range of what she liked.

This morning, he tied two cute flower-bud buns and gave them a light squeeze at the end. Sensing this, Zora reached up and squeezed her ball-like hair herself.

Vane: "I heard the champion of every tournament enters the Immortal-Slaying Pavilion, but to this day, not a single one has made a name for themselves."

Zora didn't care much: "Too weak, or dead."

She saw clearly, she just didn't care.

Vane smiled: "Yes. Who knows where they die. The demonic Qi required for cultivation in the Demon Realm is dwindling. By now, it can be called sparse; it is difficult for demonic cultivators to progress."

He looked down as Zora squeezed her bun-hair again. He raised his hand to gently pinch the other one, as if performing the final step to fix the hairstyle. He indeed made the bun look better, tucking in the loose strands, while Zora squeezed the newly fixed hair flat. When she lowered her hands, Vane tidied it for her again.

I'll tie it tighter tomorrow. Being too fluffy is cute, but Zora squeezes it out of shape easily. No, actually, being tight is also cute.

Zora suddenly said: "The Master killed them."

"Perhaps," Vane smiled. "After all, absorbing the demonic Qi of other demonic cultivators is faster than cultivating oneself. The Master's cultivation grows faster than others even now. This might be the significance of establishing the Beast Stage."

Therefore, the champion was destined for misfortune. Furthermore, having one's cultivation drained was very painful.

If I kill this Qi Min, it counts as saving him. After all, I don't torture people,

Zora thought expressionlessly.

Standing on the stage, Qi Min cupped his hands: "A pleasure."

Without further word, the crystal in the demonic cultivator's hand flared with piercing light. Dark quagmires appeared one after another on the stage. One patch seemed to have indigestion, suddenly spitting out half a fragmented skull before it slowly sank back down.

This was Qi Min's most confident move. He had only used it a few times here. This "swamp" ate people, and the pervasive miasma could constantly drain the opponent's demonic Qi. He could even hide inside it, allowing for both attack and retreat.

Zora made a soft sound. The swamp beneath her feet was like a writhing crack, constantly trying to swallow her. She had no demonic Qi. Although the miasma was consuming her spiritual power, to her vast strength, it was but a drop in the ocean, not worth mentioning.

Zora lifted her foot. The dark purple swamp stuck to the bottom of her foot like mud.

It was a bit disgusting.

Qi Min was on high alert. Seeing the swamp was ineffective against her, his face turned pale instantly.

What's happening? I can't feel her using demonic Qi at all.

In the next moment, there was a flash of bright white.

She drew her sword.

Before the sword intent arrived, the intense pressure forced Qi Min to sense the crisis first, instinctively diving into the swamp.

"Aah!!"

But she was a step faster. An arm fell lonely to the ground amidst a spray of fresh blood. Qi Min vanished. Zora walked to the arm, paused, and poked it with her sword. The swampy ground beneath was soft; the arm was forced down half an inch.

Zora poked again. The arm sank a bit more. Then, because it was the master's limb, the swamp spat it back out, pushing it upward. A wisp of spiritual power gathered at the tip of the sword, actually piercing through a corner of the swamp. From the depths came a pained cry of backlash, which ended with an inexplicably high-pitched tone.

Vane, watching from the edge, raised an eyebrow, his expression growing a few degrees colder. Finally, the swamp reluctantly swallowed the master's severed limb bit by bit.

Zora strolled across the stage. Wherever her feet landed, the swamp retreated, leaving a clean space. A pressure that others could not feel invaded the swamp, rising like a steep slope with the girl's footsteps.

"H-how is this possible? Why didn't I notice her using demonic Qi?" one onlooker gasped, unable to understand her method.

"Could her cultivation have reached the point where her mere presence creates pressure enough to suppress Qi Min?"

On the stage, she stopped her pace.

Beneath the swamp, Qi Min was trembling. He hadn't expected that he wouldn't even have the courage to come out and fight; instinct was desperately stopping him. Her pressure was like a cold corpse licking his heart, terrifyingly chilly. It was like an ant seeing an elephant, instinctively feeling the terror of a giant, shaking uncontrollably.

She walked slowly. With every step, his spiritual root vibrated, like a blade hanging overhead that refused to fall, driving one mad. He wanted to roar, to try every means to escape.

But the truth was, he couldn't move an inch. One of his hands rose, dazed, stroking the severed surface of his shoulder, his face flushed.

...It hurt so much. This was the most pain he had felt in a hundred years.

His breathing grew heavy.

Suddenly, a sword easily broke through the swamp that others couldn't see through and picked him out. Qi Min crashed to the ground, blood still gushing from his wound. Zora was about to kill him when she frowned in confusion. He looked terrified, yet carried a thick joy and excitement, making his facial features twist into something extremely bizarre.

She didn't quite understand.

Forget it, no need to understand. This match was just as simple.

Zora raised her sword.

"Wait—!" A finely dressed servant loudly interrupted, walking onto the stage and bowing to Zora. "Miss Zora, congratulations! Young and promising indeed. Our Master greatly admires your strength and wishes for both of you to enter the Immortal-Slaying Pavilion. We hope you will show mercy; the Jade-White Stones will certainly belong to you."

Zora looked at him. The servant was smiling, but not submissively; he spoke with confidence.

In the next instant, Qi Min stared blankly at the gradually disappearing swamp and his own collapsed body. The blood at his neck was like a fountain spray; he had lost his head.

...He just... died that easily?

The man's eyes lost all luster. Warm blood flowed off the stage, splashing near a youth's feet.

Vane looked down at the messy droplets of blood and let out a light laugh. It was a pity; even in death, Zora had to see this man's ugly state.

"You... you..." The servant had never seen someone show him such a lack of face. He tried to speak several times but couldn't finish.

Only then did Zora feel the match was over. She sheathed her sword and asked politely: "What is it?"

"..." The servant wanted to curse, but he held his tongue. The small man’s eyes bulged slightly, spinning with a hint of cunning. Remembering the Master's orders, he swallowed his anger. "...Congratulations, Miss Zora. Our Master wishes to see you. Please follow me."

Zora gave an affirmation; she had come specifically to see this Master. The servant shivered inexplicably, only then belatedly recalling this person's unfathomable strength, giving rise to a hint of wariness.

In any case... she won't surpass the Master.

Wang Yili was a hidden guard for the Master of the Immortal-Slaying Pavilion. She had wandered the Demon Realm and had been taken in by nobles in the Northern Realm, but ultimately she chose without hesitation to be a blade. Toiling and laboring as a tool in another's hand. No special reason, she just liked it. She liked completing missions; whether killing or protecting, it gave her a sense of achievement.

In short, Wang Yili liked her role as a tool-blade.

Today was the day the Master welcomed the Beast Stage champion to absorb their demonic Qi. The Master of the Immortal-Slaying Pavilion had many affairs; the Beast Stage was only one. If not for his own cultivation, he wouldn't have spent vast fortunes to build it. Anyone in the Beast Stage could be a foundation stone for his cultivation. Those "favored children of heaven" thought they could rise, unaware they were merely cultivation materials for the Master.

Inside the well-arranged pavilion, a gilded incense burner sent up wisps of smoke. A thermal pool steamed, the air filled with light veils. The Master liked to soak in the pool after draining others, so he simply did his business by the water.

Wang Yili was hidden in the shadows, her entire being merged with the darkness, indistinguishable.

"Master, the person has arrived," a servant knocked respectfully.

The Master lay in a chair, disheveled. Hearing this, he said unhurriedly: "Enter."

The servant entered, and the person following him came into Wang Yili's view. It was a girl. She looked like a fragile flower Wang Yili had seen among the nobility; she truly hadn't expected the champion wasn't that Qi Min.

The servant kept his head down and closed the door. Usually, the Master would act immediately; she had seen many people turn into human husks the moment they stepped into the room. But this time, perhaps because the Master noticed one person was missing, he mercifully let her live for a moment longer.

"That Qi Min..."

Wang Yili's duty was to protect the Master. She did indeed do a good job, which was why she was placed by his side as a hidden guard. But when that girl acted, she did not react in time.

Too fast.

The girl seemed to just glance at the Master, as if seeing through his cultivation level, and delivered a lethal blow with one strike. Pity the Master hadn't even finished dressing before he tumbled into the thermal pool—the process, at least, was correct.

The moment the girl struck, Wang Yili alertly stepped out of the shadows, drawing her sleeve-blade, intending to shield the Master behind her.

Then her form froze violently.

...Ah, the Master was already dead.

How could it be so fast?

The culprit tilted her head, looking at her curiously. Wang Yili was maintained in a posture of taking a step out, abruptly appearing in the corner of the room, dressed in tight black clothes, her fierce demonic Qi about to burst.

Wang Yili's body was stiff: "..."

She liked being a tool-blade, but that didn't mean she wanted to be one after the employer was dead—there was no sense of mission achievement in that. This girl's cultivation was unfathomable; it was best not to cross her.

Having quickly weighed the pros and cons, Wang Yili maintained her fierce expression and took a step back. Like time reversing, she smoothly retreated back into the shadows. This represented her attitude: if the other party didn't intend to wipe her out, she might be spared.

The girl tilted her head to look. Blood dripped from the tip of her lowered sword. She walked toward that corner and stopped abruptly. Clearly, she had already marked the hidden guard as an enemy. In that instant, the hidden guard who had lost her employer had no doubt she would be pierced through the shadows—a blade to the throat.

Wang Yili immediately stepped out again.

The two looked at each other.

"..."

"..."

In the silence, time waited for no one, and death beckoned at any moment. Wang Yili knelt on one knee with a solemn face, her voice resonant and powerful.

"This subordinate pays respects to the Master!"

The girl paused: "What Master?"

Wang Yili said firmly: "In the Demon Realm, the strong prey on the weak. The Northern Demon Lord only ascended to the throne after assassinating the previous one. The previous Pavilion Master also successfully succeeded after defeating the one before. You killed the Master; naturally, you are the new Master, the lord to whom I pledge my loyalty."

"I see," the girl made a sound of realization. "The Demon Realm is quite convenient."

"Of course. The Demon Realm respects strength. The previous Master was simply inferior in skill. Your swordsmanship is brilliant and your cultivation deep; you are the undisputed new Master."

"Mhm."

The girl had originally intended to kill the hidden guard, but now this guard was her own property, and even this thermal pool pavilion was her own. One's own things naturally didn't need to be destroyed.

The girl picked up a gold cup from the table. Wang Yili paused, then violating her duty as a hidden guard, stepped forward and poured her a cup of water.

The girl drank it and thought of something: "Then go and call Vane over. The one who came to the Beast Stage with me. He should still be at that arena now."

She ordered her about very naturally.

"Yes."

Wang Yili kept her eyes down and brow submissive, never raising her eyes to look at the new Master offensively throughout the entire process. She walked out.

"Why have you come out?!" the servant at the door asked in surprise.

Wang Yili said coldly: "The Master is dead. According to the rules, that girl is the new Master of the Pavilion."

"—!?" The servant was dumbfounded. "What kind of rule are you talking about?! The Demon Lord's position is indeed like that, but our Pavilion Master's position is passed down through generations..."

She's a latecomer; how would she know if your position is hereditary? Anyway, it isn't anymore.

Wang Yili thought expressionlessly.

Time waited for no one. Wang Yili ignored him, left the place, and hurried to the arena. She was able to become a hidden guard because she stood in the upper-middle tier of demonic cultivators. Even a Master a hundred times stronger than her was easily eliminated; she understood the strength of the person in the room with absolute clarity. She dared not act recklessly, nor did she even dare to run away.

...

Vane had assumed Zora would return being pursued, or perhaps after wiping out the entire Pavilion. Then he learned she had become the Master.

Vane: "..."

He paused, caught sight of the steady, downcast gaze of the woman before him, and suddenly let out a sneer. The youth seemed to discern part of the truth in an instant: "Do you know that as a servant or subordinate, the most basic thing is not to deceive the master?"

Wang Yili's heart tightened. His cultivation was also a depth she couldn't see through.

"...Unless it is to her benefit. Therefore, if you truly lied," Vane looked down at the blood on the ground, his dark eyes curving as if in great pleasure, and smiled, "then make it a reality, understood?"

If the pressure given by the girl was a clear, cold sea without deliberate targeting, then this youth was absolute, pervasive, suffocating malice. Undercurrents surging, bone-chilling cold—he seemed ready to tear into your flesh at any moment.

Wang Yili’s hand shivered involuntarily. She forcibly suppressed her terrified heart, bowing her head even lower, not daring to look the youth in the eye.

"...Yes."