Chapter 133: Companionship

The investigation went smoothly.

By that, she meant she smoothly entered the gray-robed man’s house. The thin, tall man was dragged along like a rag; because he was excessively tall, most of his body trailed on the ground, leaving a series of intermittent bloodstains.

Though called a house, it was actually just a thatched shack. The door was loosely tied and could be pushed open with a light touch. Zora let go of her grip, and the gray-robed man slumped limply to the floor.

She entered the thatched room with a natural expression. Leaning against the walls were several gaunt corpses, already beginning to smell. Combined with the fact that the corpses seemingly hadn't bathed for a long time before death, the scent was truly beyond words. Zora’s nose twitched, and she let out an uncontrollable, soft sneeze.

Although she was in the Demon Realm, it was undeniable that since coming to this world, she had lived much better than in her original world. At the very least, her nose wasn't constantly surrounded by the stench of rot and decaying bodies. Suddenly subjected to this olfactory attack, she couldn't help but choke a little.

She finished exploring the place in a few steps. Aside from a worshipped idol, there was nothing special. This idol was also very strange; compared to the benevolent gods of the human realm who took pity on the world, this statue was far too grotesque.

She stared at it. The idol's ugly face seemed to be spinning, spinning, gradually transforming into the likeness of her first opponent in her original world.

Zora: "?"

She had almost forgotten the enemy from her first match in the gladiator pits. To be fair, killing for the first time is always a bit difficult—because of the lack of experience—but she wasn't one to brood over it. It took her a long while of staring to remember that this was the first person she had ever killed.

She hesitated. She couldn't sense any demonic Qi or spiritual power; it felt like a common mortal trick.

Just as this "person" was about to speak—

Zora moved a few steps to the left. Her gaze didn't move, remaining fixed on the object. As her perspective shifted, the idol wavered and distorted like air in extreme heat, then turned into another vivid, lifelike face.

Zora: "!"

It changed. This time it was the spectator she remembered most vividly from the stands. Not for any other reason, but because she was the first person to call Zora into a VIP box.

She had given Zora meat, then babbled for a long time. Summed up, she said something about seeing potential in Zora and wanting Zora to be a seemingly harmless maid by her side, while actually serving as a guard.

Zora had spent the entire time munching.

The woman had said: "Most people think powerful warriors are either visibly sharp like a blade or like a leopard, always ready to strike—visibly strong. Someone like you, who kills so cleanly yet looks so harmless, is truly rare."

"This is your advantage."

Zora had looked up at her, her mouth still chewing. Indeed, this woman was visibly powerful; it was an aura. In the pits, even the losers had eyes that revealed a certain cunning and ruthlessness; it was very obvious. Compared to them, Zora’s excessively clear eyes were out of place.

The most important thing was: she wasn't faking it. She really was like that.

The Zora of that time, who didn't have much education yet, swallowed the meat: "..."

What do guard-maids do?

The woman had pinched her cheek. When Zora was brought to see the nobility, her whole body had been scrubbed clean, so she wasn't dirty. After she finished eating, a maid on the side specifically wiped her mouth. The woman pinched her cheek like she was pinching a piece of meat, weighing its value.

She seemed to be gauging whether Zora would remain "harmless" as she grew up, weighing the trajectory of her features. Finally, she judged: "Your appearance shouldn't grow to be fierce, unless your nature suddenly changes and turns so sinister that your eyes become murky."

"I will come back tomorrow."

Zora didn't care if she came or not, but her coming might mean meat. So Zora tossed and turned that night, licking her lips countless times. Then, the next day, Zora didn't see her. She never saw her again after that.

Zora: "..."

I was cheated.

For the first time, she felt a sense of loss. It was an unpleasant feeling, but it was tossed to the back of her mind after a while. Seeing this woman’s face again now, Zora had to think for a bit before remembering this long-buried memory.

The "woman’s" eyeballs didn't seem able to move; it had to look directly at Zora. It opened its mouth and began to speak—

Zora felt a trace of wonder. She shifted a few steps to the right again, her expression as serious as if she were performing an experiment.

The Idol: "..."

It hadn't even had the chance to "speak"!

Its current power was very weak, and this was merely a wisp of that power. To delude someone, it had to make eye contact. Most mortals fell in an instant; yet this person had stared for ages with no reaction. Could her mental fortitude be indestructible?

—

How is that possible?

It felt a surge of contempt.

It transformed into another face in Zora's direction. Perhaps it truly exerted itself this time, no longer playing around. It actually transformed into Vane’s face.

Zora didn't need to reminisce this time; she recognized it immediately. This "Vane" was smiling at her—smiling... strangely. In short, his real self had never smiled like that.

Even when Vane engaged in subtle seduction or "flaunted his feathers," he was extremely dignified. He knew his boundaries and knew exactly what degree was best. For example, he played the part of being piteous perfectly; if it was too much, she would only find him annoying, and if it was too little, she wouldn't notice. The most important thing was—only when it was "just right" was it pleasing to the eye.

This "Vane" was not. It was too much, ruining the superior vessel.

"Immortal... Immortal..." A raspy voice came from behind. The man who had fainted from blood loss had woken up at some point. His hand reached toward the idol, his fingertips trembling as they gripped the floor. His eyeballs protruded; it was unclear what he saw the idol as, but his expression was morbidly fanatical.

She felt something influencing him.

Zora enveloped the idol in spiritual power. The unknown entity inside the statue sensed the intrusion and suddenly dissipated like mist, vanishing without a trace. The statue dimmed accordingly. The believer’s fanaticism stalled for a second, turning into bewilderment, then fear and unease, dreading that he had been forsaken by the god and would lose the chance for his soul to gain power after death.

No wonder the System said it couldn't be resolved in the early stages. An underdeveloped evil spirit was like intangible air, impossible to imprison or destroy. The Black Soul Sect was merely an insignificant byproduct of its early appearance. Since there were so many strange people in the Demon Realm, those seeking power made up the vast majority; they firmly believed that by worshipping this god, their souls would gain immense power after death, becoming eternal.

Zora was a bit unhappy.

The System spoke:

[You have to understand, a cultivation novel focused on a teacher-student romance isn't going to have a very calculating ultimate villain. In the end, the evil spirit’s appearance is just a crucial plot device to turn the hero and heroine into an immortal couple and break secular prejudices.]

The System said righteously:

[So there’s no need to worry. All poorly-defined villains will be defeated by the leads.]

Zora: "Didn't the world end in the end?"

[...

Cough cough

,]

the System said,

[that was a distorted plot. Now it has returned to the right track—]

Just then, a communication talisman that had been dormant in her storage bag for a long time began to heat up. Zora took it out; it was Vane asking for her location. He didn't say why he was looking for her, and Zora didn't mind, giving him the general direction.

The moment her voice fell, the talisman burned to ash.

[—See! He’s no longer a cynical villain who wants to destroy the world! The man is full of hope for the future!]

The System’s voice was vibrant, sounding even more hopeful than Vane himself.

Zora pondered: "What if someone else distorts the plot? If he doesn't do it, someone else will."

[Impossible,]

the System’s voice calmed down, its mechanical tone flat and ripple-less.

[To destroy the world, besides the help of evil spirits, one also needs the personal capability. If I may speak plainly, according to my calculations, in the immortal, human, and demon realms combined, there have been very few people over hundreds of years who can truly be called geniuses. If Vane's probability of success is fifty or sixty percent, the second person below him wouldn't even reach ten percent.]

It added a strange lament:

[There are plenty of people who resent the world, plenty who are indifferent to it, and even more who want the whole world to be buried with them. But why don't they destroy it? Hehe, is it because they don't want to?]

Zora didn't get the joke. Footsteps sounded at the door.

The youth arrived very quickly—so quickly the System blurted out:

[The power of hope!]

Vane glanced at the gaunt man who had fainted again on the floor, bypassed him, and calmly surveyed the narrow thatched hut. The nauseating, strange stench emanating from the desiccated corpses didn't seem to reach his nose. With a neutral expression, he walked over to the corpses first, looking down at them as his divine sense and spiritual power provided feedback. He then turned his head toward Zora, who was staring at him, and smiled: "Zora, can I dispose of them as I wish?"

Zora: "You can."

The corpses instantly turned into a pool of water.

Despite removing the biggest nuisance, Vane still couldn't tolerate it. From the moment he entered, he had noticed the tip of Zora's nose was slightly red, likely from sneezing. Even if she had no expression, he could surmise that she disliked this environment.

He had only asked if he could destroy the "evidence" because he saw Zora had no intention of continuing the investigation. Vane continued to evaporate the corpse water, the gas being carried out by the wind.

Zora had nothing left to do. She already understood that the Black Soul Sect was useless and she couldn't fight the "mobs" now; she just had to wait for the plot points that would happen at an unknown time. So she stood in place, staring at the youth. Wherever he went, her eyes followed, and her head turned.

She was watching him clean.

The System commented:

[She's watching him destroy the evidence.]

"The Black Soul Sect has indeed grown in recent years," Vane clearly knew of these matters, having an understanding of factions large and small. While holding his palm downward to search the soul of the man who had fainted at the door, he smiled and explained to Zora, "But they are merely a motley crew, no different from brainwashed evil cultists in the mortal realm. There are few demonic cultivators among them; they’ve even neglected their cultivation because of their daily obsession with useless preaching. Their strength is nothing to fear."

He showed a serious confusion: "Is there some problem with them?"

Zora shook her head: "No."

There truly wasn't, except that they might have come into contact with a few early-stage evil spirits.

The man soon woke up. He involuntarily straightened his upper body as if his head were suspended by a transparent string. The top of his head faced the youth’s palm, with light blue flocculant material flowing between them. The violent tearing sensation of his soul made the man wish for death; his face was contorted, and even though his mouth was wide open in extreme agony, he couldn't make a sound.

Zora hadn't deliberately studied soul-searching; the cultivation world viewed it as a wicked, forbidden art. Furthermore, soul-searching wasn't that useful; not only was it easy for the soul to become fragmented, but it also easily caused the victim to suffer from soul-loss syndrome. By then, one would only get fragments of what they sought, and the target would be gone.

The agony of the soul-search caused the surrounding temperature to drop. The youth’s young face was cold and indifferent, his downcast eyes looking at the man as if he didn't exist. He didn't treat people as people, nor life as life. If Zora was direct and didn't think of convoluted things, then he was someone who knew exactly what he was destroying and what it meant, yet he didn't care at all—indifferent to the extreme.

As time passed, accompanied by the man’s twisted, numb expression after losing all sensation of pain, a distinct, bone-chilling aura seemed to spread. This was human nature; people always feel a "fox grieving for the rabbit" fear when witnessing such a scene.

Suddenly, Vane closed his palm, and the man slumped powerless to the floor. Zora walked closer to look; he seemed to have gone mad. He no longer appeared wood-like as before, because he was now completely insane. One moment he was clutching his head in pain on the ground, the next he was laughing aloud, eventually lying on the floor curiously picking at the blood and scraps of flesh he had inadvertently left in the corner earlier.

Zora immediately looked away, losing interest. She turned to grab Vane’s hand, turning it over to inspect it: "Soul-searching? What did you see?"

Vane let her flip his hand around for a bit as she squeezed his knuckles. "The Black Soul Sect requires everyone to sacrifice one desiccated corpse every ten days. They believe they will gain more powerful energy after death, originating from the soul."

He paused, glancing at the idol: "However, there is indeed a trace of phantom power attached to some of the idols. The number is small, and its appearance is very brief and impossible to capture. It seems to specialize in illusions."

It sounded like some imperceptible change had occurred in the Demon Realm, or perhaps it was just a trick by some demonic cultivator; after all, the Demon Realm truly had all sorts of terrible things.

Zora was very firm: "Don't take it too seriously. Just check casually; if it doesn't work, forget it."

Vane immediately discarded the complex conspiracy theories from just now. "Okay."

"And it’s not exactly an illusion," Zora thought for a bit. "It deludes the mind. As long as you are firm enough, it’s just a face; it won't have any other effect."

He was very good at catching the point: "A face?"

The youth asked in a conversational tone: "Zora, did you see a face?"

"Three faces," Zora looked up at him and stated. "A man, a woman, and finally you."

The summary was blunt and crude.

"...Me?" Clearly, he focused on the last part. The youth pursed his lips and smiled. "Shall we go back now?"

"Yes, I need to cultivate constantly." Zora decided to spend ten out of every twelve watches cultivating. The Demon Realm was too boring; waiting for Senior Sister Turi to arrive was equivalent to the plot being near its end.

"Okay."

As they walked out of the thatched hut, Vane glanced sideways at the crude idol on the pedestal. His dark eyes reflected nothing. He smiled slightly—a cold smile, laced with killing intent.

He really wanted to root out the thing that had made Zora see its face. Vane had discovered some clues while handling affairs, but it was truly too difficult to capture. For now, Zora’s attitude made him unconditionally set aside his seriousness, but that didn't mean it was gone. He was merely retreating to his lair to hibernate, waiting coldly for this thing to grow stronger.

Only when it grew strong and appeared could it be slaughtered properly.

Thinking this, he turned his head, and his smile completely transformed. The youth naturally took Zora’s hand without using any spells.

"There’s blood; let me wipe it for you."

After wiping, he kissed her cheek. Zora kept looking at the path ahead; even being kissed, her head only tilted slightly as she looked for the way with a normal expression.

The two didn't immediately depart on their weapons, choosing to walk instead. Vane stayed close, his black robes brushing against her light blue skirts. He brought up other topics, and Zora said whatever came to mind.

Vane: "That is the place where I lived briefly before."

Zora commented: "Very dilapidated. Mhm... this, why is this so hard to eat?"

But she ate as she walked, finishing the food she had bought on the street with her habitual thriftiness for grain.

"This... it's because the shopkeeper put in a large amount of sedative." Vane also finished his in a few bites, adding the shopkeeper to the list of problems to be solved tomorrow. Right now, the most important thing was accompanying her.

"...Tastes bad."

"Eat this to cover the taste."

"Not bad."

The afterglow of the sun fell over the two as they walked further away. They didn't look like cultivators in the Demon Realm, but like people in the human realm meeting to share their feelings, accompanying each other as if everything else was just scenery, and no one else could ever enter the space between them.