Chapter 340: The Demon's King's Scheme, The Way Within the Scroll

Heavy rain poured into the forest. The rocks of Bhikkhu Peak, washed by the rain, gleamed silver in the lightning.

The giant Ginseng Fruit Tree stood tall in the rain, its lone fruit swaying on a branch. The gale and downpour swept through the tree's gaps, emitting mournful wails, like the cries of the Ginseng Fruit itself.

A small monkey sprinted frantically through the rain-drenched forest. Blood surged within its body, and its heart pounded violently, like drums beating in its ears.

The rain lashed its body, each strike feeling impossibly heavy. In the pitch-black forest, it looked up at the falling raindrops, an infinite terror rising in its heart.

The little monkey demon panted ceaselessly. It clutched its head, knelt beside a giant tree, and began to sob, its cries stifled.

The guest did not pursue.

It looked at its legs, covered in bloody scratches from thorns during its earlier dash through the forest, its eyes wide. It couldn't help but recall what had happened two days prior.

That day, it had wanted to be a guide for the white-robed guest, but the guest declined. After separating from the other imps, it was lucky enough to get a delivery job. However, when passing through Seven Wonders Peak, the Mist Demon King, usually good-natured and obsessed with chess, blocked its path.

The Mist Demon King gave it a task: to track the young man who had recently departed from there. It asked the Mist Demon King what the purpose was, but received no answer. The monkey demon grew more confused and asked why it was chosen. The Mist Demon King replied, "Because you are ordinary enough not to arouse suspicion."

Due to the Mist Demon King's interference, the monkey demon was late with its delivery, not only losing potential earnings but even incurring costs. Intimidated by the demon king's power, it had no choice but to agree.

So, in the following days, besides its regular work, it would also inquire about the guest's whereabouts.

But... Bhikkhu Peak.

The Mist Demon King was once a subordinate of the White Deer True Monarch of Bhikkhu Peak... It recalled the notorious Ginseng Fruit Tree, a chill of dread spreading through its heart, and its stomach involuntarily convulsed.

Although its luck had always been poor, it knew it possessed an extraordinary spiritual sensitivity.

Its eyes were remarkably bright; when it saw certain things, it even felt a burning sensation. It could perceive many things invisible to ordinary beings... It had never told anyone about this.

It had been hiding on the mountain, watching as the guest walked past the Ginseng Fruit Tree. It saw an invisible connection entangle him with the demonic tree. Afterwards, as the torrential rain poured, it grew increasingly uneasy, especially when it noticed many scattered, illusory white bones on the mountain path the guest had taken.

Many newcomers to Myriad Demon City might think the demons here live rather well... but the true Myriad Demon City is far more brutal than what they perceive.

Five hundred years have passed since the Saint died. The rules established back then have long since wavered, and over these years, those inferior kings have accumulated countless karmic debts.

The monkey demon huddled deep within the dense forest, completely soaked by the torrential rain, trembling.

White Deer... The White Deer True Monarch wouldn't care if I live or die, would he?

The monkey demon's legs felt weak. Thinking of the two little monkey cubs in its cave, it struggled to its feet and took a shortcut down the mountain.

*Clang*, just as it passed a large tree, its sharp-snouted, sunken-cheeked face was illuminated starkly once more.

Lightning struck the giant tree right beside it with precision.

It looked up, its pupils seeming to contain a fiery light.

Before losing consciousness, the little monkey demon's pupils reflected a scene it had never witnessed before.

It was a great fire, so fierce it could instantly devour the entire storm. Within the flames, the majestic skeleton of a colossal dragon stood tall, its thorny bones spitting fire like ghostly white chains. The faces of the countless gods and buddhas were indistinct, merging into an endless series of armored silhouettes. Beneath its feet lay piles of bones, seemingly still wailing and roaring. In the whirlwind of dancing flames, only the unwilling, scattered spirits of deities remained!

It hunched its body, resembling a diminutive skeleton, yet also a Buddha towering above the sky.

In front, a black sun rose from the horizon, its unleashed lightning delicate as unfurling flower petals.

Lightning struck the large tree, flames consumed its monkey fur, and the little bobtailed monkey lost consciousness, its charred body falling stiffly to the ground.

The rain swallowed it.

The Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint watched the heavy rain outside the window. Around its central head hovered eight spectral flames, forming a lion's mask, each face expressing a different emotion.

These were its nine faces.

It gazed at the rain, reminded of a spirit turtle.

Over five hundred years ago, a sky-collapsing downpour, a hundred times heavier than tonight's, occurred. Its closest friend at the time was responsible for suppressing the ensuing mountain flood and had not been heard from since. It mused that even a divine turtle, though long-lived, must surely have passed away.

The Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint drew back its thoughts.

It turned, walking across floor tiles made of countless animal skulls. Its battle armor was sharp as a blade, and its robust body, with powerful muscles, contained strength capable of making the wind and clouds pale with a single punch.

In the dark recesses of the geomantic map, within the hidden peak-top temple of Myriad Demon City, the Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint listened to the tumultuous rain outside and walked deeper into the towering hall of the demons.

Deep within the hall, a demon king with a feathered crown and golden plumes was also watching the rain.

It wore an armor made of feathers, each feather a life-feather from a demon sparrow it had slain. This feathered armor was already extraordinary; when worn, no ordinary divine weapon in the world could cut off even a single filament.

It was the Golden-Winged Great Peng, the only remaining demon saint in Myriad Demon City—the Great Sage Huntian.

But it was not as powerful as the Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint.

The Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint looked at the Golden-Winged Great Peng's flowing dark-golden feathers. Its wings, folded behind its back, resembled two primordial heavy swords.

"That's not how you cultivate the Myriad Demon Art. I advise you to abandon that idea," the Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint said flatly, looking at its back.

The Golden-Winged Great Peng withdrew its gaze from the torrential rain. It wore a mask—a sharp, red one, resembling a raven's false face.

From behind the mask, the Golden-Winged Great Peng's voice sounded faintly, "I once thought we were kindred spirits."

The Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint raised its lion-like face, its voice heavy. "You have devoured gods, immortals, and even your own kin. But what does it matter, even if you could swallow the entire world? The Six Primeval Deities already proved that everything in the mortal realm combined cannot overturn the heavens."

The Golden-Winged Great Peng looked at it, a strange laugh emerging from beneath its mask. "Overturn the heavens? Hahaha... I can't believe you, after two thousand years, are still dreaming such dreams!"

The Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint remained silent.

The Golden-Winged Great Peng said coldly, "What the Saint could not break is truly impregnable. We could crash ourselves to pieces and still not shake it. I admire you for not being consumed by despair after experiencing those eras, but you also understand that solitary bravery is useless."

"But without solitary courage and bloodshed, life would be very painful," the Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint said. "Most awakened demons in Myriad Demon City can live a somewhat peaceful life, but we cannot. We have long ages ahead of us; our lives are destined to witness the rising of the black sun. That will be true despair."

When the black sun rises, and the Dark Lord truly descends upon the human realm, spiritual energy will dissipate, all living beings will perish, everything will deconstruct, and bones will turn to ash...

That was the doomsday predicted by the Saint five hundred years ago.

The Golden-Winged Great Peng said slowly, "I look forward to that day. It will be a day of liberation."

The Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint looked at it, shaking its head slightly. "Five hundred years ago, you betrayed the demon race. The Saint, being benevolent, spared your life. Now... are you trying to rebel again?"

The Golden-Winged Great Peng cackled bluntly, "After the disappearance of the Peacock King of Light, what is there in the mortal realm for me to miss? I respect the Saint, but I also wish for his death! Without the protection of immortal souls, perhaps I can finally find some joy in this world."

Beside the Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint's mane, the ethereal blue spectral flames transformed into various faces.

The Golden-Winged Great Peng sensed the killing intent. From behind its raven-like mask, a sinister smile emerged. "Nine-Headed Lion, I know your cultivation is stronger than mine; you could have been even mightier... but it's a pity you have nine heads yet have not eaten or drunk for a hundred years. We are demons, not ascetics. If you continue like this, your painstakingly cultivated nine heads will eventually betray you. By then, without anyone else's intervention, you will disintegrate into nine pieces. I'll see who can save you then, and who you can save!"

The Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint was unmoved by its taunts. It said in a low voice, "That's why you can't draw the sacred artifact."

The Golden-Winged Great Peng's expression darkened.

Before the Saint's physical body shattered, he forged his flesh and white bones into cold iron, crafting four unparalleled weapons and gifting them to four peerless demons. He then used the remaining blood and bones to construct the city walls of Myriad Demons.

The sacred artifact it received was a colossal bow, like petrified stone.

Years had passed, and its demonic power had already reached its peak, yet it still couldn't draw the divine bow. It considered this a personal disgrace.

The Golden-Winged Great Peng sneered, "You can draw the sacred artifact, but who would you strike with it?"

The Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint replied, "An iron umbrella is for sheltering from the rain, not for killing."

Lightning flashed and faded, and thunder rumbled from a distant place, reverberating through the hall. The strong wind rattled the bone-carved doll hanging by the window, making it clatter.

"Where's that deer subordinate of yours? Did it return?" the Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint suddenly asked.

The Golden-Winged Great Peng said icily, "That's a debt the White Deer owes; it has nothing to do with me. Now that the debt collector has arrived, it sought refuge with me. I couldn't be bothered to interfere, so I just gave it two magical artifacts."

The Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint said, "The White Deer's actions have long crossed the red line of Myriad Demon City."

The Golden-Winged Great Peng retorted, "What red line does Myriad Demon City have? When that woman brought a sword into the city back then, I didn't see anyone stopping her."

The Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint shook its head gently, saying, "'Swords are not allowed in the city' only applies to outsiders. She is the great disciple of that heavenly being. Their contributions are indispensable for Myriad Demon City to have remained stable until now. You needn't use that as a shield."

The Golden-Winged Great Peng asked, "What do I need to shield myself from?"

The Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint said, "Stop pretending. Isn't it you that the White Deer obeys? Without your instruction, how could it, with its talent, enter the Five Paths? How could it, with its cultivation, dare to monopolize the Ginseng Fruit Tree? You're using the bones of your own kin to nourish that bloodthirsty evil tree. Regardless of the outcome, retribution will surely come."

Beneath the raven mask, the Golden-Winged Great Peng's killing intent seeped through.

The spectral flame head beside the Nine-Spirit Primordial Saint's main head extinguished. He slowly walked deeper into the grand hall, saying faintly, "I'm curious: when you eventually obtain that so-called sacred fruit and swallow it, how much power will you gain? And will you then be able to draw your unique sacred artifact?"

*Clang!*

The thunder continued to rumble.

In the night, as the torrential rain poured, Ning Changjiu put away the paper and looked at the dark clouds in the night sky.

"What does this mean?" Ning Changjiu asked.

"Can't you figure it out?" Siming asked.

Ning Changjiu's expression darkened; he could guess some of the implications.

"I'll go check on that monkey. It's so unlucky, delivering messages in this rain; I hope it hasn't died," Ning Changjiu sighed.

Siming responded faintly, her gaze fixed on the sky, searching for anyone stepping through the clouds.

Ning Changjiu walked into the forest.

A small fire had ignited in the forest, its flames flickering in the torrential rain, not being extinguished quickly.

Ning Changjiu swiftly moved through the woods. With his sword-like eyes open, he clearly saw the traces left by the monkey demon.

After crisscrossing the area, Ning Changjiu stopped beneath a large tree that had been struck and broken by lightning.

He bent down, picked up a leaf, and sniffed it.

He looked up at the curtain of rain ahead, a puzzled expression on his face.

The monkey demon's aura clearly vanished here.

But where was it?

Even if it had been struck by lightning and fire, its flesh and bones reduced to ash, there should still be some traces. How could it... disappear without a trace?

Ning Changjiu lingered in the forest for a while, finding no trace. He then turned and returned to Siming's side.

In the heavy rain, the White Deer in the forest was long gone. Vast expanses of stone camellias bloomed on the mountainside, unfurling vibrantly in the downpour.

"Where do we go now?" Siming asked softly.

"If the Underworld Lord's authority is truly here, we absolutely cannot leave," Ning Changjiu said.

"Then you're going to betray that little monkey demon's good intentions?" Siming asked.

Ning Changjiu thought of the monkey, lost in the forest, its fate unknown. He sighed and asked, "What do you think we should do now?"

"Go up the mountain," Siming said.

Ning Changjiu frowned slightly. "Why?"

Siming said, "Before, we weren't sure of the White Deer's stance, but now we are. In other words, our roles are reversed. The most appropriate course of action now is to pretend nothing happened, return, wait, and prepare for an assassination."

Ning Changjiu looked at Siming and said, "You... seem to have gotten smarter."

Siming always felt he was insulting her. She said coldly, "I think you're dreaming yourself silly!"

Ning Changjiu suddenly realized that he indeed still had a dream to pursue!

The two stood on the mountainside for a moment, then their figures flickered several times, arriving at the summit, leaving the sea of stone camellias behind them.

Ning Changjiu and Siming entered the residence as usual.

The boy and girl attendants stood at the door, greeting them with sweet smiles. Each held an umbrella, perfectly sculpted and utterly charming.

"The guests have finally returned," the boy said, opening the door for them.

The girl handed her umbrella to Ning Changjiu, saying, "It rained today, and I didn't prepare a rain cape for the guests. Please don't blame me, and please don't tell Grandfather Longevity about this."

Ning Changjiu didn't take the umbrella, merely saying, "Hmm, don't worry."

The girl beamed.

The boy asked, "Guests, you're back so late. Where did you go?"

Ning Changjiu replied, "We took a stroll to the nearby Demon God Temple and paid our respects to the legacy of past Demon Saints."

The girl tilted her head upon hearing this and said, "Those are truly great figures of the demon race."

Ning Changjiu asked, "Are there only four Demon Saints?"

The boy said, "Of course not. Grandfather Golden Peng is still alive; he's one of the most powerful Demon Kings in Myriad Demon City."

The girl glared at him. "Loose tongue."

But the boy wore a proud expression, scoffing, "What's wrong with saying that?"

The house door opened, and they welcomed Ning Changjiu and Siming inside.

The two walked through the dark house, and candles lit up one after another.

The girl looked at Ning Changjiu, smiling sweetly, "Young Master, if you have any special requests, just call me."

Siming shot it a glance.

The girl's soul turned deathly pale with fright. *You... aren't you a daoist couple? I was just joking, was it necessary to be like that?*

The girl apologized and retreated reluctantly. Siming said coldly, "Even an insignificant little flower spirit dares to act like this. It seems their backing isn't small."

The two returned inside the room.

Ning Changjiu surveyed the surroundings. "Nothing's been touched," he said.

Siming nodded. "This house holds no mystery. Perhaps the White Deer demon also didn't want to alert us."

Ning Changjiu opened the window for air, and cold wisps of rain drifted in.

Siming sat at the table, crossing her legs, and brewed tea in silence. "Let's discuss tomorrow's plan," she said.

Ning Changjiu sat beside her and nodded gently.

In the Vermilion Bird God's trial realm, Zhao Xiang'er plunged her sword fiercely into the white bone in front of her. The horned bone skull's flame-formed flesh lost its vitality and crumbled away.

Zhao Xiang'er clutched the demon sparrow's remains, violently twisting the sword in her hand. With a crisp cracking sound, the sword sliced through the sparrow's bone, cutting it into two sections.

The skull hit the ground and rolled twice.

After the white bone warrior's defeat, it was consumed by the flames within its body, instantly turning to ash that sifted through Zhao Xiang'er's pale fingers.

The air-formed wall shattered, and the path ahead, once shrouded in mist, began to take shape.

Zhao Xiang'er sighed in relief.

She sat down as usual in the center of the battlefield, recovering her essence, energy, and spirit, preparing to face the next demon sparrow.

Today's demon sparrow was much stronger than yesterday's, yet she expended less energy to kill it.

Was this related to that absurd dream?

Zhao Xiang'er grew increasingly certain that this dream was also a part of the Vermilion Bird's trial.

But in the dream, apart from that face she both loved and hated, there seemed to be no danger... What exactly was it trying to test her on?

Zhao Xiang'er had a feeling that after she fell asleep tonight, the dream from last night would continue.

This morning, she had been glad she woke up in time after losing the bet last night, but... would she have to face it again?

Zhao Xiang'er bit her lip, utterly unwilling. *How did I just inexplicably become his junior sister? Hmph... What a treacherous scoundrel, always tricking people with sweet talk!*

Zhao Xiang'er thought about some scenes she had seen through a mirror in the Three Thousand Worlds, and her anger flared.

When she entered the dream tonight, she would definitely give him a good beating to vent her anger!

With these thoughts, Zhao Xiang'er leaned on her sword and set up several sword talismans beside her, preparing for any eventuality. Then she slowly fell asleep, gradually entering the dream.

As expected, the dream continued.

Zhao Xiang'er found herself sitting in the same spot, the scripture still before her. She looked up but did not see Ning Changjiu's face.

*Hmm? Could it be that the person in the dream could sense my anger and ran away early?*

Zhao Xiang'er was very confused. She stood up and searched the entire Taoist temple but couldn't find him.

"Hmph! Not even a dream gives me peace!"

With nowhere to vent her anger, Zhao Xiang'er grew more annoyed. She sat on the stone stool, her face puffed up fiercely, staring ahead, waiting for Ning Changjiu to appear. But after a long wait, his figure was nowhere to be seen.

*Forget it...*

Zhao Xiang'er rubbed her cheeks, easing some of her anger. She thought, *I finally get to have some lucid dreams; I mustn't waste this time in the dream!*

She unfolded the scripture before her and began to read casually.

Slowly, her indifferent gaze grew serious. Then, she settled down, sitting upright and respectfully, her eyes gleaming as she read the contents of the scroll.

"This... how can this be?" Zhao Xiang'er muttered to herself. "Is this truly the foundation and source of the Dao? Then what was everything I learned before? A castle in the air?"

This seemingly thin book contained infinite mysteries. Zhao Xiang'er, upon her first glimpse, was momentarily lost in wonder.

It took Zhao Xiang'er a long time to turn just two pages.

She withdrew her gaze, gently closed her eyes, and what she had seen and felt refined and sublimated within her mind, transforming into unprecedented insights.

Zhao Xiang'er suddenly understood: this must be something her mother had prepared for her!

In this world, besides a being like her mother, who else could write such chapters that directly glimpse the origin of heaven and earth, the primal Dao?

Awe filled Zhao Xiang'er's heart. She looked back at the deep hall behind the winding lotus pond, theorizing again: *Could this Master, the temple abbot, be a fragmented projection of my mother? Is all of this also part of Mother's plan!*

With these thoughts, Zhao Xiang'er read the book more diligently for a while.

*Hmm, the profound mysteries of the Great Dao in this book are boundless and inspiring. Last night, I was so busy bickering with Ning Changjiu that I didn't even flip through it—what a waste of time. From now on, I must dedicate myself to the Dao; I cannot be like this anymore.*

*I'll ignore him! Unless he invites me to read together.*

Ning Changjiu and Siming talked late into the night, preparing for dozens of scenarios.

Siming stretched lazily. "A single White Deer can't amount to much. As long as those old immortals in Myriad Demon City don't get involved, we'll be fine."

"What if they do get involved?" Ning Changjiu asked.

"If it's one demon, we fight. If it's two, we retreat. If it's three... I'll just have to throw you over as cover and escape myself," Siming replied.

Ning Changjiu chuckled, "Divine Official, how ruthless you are."

Siming said faintly, "Who told you to be so weak? Anyway, I can always retreat safely, no matter what. You just take care of yourself."

Ning Changjiu, accustomed to her taunts, just smiled them off. "There's still plenty of time. I'll go sleep for a bit."

Siming frowned. "Why are you so sleepy lately? What kind of sweet dreams are you having?"

"What sweet dreams?" Ning Changjiu said. "I'm just trying to conserve my energy for the fierce battle that might come tomorrow."

Siming's voice was faint. "Is that so?"

Ning Changjiu nodded calmly. He unhurriedly spread out his blanket, lay down slowly, and quickly fell asleep.

He returned to that dream realm.

"Junior Sister Xiang'er?" Ning Changjiu called softly.

Before him, only the gentle breeze rustled the book pages; no one answered.

*Did I come too late? Or...*

Ning Changjiu couldn't understand. He should be the master of his own dream, and he urgently wanted to see Xiang'er, but how could she vanish without a trace?

He circled the temple, still unable to find her.

Ning Changjiu's mood plummeted. He sat by the stone stool, watching the pages of the book flutter in the breeze, casually picked it up, and began to read indifferently.

Then, his expression grew serious, and his formerly relaxed posture slowly straightened.

Ning Changjiu considered himself well-read, having perused countless books, yet he never imagined such an extraordinary book existed in this world, one that directly reached the fundamental principles of the Great Dao. He became completely absorbed, devouring the mysteries of heaven and earth and the tenets of the Dao, unable to put the book down. It was a long time before he slowly came back to his senses.

Ning Changjiu knew his dream could never manifest such a thing. This must be related to his Master! Could it be...

Ning Changjiu looked at the tightly closed hall door, lost in thought.

*Sigh, last night, with such scriptures right before me, I was only focused on bickering with Xiang'er and didn't even flip through them more. What a waste of time! One must remember that life is finite, but the Great Dao is infinite. How could I ignore such profound beauty in a book!*

*From now on, Xiang'er and I must study diligently together!*