Chapter Ninety-Four: If I Could Win Your Pity, I Would Die Contentedly

To be honest, if this had been any other day, with my more than two thousand years of cultivation, I would have laughed at how easy these opponents were. Fighting girls like this would have seemed absurdly unfair to them, and I would have felt I was taking shameless advantage of them. But today was different. In Bai Lotus’s eyes, I was nothing more than a mortal disciple who had entered the sect only days ago and had not yet learned a single proper move. If I were to use a few spells from the demon realm in front of him, it was hard to imagine how miserable my fate would be after this battle in the bamboo grove.

“Draw your sword quickly.”

Bai Lotus’s voice came from high above the bamboo forest.

“Yes.”

I came back to myself and unsheathed my sword. Another flash of green light burst before my eyes, so bright I could hardly open them. When I finally looked clearly, the Moon of the Abyss was glowing all over, its blade shining brilliantly. It must have sensed the demonic aura.

I put a hand to my chest, wondering in confusion why, though I was not of immortal birth, the Moon of the Abyss showed no change in my hands.

“What are you standing there for? Hurry.”

Bai Lotus, reclining upon an auspicious cloud above the bamboo grove, could not help urging me on.

“Yes, Master.”

I answered, my gaze fixed warily on the four demon women rushing toward me from the front. At a time like this, using illusion magic of the demon race was impossible. So all I could do was fight with brute force, treating myself as though I were a mortal who knew nothing at all, facing these she-demons whose combined cultivation did not even amount to a thousand years.

A fierce wind struck my face. Bamboo leaves flew toward me like sharp blades. I could not set up a barrier to block them, could not use demon magic to strike back, and the Moon of the Abyss could not serve me here. All I could do was dodge.

Sword in hand, I twisted and dodged left and right, avoiding the green silk sleeves the four she-demons hurled at me, while every so often I swallowed a mouthful of dust blowing straight into my face.

Though the four she-demons were not especially strong, their long sleeves were not to be underestimated. Some powerful demonic force seemed to have been placed upon them, not something possessed by little monsters with less than a thousand years of cultivation.

I raised my sleeve to beat away the storm of dust sweeping toward me, but I was not quick enough to evade everything. Now and then the long sleeves struck my abdomen and chest, sending a burst of searing pain through my ribs. In that agony I instinctively reached to clutch the spot, only to forget the dust surging at me. In an instant, sand flew into my eyes, stinging until tears streamed down my face.

It hurt. There was sand in my eyes. It hurt so badly I could not open them. I lifted my sleeve and rubbed my eyes hard, trying to force them open again, only to glimpse, through a blur, those four long sleeves lunging toward me once more.

I knew no immortal arts and could not use demon methods. The moves of these four she-demons were vicious, every strike aimed at my vital points. I dodged with all my strength, afraid that one careless blow would find its mark and leave me to die here.

“Hey, don’t dodge. With your master here to protect you, nothing will happen.”

I was already drenched in sweat from exhaustion when Bai Lotus’s voice drifted lightly down from above the bamboo grove again. I looked up. He seemed utterly carefree, his features calm and still, his face without expression, his eyes cool and detached, as though he had not even seen me.

I wanted to call for him to come help, but another voice inside me kept shouting no, insisting that I could not let him look down on me. The reason Bai Lotus could sit so serenely upon the clouds and watch me without a ripple in his expression was because he trusted me deeply. Three thousand years ago, how could the sole disciple of the God of War of the heavens be unable to handle even three little demons whose combined cultivation was less than a thousand years? That would only bring disgrace upon his face.

I shut my eyes, lifted the Moon of the Abyss in both hands, and charged straight ahead, hacking wildly at the sweeping sleeves. The sleeves fell to the ground and turned into slender bamboo branches. Yet the severed sleeves grew back again and once more came at me.

It seemed that merely cutting the sleeves would not do. It would neither injure their true forms nor diminish much of their power. If I leaped into the air and attacked from behind, that would not work either, because Bai Lotus would notice at once that I was no mortal. At a time like this, all I could do was meet them head-on and see whether, in the brief moment while they paused to breathe and shift formations, I could slip secretly into the four-cornered demonic array, disrupt their formation, and deal them a fatal blow.

“Little Fish, watch your back.”

Just then, Bai Lotus’s voice rang out again. I looked up toward the bamboo grove and saw that, without my noticing, he had already descended in purple robes upon the clouds. At this moment, he was watching me with concern.

It was the first time I had seen worry on his face for my sake. I broke into a smile at him, and just as I parted my lips to tell him I was all right, a violent pain suddenly tore through my chest. I lowered my head and saw a long sleeve, soaked in blood, thrust through my back and out through my chest. My purple robes were instantly stained a deep red.

“Bai Lotus.”

Before closing my eyes, I still wanted to look at him once more, to smile at him. But my eyelids had grown too heavy; I had no strength left to open them. Just before I lost consciousness, I fell into an embrace fragrant with the faint scent of lotus.

“Little Fish, Little Fish…”

I liked hearing him call my name, again and again, each time carrying a touch of urgency, a touch of worry, echoing endlessly by my ear. I was content, sleeping within a dream, listening to him call me over and over. His voice was gentle, unlike the usual cool indifference. If a thousand years of devotion could earn me such a soft call from him, then even dying would be enough.