Sword Sect Little Demon Child, Three and a Half Years Old and Extremely Fierce

Fu Yan turned around and looked at the map.

I tapped the map a few times with my finger, focusing on the areas with the densest concentration of red markers.

"Keep a close eye on those old nobles. Don't let a single one slip through."

"Also, investigate their dealings with those families in the cultivation world, get all the records from the last hundred years."

He listed them one by one, as if reading a checklist.

"Letters. Communication talismans. Personnel exchanges. Spirit stone exchanges. Marriage records. Cooperation projects. Everything that can be found."

The military general hesitated for a moment.

A hundred years is not a day or two, nor a year or two.

The Demon Realm's record management has always been poor, and many old records have long been piled up in some unknown corner.

He spoke cautiously, "Young Master, a hundred years of records... that's no small undertaking."

Fu Yan looked up at him.

There was no room for negotiation in those eyes.

"Even if it's a small matter, we have to investigate. If they try to harm my sister, I'll expose their dirty secrets."

The military commander bowed his head: "Yes."

He then turned to another page of the booklet and continued his report: "There are currently no abnormalities at the Netherworld Rift."

Fu Yan frowned: "Nothing unusual?"

The military commander nodded: "No. Everything is normal."

Fu Yan tapped his fingers on the table, at a moderate pace, as if he were thinking or waiting for something.

"It's perfectly normal," he said. "Too normal to be true."

The military commander did not respond.

If the young master says it's too normal, then it's not normal.

If something is wrong, we need to investigate; if we investigate, we need to add more staff; if we add more staff, we need to increase the budget.

But if he increases the budget, the finance director will glare at him.

"Send more men as well," Fu Yan said. "Don't make any moves openly, but secretly send people to keep an eye on things. Don't alert anyone."

"Yes."

"The same goes for the old nobles. Don't alarm them. They don't know we're investigating yet, which is an advantage. Once they find out, many leads will be lost."

Fu Yan put down his pen and looked out the window.

Outside the window was the night sky of the demon realm, dark red, like a piece of congealed blood.

"Thirty years ago, they disappeared from the Demon Realm. Thirty years later, they are about to reappear."

He paused.

"It's not a coincidence."

Fu Xiao suddenly burst into laughter.

The laughter echoed in the empty hall, like a goose whose tail had been stepped on.

"Hahahaha—'From then on, the moonlight turned red'—what kind of crap is this? The moon in the Demon Realm is red! Has this person ever been to the Demon Realm? How dare they write this without even seeing it?"

Fu Yan looked up at him.

"Dad, keep your voice down. Don't disturb the work."

Fu Xiao was displeased and put the storybook aside: "Office work, office work all you do is work all day. You're busier than your father, who's the Demon Lord here?"

Fu Yan remained silent, simply watching him.

The translation of "that glance" is: Don't you have any self-awareness?

Fu Xiao guiltily looked away and picked up the storybook again.

Turning to the next page, I laughed again.

"I have waited for Qing'er for three hundred years, waiting for her to change her mind and return to my side."

He paused.

"This sentence does... sound somewhat similar."

His tone suddenly softened, like a piece of candy falling into water and slowly dissolving.

The two demon generals exchanged a glance, then simultaneously looked away, pretending they hadn't heard anything.

At this time.

Shadow Seven emerged from the shadows of the main hall.

No one saw how he got there.

He seemed to seep out of the wall, silent and still, without even a ripple in the air.

Fu Yan stopped writing.

Fu Xiao's words also stopped in mid-air, but his ears were already perked up.

The appearance of Shadow Seven means: there is news of her daughter.

Shadow Seven knelt on one knee, his movements swift and decisive, like a knife drawn from the darkness.

"Young Master. Demon Lord."

Fu Yan put down his pen: "Speak."

Shadow Seven: "Last night, someone attempted to break into the Heavenly Sword Sect. The target was Her Highness the Princess."

Fu Xiao's smile froze on his face.

Shadow Seven continued: "The assassin's cultivation level is at least at the Void Refinement stage. He used the Moonlit Entangling Sound to test the frequency of the sect's great formation, but failed to penetrate it. He was slightly injured by the formation's backlash and escaped."

"Your Highness is well."

"but……"

He paused.

"She went out of the mountain gate. She had heard that sound and, out of curiosity, went out to take a look."

After Yingqi finished speaking, he lowered his head, remained kneeling on one knee, and stopped moving.

The hall fell silent.

Fu Xiao suddenly jumped up from the throne.

The speed was so fast that he was completely different from when he was slumped over like a noodle.

The storybook flew out, drawing an arc in the air, and landed precisely in the arms of the guard beside him.

"Those old bastards really want to mess with my daughter!"

Fu Xiao's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a hint of anger.

"I'll go take a look right now."

Fu Yan's pen had long since stopped.

He looked at Fu Xiao: "Father, what good will it do if you go?"

Fu Xiao glanced at him, his eyes conveying the message: I'm your father, don't worry about me.

"I'm bringing my daughter back."

"Bringing her back would be even more dangerous." Fu Yan's voice wasn't loud, but it was deep. "In the cultivation world, there are powerful formations protecting her, as well as elders and senior brothers. In the demon realm, could you guard her 24/7?"

Fu Xiao opened his mouth.

Fu Yan continued, "You're no longer going to guard that thing below the Netherworld Rift?"

Fu Xiao shut up.

Fu Yan is right.

he can not.

He has his responsibilities.

Just like how he couldn't bring Fu Yan back back then.

Fu Yan added, "My sister is safer over there than in the Demon Realm."

"Even those at the Mahayana stage couldn't break through the Heavenly Sword Sect's grand formation. That assassin at the Void Refinement stage couldn't even get close to it."

"And if you go now, those people will be watching you. As soon as you leave the Demon Realm, they'll know their plan has worked."

"It is precisely at times like these that we must not panic."

Fu Xiao remained silent.

He stood there, his black robe trailing on the ground, like a punctured black balloon.

Silent for a long time.

Then he sat down again.

But I couldn't sit still; my butt felt like it was stuck in a nail. I shifted left and right, but I couldn't find a comfortable position.

Finally, he simply crossed one leg, like a Buddha statue with a less-than-perfect sitting posture.

Just then, footsteps were heard outside the hall.

Shadow Seven vanished instantly.

It didn't run; it blended into the shadows.

Like a drop of ink falling into water, it happens silently, leaving no trace.

Fu Xiao also adjusted his sitting posture.

With a flick of his black robe and a cross of his legs, he reverted to his "I am the Demon Lord, I am the greatest" demeanor.

Even the look in his eyes has changed.

He switched from being impatient to being indifferent.

Fu Yan lowered his head and continued reviewing documents.

The pen tip glided across the paper with a steady, even speed, as if nothing had happened.

Three old men walked in.

The nobles of the demon realm, the old-fashioned kind.

The old man walking at the front had a gaunt face, a hooked nose, and eyes like two gray glass beads.

He wore a dark gold robe embroidered with intricate patterns, the emblem of an ancient noble family in the demon realm.

A distorted totem that looks like a crushed spider.

Behind him were two elderly men of similar age, one short and stout, the other tall and thin.

The short, stout one looked like a moldy potato, while the tall, thin one looked like a dried-out bamboo pole.

The visual effect of the three people standing together is very impressive.

Fu Xiao didn't even lift his eyelids, his voice cold: "Three elders, what brings you here so late at night?"