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

Within the desolate wilderness.

A magnificent and luxurious palace stands in the middle of the wilderness.

It is magnificent because it is large.

How big is it?

It's so big that it could fit ten Heavenly Sword Sect halls inside!

It's considered luxurious because it's expensive.

How expensive is it?

The pillars are made of spirit jade, the floor is made of crystal, and even the teacups are ancient magical artifacts.

If you take any one of these and sell it, it'll be enough for the Heavenly Sword Sect to eat braised pork for a hundred years.

A group of people are having a meeting around a round table.

The round table was so large that the person sitting opposite looked like an ant.

The chair was so wide that the person sitting on it looked like they were sitting on a throne.

The list of attendees is as follows:

—The world of cultivation.

The four patriarchs of the reclusive family: Murong, Shangguan, Situ, and Ouyang.

They sat upright, their hair white, exuding an air of otherworldly grace.

His expression was solemn and dignified, as if he had just stepped out of a portrait.

His clothes were more expensive than everyone else's, and his expression was colder than everyone else's.

—The Demon Realm.

The three noble ancestors: the Mohist family, the Chong family, and the Sun family.

The patriarch of the Mohist school was the thinnest; when he sat in a chair, he looked like he was hanging on a clothes hanger.

The Chong family patriarch was the tallest, so tall that his knees touched the edge of the table.

The patriarch of the Sun family was the shortest, so short that only his head was visible, like a chess piece placed on a table.

No wonder their descendants look like this: the descendants of the Mo family are thin, the descendants of the Chong family are tall, and the descendants of the Sun family are short.

Perhaps the power of heredity is even stronger than the sect leader's words.

Thin people are said to be thin, tall people are said to be tall, and short people are said to be short.

The techniques have remained consistent for over a dozen generations, even more so than the sword manuals of the Heavenly Sword Sect.

—The world of heretical cultivators.

Lord Ye Xiao.

The true master of the desolate land.

He sat in the very center of the round table, his face blurred, his age and expression unreadable.

All I could sense was a pair of eyes, very cloudy and very old.

So old they looked like two beads that had been stored away for too long, covered in a layer of dust.

But occasionally, when it turns, a flash of light appears, faster than the light of a sword.

He had two empty seats, the chairs were placed neatly, but no one was sitting in them.

Because people went after Wei Cangxuan.

Don't ask me how I know they're in a meeting.

Because they were discussing how to catch me.

Because I'll be sitting here in a meeting soon too.

When I was arrested.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The ancestor of the Murong clan spoke, his voice aged yet steady.

"The Heavenly Sword Sect is protected by a sect-protecting formation, so we can't touch that girl for the time being."

Translation: I can't get through, it's so annoying.

Lord Ye Xiao's eyes twitched.

""temporary"?"

The two words were spoken very softly, but everyone could hear the dissatisfaction in them.

Translation: Are you telling me "wait," or are you telling me "there's no way"?

Ancestor Shangguan explained, "The Heavenly Sword Sect's protective formation is an ancient inheritance, difficult even for those at the Mahayana stage to break through."

Translation: We just can't get through; it's not that we're not trying.

He paused, then added an encouraging remark:

"However, that girl can't stay in the sect forever. People have to go out eventually. Besides, how can a three-and-a-half-year-old child be confined to the sect all day long?"

Lord Ye Xiao remained silent.

But that silence spoke volumes: You're right, continue.

The Mo family patriarch spoke, his voice aged and tinged with displeasure.

The tone was like questioning a subordinate who had failed in their duties.

"You previously claimed that you could use public opinion to expel him from the cultivation world. Slaughtering the sect, creating conflict, expelling him... each step was meticulously planned and executed. Where is he now?"

Old Ancestor Shangguan sighed helplessly.

"Wei Cangxuan is back. With his return, the situation has spiraled out of control."

"At the last meeting of the Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance, he single-handedly berated everyone present."

"They cursed everything from Qingyun Sect to Yuling Sect, from Lingqi Sect to Hehuan Sect, from reclusive families to the Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance, and even the Chan Sect wasn't spared."

"What else can we do? Argue with him in front of everyone in the Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance?"

He paused again, as if recalling a very painful experience.

"Losing an argument is shameful, winning is even more shameful. What's there for Wei Cangxuan to be proud of if he wins?"

"He's a madman. You argue with him and you win, which means you're even madder than him. Does that sound good if word gets out?"

The Mo family patriarch of the Demon Realm frowned even more deeply.

But he didn't say anything, probably thinking: You guys can't even handle Wei Cangxuan, what are you talking about ascension?

Lord Ye Xiao picked up the teacup in front of him and took a sip.

The movement was very slow.

It was so slow it felt like they were deliberately making everyone wait.

Then he spoke: "Wei Cangxuan... this kid has lived too long."

The translation of this sentence is: He's a problem, but not a big problem.

He put down his teacup, glanced at the two empty seats, and noted that the two Mahayana cultivators who had gone to chase after Wei Cangxuan had not yet returned.

"It's alright. Han Kui and Fen Shuo have already gone to handle it."

Translation: Two aren't enough, send four next time.

Old Ancestor Ouyang couldn't help but chime in, his tone carrying a hint of worry: "You probably don't know how fast that guy can run."

"Solve it? Han Kui and Fen Shuo chased him for a whole day and night, from the Food God Sect to the North Sea. Did they catch him? No. He's currently underwater at the North Sea, and they can't even get a communication signal."

Translation: The two people you sent weren't very good; I suggest you replace them with two more.

The hall was quiet for a moment.

Lord Ye Xiao's voice remained calm, like a stagnant pool that would never ripple.

"It doesn't matter. He alone can't cause any major trouble."

Translation: Never mind that. Let's get down to business first.

The three patriarchs of the Demon Realm exchanged a glance.

In that single glance, there was communication, confirmation, and division of labor: the Mo family was responsible for speaking, the Chong family for supplementing, and the Sun family for finishing.

After working together for so many years, we've developed a tacit understanding that's become like muscle memory.

The ancestor of the Mohist school spoke, his voice still aged, but now carrying a hint of calculation:

"It's alright if the child can't be touched. We can lure the Demon Lord away soon."

Lord Ye Xiao's eyes twitched again.

"The area beneath the Netherworld Rift has been quite restless lately. With just a little tampering, the Demon Lord has no choice but to personally go and suppress it."

"Once he goes down, he will be unable to return to shore anytime soon. At that time, control of the Demon Realm will be lost..."

He smiled, but didn't finish his sentence.

That smile conveyed the message, "You know what I mean."

Translation: A diversionary tactic. With the old one gone, the younger ones will be easier to manage.

The patriarch of the Chong family spoke, his voice deep and resonant, so powerful that it made the water in the teacup slosh around...

"Fu Yan has only been back in the Demon Realm for three years. His bloodline is impure, his foundation is unstable, and his experience is not deep. More than half of those old nobles are on our side. The rest are either fence-sitters or dare not speak out."

"At that time, war may break out."

When he said "war could break out," his tone was as nonchalant as when he said "lunch could be eaten."

For him, fighting was probably as simple as eating: he'd pick up the bowl and start eating, and then he'd put it down and start cursing.

The patriarch of the Sun family finished speaking in a high-pitched voice, like someone singing in an opera.

"The grand formation is now complete. Whether we refine the fortunes of the two realms or refine that girl, we can choose either path. If she comes out, we will refine her. If she doesn't come out, we will proceed with the original plan."

He paused, then added, his tone carrying a shrewd, calculating quality, as if he were always keeping something in reserve.

"Even if she never leaves the sect and we never need her, it's still good to leave her to future generations. It's like planting trees for future generations to enjoy the shade. We plant trees so that future generations can enjoy the shade. It's a win-win situation."

Lord Ye Xiao nodded slightly.

The nod was so small that it was almost invisible.

But everyone saw it, because everyone was watching him.

"Then, proceed according to plan."

He picked up his teacup and took a sip.

He sipped his tea very slowly, as if he were stamping his words with the tea.

The hall fell silent.

It's not a silence of having nothing to say; it's a silence of having said everything that needed to be said and waiting for someone to carry it out.

a long time.

Ancestor Murong sighed.

The sigh was very long, as if it was the release of hundreds of years of pent-up frustration.

"My lifespan is nearing its end, but I hope I can live to see that day."

Translation: I'm dying, hurry up.

Patriarch Shangguan nodded: "Who isn't?"

Four words that perfectly expressed the feelings of everyone present.

Ancestor Situ and Ancestor Ouyang exchanged a glance without speaking, but their eyes conveyed the same meaning.

Translation: Me too.

The three patriarchs of the Demon Realm didn't say anything, but the expressions on their faces betrayed them.

The thin face of the Mo family member seemed to say, "I can't wait any longer."

Chongjia's big face screamed "Hurry up!"

The little face of the Sun family seemed to say, "If I don't ascend to heaven soon, I'll be buried in the ground."

Soaring.

These two words are more valuable than any spirit stone, more effective than any elixir, and more tempting than any promise.

For these two words, they can wait a hundred years, kill a thousand people, and set up ten thousand schemes.

You can live like a fox and treat others like pawns.

They can hide in the shadows for decades, or confine themselves to the desolate wilderness for decades.

Anything is fine.

As long as I can ascend to heaven in the end.

Lord Ye Xiao leaned back in his chair, his gaze passing through the windows of the main hall to the hazy sky outside.

The sky over the desolate lands is always gray.

You can't see the sun, the moon, or the stars.

Like an overturned pot, trapping everyone inside.

He stared at it for a long time.

People who had been sitting around the round table for a while gradually stood up and left.

The chair was pulled out and then pushed back in.

The footsteps faded into the distance, and the voices gradually disappeared.

Only a dozen or so empty chairs remained, surrounding an empty table.

The wind blew in from outside the hall and extinguished several candles.

The remaining candles swayed in the wind, their shadows jumping around on the wall.

Lord Ye Xiao was still sitting in the middle of the round table. He hadn't left.

He stared at the dozen or so empty chairs for a while.

Then he stood up and slowly walked out of the hall.

His footsteps were very light, as light as a cat stepping on a carpet.

It was as light as a leaf floating on the water.

It was as light as a needle falling into a pile of cotton.

The palace doors slowly closed behind him.

With a "bang".

The desolate lands have fallen silent once more.

A gray sky, a gray earth, a gray palace.

A group of gray-haired people lived inside.

Waiting to ascend.

Or wait to die.