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

The senior students immediately stood up.

Everyone gripped their swords tightly.

Elder Wangji took out a bunch of magical treasures from his storage bag:

A bronze mirror: rusty and looks quite old.

A whisk: its feathers are almost all gone.

A string of Buddhist prayer beads: the beads vary in size and color.

A bowl: with a chip in it.

One more...

I rubbed my eyes.

broom?

It's that broom he rides around with.

Su Ning looked at the pile of magical treasures, then at Elder Wangji: "Elder, what are these...?"

Elder Wangji's expression remained unchanged: "It's a tool for transcending tribulations in Zen Buddhism. It was borrowed."

Yan Chuan: "...Borrowed?"

Elder Wangji nodded: "Yes. You have to return it after you're done using it."

Murong Zhuo asked in a low voice, "Elder, how much did you borrow exactly?"

Murong Zhuo picked up the whisk, looked at the loose tassels, and asked doubtfully, "Elder, can this thing withstand the heavenly lightning of a Chaos Spiritual Root?"

Elder Wangji glared at him: "Why not? This whisk was used by the previous abbot of the Zen sect, and it has his Buddhist blessing on it."

He then pointed to the string of prayer beads: "Each bead in this string is a relic left behind by a high-ranking monk when he passed away."

He then pointed to the chipped alms bowl: "This alms bowl is said to have been used by the Zen patriarchs when they were begging for alms. They begged for alms their whole lives and accumulated a lifetime of good deeds."

Finally, he picked up the broom.

"This... is my own. It's the merit I've accumulated from sweeping the floor for thirty years."

I was silent.

The senior students also fell silent.

Each of these magical artifacts is full of stories.

But can it withstand a bolt of lightning?

Hard to say.

------

I walked out of the cave.

The sky began to darken.

It wasn't the usual dimness of an evening.

It was that kind of...darkness, like the sky was about to collapse.

Dark clouds surged in from all directions, gathering above Blackwind Valley.

The clouds were thick and dark, interspersed with purple lightning.

Lightning rippled through the clouds like angry snakes.

"Boom!"

The thunder grew more frequent and louder.

The entire valley was trembling.

Su Ning looked up at the sky, her voice a little strained: "If I remember correctly, the tribulation lightning for a Golden Core cultivator takes at most half an hour to prepare, followed by nine bright blue lightning bolts, right?"

Yan Chuan swallowed hard: "This momentum... is more than three times greater than that of an ordinary Golden Core Tribulation."

Murong Zhuo's hand gripping his sword trembled: "This tribulation lightning... even a Nascent Soul cultivator wouldn't find it this powerful, would they?"

Gu Chenguang opened his notebook and quickly began calculating something.

Then his expression turned even uglier.

"The Golden Core Tribulation of a Chaos Spiritual Root is three to five times more powerful than that of an ordinary Golden Core Tribulation. Judging from Junior Sister's current spiritual energy reserves..."

He looked up, his voice trembling.

"Five times. At least five times."

Shen Qingchen didn't speak, but his sword was already drawn.

The sword gleamed coldly in the moonlight.

Elder Wangji is setting up an array.

He arranged those magical treasures around me one by one.

A bronze mirror hangs in front of me, a whisk is inserted on the left, prayer beads are arranged in a circle, a begging bowl is placed upside down on the ground, and a broom stands behind me.

After he finished setting things up, he stood beside me.

"Little Daisy, when the heavenly lightning strikes, I will do my best to shield you. Just guard your mind and stabilize your golden core. Leave the rest to us."

I nodded.

But then I felt something was wrong.

"Elder, isn't it supposed to be that you have to bear the tribulation yourself? If someone else helps you block it, the heavenly lightning will only become more intense."

Elder Wangji remained silent for a while.

Then he said, "I know. But you are only three and a half years old, and you can't withstand five times the heavenly lightning."

He looked down at me, his eyes very serious.

"I've lived for over eight hundred years. These old bones of mine can still withstand a few bolts of lightning."

I looked at his bald head.

Bare and shiny.

I thought to myself: If it gets struck by lightning, will it become even brighter?

I didn't dare say it out loud.

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.

far away.

A place where the senior brothers can't see.

A group of dark figures appeared silently on the ridge.

The leader was a boy wearing a silver mask.

Several demon generals followed behind him.

He stood on the ridge, watching the churning clouds in the distance.

The face beneath the mask was obscured.

But his fingers were trembling slightly.

A demon general asked in a low voice, "Young master, should we go and help?"

Fu Yan shook his head.

"Don't disturb them."

He paused, then added, "Have the Dark Guards disperse. No demons are allowed to approach within a hundred miles."

"Yes."

The demon general nodded and turned to leave.

Fu Yan stood on the ridge, watching that small figure.

She stood in front of the cave, looking up at the sky.

So small.

So short.

Like a little kid who hasn't grown up yet.

He clenched his fist.

"Little sister," he whispered, "you must hold on."

------

at the same time.

The eternally dark city of Shanghai.

The Demon Palace.

The Demon Lord Fu Xiao was sitting on his throne, idly flipping through a... picture book.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that kind of picture book.

It's a picture book I bought in the mortal world.

Suddenly, he raised his head and looked towards the center.

Near Black Wind Valley in the central region, ominous clouds are gathering.

The aura of the tribulation clouds...

It is the Golden Core Tribulation.

But it wasn't an ordinary Golden Core Tribulation.

Yes……

He frowned and stood up from his throne.

They vanished instantly from the Demon Palace.

The attendants beside the throne exchanged bewildered glances.

--"His Majesty?"

"Where has His Majesty gone?"

"I don't know. Maybe... he went to see the princess?"

Another servant whispered, "Has His Majesty finally remembered he has a daughter?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down! Are you crazy?!"

……

The next second, Fu Xiao appeared outside Black Wind Valley.

Just as he was about to rush forward, a figure blocked his way.

Fu Yan.

"Father," Fu Yan's voice was calm, "Don't disturb my sister."

Fu Xiao glared: "My daughter is undergoing tribulation! You're telling me not to disturb her?!"

Fu Yan tugged at his sleeve: "The elders and senior brothers are watching. What are you going over there for? To cause trouble?"

Fu Xiao was about to retort.

Fu Yan continued, "What if you stand there and the heavenly lightning recognizes you as the Demon Lord, and adds two more bolts?"

Fu Xiao: "..."

He was silent.

He recalled that during each of his tribulations, he was struck by twice as many lightning bolts as others.

Why?

Because he is the Demon Lord.

Tian Lei felt he was too strong and needed to strike him a few more times.

He opened his mouth, but in the end he obediently stood next to Fu Yan.

I craned my neck to look towards the valley.

That posture resembled a goose having its neck held down.

"My dear daughter," he murmured softly, "you must hold on. Your father is counting on you to support him in his old age..."

Fu Yan glanced at him: "Father, you're over three thousand years old, do you still expect a three-and-a-half-year-old to take care of you in your old age?"

Fu Xiao retorted confidently, "Can't I live a long life?"

Fu Yan: "..."

He doesn't want to talk to him anymore.