Chapter Six: The Second Calamity Arises

In the Five Realms, who does not know, who has not heard, that the Second Princess of the Demon Domain, Mo Qianqian, harbors a deep and unwavering love for the Ghost Lord! The Demon Domain’s eldest prince, Mo Yan, is obsessed with martial arts and cultivation techniques; through this passion, he became acquainted with the Ghost Lord, and the two struck up a friendship. They would often meet in the Demon Domain, exchanging insights and sparring over martial skills. To prevent the Ghost Lord from growing bored, Mo Yan would frequently take him to various entertaining spots, seeking to amuse him. For a time, the Ghost Lord visited the Demon Domain with remarkable regularity.

The Demon Dancers of the Demon Domain are famed throughout the Five Realms, their dances unmatched, especially those performed by the Second Princess, Mo Qianqian, whose reputation is second to none. Naturally, Mo Yan would not let such an opportunity slip by—if he could find a way to make the Ghost Lord stay just a little longer, he could glean more profound understanding of martial techniques, and his own mastery would surely rise. Perhaps, if Qianqian and the Ghost Lord were to take a liking to each other, and the Ghost Lord became his brother-in-law, wouldn’t that mean he could question him at will, and receive any answer he desired?

The more Mo Yan thought about it, the more excited he became. He proposed the idea to Mo Qianqian, who agreed without much thought.

One day, Mo Yan kept the Ghost Lord behind, saying he wished to let him enjoy one of the Demon Domain’s most renowned entertainments. The Ghost Lord considered it—Mo Yan’s previous amusements had been interesting enough to while away the time, so this one was unlikely to disappoint. With that thought, he agreed.

In the vast, empty great hall, Mo Yan clapped his hands, and the lights dimmed. Enchanting music began to play, its rhythm gradually quickening. In the flickering darkness, small flames sprang to life, clustering and growing larger. As the music slowed, two teams of dancers slipped silently in from either side, circling the blazing fire, and danced.

It must be admitted, the women of the Demon Domain are far bolder than those of the other four realms. Their movements aside, their costumes alone would be enough to dazzle any mortal. Only their chests and hips were wrapped in crimson cloth, with a veil of red gauze draped over their bodies, giving glimpses of what lay beneath—enough to drive anyone mad.

They danced barefoot, anklets strung with bells chiming in time with the music—sometimes fast, sometimes slow, rising and falling with the melody. At the climax, the flames suddenly transformed into a budding red spider lily, which slowly bloomed. Within the heart of the flower, a woman’s face was gradually revealed. With another clap of Mo Yan’s hand, the hall’s lights flared bright once more.

Mo Yan paid little mind to the dance itself—he nursed a cup of wine, his eyes fixed on the Ghost Lord. When he saw the Ghost Lord’s movements falter at Mo Qianqian’s entrance, he could not help but chuckle secretly.

But Mo Yan failed to notice the Ghost Lord’s increasingly cold gaze. From the moment she appeared, Mo Qianqian’s eyes never left him. The women of the Demon Domain have always been bold, and Mo Qianqian instinctively felt that a man as perfect as the Ghost Lord ought to be hers. Never before had she seen such a beautiful man.

As the music ended and the dance concluded, Mo Qianqian continued her steps, approaching the Ghost Lord. Unexpectedly, her long trailing veil caught beneath her feet, and she stumbled into his arms. The Ghost Lord’s snowy white robes were instantly smeared with vibrant powders from her face. He frowned, about to push away this unwelcome intrusion, but Mo Qianqian clung tightly, lifting her painted face to smile up at him. The Ghost Lord’s expression darkened; in a flash, he disappeared.

Mo Qianqian grasped at thin air, but showed no annoyance. Rising gracefully, she asked with a bashful smile, “Brother, who is that man?”

Her face, smudged with color, was almost painful to look upon. Mo Yan hastily replied, “The Ghost Lord,” and then slipped away himself. He had hoped his little sister could detain the Ghost Lord, but now his plan had backfired.

From that day onward, Mo Qianqian was hopelessly smitten, pursuing the Ghost Lord relentlessly. Even the Ghost Lord, vexed beyond measure, could only keep his distance to avoid being ensnared by the Demon Domain’s relentless princess.

Outside the Hall of Asura, Blackshade stood firm, refusing to let Mo Qianqian enter. A joke! If their lord learned this troublemaker had entered his abode, would any of them survive?

Mo Qianqian snapped her whip, a faint red glow blooming along its length, and the ground where it struck split open. “Well, Blackshade, today I’ll teach you on your master’s behalf what rules really mean!” Just a servant, daring to block her path!

Blackshade’s mouth twitched at her words. Who did she think she was, to teach him on their lord’s behalf? Setting aside her status as a princess of the Demon Domain, she was, after all, Mo Yan’s sister, to whom he owed a debt. For that reason alone, he knew what he must do. With resignation, he said, “Please, Princess, instruct me.”

Outside the hall, Blackshade and Mo Qianqian exchanged blows. With his skill, it was not difficult to hold her off without causing harm. Meanwhile, the Ghost Lord, head still spinning, made the decision to flee without hesitation. If need be, he could hide out with the old man a few more days—there was good wine, after all. Silently, he slipped away.

But instead of heading toward the Celestial Realm, the Ghost Lord wandered in the opposite direction. This time, the Old Man of the Moon had brewed his wine with extra Bitter Beauty—a special blend made just for the Ghost Lord, that old drunkard, guaranteed to keep him asleep for two or three days and out of his hair.

Clearly, the wine’s effects were potent. After two jugs, the Ghost Lord slept for three days straight, and when he finally woke, he was still dizzy, so much so that he lost his sense of direction.

Staggering, the Ghost Lord found himself at the banks of the Pool of Reincarnation in the Underworld. Leaning against a willow tree, he uncorked his last jug of wine and began to drink.

In the mortal world.

A remote, nameless village, so obscure that none knew of its existence, was wiped out in a single night. Though unnamed, the village was infamous among assassins, for all its residents were renowned on the assassins’ rolls—even five-year-old children were formidable. Yet this village, built by assassins, was nearly annihilated, leaving almost no survivors.

Jia Yi and Jia Er were the rear guard for the organization that had carried out the slaughter, tasked with ensuring no one remained. The world of assassins is not so complicated—they simply follow orders or take jobs. Jia Yi and Jia Er were no exception.

Jia Er complained impatiently, “Brother, how much longer do we have to stay here?”

Jia Yi ignored his grumbling, continuing to search every corner, leaving nothing unchecked.

Frowning, Jia Er trailed after Jia Yi, sidling up to him. “Hey, brother, let’s take a break, alright?”

At this, Jia Yi shot him a glare sharp as a dagger. “You talk too much,” he said coldly.

Still, after speaking, Jia Yi found a spot to sit, silently drawing out a cloth to meticulously clean his dagger. Jia Er, not sitting long, grinned and said, “Brother, I’m off to relieve myself. Wait here for me.”

Jia Yi nodded, and Jia Er walked off toward a patch of taller grass. After finishing, feeling much better, he turned around and exclaimed, “Brother, come quick!”

At his call, Jia Yi hurried over, and saw, nestled in the grass, a swaddled infant. The baby’s face was expressionless, eyes coldly fixed on the two of them, silent and uncannily calm.

Jia Yi hesitated for a moment, then drew his dagger without hesitation and stabbed toward the child. The blade stopped an inch from the infant’s chest. He pulled back suddenly and said, “Now, there’s a promising seedling.”

Jia Er asked, “Brother, you mean...?”

Jia Yi cut a piece of cloth from the swaddling and said, “This village has no survivors. Our task is complete.”

Jia Er was doubtful. “What about him?”

Jia Yi sheathed his dagger. “He’s our apprentice now. His name is Ye Min.” Then, turning to Jia Er, he added, “It’s time we took a break too. When we return, come with me.”

Without hesitation, Jia Er replied, “Alright.”

He did not know why others became assassins, but he knew Jia Yi’s reasons. Assassins ran in Jia Yi’s family, and growing up surrounded by them, Jia Yi developed a strong interest in the trade. His greatest ambition was to rank among the top ten assassins, but lacking the necessary talent, he had never succeeded.

Jia Er guessed that Jia Yi intended to train the child to help fulfill that dream. Jia Yi’s judgment of people was never wrong, and Jia Er had no doubts—this child was destined for greatness.

Finishing, Jia Yi turned and walked away. Jia Er hurriedly picked up the infant, gasping as he did so—the child’s body was icy cold. Instinctively, he checked the baby’s pulse; it was still beating. With relief, he thought, as long as the child lived, all would be well.

Seeing Jia Er dawdling, Jia Yi called back, “Why are you just standing there? Hurry up!”

Jia Er set off at a run. “Coming, coming!”