Chapter 43: Your Intentions Are Sinister

The thunderclouds overhead thickened ominously. Wen Jingge had assumed it would be a brief discharge, never expecting the process to last so long.

The seven demons were not ordinary cultivators of the dark arts—they had already abandoned their mortal bodies. The forms they inhabited were stolen, and now Wen Jingge had forcibly anchored them within these vessels, an act that defied the laws of heaven and earth.

Spirit stones had insulating properties; Wen Jingge had experimented with them long ago. Despite the coffin forged from millennial black iron being plastered with numerous lightning-attracting talismans, without the guidance of the seven demons, the effect would never have been so potent. She might very well have been struck by lightning the moment she stepped outside.

Fortunately, coffins intended for corpse cultivation in supernatural novels always endured heavenly tribulations, absorbing the essence of sun and moon, nurturing the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, and eventually producing a “good friend” within. Though the Mystic Gate Continent was a world of cultivation, perhaps these things were not so different after all?

No matter what the coffin contained, she would nurture it first; eventually, it would repay her, wouldn’t it?

There was no lack of spiritual energy here—so many spirit stones, and once the formation was complete, there would be no fear of spiritual energy dissipating.

[You…] “Nonexistent” realized it had been tricked.

“What about me?” Wen Jingge sat atop the spirit stones, watching as the thunder striking down upon her was diverted by the seven demons, redirected toward the black iron coffin below.

The talismans on the coffin grew increasingly crimson, as if about to drip blood. After each thundercloud was absorbed, the glow of the black iron dimmed, leaving Wen Jingge quietly amazed.

“You really have a ‘core brain’!” Wen Jingge shielded her forehead with her hand, sensing the anger of the commanding consciousness as the thunderclouds continued to gather overhead, growing ever more dense.

She watched as the seven possessed bodies were reduced to dust by the lightning, but the demons, now free from their vessels, fared little better. Screeching, they swore they would never forgive Wen Jingge, even as ghosts. Their soul forms faded, bit by bit, until finally, they were absorbed by the black iron coffin below alongside the thunderclouds.

The thunderclouds, unwilling to admit defeat, had expected this would be enough to strike Wen Jingge. But just then, the coffin released the soul forms of the seven demons once more, acting like an endless abyss, absorbing as many thunderclouds as arrived.

Eventually, the thunderclouds were vanquished and slunk away in defeat.

Meanwhile, “Nonexistent” in Wen Jingge’s mind was panting heavily, as if having just finished a marathon, utterly drained.

“Thank you, my good friend.” Wen Jingge lay atop the spirit stones, saluting the coffin below. “Should I leave these seven holes for you?”

She meant it as a casual inquiry, yet the coffin actually flipped over, spitting out seven fiery wisps to seal the holes, while a shroud of indistinct mist enveloped the black coffin, gradually obscuring it from view.

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Wen Jingge asked.

A shadowy corner of the coffin appeared, as if to affirm its presence.

“Are you alright?”

The newcomer was Qiao Yu, shoveling food into his mouth. Earlier, he hadn’t dared approach during the thunderclouds’ fury; Wen Jingge knew it was Lu Wei possessing him.

“Where is he?”

“He asked me to come out and help you, told me to finish my meal before seeing you, afraid you’d scold him, then ran into a pillar and passed out.”

Wen Jingge: …

“No—wait, if he’s unconscious, what food am I eating?” Lu Wei set aside the bowl and, from Wen Jingge’s angle, noticed the seven heads were gone. “Did you eat them?”

“Struck to oblivion.”

“What did you provoke?”

Wen Jingge didn’t answer, idly touching her nose. Lu Wei coughed uncomfortably, picking up his bowl. “You master and disciple are truly remarkable—one marked by demons, the other by the heavens above. Wait, where’s the coffin?”

“It’s hidden.” Wen Jingge pointed below, pushing Lu Wei upward. “Enjoy being human while you can—just finish your meal! I’ve repaired the pool and filled it with water; its efficacy now rivals the spirit springs outside.”

“Fine, fine.” Lu Wei ate and criticized, “Your disciple’s foundation is shaky, his mindset uncertain. You’d best teach him, or else—never mind reaching the sixth rank—he won’t even match those who rely on pills at seventh rank.”

“Oh.” Wen Jingge shrugged, unconcerned. “Why don’t you help me teach?”

“I…” Lu Wei took a deep breath to avoid choking on his food. “I can’t wake up at the same time as him, unless he’s in danger. That potion was your concoction!”

“It’s the only way the books say you two can coexist.”

“Coexist?” Lu Wei opened his mouth, realizing he’d misjudged her—she truly hadn’t intended for him to disappear in such a manner.

“Should I try again?”

“Do as you wish.” “Nonexistent” was exhausted, as was Wen Jingge. She took out the golden bowl, filled the pool, and pressed Lu Wei’s shoulder. “Sleep here in his place, then return his body tonight.”

“What are you going to do?” Lu Wei felt something was off about Wen Jingge; her eyes were lifeless, devoid of light.

“Wash the dishes.”

“Hm?”

“Study the map, prepare to make money.”

After she left, Lu Wei entered the pool, bitterly smiling. “She’s not making money, she’s making trouble!”

“Master, where’s my junior brother?”

The commotion on Ten-Thousand-Fathom Peak today rivaled the heavenly net Wen Jingge once set. Naturally, it drew attention from the other peaks, but her eldest disciple, Liang Si, was the first to return. Seeing Wen Jingge unharmed, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“He’s soaking in the pool.” Noting Liang Si’s travel-worn appearance—his red flying-fish robe, though stain-resistant, was still filthy—she asked, “Forging artifacts?”

“Helping Uncle Ai. He said he’d make extra rings and bracelets for you this time. Uncle Ai just took on a new batch of disciples, so I helped oversee them as well. I’ll change clothes and report back.”

“No need.” Wen Jingge tugged his sash, pulling him closer. “Does your Uncle Ai have many spirit stones?”

Liang Si calculated silently. “He repaid three medicine mountains to you, so from your perspective, not that many.”

“He really did repay them…” Wen Jingge sighed.

“Are you planning a purchase, Master?”

“No money, no confidence.” Wen Jingge ruffled her hair, glancing at Liang Si, who earnestly sought to ease her worries. “I suspect there’ll be a major expense for your junior brother Yuan—you understand what I mean?”

“You wish to cleanse his marrow and reshape his meridians? I’ve examined him; given his age, that’s the only way to start anew.”

“Mm.” Wen Jingge nodded. “When you’re done, I’ll find Senior Brother the Sect Leader. Our sect will go down the mountain together to earn some money.”

“We can check Uncle Fan’s medicine mountain first for any valuable herbs to sell.”

“Wen the Fifth!” The shout came from none other than Fan Zifan. “It’s bad enough you’re corrupt alone, but now you’re leading a well-behaved, sensible Liang Si astray! Your motives are truly sinister!”