Chapter 87: The Heavenly Demon Cult Serial Murder Case #5 – No Chinese Allowed, Absolutely Not.

Choi Leeong was at a loss for words.

The idea that the Supreme Leader would suddenly lose interest in Qing?

Ridiculous.

She wasn’t the representative of all women in the Central Plains, and the man wasn’t exactly known for swinging the other way.

But there was no way he could explain the details to her.

So, he let her misunderstand.

And boy, did she misunderstand.

Wait. So martial arts can change someone’s damn sexual preferences now?

They called it the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, but wasn’t this just straight-up black magic?

Hell, might as well rename it Heavenly Demon Gay Arts at this point.

…Wait, no. Maybe not?

Now that she thought about it, this was a world where mastering techniques could make people prettier, more sensitive, or duller to sensations altogether.

Maybe it had something to do with hormones or something? Some kind of body regulation effect?

…Nope. Still black magic.

Qing shook off the thought and refocused.

“Alright, whatever. Let’s get back to the real issue. Liberating the Central Plains? That bastard’s running the show, and you expect the world to be equal? What he’s really making is a damn hellscape.”

“That will all resolve itself once the Supreme Leader perfects the Divine Art. Have faith.”

“…What, so mastering some technique just magically makes him a good person? That’s the dumbest—”

She paused mid-sentence.

Actually… maybe it wasn’t that ridiculous.

Grand Purity Sutra changed her.

What if that bastard was already in a far worse state than she had ever been?

And if that were true…

Then losing interest in her wouldn’t be about preference.

So was it—what? Some kind of "become a better person but also possibly gay" technique?

Qing stopped herself.

Why the fuck was she even thinking about this?

Who cared?

Whether that bastard became a saint or started screwing men—what the hell did it have to do with her?

Then Choi Leeong spoke again.

No—this time, he was practically pleading.

“Just endure it a little longer. Once you open the Heavenly Demon Vault and the Supreme Leader completes the Divine Art… he won’t stop you from leaving.”

“…Huh?”

Qing blinked.

“The hell? You’re saying he’ll just let me go?”

“The future Heavenly Demon has no need to keep a nonbeliever at his side. As long as you don’t oppose the Cult, he will show mercy.”

Qing growled.

“Old man. You do know that bastard tried to gouge my fucking eye out just because I talked back, right? I don’t care if it’s a Divine Art or some damn Gay Awakening Technique—he’s still going to be a goddamn nightmare once it’s complete—”

“Silence! Watch your blasphemous tongue!”

BOOM.

The Purple Lightning Demonic Warlord cut her off.

A violet glow crackled between his fingers, the sheer pressure distorting the air.

Purple Lightning Qi.

Unlike the unstable mess inside Qing, his was a refined, masterful force—one of the Ten Great Demonic Arts Under Heaven.

His had already reached its final evolution—Purple Lightning Force.

And when he was pissed? It showed.

Qing’s irritation boiled over.

“…Oh, what, now you’re mad at me? Just because I shit-talked some dumb martial art? What are you gonna do, smite me with some flashy-ass lightning?”

“Silence!!”

CRACK.

“AAAH—FUCK!”

A blinding flash.

Pain shot through her entire body like wildfire, nerves screaming in agony.

She didn’t even know where she had been hit—only that every bone, every muscle felt like it had just melted.

And then—

Just as quickly as it came, the pain disappeared.

But one thing was certain.

She was wide awake now.

Qing had always been the type to bow when facing strength and trample over weakness.

That applied not just to martial prowess but to relationships as well.

Choi Leeong had always been soft with her. Gentle, lenient. So, naturally, she had gotten bolder and bolder—until she ended up like this.

But getting struck like that? It finally reminded her.

The Purple Lightning Demonic Warlord was actually a master of the Unrestrained Realm.

And not just any master.

The kind that could turn her into a crispy, deep-fried corpse just by getting mildly annoyed.

Ah. I pushed way too far.

What the hell was I thinking?

Reflecting on her actions, Qing forcefully pulled the corners of her mouth upward.

A smile.

A pathetically groveling one.

“Hehe… Elder, why are you getting so worked up? I was just startled, so I got a little carried away with my words. You know I didn’t mean anything by it, right?”

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, come on. I understand completely. Everyone has those moments when they’re feeling down. You just lost your temper for a second—it’s fine, really.”

“No, kid… that’s not… this is…”

Strangely enough, Choi Leeong—the one who hit her—was now the one looking shaken.

Because something about Qing’s smile felt wrong.

Her mouth curved up, but her eyes didn’t follow.

They trembled slightly, unfocused, gazing vaguely in his direction but never quite meeting his.

When you grow old, you learn to recognize certain things.

And Choi Leeong knew exactly what he was looking at.

Fear.

His clouded, aging eyes wandered into the past.

He had seen that same look before.

People say you can see a person’s nature in their eyes—not because of some Daoist spiritual nonsense, but because the eyes react first.

When looking at something familiar, they soften.

When looking at something terrifying, they tremble.

When looking at something despised, they dull, their color turns frigid, and their glare sharpens like a dagger.

That’s why the world calls them eyes when they’re warm, but eye sockets when they’re filled with hatred.

And Choi Leeong?

He had experienced firsthand what it meant for eyes to turn into eye sockets.

A body growing colder in his arms.

A life cut short—far too short.

Even in death, those eyes remained wide open, refusing to close.

Still burning with rage.

“Hurk.”

Choi Leeong’s face drained of color.

No—pale wouldn’t even cut it.

He turned an eerie shade of blue.

And then—THUD.

His body convulsed violently as he collapsed to the ground, eyes rolling back.

A voice echoed in his ears.

Eyes wide open.

I hate you. I loathe you. I wish I was never born. Grandfather? What the hell is wrong with you? Get lost. Please. I’m begging you. What is this? A surprise funeral? Are you serious? I swear, the last thing I want to see in this world is your disgusting face.

Oi! Wake up! Old man!

Gramps!

Gramps!

…

Father, you better live a long, long time.

Because if I see your face in hell, I’m tearing you apart.

And then—

Choi Leeong’s body finally stilled.

“…It’s over now.”

“You okay? You back to your senses?”

“No need to make a fuss. I’m just old.”

“Yeah, well, you almost looked ready to drop dead, so I think I’m allowed a little fuss.”

“I can’t die just yet. I still have to witness the Heavenly Demon’s rise—the day when the Central Plains is reborn under the Cult’s rule.”

Qing hoisted Choi Leeong back into his seat before dragging herself back to her own.

Then, without hesitation, she started demolishing the fruit on the table.

If this was the last free meal she was getting, she was damn well going to make the most of it.

Choi Leeong let out a bitter chuckle before going silent, staring blankly at a corner of the table.

Eventually, the plates were cleared.

Qing debated whether to end things here or ask him to take her back.

…Was her useless junior now Crutch No. 1?

No, no—when there’s only one, you don’t need a number.

Maybe it was time for a title upgrade—just Crutch.

Then—

Choi Leeong spoke.

A story she never asked for.

“You must have heard that I had a daughter.”

Qing’s expression twisted.

If this were before she got struck, she might’ve snarked back with, Oh yeah, wasn’t she supposed to be an insufferable little shit?

Instead, she just replied flatly, “Well, I heard she was… unique.”

“Yeah. She was a disgrace.”

“…Uh. If this is some heavy conversation, you really don’t have to tell me.”

Qing immediately tried to shut it down.

She had zero patience for melodrama.

But Choi Leeong just shook his head and continued anyway.

“She was obsessed with leaving the Cult. The more I stopped her, the more she grew to hate me. Started treating me like her worst enemy. But tell me—how could the daughter of the Grand Guardian of the Cult ever just waltz into the Central Plains?”

“…Wait. You were the Grand Guardian?”

"Once. Until the day my daughter stabbed herself through the heart and took her own life."

“…Ah.”

Shit.

Things were getting heavy.

"She took her own life. Never even had the chance to truly live—she died consumed by nothing but hatred for me."

Qing said nothing, just idly rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.

“If I betray the Cult now, how could I ever face her in death? She’d come at me the moment she saw me.”

Choi Leeong’s face darkened.

“She’d demand answers. ‘You tormented me in life for the sake of the Cult, and now you betray it for some stranger?’ She’d call me a heartless bastard, say I made her suffer for nothing. How the hell would I answer that?”

Qing scratched the back of her head.

Seol Ganom had been right—and wrong.

He was right that there was no convincing this old man.

But he was wrong about him being a true zealot.

This wasn’t about faith.

This was just a pathetic old man forcing himself to believe—because if he didn’t, his daughter’s suffering would’ve been meaningless.

…And what the hell could the living do against the dead?

Choi Leeong had already made his choice.

“When the Heavenly Demon Vault is opened, I’ll make sure you’re set free. Even the Supreme Leader won’t be able to touch you if I stand in his way. Just endure until then.”

Qing let out a long, slow sigh.

“Fine. If that’s what you say.”

Of course, it was just words.

There was no way in hell she was trusting the Alleged Supreme.

Once he finished cultivating that Divine Art, he was supposed to achieve Transcendence to the Demonic Descent Realm.

But what if, in that moment, he suddenly decided to kill her?

Choi Leeong stepping in at the last second wouldn’t mean shit.

You don’t gamble your life on someone else’s mercy.

Which meant—

She couldn’t let the Alleged Supreme achieve Demonic Descent.

And honestly? She just really didn’t want to see his smug face celebrating.

The plan was simple: interrupt him at the critical moment, destroy the Heavenly Demon Soul, and watch him lose his shit.

But there was another problem.

Even if she got out of this alive, it wouldn’t be over.

The future Heavenly Demon wouldn’t just let her walk free.

He’d mobilize every last cultist and come after her with everything he had.

And what about the sect she worked so hard to establish?

Her sweet, comfortable home in the Sacred Maiden Sect?

…And god forbid someone start a rumor that Ximen Qing had handed the Supreme Leader some kind of Gay Awakening Art.

No way she was the only one going down for this.

She’d definitely be getting her ass handed to her by her master.