TDIC 12

Chapter : 12 (Revised)

Li Lingjiang suppressed the thoughts swirling in her mind. She cast a casual glance at the four of them before quickly withdrawing it. The fire dragon had indeed intimidated these people, but Wen Si—having seen the world enough—showed no trace of surprise on his face, only an added layer of caution in his gaze.

Yin Wu met his eyes, and in this moment, she seemed different from her usual self.

Li Lingjiang found it strangely amusing. Yin Wu suddenly felt like a mysterious box, revealing a small, new detail each day. She leaned lightly against the doorframe, suppressing the metallic-sweet taste in her throat, her expression calm, though a faint smile could be glimpsed in her eyes. Her striking features, combined with this casual demeanor, only added a subtle allure to her frail appearance. Her hair, slightly disturbed, fell naturally when she moved.

The white gauze on her finger was still clean. With a flick of her fingertip, she sent it back.

Li Lingjiang lifted her eyelids and glanced at the occasional sidelong looks directed at her.

Yin Wu, even when caught, was not anxious. She bit her lip and smiled slightly, showing none of the pride she displayed when confronting others.

Only innocence remained.

“Everyone—any last words?” Yin Wu turned her head, her expression quickly tightening. She found it rather amusing: each of them was like a little radish, puffed up with anger, and looked especially cute in their fury.

She suddenly wondered what Li Lingjiang would look like when angry.

Those who had been defeated, frustrated yet helpless, cast pleading glances at Wen Si, and one of them croaked, “Senior Brother.”

Wen Si had always maintained a polished exterior while keeping his own cards close to his chest, his small movements barely noticeable. These people all knew that this senior brother, who had entered the sect on his own merit, looked down on them—later recruits with inferior skills, some of whom could barely cultivate. Over time, the combination of open and subtle mockery naturally became grating.

Wen Si’s gaze remained on Li Lingjiang, measured and seemingly casual—but how could she believe that?

Li Lingjiang met his eyes slowly, her pupils gradually filling with murderous intent. She straightened her posture, as if discussing something with him, yet it felt more like a warning: “Shall I fetch a few people? After all, my temple is small. What do you think, Wen Gongzi?”

Her tone was light, but Wen Si felt a wave of pressure. He gritted his teeth, touched the wound on his neck, and finally relented: “Of course. May I ask your name and which sect you belong to?”

Li Lingjiang answered without overthinking: “Li Zeng, a wandering cultivator.”

Yin Wu, hearing this, added, “Li Jiang is her—”

She suddenly paused, unsure how to describe their relationship. Li Lingjiang, unhesitating, smoothly interjected: “My friend.”

For her, it was merely a title, nothing to dwell on.

Yin Wu, however, spent a little longer observing her, finally curling the corner of her lips subtly, a look impossible to read.

Wen Si let out an uncertain “Ah” and shifted aside to give Li Lingjiang a clear view. He flicked his hand, trying to toss it behind him, the slightly long sleeve brushing toward her. She stepped back quickly, not caring much for this small provocation.

Li Lingjiang, expression unchanged, stepped forward again and quickly rounded up a few old acquaintances. “These will do,” she said.

Following her gaze, none were recent recruits. Some unskilled female cultivators grew anxious—after all, the temperature at Bu Gui Mountain dropped sharply after nightfall, and the pitch-black darkness unnerved anyone. Their minds raced as they blurted out: “You deliberately chose these people! We might know them already!”

Li Lingjiang casually examined them and saw that none had fully formed spiritual roots, and their fingers lacked the calluses from years of cultivation. They were likely daughters of noble families or people of other statuses.

She narrowed her scope, confident in her assessment.

“Yes, we know each other,” Li Lingjiang stated bluntly, hiding nothing. “So what? Is that a problem?”

At that moment, Yin Wu immediately stepped in front of Li Lingjiang and flicked her chin at one of them, full of displeasure: “Weren’t you just badmouthing us?”

She tilted her head innocently: “Although quietly, I heard everything.”

The speaker fell silent instantly, grumbling resentfully to the others.

Everyone present had seen the strength of these few. A single person could challenge many at once. Even Wen Si held a certain respect for them, and the rest dared not speak further.

Only a few remained, silently stewing in anger. Wen Si pondered for a moment, stepping back a few paces, thinking how best to win over these people for the plan to succeed.

The hidden members, too, chose not to waste energy and withdrew. Li Lingjiang entered the house first. Yin Wu, of lower status, quickly closed the door behind everyone and set up a simple barrier.

No one outside could hear the commotion inside.

Li Lingjiang knew these people well, especially those from the demon clan—Ling Xin had once been her capable assistant.

“Greetings, Lord,” the four bowed in unison to Li Lingjiang.

She returned the gesture, though as she rose, she pressed a hand to her side, letting out a barely audible breath.

“Thank you all for your effort.”

The four responded with respectful gestures, pulling out chairs to sit. Ling Xin noticed Yin Wu behind Li Lingjiang and asked, puzzled, “Lord?”

Li Lingjiang understood and replied: “Yin Wu, from the Immortal clan. I wonder if Lord Fengluan remembers her?”

Fengluan, the one mentioned, looked carefully for a moment but shook his head apologetically: “I’m afraid I don’t recall.”

Li Lingjiang remained silent. She brewed some tea and gently pushed a cup toward Fengluan. “Still as easily nervous as before.”

Fengluan had originally been a rabbit, timid by nature. Only with age did he gain a bit of composure, though he remained shy among acquaintances. His occasional rabbit ears would hide his face.

“Thank you,” Fengluan said cautiously, cradling the cup in his hands, eyes flicking repeatedly to Yin Wu.

Yin Wu looked embarrassed. She bowed and swallowed nervously. “Little Immortal Yin Wu, greetings to all of you.”

The four nodded courteously and turned to business. Yin Wu glanced at Li Lingjiang’s back, then lightly at Wen Si’s waist—where he had glanced a few extra times—her thin lips forming a few silent words.

She then carried two dragons to her own bed without speaking further.

Li Lingjiang remained completely unaware.

Qi San of the Ghost Realm and Wu Zhi of the Demon Realm had some reputation. Their faces were tense as they sighed.

Wu Zhi, a butterfly demon with a handsome, mature appearance, drank his tea in one gulp and said in a naturally serious tone: “Lord, have you ever ventured deep into Bu Gui Mountain?”

Both he and Qi San were extremely sensitive to demonic energy, making this environment uncomfortable even for them.

Li Lingjiang, seeing their expressions, was helpless. In the past, she could have mitigated it, but now she had no solution.

She sighed slightly: “No, I haven’t.”

“Is there anything unusual about this group?”

The four exchanged glances. Ling Xin spoke: “Yes. You may have noticed that some of them have no spiritual roots, making them less sensitive to demonic energy. Their martial foundation is weak, but they carry many artifacts and treasures. Their behavior is strange too—despite fear, they all came together, displaying loyalty that even I find humbling.”

His final remark was tinged with mockery: “A bunch of useless people, yet they dare to storm my Bu Gui Mountain!”