How to Raise a Crazy Beautiful Snake Demon - Chapter 25

As if someone had gently and warmly embraced her…

 

 

A soft breeze carried the mild weather through the exquisitely crafted garden landscape, where the fragrance of flowers and trees was fresh and delicate, with subtle wisps of scent lingering in the air.

 

 

Ji Qingwu stood still, silent, her gaze lowered to the small ruby-like eyes on the serpent bracelet.

 

 

Yet, she couldn’t discern its true intentions.

 

 

She didn’t speak aloud, her thoughts racing ahead of her words:

 

 

“Why?”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin paused for a long moment before the serpent’s eyes shifted slightly, and a hoarse female voice echoed in her consciousness:

 

 

“You haven’t… truly used my gift yet.”

 

 

Despite the obvious effort to suppress it, the voice carried a distinct note of grievance, the tone dipping at the end as if pouting.

 

 

Ji Qingwu narrowed her eyes, never expecting such a response—or such a tone.

 

 

Her lashes trembled slightly as she lowered her gaze to her skirt, unwilling to meet the serpent’s eyes.

 

 

The atmosphere inexplicably grew intimate, the floral fragrance swirling around them, intoxicating and lingering.

 

 

Song Shirui’s voice drew near, separated from Ji Qingwu only by a few staggered red maple trees:

 

 

“Senior Sister, are you heading to the Trial Corridor? I was just about to enter as well. Could… could we team up?”

 

 

Ji Qingwu barely registered Song Shirui’s words, her mind still lingering on Zhu Jiuyin’s reply. But there was no time to dwell on it.

 

 

She could only respond:

 

 

“Fine.”

 

 

And in her thoughts, she emphasized to someone in particular:

 

 

“Fine.”

 

 

Agreeing actually brought her a sense of relief. She relaxed her shoulders and walked toward Song Shirui, speaking calmly:

 

 

“Teaming up is acceptable, but you must give it your all.”

 

 

Song Shirui’s face flushed with enthusiasm as she clenched her fists:

 

 

“Yes! I’ll do my absolute best—I won’t hold Senior Sister back! I’ll make sure you see me in a new light!”

 

 

Ji Qingwu only spared thirty percent of her attention to the outside world, the remaining seventy percent focused within her consciousness, waiting for Zhu Jiuyin’s response.

 

 

But Zhu Jiuyin remained silent until Song Shirui finished speaking, then leisurely remarked:

 

 

“I hope tonight, you’ll show the same determination.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu quickly pressed in her thoughts:

 

 

“What determination? What are you planning tonight?”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin chuckled softly, a bewitching and coquettish sound, but no matter how Ji Qingwu pressed, she refused to answer further, leaving Ji Qingwu unsettled.

 

 

Song Shirui led the way, Ji Qingwu following behind as the two stepped into the Trial Corridor—and in an instant, the space expanded before them.

 

 

Within its confined exterior, the corridor revealed a vast and deep passage, its walls of solid stone stretching endlessly with no end in sight.

 

 

Along the walls, numerous chambers lined the path, each housing phantom illusions of various demons conjured by formations to engage in combat with disciples.

 

 

Identical yellow cypress doors bore inscriptions indicating the characteristics of each training ground. For example, the “Thousand Jun” training ground subjected entrants to crushing pressure akin to Mount Tai, with demons specializing in brute strength. The “Blazing Flame” training ground was a sea of fire, while the “Flying Petals” training ground featured demons skilled in beguilement, employing all manner of illusions to deceive challengers.

 

 

As the two walked deeper into the corridor, Ji Qingwu remained silent the entire way. Song Shirui stole glances at her expression before cautiously asking:

 

 

“Senior Sister, which training ground would you like to enter?”

 

 

“This one will do.”

 

 

 

Ji Qingwu paused in her steps, casually pushed open a door, and stepped into a gently flowing stream.

 

 

This training ground was named “Fist of Devotion.” The original owner only remembered it being somewhat simple, having entered once before never returning. Judging by the name, one might expect an intense combat scenario, but the reality was completely different.

 

 

Before them unfolded a rural scene at sunset, the sky painted in breathtaking rose hues. A middle-aged woman dressed like a village housewife approached carrying a large wooden basin, saying warmly:

 

 

“Oh, you’re back! Come wash your hands quickly. After dinner, there’ll be fireworks in town tonight—we can watch them right by this river.”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin voiced her confusion:

“Hmm?”

 

 

Ji Qingwu responded telepathically:

“This training ground operates like this. The woman won’t attack you—you need to take the initiative to kill her. That’s the only way out. To this day, I still don’t understand what this trial is meant to test.”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin remarked:

“Hmm~ Truly foolish.”

 

 

The woman placed the basin by the riverside and began washing clothes while warmly inviting them inside.

 

 

Song Shirui whispered:

“Senior sister… I never expected you’d choose this training ground with me. I… I…”

 

 

Ji Qingwu tilted her head slightly, her expression cool and detached:

“What? Is there something unusual about this training ground?”

 

 

Song Shirui, barely containing her excitement, whispered:

“I’ve never been here before, but I’ve heard this woman represents everyone’s idealized mother figure. She treats us with such warmth that it stirs our compassion, causing us to fail the trial… I just thought… entering this training ground with senior sister feels like… meeting the parents…”

 

 

Meeting the parents? Ji Qingwu glanced at the snake bracelet on her wrist, uncomfortable with the implication.

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin’s voice suddenly rose:

“Nonsense! What parents? I would never… Forget it. Just kill her and let’s go. Let’s pick another one—this one’s too simple.”

 

 

Yet Ji Qingwu didn’t know how to kill someone. Since arriving in this world, she’d never taken a life with her own hands. Even knowing this was an illusion made it difficult, especially when the woman so resembled the cleaning lady from her former workplace—she simply couldn’t bring herself to do it.

 

 

She had mentally prepared herself for immediate combat, thinking she could handle killing in self-defense, but fate had other plans.

 

 

She said vaguely:

“Let’s observe the situation first. It might not be as simple as it seems.”

 

 

Somehow, this observation lasted until nightfall.

 

 

The woman treated them like her own children—serving them steaming home-cooked meals, mending their clothes while holding the garments up to check the fit, all the while maintaining a gentle, loving smile and speaking softly despite their cold expressions.

 

 

On the rustic wooden table burned a bean-sized oil lamp. Under its glow, the woman chatted with them about mundane matters—vegetable prices, neighbors—while embroidering handkerchiefs for them.

 

 

Biting off a thread by the lamplight, the woman suddenly chuckled:

“I often remember how you loved playing with this oil lamp when you were little, pretending to be some Flame Immortal by cutting the flame with your fingers… You’d always burn yourself and come crying into my arms. So adorable.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu sat rigidly by the bed, unsure where to place her hands. Song Shirui kept stealing glances at her expression, apparently also having no intention to attack.

 

 

 

Within the sea of consciousness, Zhu Jiuyin had remained silent until now, when she whispered:

 

 

“How was this trial dojo created? It must be a reconstruction of a real scene, right?”

 

 

Ji Qingwu replied,

 

 

“Yes… Every event here is based on real encounters from past disciples during their travels.”

 

 

In other words, at some point in history, a disciple of the Jade Pure Sect had met this village woman, entered the house with her, sat on the bed, and listened to her words—watching her every expression, every stitch of her embroidery.

 

 

She was a monster, and that disciple had still killed her.

 

 

Ji Qingwu tried to imagine what that disciple had felt when taking her life, but as a modern person raised under the red flag, she found it impossible to empathize. What kind of deep hatred could justify killing such a harmless creature?

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin murmured softly,

 

 

“If they didn’t kill her… they couldn’t leave, could they?”

 

 

Ji Qingwu nodded heavily, a chill creeping through her body. She truly struggled with the idea of striking her down—she wasn’t the original owner of this body, nor was she one of those resolute cultivators who despised monsters to the bone. She just…

 

 

Outside, a series of bang-bang sounds erupted. The village woman looked up in delight, setting aside her embroidery with a warm smile.

 

 

“Fireworks! Come, let’s go watch!”

 

 

Ji Qingwu stood and followed, while Song Shirui, stunned, trailed behind and whispered,

 

 

“Senior Sister… when do we act?”

 

 

Her mind in turmoil, Ji Qingwu could only wave a hand, unable to speak.

 

 

They reached the riverside as countless fireworks burst overhead in dazzling brilliance.

 

 

The village woman gazed up at the display, then turned to them with a smile.

 

 

“Come closer! You two always loved these fireworks as children—hurry!”

 

 

A sudden thud—her smile froze. Dozens of sword qi pierced her body, bl00d gushing from the wounds like crimson rivers sprouting from her flesh.

 

 

Even Zhu Jiuyin couldn’t suppress a startled cry.

 

 

“Who—?!”

 

 

Ji Qingwu spun around. Her junior sister, Song Shirui, was manipulating sword techniques, her usual lively expression replaced by an unfamiliar, icy ruthlessness.

 

 

The woman who had briefly been their mother stared at them in shock, bl00d trickling from her lips as she whispered,

 

 

“Why… why… I just… just wanted children…”

 

 

But she was already dead. With a splash, her body collapsed into the river, reverting to its true form—a massive toad with dark green skin.

 

 

At the same time, a scroll unfurled in the sky, densely inscribed with words that revealed the true story behind this trial.

 

 

This had indeed happened centuries ago, when a Jade Pure Sect disciple encountered this during their travels. A toad spirit had dwelled near a village for decades, living like an ordinary person.

 

 

Toads symbolized fertility, and her obsession was children—every child or young person who came near her was treated as her own, raised with care in her little hut. It seemed beautiful.

 

 

But if the children’s real families came to reclaim them, the toad would fly into a rage, attacking and insisting she alone was their true mother. The villagers, unable to endure it, banded together to kill her—only for her to retaliate with deadly poison.

 

 

 

She had long become a scourge. One couldn’t simply overlook her crimes just because of her deep maternal love.

 

 

Yet… after reading the scroll’s records, Ji Qingwu felt an ache in her heart. Was there truly no better solution than killing her? Couldn’t they establish an orphanage for her, allowing her to care for those parentless children? Was dealing with matters through brute force—mere slaughter—the so-called righteous cultivators’ way of caring for the world? Or was it simply…

 

 

Because she was a demon?

 

 

Because she was a demon, no one considered her feelings, opting instead for the simplest, cruelest solution—her death—so the world could be at peace? But even without demons, had the world ever truly known peace?

 

 

Ji Qingwu’s chest heaved as she stared at the scroll in the sky, silent for a long while.

 

 

But fragments of her thoughts seeped into her consciousness—how much, she didn’t know—before she heard Zhu Jiuyin’s low response:

 

 

“Indeed, because we are demons. Haven’t you humans always said, ‘Those not of your kind must have treacherous hearts’? But when have your human hearts ever been united?”

 

 

Beyond the scroll, a yellow cypress door gradually materialized—the exit. Song Shirui’s cheerful voice rang out, no different from usual:

 

 

“Senior Sister, we’ve completed the trial. We can leave now.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu turned to look at her, feeling as though she was seeing this junior sister for the first time. Her round face and wide almond eyes gave her a sweet, lively appearance, yet when she killed that village woman, she hadn’t hesitated, her expression blank as if slicing vegetables.

 

 

Noticing her gaze, Song Shirui blinked and asked cautiously,

 

 

“Senior Sister, what’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

 

 

Ji Qingwu’s throat felt dry.

 

 

“Was… was killing her really necessary?”

 

 

Song Shirui replied,

 

 

“Of course. Isn’t that the solution to the trial? I… I thought you weren’t acting because you were testing me, so I deliberately used the sixth stance of the Flying Sun Sword Technique I recently learned… Senior Sister, did I make a mistake?”

 

 

Had she made a mistake? She had only followed sect rules, done what was expected, and found the trial’s solution. So who was truly at fault?

 

 

Ji Qingwu’s sleeves fluttered as she abruptly flew toward the door, leaving the trial behind.

 

 

Back in the deep, endless corridor, she strode forward without entering any other trials, desperate only to see real sunlight again, ignoring Song Shirui’s questioning behind her.

 

 

She walked in silence until Zhu Jiuyin’s voice echoed in her mind:

 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

 

She wanted to say she was fine, but her thoughts betrayed her first:

 

 

“No… I feel sick. Like I might vomit.”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin fell silent for a moment before speaking in an uncharacteristically gentle tone:

 

 

“Let me help you.”

 

 

Before Ji Qingwu could refuse, warmth rose from the serpent bracelet on her wrist, spiraling up through her meridians until it reached her chest, bringing with it a sensation like the blossoming of spring.

 

 

It was as if someone had embraced her—soft, warm, steady. The warmth lingered in her chest and abdomen, wrapping around her like a cocoon.

 

 

All at once, the discomfort vanished, replaced only by the warmth of being held. She felt supported, embraced, accepted—no longer alone.

 

 

Though she stood in a dark, cold corridor without sunlight, it was as if a tiny sun cradled her in its warmth.

 

 

 

A silver-white sun that belonged solely to her, one only she could perceive.

 

 

Ji Qingwu’s lips trembled slightly. Under the overwhelming surge of emotions, a thousand thoughts condensed in her heart yet found no voice—until finally, she whispered just one phrase:

 

 

“…Thank you.”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin also seemed in high spirits, her voice husky and alluring:

 

 

“Want to thank me? Then tonight… be more proactive. Show me your sincerity, understand?”