How to Raise a Crazy Beautiful Snake Demon - Chapter 26

“You… don’t talk nonsense.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu accidentally blurted it out. Though she bit her lip and spoke very softly, Song Shirui behind her still heard.

 

 

“Senior Sister, what did you say?” Song Shirui asked from behind.

 

 

“I said, in the future, when facing problems, think more and seek alternative solutions instead of resorting to indiscriminate violence and slaughter.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu turned around, fully regaining the aloof demeanor of the senior disciple, lecturing sternly. It was unclear how much the other would take in, but this was what she truly believed.

 

 

“Ah? So… that’s how it is… Senior Sister, why are you suddenly saying this? Didn’t you kill many demons before?”

 

 

Song Shirui asked blankly.

 

 

“The past is the past. Besides, the demons I killed were all evil ones who harmed living beings—they deserved it.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu was quite certain about this. The original host had indeed slain many demons, but given her high rank, the missions she undertook were critical, and the demons she killed were all heinous creatures. She had also been injured multiple times in battles against them.

 

 

Ordinary demons, like that snake demon mother, weren’t even qualified to cross paths with the original host.

 

 

Yet the world was always full of gray areas.

 

 

For some reason, wrapped in that warm sensation, Ji Qingwu found new courage.

 

 

She had brought Zhu Jiuyin to tour the sect. Fleeing in panic would give Zhu Jiuyin no real experience, and besides… she didn’t want Zhu Jiuyin to look down on her.

 

 

Ji Qingwu asked telepathically:

 

 

“That last dojo wasn’t fun—it wasn’t representative of our sect. Shall we try another?”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin was indifferent:

 

 

“Sure, pick the hardest one.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu turned and relayed this to Song Shirui. The two turned back and walked deeper inside, examining the wooden door labels one by one.

 

 

At the very end of the corridor, Ji Qingwu stopped before a door labeled “Ten Thousand Withered Bones.” She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and pushed it open.

 

 

“Senior Sister, watch out!”

 

 

The moment they entered, before they could even see the room clearly, a fierce gust of wind rushed at them, accompanied by piercing shrieks that nearly ruptured their eardrums!

 

 

Ji Qingwu’s mind flashed, and a wall of water abruptly rose before her, shielding her and Song Shirui.

 

 

The gust, wailing like ghosts, slammed violently into the water wall. Within moments, the wall shattered, revealing their attackers.

 

 

Ji Qingwu froze slightly—those assailants seemed to be… ghosts?

 

 

This was her first time seeing ghosts, and she was somewhat awed, along with a modern person’s instinctive fear, though it wasn’t overwhelming.

 

 

The ghosts were numerous, nearly filling the vast room. Translucent, tattered spirits shrieked as they flew through the air, while countless disjointed bones rose from the ground.

 

 

The incomplete skeletons on the floor wobbled upright, extending sharp bony fingers to claw at them. In the sky, tens of thousands of ghosts screeched incessantly, brandishing their claws as their icy bodies lunged madly at their faces.

 

 

Song Shirui swiftly unsheathed her sword, weaving a deadly dance of blades as she struck at the ghosts and bones, occasionally summoning sharp vines to counter the skeletons. Ji Qingwu summoned her flying sword, running two fingers along its length. The blade erupted in flames with a roar, charging into the enemy ranks with devastating force.

 

 

 

Ji Qingwu watched as her flaming sword illuminated the sky, thinking to herself that the move just now must have looked quite dashing—she wondered if Zhu Jiuyin had seen it.

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin burst into laughter:

 

 

“Pfft… Yeah, yeah, I saw it. It was impressive. You’re a bit smarter than I expected.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu’s expression twisted slightly. This was the downside of telepathic connection—any random thought in her mind could be overheard, and it was downright awkward. She soared into the sky with her sword, focusing entirely on slaughtering the enemy.

 

 

Amid the shrieks of countless skeletons and eerie ghosts, Ji Qingwu channeled all her spiritual energy, unleashing the combat skills inherited from the original owner of her body. Her flaming sword proved effective—ghosts wailed and vanished upon contact with the flames, while skeletons recoiled, crumbling into ash when severed by the fiery blade before disappearing entirely.

 

 

With a swift hand seal, Ji Qingwu hovered midair, her pink-and-white robes billowing amidst the flames like the sole celestial being in a hellish landscape.

 

 

Protected by her spiritual aura, no enemy dared approach her. Her fiery sword carved dazzling golden-red arcs through the air, sweeping away swathes of ghosts in an instant, revealing her pristine, expressionless face beneath.

 

 

Down below, Song Shirui looked up at the scene, utterly awestruck by her senior sister, and redoubled her efforts in battle.

 

 

The entire spectacle was lively enough to amuse a certain wicked serpent, who laughed heartily through their mental link:

 

 

“Hahaha! Not bad, not bad! Finally, something worth watching!”

 

 

After fighting for what felt like an incense stick’s worth of time, Ji Qingwu sensed her spiritual energy gradually depleting. Though the drain wasn’t rapid, it still unsettled her.

 

 

The initial shock of facing hordes of ghosts had long faded—now, these endless enemies seemed no different from cockroaches to her. Why were there so many?

 

 

Worse yet, no matter how many she cut down, the overlapping waves of skeletons and ghosts showed no sign of thinning. The moment she cleared one row, another immediately surged forward, layer upon layer, dense and nauseating.

 

 

Gritting her teeth, she couldn’t help but complain:

 

 

“What is this, a field of leeks? No matter how many you cut, they just keep coming!”

 

 

The original owner of her body had once entered this training ground and knew a demonic cultivator lurked deep within, controlling everything. But with enemies swarming her vision, she couldn’t pinpoint the cultivator’s location, let alone confront them directly.

 

 

Song Shirui, her shoulders aching and spiritual energy running low, called up to Ji Qingwu:

 

 

“Senior Sister, have you found that demonic cultivator yet?”

 

 

Dying in the trial wouldn’t mean actual death, but it could cost them a whole cultivation realm—something far worse than death to a cultivator. Each realm was painstakingly earned through years of effort. Losing one in their own training ground would be beyond humiliating!

 

 

Unable to devise a solution, Ji Qingwu decided to seek external help through their mental link, her gaze falling on her wrist:

 

 

“Got any ideas?”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin scoffed:

 

 

“Oh? So the esteemed, all-powerful senior sister who has her junior sister wrapped around her finger is now asking little old me for help? How novel~”

 

 

Ji Qingwu shut her mouth. How could she forget? That serpent’s words were never what she wanted to hear. There was no way she’d get useful advice from her—she’d have to figure this out herself.

 

 

 

It wasn’t impossible… This dojo was exceptionally challenging today, perhaps because Ji Qingwu was fighting for the first time and couldn’t fully utilize the original owner’s true strength, relying instead on clever techniques and stacked spells.

 

 

She lowered her head and sent a direct voice transmission to Song Shirui:

 

 

“Get ready for ‘Autumn’s Gaze Reversed’ on my command.”

 

 

“Autumn’s Gaze Reversed” was a Jade Pure Sect technique that, when executed, would summon an autumn gale to lift all enemies within a wide area and forcibly hurl them several zhang behind the caster. The limitation was that the user couldn’t turn around for several breaths, leaving their back defenseless and vulnerable to attack.

 

 

Song Shirui nodded without hesitation, immediately slowing her swordplay as she channeled spiritual energy to prepare the spell.

 

 

Above them, Ji Qingwu focused her mind, forming hand seals as she used a soul-searching technique to locate the demonic cultivator. Her longsword, guided by spiritual energy, autonomously traced fiery circles around her for protection, preventing the ghostly bones from approaching.

 

 

After several breaths, the soul-searching technique detected an anomaly—beneath the thick layers of bones in the southeast corner!

 

 

Ji Qingwu’s eyes snapped open as she shouted:

 

 

“Ten Thousand Swords Like Stars—Go!”

 

 

Instantly, her sword transformed into countless sword spirits, each blazing with scorching flames. More resembling countless suns than a starry river, they all plunged into the mountain of bones!

 

 

“Autumn’s Gaze Reversed—Now!”

 

 

Following the cool command, Song Shirui exerted all her strength to unleash the technique while Ji Qingwu simultaneously cast from above. Their hair whipped upward as spiritual light shimmered across their bodies. A violent gust suddenly erupted within the chamber, momentarily drowning out even the wails of countless ghosts!

 

 

The bones and spirits stood no chance, howling as they were scattered by the wind. From within the bone mountain, a black-robed figure emerged, also caught in the autumn gale.

 

 

The plan was simple: the sword would breach the bone mountain to reveal the enemy, Autumn’s Gaze would hurl them behind, and the most agile sword techniques would attack from the rear—leaving the demonic cultivator nowhere to hide while gaining the initiative to prevent further concealment.

 

 

Everything proceeded exactly as Ji Qingwu envisioned. When the black-robed demonic cultivator was flung behind her, countless fiery sword spirits pursued, all piercing viciously into the enemy’s body!

 

 

The unmistakable sensation of striking flesh confirmed this was no puppet but the true body. The simultaneous shrieks of countless ghosts further proved she’d struck the real mastermind.

 

 

“Success!”

 

 

Being her first battle, Ji Qingwu lacked experience. Unable to turn yet, she could only cheer internally in triumph.

 

 

“Foolish slave…”

 

 

A soft sigh echoed in her spiritual consciousness.

 

 

Her wrist suddenly felt cold, as if something had slipped away from it. The exposed skin met the chill air with an unfamiliar lightness.

 

 

Simultaneously, she sensed—someone behind her.

 

 

Before she could process it, the presence pressed against her entire back. Something cool touched behind her ear as a low, hauntingly familiar sigh whispered:

 

 

“Little slave…”

 

 

Something soft and silky pressed against her back—different from an ordinary serpent’s body.

 

 

Slender tendrils wound their way beneath her shoulders, coiling tightly around her waist. Supple as if boneless, yet containing undeniable restraint.

 

 

Ji Qingwu looked down mechanically to see…

 

 

A pair of human hands.

 

 

In that fleeting glimpse—pale with bluish tint, fingers translucent and slender as serpent tails.

 

 

 

Pressed against her lower abdomen with unnatural, tremendous force, the grip pinned her entire body backward, pressing her tightly against, rubbing against, propping against, clinging to that form behind her.

 

 

The howling wind and ghostly wails no longer mattered. That voice seemed to swirl around her consciousness, echoing endlessly.

 

 

There was someone behind her.

 

 

But she couldn’t turn her head.

 

 

“Senior Sister!!!!”

 

 

Someone screamed with a voice torn from the depths of their soul, as if witnessing something utterly horrifying. Ji Qingwu shuddered violently, her body stiffening instantly.

 

 

“Heh…”

 

 

A low laugh seeped into her eardrums, carrying a faint, intoxicating fragrance that sent a shiver from her ears all the way down to her lower back. She couldn’t even fly forward anymore.

 

 

Her thoughts were tangled, her emotions in chaos. She had no idea why Song Shirui had screamed—had the demonic cultivators attacked? Or was the person holding her doing something…

 

 

Amid the confusion, she faintly heard a soft squelch, followed by a sickening, meat-grinding sound, as if something had pierced through flesh and was now churning relentlessly. The auditory imagery was gruesome.

 

 

That familiar, sultry yet hoarse voice still lingered by her ear, not retreating in the slightest. The entire body pressed flush against her back, leaving no gap between them. Her long skirt was pried open by something, and a serpentine tail slithered beneath the fabric.

 

 

“Is this all?”

 

 

The woman’s voice dripped with mockery. It was unclear whether she was taunting the person in front or the demon behind.

 

 

Ji Qingwu couldn’t breathe, crushed too tightly. Her back was icy cold, as if she were pressed against a ghost.

 

 

The surrounding spirits and bones seemed to lose their master all at once, drained completely before vanishing in waves with mournful cries—clear signs that the puppeteer controlling them had died.

 

 

The room was now eerily clean. The side effects of Ji Qingwu’s spell were finally fading. She tried to twist her head slightly, wanting to see who was behind her.

 

 

But the hands gripping her abdomen tightened again. A left hand, pale as death, slithered up her side with unsettling smoothness, tracing along her flank, the curve of her chest, her left shoulder, all the way to her neck—caressing, scraping, kneading with just the right pressure.

 

 

Then, those cold fingers splayed wide, digging deep into the flesh of her neck, locking her head in place.

 

 

There was a type of bamboo cage used to trap grasshoppers and crickets—woven loosely, yet no matter how hard the insects inside struggled, they could never escape.

 

 

Ji Qingwu felt like one of those trapped crickets now.

 

 

Her head couldn’t turn an inch. Even the parts of her body not pressed against the other were immobilized.

 

 

She opened her mouth, her tongue resting at the back of her throat, but no sound came out. Like a bird with its beak clamped shut.

 

 

“Senior Sister… who’s behind you?”

 

 

Song Shirui’s voice drifted up from below, clearly confused.

 

 

Ji Qingwu struggled faintly, but the woman behind her only pulled her closer, chuckling lowly:

 

 

“The price I demanded—you haven’t said it yet.”

 

 

What price…? Ji Qingwu’s mind spun, recalling how, not long ago, that same voice had demanded a promise from her in that teasing, seductive tone…

 

 

[Introduce me to your Junior Sister Song. Tell her… you and I are already intimately close.]

 

 

Now, in this dark room littered with the remnants of bones and spirits, suspended midair, stripped of her dignity as a senior sister, she was being forced to say such words to her innocent junior.

 

 

It was… utterly humiliating. Her teeth clenched in shame, her entire body flushing red.