Chapter Fifty-Nine: On the Importance of Acting Skills

“Take a look at He Chang'an,” the Red Sleeve girl paused her needlework and suddenly spoke. “See what that fellow is up to.”

“Who is He Chang'an?” Zhang Yichao was momentarily perplexed.

“He’s the Yellow-rank Demon Slayer sent by Luo Daqi to guard the base of the Demon Suppression Tower.” Red Sleeve casually grabbed a badge, which landed in her palm, seeming neither gold nor iron. “Lucky for you, you just reached the third rank; your mind’s nearly been refined into nothing but blood and energy!”

She extended a finger and tapped several times. The jade screen's image shifted, revealing a handsome yet lazily disheveled youth, drinking slowly from a bowl of wine.

He was no older than seventeen or eighteen—He Chang'an himself. Opposite him sat a voluptuous, curvaceous female demon slayer, also nursing a bowl of wine. Her pale face was crisscrossed with scars.

“Wait, isn’t that Yu Youwei? Why is she here?” Zhang Yichao softly exclaimed, glancing at Red Sleeve, then fell silent.

As expected, Red Sleeve curled her lip with disdain, shooting him a sidelong glance. “I sent her. What, is that a problem?”

Zhang Yichao quietly moved a little further away.

…

“He Chang'an, your cultivation method is quite unusual.” After three bowls of wine, Yu Youwei finally looked up, gazing directly at He Chang'an. “Not only does it possess the righteous aura of the Confucian school, but it also carries the energy of the demon clan.”

He Chang'an’s heart skipped a beat, but his face remained calm. “Whether it’s the left hand or the right, as long as it can kill demons and monsters, it’s a good hand.”

“Heretical and unorthodox!” Yu Youwei pushed her wine bowl forward, signaling him to fill it.

“Yu, come, drink,” He Chang'an filled her bowl, poured one for himself.

Yu Youwei’s voluptuous figure gave off an overwhelming presence with every movement, trembling so much that He Chang'an felt a little concerned.

He suddenly remembered the little nun—if she weren’t so firmly committed, her appearance would actually be quite…

“He Chang'an, was it you who ruined Chen Double-Blade?” Yu Youwei suddenly asked.

He Chang'an was startled, his brows furrowing as he gently set down his wine bowl. “Didn’t Chen’s cultivation go awry? How could I, a mere Yellow-rank rookie, have such ability?”

With these words, he angrily raised his bowl and drained it in one gulp.

His eyes brimmed with grievance and injustice.

He had rehearsed this performance countless times in his mind; even He Chang'an himself began to doubt whether that damned Chen Double-Blade really had suffered from a cultivation mishap…

What connection could there possibly be with He Chang'an?

Why ask so pointedly? Is it because my cultivation is weak, my rank low, and my background humble, that you can humiliate me so?

He, after all, is still unmarried…

---

He Chang'an feverishly imagined, letting his emotions and expressions perfectly align, focusing especially on his gaze and breath…

Yu Youwei said nothing, quietly drinking, the scars on her face faintly reddening. She took a deep breath, her chest slowly swelling.

This kid is too good at pretending…

Should I kill him, or just cripple him?

He Chang'an was somewhat uneasy.

This woman seemed on the verge of exploding—would she really strike him?

“She’s so…cough, she’s so strong. With her sixth-rank martial prowess, she wouldn’t even need to use her hands; her legs alone could crush me…”

“Or, she could just press me to her chest, and after a few dozen breaths, I’d probably suffocate…”

A sixth-rank martial artist coming to the first floor of the Demon Suppression Tower—no matter how you looked at it, it was suspicious!

Fortunately, after seven or eight breaths, Yu Youwei slowly exhaled, her chest settling back to its former upright shape.

“He Chang'an, you’re quite good,” Yu Youwei stood, uttered a bland remark, and left without another word.

“Good my ass!” He Chang'an sprang to his feet, his grievance finally erupting. “I come from a poor family; my mother died early, and my father, wounded as a border soldier in the north, is now crippled. Now, he can only work as a cook in the Weiyang county yamen, shouted at by everyone. What’s so good about me?”

“I haven’t read much, my cultivation is low. Even if I’m killed by monsters, it’s just one less breathing ant in the world. But what are you all thinking?”

“Chen’s accident—do you think I wasn’t heartbroken? He’s saved me several times; I still owe him twelve merit points for revival pills.”

“The Demon Slayer Division is my home; you are all my family—my sisters and brothers…”

‘Once we’re better acquainted, I’ll add—my wife.’

A real man doesn’t shed tears easily, only because his acting isn’t good enough.

He Chang'an, to survive under Chen Double-Blade, could even foam at the mouth and twitch all over; reciting a heartfelt soliloquy was nothing.

If he wasn’t outmatched, he wouldn’t even bother with such theatrics…

Yu Youwei paused, back turned, silent for a long moment, then spoke calmly: “After the New Year, you’ll be free to leave.”

Watching Yu Youwei exit, He Chang'an didn’t immediately relax.

He felt something odd—why did he keep sensing he was being watched lately?

So he continued his performance, sighing deeply, slowly sitting down, picking up a bowl of wine. His expression darkened, he drank with a choking sob.

---

…

“Ah, poor child.” On the seventh floor of the Demon Slayer Tower, Red Sleeve’s eyes grew red as she watched the ‘monitor.’

“So pitiful…really pitiful!” Zhang Yichao was about to curse, but seeing Red Sleeve, hurriedly changed his tone. “When he’s out after the New Year, let him join my Demon Suppression Camp!”

Zheng Gong, who’d been buried in his books all along, glanced at the jade screen’s image of He Chang'an, faintly shook his head with a bitter smile, shifted to a more comfortable position, and resumed reading.

“Luo Daqi is really too much, sending a rookie demon slayer to the base of the Demon Suppression Tower. If his cultivation goes awry, what then!” Red Sleeve rose angrily, stepped forward, and instantly appeared a hundred yards away.

“I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

Before her words faded, her slender red shadow flickered several times and vanished. Judging by her direction, she seemed headed toward Weiyang county.

…

Chang'an City, in a deserted mansion in Taiping Alley, Li Yishan wore a bitter expression as he stewed meat.

The snow had fallen for far too long, and though spring had officially arrived, the temperatures hadn’t yet risen; the earth’s energy was reviving, and all the firewood was damp.

The kitchen was thick with smoke and chaos. Li Yishan shielded himself with a righteous aura, escaping the choking fumes.

“Just look at yourself now—who uses righteous energy to cook?” The little nun sat casually on the threshold, her cheeks puffed out.

She’d just been smoked out, tears still glistening in the corners of her eyes, anger bubbling with nowhere to go. Seeing Li Yishan’s wild, white hair, she felt an urge to kick him.

“They say you’re a great scholar, but in my opinion…cough, in this humble nun’s view, you’re just a…cough cough.”

“Cough cough cough…”

A wave of thick smoke rolled out, caught by the wind, enveloping the little nun just as she was about to launch into a tirade, leaving her coughing, tears and snot streaming down her face.

“Li Yishan, you old fraud!” The little nun stamped her feet in fury.

Li Yishan, wearing a filthy apron, rubbed his dry, skinny hands, face full of apologies as he hurried over, releasing a righteous aura to shield the little nun. “Once I find that scoundrel He Chang'an…”

“Shut up!” The little nun’s apricot eyes widened, nearly blazing.

Li Yishan shook his head with a bitter smile, muttering, “The world’s deteriorating, hearts are not what they were, and only villains and women are hard to nurture;

He Chang'an, just you wait for me!”