I’ve accepted being transmigrated into a cultivation novel as a cannon-fodder supporting character. I’ve accepted having no spiritual roots, being unable to cultivate, and having to live as an ordinary mortal. But being sacrificed from the start to the infamous mad Demon Venerable feared across the Three Realms? Isn’t that taking the difficulty level a little too far?!
Legend has it that Yin Wuhuo, the Demon Venerable, is cruel and tyrannical. A cultivation mishap left him suffering day and night as if his body were being consumed by flames, and neither gods, Buddhas, immortals, nor demons could do anything about it.
When they threw me in front of him, I shook like a leaf. There was only one thought in my mind: I’m done for.
But the Demon Venerable merely lifted his blood-red eyes. His voice was rough and cold as ice. “You smell of medicine.”
Me: “?”
I’m an utterly ordinary mortal healer, but with my family’s acupuncture techniques and knowledge of herbal medicine, I somehow managed to keep myself alive, at least for now.
From then on, I became the Demon Venerable’s personal “painkiller.” When his illness flared up, I used silver needles to soothe his meridians. When he lost his temper, I calmed him with a soothing herbal brew. I worked diligently, hoping only to save up enough money to buy my freedom and retire back home.
But the way this powerful man looked at me grew stranger by the day. He clumsily sought out candied fruit for me, kicked away demon generals who gave me trouble, and even carefully draped his own murderous-looking cloak over me when I dozed off.
Then one day, the immortal sects attacked the mountain under the banner of “eliminating demons and defending the righteous path.” He shielded me behind him, sword in hand, as blood stained the Demon Palace. Turning back, he smiled at me, with a tenderness and vulnerability I had never seen before.
“A Yue, don’t be afraid.”
Only then did I understand: I had cured his illness, but given him another “poison” with no cure.
And I,
