The Oldest Disciple: Farming Intimacy to Become Immortal

Chapter 234: The Festive Jinxiu Palace

Watching the scene unfold, Qi Wei covered her mouth and giggled.

“What a big dummy. I told you to watch your back, and now you’re dead!”

She continued to skip along, her movements light and rhythmic. The Black Sword flew toward her with uncanny agility, circling her like a loyal, predatory pet.

“Little Black, don’t stay too close to me. Keep your distance,” Qi Wei whispered, waving a small hand. “Wait until someone else shows their face, then ambush them from the shadows again.”

The Black Sword let out a sharp whoosh, darting out of the corridor and vanishing into the oppressive darkness of the palace grounds.

Watching it go, Qi Wei’s eyes twinkled with mischief. She reached into her robes, pulled out a shimmering, golden Talisman, and slapped it onto the floor tiles. In an instant, her small form vanished into thin air.

“What’s happening?”

In an upper room of a nearby pavilion, two dark silhouettes stood pressed against the window.

“Ding Tian’s aura just vanished.”

“This is the heart of the imperial palace. How could an outer sentry be snuffed out so silently?”

“Something is wrong. We have an intru—”

Whoosh!

A streak of black light hissed through the air outside the window, plunging through the lattice and transfixing one of the men. The attack was too sudden, too precise. Neither guard had time to draw a breath, let alone a weapon.

A pale gold phantom was forcibly ripped from the guard’s physical body by the Black Sword. It was the man’s Primordial Spirit—his very soul. The phantom flailed in terror, desperate to retreat into its fleshly shell, but the Black Sword exerted a relentless, crushing suction. The soul was shredded into raw essence and devoured completely.

Clang!

The second guard reacted with desperate speed. Having just witnessed his comrade’s soul being harvested, he unsheathed his demon-slaying blade and lashed out at the Black Sword.

There was no sound of clashing steel. The blade passed through the Black Sword as if it were a mere shadow. The lack of resistance sent a jolt of terror through the guard.

“What?!”

The Black Sword spun in a tight arc, closing the distance in a heartbeat. It bored through the guard’s forehead, dragging his screaming Primordial Spirit out into the cold night air. Within three breaths of the first kill, two more corpses slumped to the floor.

High on the roof of the pavilion, Qi Wei skipped along the tiles. She flickered in and out of existence like a lunar wraith; each time she vanished, the Talisman on her body pulsed with a faint, eerie light.

“So weak,” she pouted. “Barely the eighth layer of Qi Condensation?”

In the Joyous Union Sect, such a level was beneath notice, yet in the mortal realm, these men were likely considered peerless masters. If the Emperor’s personal guard only amounted to this, it was a truly dismal affair.

She paused, glancing toward the Imperial Astronomy Bureau. Through the rolling waves of mist, golden light flared intermittently. Senior Brother must be having his fun with the Supervisor.

“No more playing. Time to wrap this up!”

Qi Wei vanished one last time. She did not reappear on the roof. Instead, a single black streak of light cut through the night sky, heading deep into the heart of the Jinxiu Palace.

Deep within the palace, inside a chamber bathed in flickering candlelight, red ceremonial curtains hung from the ceiling like strips of flayed skin. Behind these layers of silk sat a festive, crimson bed.

Two women lay upon it, dressed in matching red gowns. They were strikingly beautiful, their features sharing a seventy-percent resemblance, and their figures were undeniably breathtaking. Their eyes were sewn shut by sleep, though their eyelids fluttered periodically as if they were trapped in a fever dream they couldn’t escape.

Click.

The distant sound of a door opening echoed through the hall. Footsteps approached, steady and purposeful. One by one, the red curtains were swept aside.

Finally, a young man in a red imperial robe reached the bedside. Looking down at the two women, a look of twisted ecstasy crossed his face. He sat on the edge of the mattress, his gaze roaming obsessively over the sisters.

“Zi’er, Shui’er… do not blame me. You simply chose the wrong time to return,” he whispered, his voice trembling with madness. “People change. I clawed my way to this throne, only to realize it was a cage. The Human Emperor’s Luck grants power, but it denies longevity. A mere hundred years of life? How could I ever be satisfied with that?”

He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of Sheng Shui’er’s jaw.

“This is for the best. Shui’er, Zi’er, give your everything to me. Lin’an is full of Qi Condensation cultivators; I can find others to turn into Pills. I wouldn’t dream of doing that to you. I’m not that kind of monster!”

“Actually, you’re exactly that kind of monster.”

The childish voice sliced through the heavy atmosphere. The Emperor jolted, looking up to see a small figure perched at the head of the bed. Qi Wei was leaning on her elbows, staring down at the unconscious sisters.

“Hmph. Two more vixens,” she muttered, pouting at their jade-like complexions. It seemed every woman her Senior Brother sought out was a peerless beauty. It was quite annoying.

“Who are you?!” the Emperor hissed, leaping to his feet.

The intruder looked like a child, but she radiated a bone-chilling cold that made his blood run sluggish.

Qi Wei glanced at him with bored eyes. “So, you’re the Emperor of Zhao?”

The man’s hand shifted toward the Storage Bag at his waist. Qi Wei tracked the movement with a flat stare.

“If you weren’t the Emperor, you’d be a corpse on the floor already.”

He was merely at the Peak of Qi Condensation. She could crush ten of him with a single hand tied behind her back.

The Emperor’s eyes flickered. He dared not admit his identity; he suspected this girl was a scout trying to trick him into a confession before executing him.

Qi Wei waved her hand dismissively. “Just get lost. Senior Brother will be here in a moment to deal with you.” She made a vivid throat-slitting gesture.

The Emperor’s face paled. He couldn’t see through her cultivation. Was she at Foundation Establishment? And she had a “Senior Brother”?

He turned and bolted from the room, his robes fluttering behind him. He needed his dark guards. He was the Human Emperor, the sovereign of a nation! No cultivator would dare kill him and face the backlash of the heavens. Even a Nascent Soul expert would fear the karmic retribution of slaying a rightful king.

He burst through the palace doors into the courtyard. “Dark guards! To me!”

Silence met his cry.

“Dark guards! Protect your Emperor!”

Still, no one answered. The festive lanterns swayed, casting long, mocking shadows.

“Stop screaming,” Qi Wei’s voice drifted lazily from inside the building. “They’re all dead.”

All… dead?

The Emperor’s world tilted. It was impossible. He had hand-picked and trained them himself; they were his eyes and ears throughout the realm, and his iron shield against the world. To lose them all in a single night… it was a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.

The Emperor’s pupils contracted sharply. Impossible, absolutely impossible. The dark guards were an organization he had meticulously cultivated. They obeyed only him. Besides protecting his safety, the dark guards also had the authority to monitor all officials.