Cultivation Nerd (xianxia)

Chapter 367 - A Deadly Game

Song Song leaned back in her chair, one leg draped casually over the other.The war room no longer bothered with that round-table nonsense meant to make everyone feel equal and important. That illusion had been discarded. In its place stood a throne-like chair, looking heavy and imposing, and that was where she sat. At the far end of the hall stretched a long table lined with nearly three dozen chairs, most of them occupied by the sect’s important elders. They faced her in rigid silence, expressions stiff and carefully controlled.

She settled deeper into her throne, idly reflecting on how smoothly things had been going on the war front.

A lot of people were dying.

That, at least, wasn’t so bad.

When Liu Feng had gone out of commission—an idea that still felt wrong just to think about—she had been certain everything would fall apart. She had expected chaos. Rebellion. The Blazing Sun Sect tearing itself apart within a week.

Instead, people listened.

They nodded. They agreed. Every suggestion she put forward was met with eager approval, heads bobbing like obedient puppets.

Spending so much time around Liu Feng had made her forget what it was like to be surrounded by losers and people who agreed with everything she said simply because she said it. Sometimes she found herself deliberately proposing something absurd, just to watch their faces drain of color as they forced themselves to nod along anyway.

It was almost entertaining.

And now that her father was gone, most of the support that had once stood behind him had quietly shifted to her. Liu Feng had already removed the truly troublesome elements.

What remained were followers.

One of the elders raised a hand.

Song Song deliberately acted as if she hadn’t seen him. She kept looking at her nails, idly picking at them, letting the silence stretch.

After a dozen minutes, it grew boring.

She pointed at him.

“You have permission to speak,” she said in a flat, bored voice.

“Lady Song, there has been some good news on the war front. It seems the Titanic Blade Sect wishes to initiate peace talks with us and–”

She zoned out halfway through.

To summarize, it was a speech filled with sweet words that meant absolutely nothing.

When he finally finished, Song Song let the silence linger a few seconds longer than necessary, just to watch some of the weaker wills squirm like worms. Their eyes flickered, bodies stiffening as they wondered whether she might decide to kill them on a whim.

She liked it when they looked like that.

But breaking weak-willed people was no fun.

If only she knew where Ye An had gone. That was someone worth breaking. Someone with real spine. Someone who would snap slowly, beautifully, like a twig bent the wrong way. As with all art appreciated by the masses, some effort was required.

“Rip the letter apart,” Song Song said lazily, waving her hand, “and send the messenger’s head back in a box to the Titanic Blade Sect.”

The elder went pale.

He hurried to comply at once. After all, he was only an outer elder and barely at Foundation Establishment, and painfully aware of how disposable that made him.

Her gaze drifted toward the Core Formation elders seated in the room, and she found herself idly wondering how long it would take to kill them if she tried.

With Liu Feng gone, there was no one left to stop her from finding the answer to that question.

Perhaps she should send a few of them on suicide missions instead. That could be fun too.

“From now on,” Song Song declared, her voice sharp and clear, “my brother will be sent to the warfront against the Titanic Blade Sect. He will begin poisoning the front lines, water supplies and edible beasts alike, with toxins lethal to humans. Let’s turn their territory into a poisonous hell.”

Everyone nodded at once, not a single person daring to question her decision.

Song Song smiled, satisfied. The uncomfortable tightness in her chest faded, if only for a moment.

She could almost feel Liu Feng’s disapproving gaze on her back, watching every decision she made. But he was unconscious, and the gnawing guilt in her chest only ever quieted when she was killing, inciting war, and tearing enemies apart. Violence brought a sense of clarity. There was no need to think.

As for the Titanic Blade Sect asking for peace? That alone told her something was wrong. They wouldn’t be seeking negotiations unless they’d been weakened in some way, even if the spies had reported nothing.

After all, they were the initial aggressors. Why stop now?

It wasn’t as if she cared about the Blazing Sun Sect or the people living within it. She could send wave after wave of cultivators to die without batting an eye. Even her brother could be thrown onto the battlefield, though that worm was annoyingly hard to kill.

But what about the elders of the Titanic Blade Sect?

Their disciples weren’t endless. Eventually, they would have to send their sons and grandsons to the front. That was when things would become interesting. That was when the true powerhouses would step onto the battlefield.

And when that happened, she would go to the front lines herself.

The original plan had been a slow death, a war of attrition. But she’d rather see the sect burn like a cornered beast, faster, brighter, and more violently. If they were going to fall, she wanted them to drag at least one great sect down with them. Or weaken it so badly that the fighting would continue long after the Blazing Sun Sect was gone, as others tore each other apart over the spoils.

They had dared to take the first bite, only to flinch and retreat.

She would show them what that mistake cost.

When everything finally collapsed, Song Song planned to grab Liu Feng’s unconscious body, perhaps Wu Yan as well, and flee without a backward glance.

Why should she die with the sect?

Just because others followed tradition and orders blindly didn’t mean she was obligated to share their fate.

An elder raised his hand.

Song Song gave him permission to speak.

“The Azure Frost Sect has not been particularly aggressive since the beginning of the war,” he said carefully. “Perhaps it would be wise to seek an alliance with them.”

Song Song’s eyes narrowed.

The elder went pale.

She wasn’t angry, not yet. She was simply committing his face to memory.

Why would he suggest this?

Was he a spy for the Azure Frost Sect? Or just a coward fishing for an escape route?

Either way, she was already considering sending him to the front lines. With a few other elders as “company,” just to make sure he didn’t try to run.

“No,” she refused flatly. “The Azure Frost Sect relies heavily on ice techniques, and people who cultivate ice are always untrustworthy.”

“Of course, Lady Song,” the elder replied immediately, bowing his head.

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Boring.

Despite the utter nonsense of her reasoning, not a single person in the room dared to challenge her. Not even a flicker of dissent.

“Also,” Song Song continued, her tone sharpening, “if they’re not being aggressive, then we will be.” She leaned forward slightly. “Once my brother is pulled back from that front, reinforce the line and begin pushing toward Azure Frost Sect's territory.”

She didn’t believe for a moment that the Azure Frost Sect had good intentions. Someone like Liu Feng would have dissected the situation, drawn conclusions, and produced half a dozen theories by now. But she wasn’t him. She didn’t need logic.

She simply didn’t like them.

It was a gut feeling. The entire sect reminded her too much of Ye An, with her cold, pristine surface, hiding blades behind her smile. People like that always carried a back-stabbing glint in their eyes.

“Actually,” she added, almost as an afterthought, “send word to my brother. Have him poison and kill a handful of Azure Frost Sect frontline troops. Massacre a few more. Anyone who survives, take them as slaves. Force them to marry into our newer disciples.”

A ripple of discomfort passed through the room, quickly smothered into silence.

The Azure Frost Sect was largely composed of women. Strong, disciplined, and, unfortunately for them, often beautiful in that clean, untouched way their techniques demanded. It would be a waste not to turn that to her advantage. Captives would boost morale among the younger disciples, after all, they would be fighting for their future wives.

As for the moral implications? Song Song didn’t spare them a single thought.

*******

Jiang Yeming sat in the chair within the library, the very one her teacher had once occupied. For now, she was temporarily taking over Liu Feng’s duties, acting as his replacement, his so-called successor.

The familiar scent of old parchment lingered in the air, and the silence felt deep and undisturbed, broken only by the soft rustle of pages as she turned them. For a moment, it reminded her of Wisdom Hall, stirring a quiet wave of nostalgia and memories she hadn’t realized she still carried.

The discomfort of the chair only made the experience more vivid. How many hours had she spent hunched over books like this, simply because Wisdom Hall required students to pass certain mandatory courses? One night it had been monstrous beasts, reading until her eyes burned, and the next day it was herbs memorizing names, properties, reactions, and only to repeat the cycle again.

Back then, it had all felt like useless information.

Only now could she appreciate it.

If history hadn’t been mandatory, she wouldn’t know even half of what she did about the events unfolding now. Cultivators were rarely scholars of the past. Most of them didn’t care about history unless it involved some ancient technique passed down through thousands of years, one that supposedly granted ultimate power.

Jiang Yeming chuckled softly, recalling an expedition she had gone on with her fellow students and her best friend at her side. They had unearthed countless ancient scrolls, only to discover the disappointing truth: most ancient techniques were useless. Outdated. Inefficient. Poorly constructed. Some were even dangerous enough to ruin a cultivator’s body during training.

The faint hum of the arrays resetting themselves pulled her from her reminiscing.

Usually, that sound would have put her on edge. She didn’t have direct access to the library’s arrays, and if someone attacked, she would be at a disadvantage. But with the way Song Song had been acting lately, nobody had the courage to do anything foolish.

Which raised an unsettling question.

Where the hell had Liu Feng gone for Song Song to be acting so unrestrained?

There were rumors from the front lines, orders given directly by Song Song to hang enemy corpses from trees. Jiang Yeming didn’t know whether they were true, but when it came to Song Song, anything was possible.

Still… Liu Feng had been missing for nearly a month now.

That worried her.

Was he on some secret mission? Something dangerous? Or something far worse?

As her thoughts drifted toward increasingly unpleasant possibilities, someone entered the library. Footsteps echoed softly as the newcomer paused, glanced around, and then their eyes met Jiang Yeming’s.

Wu Yan.

The girl smiled brightly and waved as she walked over.

“Come on in,” Jiang Yeming said lightly, unable to resist teasing her. “I’m sure the teacher would be ecstatic to know someone finally enjoys reading.”

Lately, Jiang Yeming had been spending more time with Wu Yan. After her cultivation shattered, the girl had changed in ways that were… unexpected.

She was unbelievably kind.

Genuinely, painfully nice.

One of the most innocent people Jiang Yeming had ever met.

Maybe, just maybe, she could prevent whatever future awaited her. Stop the path that turned this gentle girl into something monstrous.

Because no matter how much history told her otherwise, Jiang Yeming couldn’t believe it.

There was no way someone as kind as Wu Yan could grow into the Thousand-Faced Immortal.

Jiang Yeming had changed Tingfeng’s fate. In the future, he too would become an Immortal. By now, he should have been in the Titanic Sword Sect, becoming its pillar of hope after that incident…

Wait.

Had it already happened?

Jiang Yeming wasn’t officially part of the Blazing Sun Sect, so information rarely reached her. As for asking Song Song directly, she wasn’t stupid, nor suicidal. Song Song spent most of her time cultivating, but whenever she emerged, there was inevitably news of another sect elder being executed for spying.

Without Liu Feng around, Song Song was no longer restrained. She was free to be her true, terrifying self.

Wu Yan walked over and picked up a book, pretending to read. In truth, her attention drifted. She was clearly saddened by Liu Feng’s disappearance; it was the quiet, unspoken kind of sorrow that lingered in the air. Since her cultivation had shattered, she no longer had the strength to press for answers, nor the will to demand what no one seemed willing to give.

Perhaps that was for the best.

Who knew how Song Song would react if Wu Yan marched in demanding explanations? The thought alone made Jiang Yeming uneasy.

That girl was dangerous and unhinged in a way that went far beyond reason.

Any emotion she still possessed seemed to extend only to Liu Feng. No one else mattered. Her war tactics made that painfully clear.

Just then, Tingfeng walked into the library, wearing the same bored expression he always had when forced to deal with something inconsequential. By his standards, that was anything that didn’t involve swords.

He was the least affected by Liu Feng’s sudden disappearance. Almost disturbingly so. It was as if their teacher’s absence hadn’t touched him at all.

Even Jiang Yeming couldn’t help but worry.

What if she had changed the timeline?

What if her actions had led to Liu Feng’s death?

Ironically, that indifference was exactly what Liu Feng would have wanted. Tingfeng embodied his quiet wish for his disciples that his disappearance, or even his death, wouldn’t weigh them down. That they would continue forward, unburdened.

“I just came to tell you that the Titanic Sword Sect Leader is dead,” Tingfeng said, already turning to leave without offering a single detail.

He really just dropped something like that and walked out.

If Jiang Yeming had known nothing of the larger picture, she might have been annoyed. Instead, she simply watched him go.

She glanced at Wu Yan from the corner of her eye. The girl hadn’t even looked up from her book.

Why did it feel like, among Liu Feng’s disciples, she was the most normal one when she was the time traveler?

Jiang Yeming sighed and let the subject drop. There was no point worrying about things that refused to obey logic.

The Titanic Sword Sect Leader had died during the Hunting Festival, though perhaps it wasn’t called that yet. A winter event where cultivators went out en masse to cull the monstrous beasts.

According to the records in Wisdom Hall, he had stumbled into the lair of a Nascent Soul beast and been killed. At this point in history, beasts still dominated most of the northern continent, and they possessed more Nascent Soul powerhouses than humanity.

But Jiang Yeming was no longer confident in those records.

Liu Feng had vanished and then, almost immediately, the leader of another great sect died?

That coincidence sat poorly with her.

After all, with enough preparation, killing a careless Nascent Soul cultivator wasn’t impossible. In the future, they weren’t seen as invincible the way they were now. Powerful, yes, but not untouchable. Not gods walking the earth. Almost like immortals, but without the title… or the endless lifespan.

If she remembered history correctly, the tools and techniques required to do something like that shouldn’t exist yet.

But then again…

Who really knew anymore?

…

Two quiet weeks passed in the blink of an eye, followed by shocking news.

The Titanic Blade Sect had fallen into disarray due to internal disputes, and Song San had absolutely decimated their front lines. The borders had been pushed back to their pre-war positions.

Knowing Song San, he would push forward whenever an opportunity presented itself.

He had taught the sect, the one that attacked the Blazing Sun Sect first and then lost its sect leader, exactly what came next.

This first large-scale hunting of beasts caused heavy casualties among them. Unlike before, they were forced to wander into the beasts’ natural territories instead of having the beasts come to them.

Jiang Yeming sat in the library, leaning back in her chair nonchalantly as she organized the news in her mind, aligning it with the events that were likely to follow.

For now, she could only hope that the beasts on this continent didn’t unite into a single massive wave, one powerful enough to try and wipe humanity out, like what had happened in the Central Continent.

The Blazing Sun Sect should hold out reasonably well, largely because of the Earth Grade reward Liu Feng had put in place when gathering mercenaries to defend against monstrous beasts.

Many smaller sects had sprung up using those Earth Grade techniques as their core. They attracted far more Foundation Establishment cultivators than traditional sects, and while none of them were exceptional, quantity had its own kind of quality.

Jiang Yeming sighed, hoping Liu Feng would return soon.

There was no way he would have allowed a mess like this to spiral out of control.

At this point, the chances of the war ending anytime soon were slim. And minimizing losses wasn’t exactly part of Song Song’s vocabulary either.

“Crazy bitch,” Jiang Yeming muttered under her breath.

Just where the hell was her teacher, for something like this to be allowed to go on?