Chapter Sixteen: The Sorceress of the Demon Sect and the Aloof Buddhist Disciple (2)

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Fan Sijin stood up and stretched leisurely. “This mission isn’t too difficult—just win the Buddhist disciple’s heart as a demoness. Chubby, let’s go.”

“...” At this moment, the system wanted to cry. No! I am not! Chubby!

After the tragedy of Tan Qin, the Buddhist disciple Kong Xuan deeply felt the fragility of human nature and the complexity of karma.

He never intended to harm Tan Qin, but a momentary mistake led to irreversible consequences. The grief and guilt weighing on Kong Xuan’s heart were like an oppressive shadow, constantly enveloping him.

As a monk, he adhered to Buddhist teachings and believed in the equality of all beings. Even demons deserved salvation. Yet, he failed to redeem Tan Qin and instead became the fated calamity in her life. This failure and remorse left an indelible scar on his soul.

Driven by self-reproach and regret, Kong Xuan chose seclusion, retreating deep into the endless mountain ranges to seek redemption.

Only when the demon cult stirred again did he reappear.

The demon cult, now irreconcilably hostile with Shaolin due to Tan Qin’s death, bore a hatred as deep as the abyss. Losing their key lieutenants, they urgently needed someone to fill the void—and that person was none other than the cult leader’s daughter, Fan Sijin.

Originally frail from birth, the cult leader’s daughter was supposed to pass away before her first birthday. The system chose this identity for Fan Sijin to inhabit, thus avoiding breaking the rules.

Fan Sijin grew up in Miao territory. Her mother had been the sacred maiden there. Their family story was a poignant love tale: a swordsman from the Central Plains fell in love with a Miao sacred maiden, but their union faced fierce opposition. The martial world of the Central Plains feared the Miao, while the Miao harbored deep resentment toward the Central Plains.

Naturally, this doomed love ended with Fan Sijin’s mother’s untimely death.

Before dying, she passed down the family’s treasured heirloom—the Life Gu—to her young daughter.

The Central Plains swordsman, heartbroken and disillusioned, turned to darkness and founded a terrifying organization known as the Demon Cult.

Though he kept his distance from Miao lands, he did not reject them, as they were his wife’s homeland. He even allowed his daughter to remain there, inheriting the sacred maiden’s role until Tan Qin’s death. Only then, when Fan Sijin turned sixteen, did he write to summon her back to his side.

Time flew by, and after sixteen years in Miao territory, Fan Sijin finally prepared to journey to the Central Plains.

The former sacred maiden—Fan Sijin’s mother—had always been stern and cold as ice, showing no warmth to anyone except her husband. The clan said it was because her practice of witchcraft had stripped her of all emotion and desire. Without her husband’s arrival, she might have become the greatest sacred maiden in history, a thought that often brought sighs of regret among the great shamans.

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Yet Fan Sijin’s talents made up for this loss. She inherited not only her mother’s beauty but also a rare genius, seen only once in a century! Gentle and lovable, she was adored by all. Despite her noble status, she was humble and easily mingled with her people, earning their deep affection.

When Fan Sijin received her father’s letter informing the shamans of her departure, even the usually stern elders shed tears.

Though their time together had been brief—only sixteen years—Fan Sijin grew fond of these somewhat stubborn yet honest and kind-hearted Miao people. Especially at the moment she mounted her horse to leave, the eldest shaman, with the longest beard and whitest hair, discreetly wiped away a tear. She saw it clearly.

Indeed, sincerity is the most precious thing in people.

But her foremost mission was to return to the cult leader’s side; nothing else mattered more.

Emerging from Miao territory, Fan Sijin’s appearance was strikingly unique. Upon entering the Central Plains martial world, she immediately drew countless gazes.

Women in the martial world often appeared heroic, dignified, or ethereal, but Fan Sijin tied her jet-black hair into multiple braids, wore Miao-style clothing, and jingling silver bells adorned her wrists and ankles, their crisp chimes impossible to ignore as she walked.

Her features were exquisite—high nose, deep-set eyes, more sculpted and profound than those of Central Plains natives, with fairer skin—making her stand out remarkably in any crowd.

Yet Fan Sijin paid no mind to these stares. Her journey was meant to make a name for herself in the martial world, and attracting attention was part of the plan.

After familiarizing herself with the surroundings, she found an inn to stay in.

The moment she stepped into the main hall, myriad eyes turned toward her—friendly, curious, disdainful, wary—an array of complex emotions.

However, Fan Sijin seemed oblivious to the gazes, her expression calm and composed.

The enthusiastic innkeeper, seemingly unfazed by her unusual attire, upheld his professional courtesy and asked warmly, “Miss, are you here to rest or just passing through?”

“Of course, I’m staying. Prepare me a top-grade room.”

Her smile was exceptionally sweet and infectious, causing the innkeeper to smile back and promptly reply, “Certainly, I’ll arrange the finest room for you at once!”

Fan Sijin followed the innkeeper, the clear tinkling of her bells echoing through the hall.

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Before her departure, the eldest shaman had prepared many rare flowers, herbs, and jewels for her. Upon entering the Central Plains, she exchanged some of these treasures at a pawnshop for silver.

Now with considerable wealth in hand, she naturally chose the most comfortable top-grade room. There was no need to suffer hardship in barren mountains or trees.

She refused to let herself be wronged.

Skipping happily behind the innkeeper to her room, Fan Sijin also ordered a few small dishes to be sent up.

Although the room was top-tier, it was modest in size, furnished only with a bed and a table with chairs. Resources in this world were evidently scarce.

She pulled out a chair and carefully poured from a bamboo tube a small, soft, plump green caterpillar.

Though not fond of insects, years of exposure to witchcraft had gradually made her accustomed to them, even growing fond of these tiny creatures.

She had discovered this caterpillar by chance while gathering herbs. At first, she thought it an ordinary pest, but it fed on highly poisonous plants and resisted various toxins. Intrigued, Fan Sijin brought it home to hatch.

Unexpectedly, it matured into this plump and adorable form.

The caterpillar had a hearty appetite, favoring all kinds of leafy greens. Sometimes Fan Sijin thought it simply an underdeveloped vegetable worm.

Just as she was feeding it, a sudden commotion arose outside.

Curious, she peeked out to see a group of nuns dressed in pale pink and white robes standing at the inn’s entrance.

Their robes were light and translucent, seeming almost celestial. Though bald-headed, their monk’s hats gave them a dignified appearance that was far from incongruous.