Chapter 113: Taking and Letting Go

"Very well, Miss Feng, you are quite straightforward!" The Demon King lightly applauded.

From behind the painted screen came the sound of a door sliding open. Immediately after, two maidservants dressed in floor-length pink gowns appeared, together carrying a white jade low table. Upon its surface were placed wine and meat, arranged abundantly in bowls and plates.

The maids set the table before the two, about to kneel and serve the wine. The Demon King raised his hand, signaling them to withdraw.

"There you are, my lord," the two maids bowed their heads and quietly stepped back behind the screen. Then, the door slid open once more.

The Demon King picked up the long-necked round wine vessel on the table and personally poured wine for Feng Ke’er.

Unexpectedly, Feng Ke’er was not at all pleased. Silently, she formed a hand seal, aiming at the spout of the vessel, and sealed it shut!

The wine vessel resembled a mouthless gourd, not a drop spilled.

The Demon King’s hand holding the wine vessel paused slightly; he drew the corner of his mouth into a faint smile and looked directly at the woman opposite him, asking decisively, “Miss Feng, what is the meaning of this?”

Feng Ke’er smiled and replied, “I only drink with friends.” The implication was clear: Your Majesty, if you intend to act the humble host, apologies—you are unworthy, and I am unwilling!

“I see.” The Demon King did not press the matter nor show irritation. As he filled his golden goblet, he continued to smile gracefully. “Apologies for my rashness. Please, Miss Feng, enjoy as you wish.”

Originally, Feng Ke’er had wanted to provoke him into a spiritual contest. The Art of War says: “Know yourself and your enemy, and you will never lose a battle.” In over three centuries in the Barrier Sea, she had slain countless demons but had never faced a duel with a seventh-rank Great Perfection—such as the Demon King. His repeated provocations had successfully stirred the itch in one long unchallenged, eager to test their strength.

But the fox spirit was not so easily baited. Her punch landed on a cotton ball—now even her teeth tingled.

The wine was exquisite. Amber in color, the aroma filled the room. The Demon King lifted the golden goblet with both hands, first closing his fox-like eyes as if oblivious to all else. Holding it beneath his nose, he inhaled deeply, then took a small, enchanted sip, sighed contentedly, and finally tilted his head back to drain the goblet. “Excellent wine!”

Seeing Feng Ke’er raise an eyebrow and watch him coldly, he placed the goblet back on the table and grinned as he explained, “Miss Feng, you may not know, but this is a peach blossom vintage I personally brewed the year I established my valley. There is only this one vessel. This is my first taste—and also my last.”

Was he lamenting her lack of appreciation? Or refusing to grant the Demon King face? Feng Ke’er forced a smile but remained unmoved. “Your Majesty has refined tastes.”

The Demon King laughed again and sighed, “It seems I must explain the whole story today.”

Feng Ke’er raised an eyebrow.

“Very well. I will speak frankly.” The Demon King poured himself another goblet, sipped lightly, then spoke earnestly, “May I ask, Miss Feng, what do cultivators in the lower realm strive for most?”

“To ascend and become immortals!” Feng Ke’er snorted. In the cultivation world, who did not pursue immortality? The motives differed—some sought eternal life, some wished to be number one... Her own reason for godhood was the most absurd: initially to surpass Pangu, break the time barrier he set, and return to the modern world; later to discover ‘Who am I?’ Her origins were deep and captivating.

The Demon King’s eyes gleamed sharply. “Correct. To ascend and become immortal. I suppose, given your talents, Miss Feng, you have already discerned my current cultivation level.”

Feng nodded: “Seventh-rank Great Perfection.”

Though expected, the Demon King’s eyes still shone with admiration. “Miss Feng, your perception seems beyond that of a Great Perfection at the Core Formation stage.”

Round and round, keep weaving your words! Feng Ke’er frowned slightly, her impatience deepening—damn fox, where did all these schemes come from?

The Demon King lowered his gaze awkwardly, coughing lightly before continuing, “At my current level, I could break through any time. After over thirty thousand years of cultivation, ascending to immortality is no longer a dream...”

Feng Ke’er interrupted in confusion, “Your Majesty, as far as I know, the passage to the Spirit Realm was sealed over three centuries ago. If the passage is blocked, how can cultivators in the lower realm ascend?”

The Demon King’s eyes flickered. Covering his mouth, he answered vaguely, “At the world’s origin, there was no heaven or earth. When spiritual energy descended and condensed into the earth, the lower realm was born. Now, all channels of spiritual energy leakage are sealed; the spiritual energy below grows ever thinner. Eventually, when the energy depletes to a certain level, the Three Realms will become unstable. So, the passage cannot remain closed forever. I observe that, at most, in five hundred years, the immortals above will open the passage to breathe again.”

“Five hundred years? May I ask, Your Majesty, how did you calculate this?” Feng Ke’er did not believe he had simply observed stars. “You ‘calculated’ it?”

The Demon King gritted his teeth and kept spinning his tale. “Oh, it’s not difficult. It’s based on the density of spiritual energy in the lower realm. If Miss Feng is interested, I will explain it to you in detail another time, without reservation. But right now, I have more important matters to discuss.”

It seemed he was determined to keep his secrets. Oh well, a cornered rabbit still bites. Feng Ke’er’s gaze dimmed slightly; she gestured for him to proceed. “Please, Your Majesty.”

The Demon King exhaled quietly, then dropped a bombshell: in one hundred and ten years, the passage would reopen. Then, he had high hopes to ascend to the Spirit Realm. But before a demon cultivator can ascend, they must endure three trials of thunder tribulation. Failure means instant annihilation. As a water attribute demon cultivator, he was most vulnerable to these thunder tribulations. Thus, every breakthrough was fraught with mixed feelings.

“But you have overcome them all before, haven’t you? Having faced so many tribulations, you must have accumulated rich experience. Surely, Your Majesty can survive the next trial unscathed.” Feng Ke’er had witnessed Feng Jiu’s ascension and known well the peril of thunder tribulations, and the water attribute’s dread of thunder. That was why high-level water attribute demon cultivators were rare in the Barrier Sea. She also sensed the fox’s real intent—he wanted to recruit her as a lightning rod! Ridiculous. So, her first reaction was to deflect.

Unfortunately, the Demon King’s skin was as thick as his cultivation was deep. He waved his hand with a sheepish smile. “Miss Feng, you misunderstand. My experience lies in seeking treasures and immortal artifacts that resist thunder.”

So, he just wanted a magic artifact. Feng Ke’er swiftly reviewed all the treasures she had on her, puzzled—none were resistant to lightning!

The Demon King sighed, “Alas, the power of the ascension thunder tribulation is extraordinary. The first thunder alone surpasses all tribulations I have endured combined. And each of the three grows stronger. In the lower realm, no artifact can resist them.”

Then you’re doomed! Feng Ke’er shuddered. Who in their right mind would share such a bone-chilling tribulation? Comrade Lei Feng hasn’t transmigrated into this world.

Sure enough, the Demon King looked at her with greedy eyes and said affectionately, “I was once desperate, thinking my path of cultivation had reached its end. But fate does not abandon anyone. I chanced upon a fragment of a manuscript describing how demon cultivators can resist thunder tribulations. By binding oneself as a familiar beast to a human cultivator with sufficiently deep spiritual power and similar or compatible spiritual roots, the master absorbs most of the thunder’s power.”

“Stop!” Feng Ke’er sprang up, immediately on high alert, sharply interrupting. “Don’t expect me to agree! No way.” Another schemer seeking an Ice Spirit root! Damn it, do I look like a fool? Dead fox, do you know what you’re doing? You’re bargaining with tiger skins!

Besides, once bitten by a snake, three years scared of the well rope. Having suffered a passive binding once, she bore deep shadows.

The Demon King grew anxious. Standing, he clasped his hands over his chest, sincerity pouring from him as if about to bare his heart: “Miss Feng, please hear me out. The three thunder tribulations are great trials for us demon cultivators, but for human cultivators, they are treasures that temper the body and sinews. Moreover, if the passage only opens every five hundred years, the spiritual energy in the lower realm will become increasingly scarce. Miss Feng, you must understand well the demand you have for spiritual energy! The Spirit Realm’s energy is many times denser than the lower realm’s. So, please calm down and consider carefully: will you remain in the lower realm to cultivate, or assist me to ascend, and cultivate together in the Spirit Realm? Miss Feng, our sincere cooperation would be a win-win! If you worry that your cultivation would be too low to hold your ground there, I, Hu San, swear upon my heart demon, as your destined familiar, I will serve only you for life—neither betraying nor abandoning you, until death.”

Hmph, I’ll believe that when I see it! Feng Ke’er rolled her eyes, the thousand golden cores in her dantian calculating swiftly: First, a hundred and ten years is hardly enough for her to reach Ascension Great Perfection—utterly fanciful. Second, as the fox said, each rank requires astronomical spiritual energy, impossible for the lower realm to supply. Third, having the Demon King as a guardian beast could be a powerful alliance.

In sum, the offer was tempting.

Yet another opposing thought surfaced: If the three thunder tribulations struck him down, while he ascended safely as a demon immortal, never to bind anyone again, that would not technically break his oath. And as for her, the foolish girl, she wouldn’t even have a grave to cry at!

Thus, Feng Ke’er hesitated.

The Demon King read her thoughts and promptly added background knowledge: “Miss Feng, our bond is a servant contract. If anything happens to you, as your destined familiar, I would not live a moment longer.”

Feng Ke’er pressed her palm to her forehead: momentarily flustered, she had forgotten this basic knowledge. Embarrassing indeed.

“Your Majesty, may I ask, is ascending to immortality really that wonderful? For this goal, would a mighty demon cultivator truly consent to a servant contract with a human? Is eternal life more precious than freedom? You seek the great Dao of cultivation—what is your true aim?” As a modern person, Feng Ke’er found it hard to understand the Demon King’s choices.

The summit bows in thanks to Old Ye 9966 for the pink votes—thank you. (To be continued.)

The Celestial Treasury, Chapter 113: Gain and Loss, update complete!