Chapter 6: Demon Clan Part 3

Sa Luan shivered all over, his face nearly frozen stiff by the gale.

Xiao Kun explained, “As your Master, I can lead troops into battle and kill enemies, but I absolutely cannot use power beyond mortals’ to cast Spells and kill for you. Magical Power is for fighting demons and monsters. If I used my Cultivation Base to slaughter mortals, I’d face heavenly retribution one day. Do you want me to turn into a demon?”

Sa Luan sneered, “So many gave their lives and spilled blood for Great Liao. Heavenly retribution? Just one life—for your nation? That’s a good deal, isn’t it?”

“Restore the nation with such methods, and do you think you could hold the land?” Xiao Kun said loudly. “There are heavens beyond heaven, people above people. How do you know there aren’t Exorcists stronger than your Master in this world?”

Xiao Kun couldn’t help thinking of the Wisdom Sword on Xiang Xian’s shoulder. If he did this, he might truly fall to corruption—and then Xiang Xian would come with sword in hand to subdue him.

Sa Luan eyed Xiao Kun with hatred for a long moment. Just as Xiao Kun was about to explain seriously, Sa Luan scoffed, “Can’t win the argument? Fine, whatever.”

Xiao Kun reined in his emotions and sat to the side.

“You’ll understand someday. First, find a place to spend the night,” Xiao Kun said. “At dawn, head northwest.”

They had fled Yinchuan City in haste and would soon embark again on their vagabond wandering.

Xiao Kun found a wind-sheltered spot amid a rocky beach and gestured for Sa Luan to rest first. He snapped his fingers. A dark blue flame leaped up, ignited the dry wood, and turned into an encircling blaze of orange-red.

Sa Luan warmed himself by the temporary campfire, his face dark and stormy.

Xiao Kun mulled it over, hesitating again whether to comfort him. After all, everything in the past half-year had been too heavy for a thirteen-year-old boy.

But he recalled his own youth—he had endured the same. People had to face trials to grow.

In the end, Xiao Kun said nothing. He leaned against a rock and closed his eyes.

Soon, he heard faint sobs. He opened his eyes and glanced at Sa Luan.

Sa Luan wiped tears by the fire. At first, he stifled his cries, then sniffed, eyes red, shoulders shaking.

Xiao Kun sighed.

Sa Luan’s eyes brimmed with humiliated, unwilling tears. After wiping them several times, he gradually calmed. Silence fell by the fire until Sa Luan suddenly said, “Send me back.”

Xiao Kun opened his eyes and looked at Sa Luan in bewilderment.

“I said, send me back. Let them capture me and hand me to Jin in Huining,” Sa Luan said tremulously.

“What are you saying?” Xiao Kun could scarcely believe it.

Sa Luan replied, “These days, I’ve figured it out. You don’t want to help me restore the nation at all. So I’ll set you free, Xiao Kun. You don’t have to serve the Yelu Family anymore.”

Xiao Kun suppressed the urge to beat him.

“Is that what you think of me?” Xiao Kun’s voice shook.

Sa Luan cried, “It’s over! Everything’s finished! I know what you’re thinking! I’m just a burden!”

Xiao Kun took a deep breath, unsure whether to curse him or simply punch him. In the end, he ignored him first, letting him cool off. Xiao Kun tried his utmost to understand Sa Luan. After all, the boy had lost everything—family dead, nation destroyed. He was still young, immature, confined to the palace before with no one to teach him endurance and bearing humiliation.

“Calm down,” Xiao Kun said gravely. “I don’t want to hear you yelling anymore. I’m tired, Sa Luan.”

Xiao Kun’s patience neared its limit. He closed his eyes. Sa Luan tried to say more, but Xiao Kun raised a hand in a gesture. Sa Luan’s voice cut off abruptly; his throat could only make muffled sounds. A Silencing Spell had sealed his voice.

Sa Luan: “…”

Sa Luan flew into a rage, picked up a stone from the ground, and wanted to hurl it at Xiao Kun—but he knew it would be pointless.

Fuming, he stood, whirled around, and stormed away from the campfire without looking back.

Xiao Kun never opened his eyes. He was certain Sa Luan would return soon.

Chilly winds scoured the pitch-black plain, wolves lurking everywhere. Sa Luan walked a short distance but couldn’t bear the cold. His will pushed him to leave Xiao Kun, but his legs carried him back unbidden.

Xiao Kun wasn’t worried about him getting lost—the only light in the wilderness was the campfire before him.

Moments later, Sa Luan returned, shivering and chattering.

They sat in silence, save for Sa Luan rummaging through his things.

“What’s that?” Xiao Kun suddenly opened his eyes. He saw a small Bronze Dagger appear in Sa Luan’s hand. Sa Luan eyed him warily and made muffled beast-like growls.

Xiao Kun waved a hand, dispelling the Silencing Spell on Sa Luan. He stepped forward. “Where did you get this thing?”

Sa Luan brandished the dagger horizontally. “Don’t come closer!”

Xiao Kun reached out. “Put it down! That’s an evil artifact.”

The dagger seemed ancient, engraved with taotie patterns. Its hilt was a ferocious beast head, and faint black gas emanated from its entire body.

That was Demonic Qi! Xiao Kun recognized at a glance that this was no item for Sa Luan to hold. Someone must have given it to him. In that instant, countless thoughts flashed: combined with what the Hong Mansion servant had said… that middle-aged man who took Sa Luan out…