Chapter 7

Being stripped to the waist was bad enough, but the sheer absurdity of the situation was what truly stung.

Shen Qingqiu was, after all, the master of a cultivation peak! The image he currently presented—sprawled on the floor, bare-chested, wearing only trousers and white boots, his limbs tightly bound with coarse rope—was utterly preposterous! He looked like some delicate, pretty-boy mistress caught in the act, no wonder the system had docked him 50 points. Served him right! They could take every last point for all he cared!

His face flushed, then paled. He briefly considered using his sword to dig a hole and bury himself, but his spiritual weapon was nowhere to be found.

No wonder Luo Binghe had seemed both awkward and deeply worried earlier. The boy was probably thinking that having witnessed his master in such a disgraceful state would inevitably lead to severe retribution later.

Ning Yingying sobbed, "Shizun, you're finally awake! Yingying was so scared…"

Scared? If you were scared, young lady, you shouldn't have run off in the first place! Shen Qingqiu sighed inwardly.

Just then, a grating, sinister laugh echoed from behind. A shadowy figure detached itself from the darkness.

"So this is the famed Qing Jing Peak Master of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect," the voice rasped, harsh and unpleasant, as if corroded by smoke. "If the so-called number one righteous sect in the world is full of such specimens, the demon race's conquest of the human realm is surely at hand." Another peal of manic laughter followed.

The figure was shrouded in black gauze from head to toe.

Shen Qingqiu narrowed his eyes. "The Flayer Demon?"

"Correct! I am who I am, the Flayer Demon! To have the illustrious Xiu Ya Sword fall into my hands today is truly exhilarating! Shen Qingqiu, oh Shen Qingqiu, rack your brains all you want, you'll never guess who I truly am!"

Shen Qingqiu said flatly, "It's not that hard to guess."

The Flayer Demon: "…"

Shen Qingqiu: "You're Die'er."

The Flayer Demon: "…" It ripped off the black veil, voice turning irritable. "Impossible! How did you know?!"

Shen Qingqiu was speechless.

Do you think I'm blind? I can see your figure, can't I? A man notices a woman's shape before her face—the curves, the slender waist. It's obviously a woman. And this gaudy, nouveau-riche decor isn't something you see just anywhere. Did you think I didn't know I'd been brought back to the Chen Estate? There are many women in the Chen household, but I've only met a few, and only one was introduced by name: Die'er. If you force me to guess, of course I'd guess Die'er. How could I guess someone whose name I don't even know? Who knew I'd hit the mark on the first try? Who knew you'd be so impatient, not even bothering to deny it before tearing off your 'mysterious' veil!

Could he say that? Could he?! How could he possibly voice such thoughts! He could only maintain an inscrutable, profound expression.

Die'er—or rather, the Flayer Demon—adjusted quickly. Wearing the face of Master Chen's beloved concubine, she regained a brilliantly smug and coquettish smile. "Correct, it is I! Shen Qingqiu, you must be racking your brains, wondering how a delicate woman like me could be the culprit, no?"

Shen Qingqiu straightened his slumped posture, struggling to adopt a somewhat more dignified and less compromising pose.

Villains had a tradition of monologuing. He couldn't deny them that courtesy.

Die'er needed no encouragement. "The Flayer Demon comes and goes without a trace, not due to some mystical power, but because… each time I kill, I don a new skin. Wearing these women's faces, mimicking their mannerisms, I blend seamlessly into the mortal crowds, searching for my next target."

Shen Qingqiu: "That's wrong."

Die'er's face darkened. "What's wrong?"

Shen Qingqiu: "If you change skins after each kill—say, you kill Die'er and take her skin, becoming 'Die'er'—then there would still be Die'er's flayed corpse. Wouldn't people find it strange to have two Die'ers?"

He thought for a moment, then suddenly understood.

This world had no DNA testing. A flayed body was just a bloody, unrecognizable mass. It was hard to tell who was who.

Die'er said, "So you see it now. Correct. I use the corpse of the later victim to pass as the former. For example, when I killed Die'er, I was wearing Xiang'er's skin. Everyone believed Xiang'er was still alive. After I donned Die'er's skin, I disguised Die'er's corpse as Xiang'er's, to be discovered later."

Shen Qingqiu had to admire these villains' professional dedication. Not only did they reveal their inner thoughts, they also explained their methods and motives in detail, providing examples and firsthand accounts. They were… more thorough and responsible than teachers preparing students for imperial exams!

Luo Binghe had been listening in silence, his gaze flickering with barely suppressed fury. A young man's sense of justice was stirred by this depraved demon's cruel deeds. Ning Yingying was utterly confused by the talk of Xiang'er and Die'er, but didn't dare interrupt.

Shen Qingqiu asked, "You need to change skins periodically. Is it by choice, or is it a necessity?"

Die'er sneered, "Do you think I'd tell you?"

You've already told me plenty, sister (or brother?), what's one more?

Die'er walked toward where Ning Yingying and Luo Binghe were bound. Luo Binghe remained calm, but Ning Yingying cried out, "Demon! Don't come near! Shizun, save me!"

Die'er chuckled. "Your Shizun is bound by Immortal-Binding Ropes. His spiritual power cannot flow. He can't even save himself. How will he save you?"

No wonder Shen Qingqiu had been trying to muster his strength subtly, only to feel his spiritual power sluggish and depleted, unlike its usual abundance.

Die'er lapsed back into monologue. "Damnation. If my demonic core weren't damaged, I wouldn't need to constantly change skins to absorb human vitality. Your skin, little girl, is tender and smooth. A disciple of a famous sect, too. It should last me a good while. Once your skin is drained, it'll be your master's turn. To have the Xiu Ya Sword serve my purpose… that would make this life worthwhile."

Luo Binghe: "…"

Shen Qingqiu: "…"

What was it you just said? 'Do you think I'd tell you?' Right?

Not only did you tell me, you seem to have revealed something rather significant, even disclosing your future plans! The professional standards of villains in this world are beyond saving!

Shen Qingqiu tentatively reached out to the system in his mind. Ahem… if something goes wrong during a mission and I get killed… is there a chance to reload from a save point?

System: [Plot Armor is a privilege reserved for the protagonist.]

Fortunately, villains possessed the fine quality of "answering any question posed." To buy time, Shen Qingqiu only needed to toss one to Die'er. "Haven't you always targeted only young, beautiful women?"

"I never said I only select young, beautiful women. Anyone with fine features and smooth skin is a target. It's just that men's skin is usually inferior to women's, and old skin is never as good as young skin." True to form, Die'er launched into another speech. Suddenly, her eyes glowed with a greenish light, her expression turning covetous. Her hands, adorned with crimson nail polish, began stroking Shen Qingqiu's bare chest. "However, those who cultivate the immortal path are indeed different. Even though you're a man, your skin is so smooth and fine… It's been so long since I last wore a man's skin…"

Shen Qingqiu shuddered, goosebumps rising under those creeping hands, yet he forced himself to maintain an air of icy, unassailable purity. Disgust warred with a thread of pity.

This demon is somewhat pitiable. It seems it was originally male, but due to its cultivation method, it's forced to constantly wear women's skins. Over time, it's probably developed some psychological issues…

Nevertheless, it currently wore the face of a stunningly beautiful concubine. Being groped like this was unavoidably embarrassing. Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but shrink back slightly.

This sight struck Luo Binghe with extraordinary force.

Accustomed to Shen Qingqiu's aloof, disdainful demeanor, seeing his master now—cheeks faintly flushed beyond his control, gaze evasive, upper body bare save for the thin yet unbreakable Immortal-Binding Ropes and the red marks they left, long black hair cascading down in a half-concealing veil—filled Luo Binghe's chest with an indescribable, tangled emotion.

If Shen Qingqiu had to find a metaphor for this feeling, it was like watching an exquisitely filmed romance, only to discover the lead actor was the strict English teacher who called on him every day in class and rapped his knuckles three hundred times when he couldn't answer. It shattered one's worldview and was physically distressing!

Suddenly, Shen Qingqiu grinned, baring his teeth.

Die'er grew wary. "What are you laughing at?"

Shen Qingqiu replied leisurely, "I'm laughing at you for keeping the casket and throwing away the pearl. There are three people here, yet you've completely overlooked the one most suited to be your new skin."

Upon hearing this, Luo Binghe's face changed.

He couldn't fathom how, inexplicably, he had been dragged into the pit!

Shen Qingqiu wasn't speaking idly. Who was Luo Binghe? His true identity was the descendant of an ancient Heavenly Demon—a legendary being, a celestial who fell and became a demon, abbreviated as a Heavenly Demon. The future Little Prince of the Demon Realm. His bloodline was impeccable. For an ordinary demon, obtaining his skin wouldn't just repair a damaged core; what wouldn't be possible?

Die'er looked Luo Binghe up and down. The boy forced himself to appear calm, but his mind was in turmoil. He couldn't for the life of him understand why the focus had suddenly shifted to him.

Die'er said, "If you're going to lie to me, at least make it believable. This boy may have excellent bone structure and tender skin, but how could he compare to you, a cultivator at the mid Core Formation stage?"

Shen Qingqiu laughed softly. "With judgment like yours, it's no wonder your cultivation is a mess. Think for a moment. What kind of person am I? If this child were merely a pretty face with decent bones—utterly useless—why would I have taken him as my personal disciple? If I wanted a disciple with good aptitude, do you think I lack for brilliant candidates clamoring to join Cang Qiong Mountain Sect every year? The profound secret within him is not something an outsider could possibly comprehend."

Die’er’s conviction wavered immediately. Excellent, Shen Qingqiu thought. This villain’s intelligence is truly abysmal—so easy to fool! This spur-of-the-moment, hole-riddled story, and she’s actually buying it!

He pressed his advantage. "If you doubt me, it’s simple. I’ll tell you a way to prove my words. Go over there. Strike the crown of his head with your palm. Then you’ll know if I’m lying."

Luo Binghe’s face went deathly pale.

No matter how mature for his age, he was still just a boy. Few adults could face death without flinching, let alone a fourteen-year-old.

Shen Qingqiu forced himself not to look at him, his mind screaming a frantic, internal apology. Ice Brother, please be magnanimous! Forgive me for this one round of reckless bluster and terrible deception! I swear I’ll never do it again! I’ll make it up to you later, I promise!

Ning Yingying was terrified. "Sh-Shizun… you… you can’t be serious?"

Shen Qingqiu’s nerves were drawn taut as bowstrings. He had no attention to spare for soothing her. He offered Die’er a faint, knowing smile. "Whether it’s true or not, you’ll know once you try. What’s the harm? It’s just a single palm strike to a young boy’s head. Even if I’m lying, you lose nothing. Unless… you’re afraid what I say is true, and you don’t dare strike?"

To anyone unaware of the truth, this was nothing less than shoving Luo Binghe directly toward his death.

Luo Binghe stared, disbelief hollowing him out. A lost, desperate thought surfaced: Does Shizun hate me… to this extent?

If so, why had he shown him a sliver of kindness on the road here?

He couldn’t stop himself. He began to struggle violently, the ropes biting deep into his flesh. Ning Yingying winced at the painful tugging but didn’t dare make a sound, only weeping silent tears.

Shen Qingqiu’s words, his tone—they were masterfully persuasive. Die’er considered it. It was logical. She’d killed so many already; what was one little palm strike?

She snorted. "Fine. Let’s see what trick you’re playing."

With that, she strode toward Luo Binghe, raised her hand, and brought her palm down!