Chapter 249: Disguise

**Chapter 249: Disguise**

The Palace Lord’s favored consort could not, of course, be housed with other prisoners. Beneath the water and underground, the dungeons were dark, damp, and devoid of light. If the consort fell ill, grew uncomfortable, or became melancholic, a single swing of the Palace Lord’s blade would send every last prisoner in the water dungeon to their deaths. Thus, this area known as the *Pavilion of Pensive Seclusion* was nominally a prison cell, but in reality functioned as a secluded three-walled compound, separate from the water prison, enclosed only by iron bars to maintain the illusion of confinement.

Since the death of the former Palace Lord’s favored consort, the place had lain abandoned for a century. Weeds burst victoriously from the cracks between bricks, growing nearly waist-high, making the place look desolate and dilapidated.

Before Lord Pingwu’s arrival, Xue Sui had his men spend half a day pulling weeds.

Demonic Cultivators, accustomed to wielding swords rather than tending plants, grumbled while squatting awkwardly, meticulously clearing the overgrowth around the cell under Xue Sui’s strict orders.

Thus, through great haste, they managed to make the courtyard presentable just before Xiao Wu’s arrival.

Inside the room remained some furnishings—a tattered cotton quilt, a worm-eaten and moldy low wooden bed. Since the Palace Lord had issued no instructions, Xue Sui dared not remove them, leaving them piled in the corner.

As Xiao Wu slouched against the wall, Xue Sui wiped the cold sweat from his brow and ordered, “Increase the guard here. Double the patrols, but no one is to come within a mile of Xiao Wu. All further action awaits the Palace Lord’s decision.”

The subordinates bowed respectfully in acknowledgment.

*

In the main hall, sandalwood incense coiled in the air. It was time for lunch, and servants flowed in bearing trays of food, arranging the dishes on the table before bowing toward the beaded curtain, awaiting the Palace Lord’s command.

A slender alabaster hand emerged from behind the curtain, holding a book. Xie Chunshan waved dismissively.

The servants retreated like flowing water, closing the door behind them, leaving the hall silent.

Xie Shu glanced sideways and noticed System 66 had planted itself beside the dining table.

He hesitated briefly.

—Can a system even eat?

The table groaned under a lavish spread. The design of Wuwang Palace drew inspiration from the customs of western Hunan and Sichuan, and the food inevitably bore local flavors—richly glazed and mouthwatering.

It stared at a plate of pastries. “Su Zhu, may I try one?”

Xie Shu nodded. “Mind your manners. Just don’t make a mess.”

The Demon Sovereign had long since transcended the need for food, rarely eating anything. The daily lunch ritual was merely a formality, and on rare occasions he indulged, taking only a small taste before setting his chopsticks aside.

System 66: “Splendid!”

It happily grabbed one of the pastries—

“Ugh—”

Its display contorted in disgust. “Rather foul.”

Xie Shu, who had been perusing the *Wuwang Heart Sutra*, set the book down and picked up his chopsticks.

Though the lord of the demonic palace did not require sustenance, Xie Shu was still a recently transmigrated mortal. Despite possessing vast spiritual cultivation, his habits remained unchanged—he felt something missing without a proper lunch, so he decided to give it a try.

He picked up a slice of fish and placed it in his mouth. Under System 66’s anxious gaze, his brows furrowed.

Xie Shu set down his chopsticks. “It really is bad.”

The senses of Demonic Cultivators differed from ordinary humans—they hardly noticed fishy odors, and many even relished bloody, pungent flavors. Moreover, this era lacked the seasonings of later times, and Palace Lord Xie Chunshan had never been particular about food, nor had he instructed his servants on proper preparation. The fish Xie Shu had tasted had neither been bled nor marinated with ginger and scallions; a single bite assaulted his senses with putrid intensity.

He couldn’t stomach another bite.

Even in his modern life, he had been fastidious about his cuisine. He left the table and resumed his cultivation studies.

66 wasn't convinced and geared up, determined to try each dish one by one. While eyeing where to take a bite, it tried to strike up a conversation with its not-so-familiar Host: "Host, you're—ugh—you're reading what book? Why are you reading that?"

Xie Chunshan's character was set as a cultivation obsessive, and this "Wuwang Heart Sutra" was his foundational technique.

Xie Shu casually flipped a page: "According to the plot, I'll be staying in this world for many years. The Demon Palace is a cutthroat business, and there will inevitably be situations where I need to act. But I don’t even know the simplest sword flight. To fool Xue Sui, Wu Buke, and others, even if I can’t reach the original host’s level, I should at least learn some basic spells."

The Wuwang Palace was built on steep cliffs, with countless peaks and valleys within its grounds. Traveling required sword flight, yet Xie Shu couldn’t even manage that—it would raise too much suspicion.

That said, Xie Shu had never studied heart techniques before and didn’t understand the secrets within the book. The text was dense and nearly impossible to decipher, incomprehensible to ordinary people.

For example, the book mentioned circulating qi, starting from the Guanmen acupoint and passing through the Qihai to Tianmen. These meridians should have been common knowledge in the cultivation world, but to Xie Shu, it might as well have been gibberish. He gave it a rough try, only to feel his blood churning and his temples throbbing, forcing him to stop immediately.

Xie Shu sighed softly.

This required a teacher, but he couldn’t ask anyone. If it were exposed that the Palace Lord of Wuwang Palace couldn’t use his own heart technique, it would mean a death sentence.

Xie Shu rubbed his temples and put the "Wuwang Heart Sutra" aside, then closed the system interface.

He always preferred to prepare early.

According to the plot, the next two months were supposed to be quiet.

Xie Chunshan had imprisoned Xiao Wu in the water dungeon and wasn’t in a hurry to release him, intending to break him. And to break him, of course, meant withholding food and water.

Xiao Wu had long since achieved fasting and originally didn’t need sustenance, but his meridians were shattered, leaving him no different from an ordinary person. Though a thread of spiritual energy kept him alive, his body was weak and frail. After half a month without food or water, he was delirious, hovering near death.

As an important character in the game, some suffering was acceptable, but going too far would upset players. So, the story team designed another NPC—a servant responsible for cleaning the water prison.

This servant, named Song Xiaoyu, was an ordinary commoner working for the Demon Palace. He had originally lived outside the Shangling Sect. Once, he had seen Lord Pingwu from afar—back when Lord Pingwu was still untroubled, the foremost figure in the immortal path, his robes billowing with an air of transcendent grace, captivating the boy's awe. Later, when Lord Pingwu set up a lecture platform at the foot of the mountain, Song Xiaoyu had joined the crowd and begged for a talisman written by Lord Pingwu’s own hand as a warding charm. Thus, in the prison, he occasionally sneaked some rice and water to Xiao Wu, helping him through those difficult days.

Unfortunately, it couldn't last. Later, Xie Chunshan found out and executed Song Xiaoyu in front of Xiao Wu. Though Xiao Wu couldn’t see, he could hear the boy’s cries and smell the blood from the blade.

And this became one of the reasons why Xiao Wu later endured bone-deep agony to rebuild his meridians and swore to kill Xie Chunshan.

Xie Shu closed his eyes in thought for a moment, closed the interface, and strode out of the hall.

66, having tasted a pile of disgusting food, felt lightheaded and queasy. It struggled to lift its head: "Host, where are you going?"

Xie Shu: "To scare some subordinates and get a token."

66: "Oh."

It obediently floated up from the table and perched on Xie Shu’s shoulder, asking no further questions.

Xie Shu glanced at it out of the corner of his eye and thought, "The freedom in this mission is really ridiculously flexible."

*

The servants’ quarters were in chaos.

Their location was remote, housing only menial staff. Today, for some reason, guards had surrounded the area, and then Xue Sui entered, driving everyone out except Song Xiaoyu.

The cramped servants’ quarters were tightly encircled by armed Demon Palace disciples, leaving no room for escape.

Song Xiaoyu trembled in fear, dropping to his knees and kowtowing to Xue Sui. Soon, his forehead was smeared with dirt as he pleaded, "Sir Envoy, this humble servant has always obeyed palace rules, honest and dutiful. Surely... surely there’s been some mistake?"

He was young, little more than a kid, and on the verge of tears.

Xue Sui stood to the side, gripping his blade, and deferentially made way at the door: "This isn’t my decision. Whatever crime you’ve committed, it’s up to the Palace Lord to decide."

Truth be told, Xue Sui had just finished arranging the defenses at the Siyou Pavilion when he received the Palace Lord’s summons to surround the servants’ quarters. He was utterly baffled, finding today’s Palace Lord downright bizarre, but he dared not voice his thoughts, simply obeying without question.

This is how things came to be.

Song Xiaoyu knelt in the courtyard, utterly bewildered. From the moment he heard the revered title of the Palace Lord of Wuwang Palace, his legs shook like leaves, tears and snot running down his face. Yet when Xie Shu finally strode in, cradling a hand warmer, he didn’t dare let out a sound.

Those who practiced the demonic arts feared the cold, and Xie Chunshan, with his high cultivation, was no exception—his fingertips were cold enough to freeze bone. In the Demon Palace, he never subjected himself to discomfort; his halls were always warmed by braziers and lined with thick carpets. Now, as he stepped outside, he draped himself in a fox-fur cloak, holding an engraved gilt bronze hand warmer, the spitting image of a pampered noble.

Song Xiaoyu desperately pressed himself lower to the ground, weeping, "Palace Lord, why would someone as insignificant as me deserve all this fuss?"

But he wasn’t the only one with questions.

Xue Sui’s expression remained unchanged, though a flicker of suspicion stirred in his chest.

The Palace Lord was acting way too strange today.

Then Xie Shu turned his head, casting him a casual glance. "Xue Sui," he said lightly, "any idea why I’ve got this servant’s yard surrounded today?"

His slightly upturned fox-like eyes were piercing and blank, giving nothing away.

Goosebumps prickled Xue Sui’s skin.

A shiver ran through him, the sensation of being utterly exposed and helpless. Immediately, he dropped to one knee. "This lowly one is too stupid to understand."

With his kneeling, the surrounding disciples followed suit, dropping to their knees like dominoes. In an instant, Xie Shu was the only one left standing in the courtyard.

Yet, though Xie Shu appeared composed, his fingers clenched around the warmer inside his sleeve.

He wasn’t the real Xie Chunshan. He didn’t know the man’s temperament or habits—he couldn’t possibly match Xie Chunshan in every way. Xue Sui and Wu Buke had known Xie Chunshan for years. To keep them under his thumb, Xie Shu had to constantly assert dominance, leveraging the residual authority of the original host.

Xue Sui’s terror was the perfect way to cement his authority.

Xie Shu turned back to Song Xiaoyu, his tone still light, giving nothing away.

"And you? Do you know?"

"..."

Song Xiaoyu stammered in terror, "Palace Lord, I—I truly don’t know!"

With that, he slammed his forehead into the ground again.

Xie Shu chuckled. His voice was clear and calm, but to the others, it sounded sarcastic and pissed off.

Leaning down slightly, Xie Shu asked softly, "What have you hidden in the cabinet at the foot of your bed?"

Song Xiaoyu’s legs turned to jelly.

Xie Shu tilted his head slightly, glancing at the kneeling Xue Sui. "Xue Sui," he said, "go fetch it."

"...Yes."

Xue Sui bolted upright, beads of sweat rolling down his jaw. He hurried to Song Xiaoyu’s bedside, wrenched open the cabinet, and beneath the pile of clothes, his hand closed on a talisman.

The Supreme Clarity Talisman.

The vermilion strokes of the talisman swirled with arcane power, and in the lower right corner was a tiny "Wu" character stamped in the corner.

This was the handwriting of Lord Pingwu, Xiao Wu.

Xue Sui’s head snapped up abruptly, his sleeve crumpling in his grip. "Your Excellency—" The talisman wasn’t anything special—just a common clarity charm used to stabilize the mind and nourish the spirit. Any half-decent mortal could learn to scribble one after a few years.

It wasn't that Lord Pingwu was stingy, but when gifting ordinary people, a simple Tranquil Mind Talisman was the limit. Creating anything more powerful might get you killed.

The problem lay in the fact that this talisman was merely the most basic Tranquil Mind Talisman.

Most of the talisman's energy had faded over time, leaving only a faint trace so negligible that when Song Xiaoyu hid it in his belongings and brought it up the mountain, no one stopped him.

Xue Sui was stunned.

Song Xiaoyu worked in the Water Prison, crossing paths with Xue Sui at least three or four times a day, yet he had never noticed.

And Xie Chunshan's palace was separated by two mountain peaks—how could his awareness penetrate the rocky barriers to detect such an imperceptible wisp of spiritual energy?

Xie Shu had already taken the talisman from his hand, remarking lightly, "Palace Lord Xue... your discernment requires refinement."

He walked out—oddly forgoing his sword—as Xue Sui bowed respectfully.

Xie Shu's voice drifted from afar: "That servant—don’t touch him. House him comfortably in the palace. I’ll have use for him later."

Having temporarily fooled Xue Sui, Xie Shu cradled the hand warmer and carried an extra bowl of porridge, reaching the Silent Reflection Pavilion without interruption.

With the Palace Lord’s arrival, the patrols had long withdrawn. Xie Shu grasped the rusted door knocker, and the wooden door creaked open on both sides.

The weeds had already been cleared away, and the white-robed Immortal Lord sat inside the cell, dozing lightly against the wall.

Upon seeing Xiao Wu, the system, 66, suddenly alerted—warily raising its voice: "Host, we—"

Xie Shu: "Relax. We’re sticking to the script."

66: "...?"

Xie Shu showed not a hint of guilt in his lie: "Xue Sui’s tightened security—the prison’s locked down tight. Song Xiaoyu can’t get in, and no one can deliver food or water to Xiao Wu. The storyline’s gonna derail."

He conveniently omitted why Xue Sui had suddenly increased security or why Song Xiaoyu couldn’t enter.

66: "Oh no! How do we fix this?!"

Xie Shu: "Xiao Wu’s blind. He has no idea who Song Xiaoyu is."

As he spoke, he set the hand warmer down by the door and picked up the Supreme Tranquil Mind Talisman. The bright red cinnabar stood out sharply on his pale fingers.

Xie Shu said, "If I step in as Song Xiaoyu, problem solved."