Kill That Cultivator - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The Master was the greatest beauty in the Cultivation World.

His setting was that everyone coveted him; even a passing dog would be charmed by him, transcending species, and would make a heart with its paws.

But due to the Master’s formidable martial prowess, no one had dared to be disrespectful.

Now it was different. The Master had failed his tribulation and lost all his magic power.

He was now so weak that he might not even defeat a passing dog.

A weak, defenseless, and highly desired great beauty was bound to become a meal on someone’s plate.

So when I heard early in the morning that the Master had been kidnapped by the Demon Lord, I wasn’t too surprised.

I just mentally lit a row of candles for the Master.

I had told him before: don’t get up too early, and don’t stay up too late, because sooner or later, things would go wrong.

But the gloomy, yandere junior disciple-one of the main love interests-couldn’t sit still.

Since his martial powers couldn’t match the Demon Lord, he took out his anger on me, someone who seemed like a background character but actually had an over-inflated presence.

Glaring at me fiercely, he demanded, “Senior Sister, how can you not be anxious?”

I said, “Anxious, anxious, anxious. I have three anxieties, but the most pressing is a bladder emergency-I’m off to deal with it.”

I escaped by taking a bathroom break.

As the Master’s senior disciple and a transmigrator who had stumbled into this book, I had a special ability: whenever the main characters were about to do something wicked, I would conveniently be asleep nearby.

The purpose was to add maximum thrill for them and to ensure the Master suffered absolute humiliation.

After all, what could be more enjoyable than stripping the Number One Sword Immortal of the Cultivation World, breaking his pride, and trampling his dignity underfoot?

The Demon Lord, having been one-sidedly beaten for centuries, could finally get his revenge, so of course he’d take his time tormenting the Master.

Sure enough, the Master was on the receiving end of a one-sided abuse, his pride shattered, turning into a walking corpse.

Yes, I had transmigrated into a smut novel.

No plot, just wall-to-wall explicit content.

This five-hundred-thousand-character novel was carried entirely by a revolving door of tops, a tormented Master, and me-sleeping.

As the only female character with any role, I normally had to be invisible, but at critical moments I’d show up on the scene, and I had to be as drowsy as the husband in a certain kind of film.

I had presence, but no involvement.

Only to enhance the fun, never to disturb.

I headed back to my room and lay down on the bed. Just as I was about to doze off, a voice dripping with arrogance and swagger sounded from above.

“Tell me, do your disciples know how good we have it?”

Me: Thanks, but I don’t want to know.

Right, I had respawned under the Demon Lord’s bed.

The next moment, the Master’s voice rang out, filled with humiliation and fury: “One day, I will tear you to pieces!”

Judging by the Master’s full-throated roar, it was clearly before the deed, so there was still time to save him.

After all, whether it was the protagonist or the love interest, their setting was uniformly a man who could go seven rounds a night.

After one night, his chrysanthemum would be ruined, and the floor would be covered with frost.

The Master wouldn’t have the strength to speak.

Since nothing had happened yet, it could all be prevented.

There were four feet side by side at the edge of the bed. I randomly grabbed one to pull myself out from under the bed.

What I grabbed was the Master’s leg, smooth and delicate.

Actually, he used to have thick leg hair, and the Master was quite proud of it-it was a symbol of a man’s, well, virility.

Once, when I was training with my sword and went berserk, I plucked his leg hair to use as false eyelashes for someone else.

After that, the Master often secretly shaved his legs late at night.

I stood at the bedside. The Master’s expression shifted slightly-no excitement, no shock, no delight, just a faint speechlessness.

He was so calm that I couldn’t read him at all.

I scratched my head, perplexed.

What does this mean?

Did I come at a bad time? Too early? Too late?

The Demon Lord, with his back to me, hadn’t noticed my presence. The Master just kept wearing that deadpan expression, so I had to mouth words at him.

“Am I interrupting, Master?”

This time, the corner of the Master’s mouth twitched more noticeably, a mix of speechlessness and disgust. He said, “I’m telling you to beat him to death!”

“Who are you talking to?” The Demon Lord asked in confusion, following the Master’s gaze.

Upon seeing me, the Demon Lord’s expression first showed surprise, then turned menacing. “Who are you?”

Since it was our first meeting, I had to be polite. I clasped my hands and bowed gracefully. “The senior disciple of Master Wangxian.”

The Demon Lord sneered and spoke to the Master. “So, your disciple has come to rescue you. Wangxian Jun, if you grovel before this lord like a dog and beg, I’ll let her go. What do you say?”

The Master made an expression that said ‘this guy is nuts,’ and asked a completely unrelated question.

“This venerable one is the Number One Sword Immortal Under Heaven. Guess: who’s the second?”

In this world, people only know the first; the second is never remembered. The Demon Lord was stumped. “Who?”

I nailed the Demon Lord to the wall with my sword, acting all cool, and said, “Master, you’re wrong. Now the Number One Sword Immortal Under Heaven is me! Hahahaha.”

For three hundred years, the Master had monopolized that position. Now it was finally my turn. After being the perpetual second place, I could finally strut, and I laughed even more wildly than the Demon Lord.

Demon Lord: “…”

The Demon Lord flew into a rage and tried to struggle, but I immobilized him with a spell.

Every generation’s Number One Sword Immortal Under Heaven has a traditional program. And that is…

I said, “Remember this: the name of the Number One Sword Immortal Under Heaven is Yan Zhi. From now on, I will inherit the tradition of every Number One Sword Immortal-by delivering a comprehensive beating to each successive Demon Lord of the Demon Realm.”

What followed was my one-sided onslaught. The Demon Lord’s devilishly handsome face was beaten into a giant pig’s head.

Demon Lord route: bad end.