CHAPTER 43: PLANTING VIEWS

Lu Shaohua’s brows furrowed. "My subordinates? How do they know about spiritual Qi?"

Wei Ji leaned back, his tone quiet but firm. "That’s what I’ve been wondering too," he said. "Tell me, Shaohua. What do you think is different about them? Haven’t you ever found them... strange?"

Her eyes flickered in confusion. "Strange? You mean their strength?"

Wei Ji shook his head slowly. "Not just strength. Think about their presence. How they move. Have you ever noticed that sometimes, they’re there, and then suddenly they’re gone? That sometimes you sense them nearby, but when you look—nothing?"

Lu Shaohua hesitated. Her lips parted, then closed again. She frowned deeper. "Yes... but I thought they were just trained well in concealment."

Wei Ji smiled faintly. It wasn’t a warm smile. It was the kind that made the air grow colder. "Concealment? You could say that. But think carefully. True concealment requires controlling your breathing, your Qi flow, your heartbeat. Even a mortal assassins expert would find it hard to vanish completely, without even a hint of spiritual presence. But your subordinates? They do it as if they are breathing."

Lu Shaohua’s expression shifted. Doubt entered her eyes. "That’s because they’re loyal and disciplined," she said softly, almost defensively.

Wei Ji’s gaze deepened. "Disciplined, yes. Loyal?" He paused, letting his words sink in. "Maybe. But you’ve never wondered why their loyalty feels so cold? Why do they never smile unless you speak first? Why do they never eat or rest when others do?"

Her breath caught.

The words stirred buried memories—small, strange moments she’d brushed aside.

The nights when she woke and saw shadows watching her from outside the tent.

The way her guards never blinked when the torches flickered.

The smell of iron that sometimes lingered around them after battle.

Wei Ji leaned closer, his voice low and steady, almost like a whisper against her thoughts. "Shaohua, have you ever seen them bleed?"

Lu Shaohua blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Bleed," Wei Ji repeated calmly. "During the fight against me. I severed the leg of one of them. Right, that girl named Lulu. I was there. She didn’t even flinch. No blood came out. She just looked at me, with emotionless eyes as if she’s faking it because the truth was, they didn’t feel it."

Her eyes widened. "That’s impossible," she whispered. "You must have mistaken—" Then she remembered the blood that night. It was black, she thought they only put something.

"I never mistake something like that," Wei Ji said softly, his gaze never wavering.

Lu Shaohua’s lips trembled slightly. She took a step back, her fingers curling into her dress. "Then what are you saying?"

Wei Ji exhaled slowly. His gaze softened a little, but his words carried weight. "I’m saying that the people around you aren’t what they seem. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? That eerie cold that lingers after they pass by. That unease that crawls at the edge of your heart whenever they kneel before you."

She stared at him, her pupils trembling. "You’re trying to scare me."

Wei Ji gave a faint, bitter chuckle. "I wish I was. But I’ve seen their kind before."

Her voice rose, sharp with confusion. "Their kind? What do you mean?"

Wei Ji’s tone dropped lower, like thunder beneath calm water. "They are demonic cultivators."

The air fell still. Even the faint breeze seemed to halt.

Lu Shaohua’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Demonic... cultivators?" she repeated slowly, as if the words themselves were foreign.

Wei Ji nodded. "Yes. The kind that feed not just on spiritual Qi, but also on life force. The kind that draws strength from death and misery. The kind that blend their souls with dark entities born from the underworld."

Her lips parted slightly. "That’s—those are legends," she said weakly. "Old stories meant to frighten disciples. No one truly cultivates that way."

Wei Ji’s eyes turned cold. "You think so? You’ve lived in this world long enough to know that every legend begins with a truth. The demonic path isn’t just real—it’s thriving. It hides among us, under sects, behind temples, even within courts."

She shook her head slowly. "No. My people—they saved me countless times. They protected me—"

Wei Ji cut her off. "Because you’re valuable to them," he said. "You have something rare to them. Do you think they serve you out of devotion? They’re feeding on your presence, Shaohua. Slowly. Gently. Like parasites that keep their host alive just long enough to drain every drop of power."

Lu Shaohua’s mouth fell open. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. "You’re lying," she whispered, but her voice was trembling.

"I’m not," Wei Ji said quietly. "You’ve seen their eyes, haven’t you? When they fight. That moment when they lose control and their pupils turn black? That’s not rage. That’s hunger."

She closed her eyes, shaking her head as if to push away his words. "Stop it."

Wei Ji didn’t stop. He leaned forward, his tone dark but calm, steady, almost surgical. "They consume Qi from corpses. They devour souls through their blades. Their cultivation grows not from effort, but from death. That’s why they’re strong so quickly. That’s why they never grow tired. Because every life they take becomes a piece of their strength."

Lu Shaohua’s voice broke. "That can’t be true."

Wei Ji’s tone softened. "Shaohua, I seen a whole lot of them.They smile as they kill, not because they enjoy it, but because it feeds them."

She trembled. "That’s horrible..."

Wei Ji nodded. "It is. That’s why righteous sects hunt them. But demonic cultivators are clever. They hide behind noble masks. Pretend to be loyal followers, kind wanderers, merciful healers. They blend into the world until no one can tell the difference. Until even someone as powerful as you trusts them completely."

Lu Shaohua’s hands were cold. Her eyes were full of disbelief and pain. "You’re saying I’ve been living with monsters all this time..."

Wei Ji looked at her quietly, his expression unreadable. "Yes."

She took a deep breath, but it shook as it entered her lungs. "Then why tell me now?"

Wei Ji’s gaze darkened. "Because I didn’t realize it at first. When I met you, I only thought your people were... different. Stronger. But the night of our wedding..."

He paused. The memory flickered in his eyes.

She swallowed. "What happened?"

Wei Ji’s voice turned low. "I was attacked by them."

Her eyes widened in shock. "What?"

He met her gaze squarely. "Your subordinates. Or whatever they really are. They came for me that night. Quietly. No sound. No trace. Only killing intent so deep it could drown the soul."

The air between them turned heavy.

Lu Shaohua stared at him, her lips trembling. "You’re saying... they tried to kill you?"

Wei Ji’s jaw tightened. "Not tried. They did kill me once."

Her breath caught. Her face went white.

He smiled faintly, but it was cold, almost sad. "But I came back. And now I understand what they are. What they truly serve."

Lu Shaohua took a step back, her voice barely a whisper. "You’re saying my people—my protectors—are demons."

Wei Ji’s eyes softened, but his words were merciless. "I’m not sure."

The silence that followed was suffocating. The flames flickered low, and the night wind howled faintly against the walls.

Lu Shaohua lowered her gaze, her hands trembling as she tried to steady herself.

Wei Ji watched her quietly, his face calm, but his eyes gleamed with something sharp—like a man who had just confirmed a terrible truth.