Ouch Prickly

Origin Ridge.

The Withered Grass Plains.

Patrol squads were typically composed of seven small demons.

Given their low cultivation levels—roughly equivalent to the fifth or sixth layer of Qi Refinement—most of these demons bore little resemblance to humans.

The mouse demon, for instance, shared only one similarity with humans: it now walked on two legs.

Leading the squad was a weasel demon.

With a pointed snout, a face covered in yellow fur, and narrowed eyes, it couldn’t help but grumble:

"What’s the point of patrolling this damn plain? No one’s launching a surprise attack here. If we run into a Golden Core expert, we’ll be wiped out before we can even make a sound. What’s there to check?"

The moment the captain spoke, the squad quickly erupted into chatter, each member voicing their thoughts.

A small, hunched-over lizard demon, carrying a worn-out broadsword, rasped in a hoarse voice:

"If they don’t send us to die, how else can they flaunt their authority as demon kings?"

The mouse demon sighed. "Before the Demon Nation, our lives weren’t our own. Now that it exists, they still aren’t. Did I come here for nothing? I even had a mouse bride waiting for me back home..."

A sturdy little wild ox demon, sporting a pair of horns, chimed in with a naive tone:

"Don’t say that. If the Demon Nation really stands firm, we won’t have to hide and flee from humans anymore."

As soon as these words left its mouth, four of the seven demons burst into laughter.

The smallest lizard demon slapped the boar demon beside it, guffawing:

"Hey, pig, you buying that?"

The boar demon’s tusks wobbled as it snorted with laughter:

"Like hell I do!"

The ox demon didn’t argue back. It just cast a sidelong glance at the others.

They were all just putting up a tough front.

If they truly didn’t believe, why would they have traveled thousands of miles to this godforsaken wasteland?

Did the sand here taste better or something?

The weasel demon observed its squad.

Complaining together was good—it subtly strengthened morale and camaraderie.

Only when the conversation took a truly negative turn would the weasel step in to steer it back.

It hadn’t joined in the laughter earlier, because deep down, it agreed with the ox demon.

If possible, it never wanted to hide and run again...

It had already lost one wife and three children.

The weasel demon’s claw absently traced the hilt of its battered longsword.

Truth was, they all knew.

Even if the Demon Nation succeeded, frontline grunts like them would probably never live to see it.

If a full-scale war broke out, the aftershocks of a Golden Core battle alone could crush them like ants.

But still...

It wanted to fight for a sliver of hope—no, to fight for their own pride.

Even if its existence was insignificant, it still wanted to contribute.

Maybe, at the core of it all, it was just hatred...

As the squad’s bickering filled the air, the weasel demon’s heart gradually calmed, and a faint smile tugged at its lips.

But soon, that smile vanished, replaced by grim tension.

The wind carried the scent of humans.

The weasel demon’s nose twitched, and its gaze snapped toward a patch of withered grass nearby.

It raised a hand, cutting off the squad’s chatter, and hissed in a low voice: "Tighten up!"

The mouse demon stiffened, its beady eyes darting to where the weasel was looking.

Its claw flew to the crossbow strapped to its back.

On patrol, it always kept a bolt loaded—no time to fumble with reloading in a fight.

At the Qi Refinement stage, demons couldn’t wield spells. Their only weapons were brute strength and whatever gear they could scavenge.

Crossbows were popular among low-level demons.

Not because they could actually kill cultivators—for that, you’d need ritual-enhanced weapons or spellcraft.

Those were far too precious.

If even patrol grunts had access to such things, the Demon Nation would’ve been established long ago.

No, the crossbow’s real purpose was to gauge whether they should fight or flee.

The mouse demon whispered: "Shoot?"

The weasel demon’s eyes narrowed. "Volley!"

The creak of drawn bowstrings followed as two other demons armed with crossbows took aim.

Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—

Bolts streaked toward the yellowed grass.

As expected, two figures burst from the thicket—a man and a woman, both wielding blades.

With practiced ease, they deflected the incoming bolts, their swords weaving a protective dance infused with faint spiritual energy.

The weasel demon scrutinized them, relief flooding its chest once it confirmed neither was a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

What kind of reckless Qi Refinement fools would ambush them here?

Did they think so little of demons?

It barked orders:

"Ox! Pig! Lizard! Triangle formation—go!"

"On it!" The boar demon’s stubby legs churned as it unsheathed its cleaver and charged.

The ox and lizard demons followed close behind.

The weasel demon didn’t rush in. Instead, its eyes swept the surroundings, nostrils flaring as it scented the air.

Cui Hao’s cultivation: Qi Refinement, fifth layer.

Lin Luoyu’s cultivation: Qi Refinement, ninth layer.

Cui Hao sighed as the snarling demons barreled toward them.

"Told you. Who’d set an ambush here?"

Lin Luoyu raised her sword, her gaze icy.

"Kill first. Talk later."

Cui Hao tightened his grip on his blade. "Fourth Senior Sister, you take the pig and ox. I’ll handle the short lizard."

"Agreed." The moment Lin Luoyu spoke, her figure blurred forward, closing the distance in an instant.

She met the boar demon head-on.

The boar demon roared, muscles bulging as it swung its cleaver in a brutal arc.

In close combat, demons held the advantage—at least, against ordinary Qi Refinement cultivators.

But Lin Luoyu was anything but ordinary.

A wisp of righteous qi could level mountains and rivers.

A glimmer of white spiritual energy flickered along her blade, and the boar demon’s eyes widened—her sword, once clearly visible, now left only afterimages.

"Fall back!"

The ox demon’s desperate shout reached the boar’s ears too late.

A cold sting flashed across its neck.

Then, the world spun.

Its last sight was the ox demon’s grief-stricken face, eyes burning with fury.

Heh...

So this was it.

The boar demon’s final thought faded into darkness.

The weasel demon’s heart lurched as it witnessed Lin Luoyu’s skill. Regret and sorrow surged.

"Trouble! Big trouble!" it howled.