As the saying goes: “If you work hard enough, even an iron pestle can be ground into a needle.”
Though the pace of cultivation had slowed considerably, as long as one put in enough effort, there would always be gains.
Wang Sandong was both pleased and worried.
Pleased because her cultivation had improved, increasing her chances of killing Yuan Di in the future.
Worried because, along with the growth in her cultivation, her body had undergone some subtle changes.
They weren’t major yet, but if things continued like this, the consequences could be dire.
Just imagine: the newly-bent Yuan Di discovering that the one who bent her was actually a woman…
What a headache.
“What are you laughing at?” Zheng Xiao suddenly asked.
Wang Sandong was startled.
“Was I laughing? I’m clearly wearing a look of worry.”
“Is that so?”
Zheng Xiao pursed her lips, not refuting him.
“Then what are you worried about?”
“Sigh, naturally I’m concerned about the nation and its people.”
“The government is harmonious and the people are at peace—why worry?”
Zheng Xiao smiled.
“The demonic cultivators have been wiped out, the world is at peace, and the Human Sovereign rules the land. I really hope that’s what you’re thinking.”
Wang Sandong glanced at Zheng Xiao and replied, “I really hope that’s what you’re thinking.”
Her gaze swept past the colorful flowers in the garden and landed on Wang Fa, who was under a pavilion not far ahead.
Zheng Xiao frowned slightly, pondered for a long moment, and then said, “What do you think it takes to put the king under the law?”
Wang Sandong smiled but didn’t answer.
Instead, she said, “Go on. Grandfather is waiting for you to play chess.”
Zheng Xiao smiled again, but this time there was a hint of bitterness and confusion in her expression.
“I’m tired too. I’ll go rest.”
How to put the king under the law?
Wang Sandong had no interest in that question at all.
She was far more interested in how to put “Yuan” under her.
As for the turbulent world…
What did that have to do with her?
Back at Anzhi Courtyard, Wang Sandong habitually lay down in the sun to bask.
She loved that hazy, drowsy feeling of being roasted by the scorching sun.
In a daze, a scene floated into her mind: A Yong standing naked before a mirror, admiring his nearly perfect muscle lines.
In truth, the original A Yong hadn’t been this burly.
He’d been a scrawny weakling.
But after cultivating the demonic art All Demons Return to the Origin, he had gained a Demon Body…
A Demon Body was a basic ability every demonic cultivator possessed.
Wang Sandong was an exception.
Without a Spiritual Root, even though she could cultivate demonic arts, she still didn’t have a Demon Body.
Hiss…
It seemed she hadn’t seen Yuan Di display her Demon Body either.
Wang Sandong opened her eyes, squinting against the dazzling sunlight, her brows furrowed.
She wondered what it would look like if the beautiful Yuan Di revealed her Demon Body…
Hiss…
Just thinking about it caused a physical reaction of nausea.
Pushing those messy images aside, Wang Sandong began to ponder All Demons Return to the Origin again.
This was the Demon Sovereign’s technique.
Its mysteries surpassed those of Return to Heaven.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have a Spiritual Root, so she couldn’t cultivate it.
Sigh…
The sun had made her mouth dry.
Wang Sandong called for Wang Tong to brew some tea.
After a sip, she remembered something and asked Wang Tong, “How’s your cultivation going?”
“Decent.”
Wang Tong replied quietly.
“Slow progress is normal.”
Wang Sandong comforted him.
“Don’t be impatient. Take your time. You’re still young; you have plenty of time.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“Mm… Alright, I’ll teach you another method.”
Wang Tong silently memorized it.
Seeing Wang Sandong wave her hand in dismissal, he limped back to his small room to cultivate.
Watching Wang Tong’s retreating back, Wang Sandong felt regret.
Even though she possessed the skills of a renowned physician, she still couldn’t heal Wang Tong’s broken leg.
The bone had been worn down too severely to be repaired.
Maybe someday she could find a way to replace the leg bone—but she would need absolute certainty.
Otherwise, if she removed the bone and couldn’t replace it, the leg would be ruined.
Those words sounded like they lacked confidence.
Wang Tong’s aptitude wasn’t much better than that of a waste Spiritual Root, so it was normal for his cultivation to be slow.
Thinking this, Wang Sandong closed her eyes.
A moment later, she abruptly opened them.
If bones could be replaced, could Spiritual Roots be replaced too?
Could she extract someone else’s Spiritual Root and claim it for herself?
This idea had existed since ancient times, and many experts had attempted experiments, all of which ended in failure.
Fortunately—otherwise, children with Ultimate Spiritual Roots might never live to adulthood.
Or, could she create a fake Spiritual Root, like a prosthetic?
That idea had never been explored.
Wang Sandong closed her eyes again and began her deduction.
To create a fake Spiritual Root, she first had to understand what a True Spiritual Root was, how it functioned, and how it was formed…
To understand these things, she first needed a wealth of medical knowledge—fortunately, Wang Sandong had killed Mr. Yi.
Then, creating a fake Spiritual Root would fall under Artifact Forging.
She would need to master similar skills—and Wang Sandong had also killed Ghost Axe…
In her mind, a vast sea of information surged like a tidal wave.
Countless deductions and hypotheses formed, collapsed, reformed, and collapsed again…
First, every major step had to be theoretically feasible; otherwise, any detailed deduction would be useless.
Without realizing it, as she circulated her Qi for internal observation, the Demonic Qi within her body began to churn.
Unconstrained by the conditions of a fake Spiritual Root (since she had no Spiritual Root at all), and not using a demonic technique like Soul Snatching (which required the release of Demonic Qi), when a large amount of Demonic Qi surged inside Wang Sandong, it easily leaked out through the gaps in her fingernails.
She also needed to carefully examine her own physical condition to determine whether she was suitable for implanting a fake Spiritual Root…
After a long while, Wang Sandong let out a soft sigh.
She realized that all the deductions she could think of were invalid.
A Spiritual Root was an invisible, intangible part of a person’s innate spirit.
No master Artifact Forger could forge one, and her own body couldn’t withstand such turmoil.
Wang Sandong was deeply disappointed.
When she opened her eyes, she realized the sky had already darkened.
And she noticed that her Third Uncle, Wang Zhongxin, was standing right in front of her, though she didn’t know when he had arrived.
“Ah!”
Wang Sandong was startled.
She sat up straight and said, “Third Uncle, when did you get here?”
As she spoke, she noticed that Wang Zhongxin’s expression was very grim—more precisely, it was hostile.
Wang Zhongxin snorted coldly.
“What’s with the Demonic Qi on your fingers?”
Wang Sandong was taken aback.
She raised her hand and was shocked to see that all her fingernails had turned black, and wisps of Demonic Qi swirled around her fingertips—the result of prolonged Qi circulation for internal observation.
She swallowed hard.
Looking up to meet Wang Zhongxin’s clearly unfriendly gaze, she explained, “I was helping my father absorb Demonic Qi earlier.”
If it were just a trace of black Demonic Qi in the nail crevices, that explanation might have been plausible.
But in her current state, not even Wang Sandong herself would believe it, let alone Wang Zhongxin.
“Why did you fall into the Demonic Path?!”
Wang Zhongxin clenched his fists, anger rising on his face.
“A proper member of the Wang Family!”
His voice was low, but it was filled with murderous intent.
The sun was setting in the west.
The temperature had dropped.
But cold sweat beaded on Wang Sandong’s forehead.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
Her breathing slowed.
Then, the stiff little face suddenly broke into a smile.
“Third Uncle, what are you talking about? Stop joking. I was born without a Spiritual Root. Even if I wanted to fall into the Demonic Path, I couldn’t.”
Having said that, she stretched lazily and spoke in a languid tone:
“Ah… I’m so tired. Yuanyuan, come play a little tune to liven things up.”
Wang Zhongxin frowned deeply, his eyes coldly fixed on Wang Sandong’s eyes, as if trying to detect any sign of acting.
In his view, Wang Sandong was only sixteen.
If she really had started demonic cultivation and he happened to catch her, she would surely be flustered.
She couldn’t be this calm.
So… had he been mistaken?
No, the signs of rampant Demonic Qi were unmistakable!
But…
Without a Spiritual Root…
How could she cultivate demonic arts?
Wang Zhongxin was suspicious.
His gaze shifted back to Wang Sandong’s fingers.
Those fair little hands and slender fingers, juxtaposed with the black nails and Demonic Qi, looked very eerie.
After a moment, the nails began to slowly fade, and the Demonic Qi started to seep back through the nail gaps into Wang Sandong’s hand.
Wang Sandong looked at her own hand and sighed:
“Ever since I helped Father absorb the Demonic Qi, my hands have been like this from time to time. Grandfather said the Demonic Qi has taken up residence in my body.”
Hearing this, Wang Zhongxin asked suspiciously:
“Grandfather has seen this condition of yours?”
“Yes.”
Wang Sandong’s face took on a sorrowful expression.
“Grandfather said that no mortal body can withstand the erosion of Demonic Qi. So… even though I’m a bit special, I’ll eventually die from it.”
As she spoke, her hand finally returned to normal—pale, tender, and boneless soft.
Wang Zhongxin remained silent, the wariness on his face undiminished.
Clearly, he wasn’t going to believe her just because of her calm demeanor and a few hurried words.
But he also didn’t react impulsively.
After all, what Wang Sandong had said earlier was true: without a Spiritual Root, one couldn’t cultivate.
Thus, saying she had become a demonic cultivator seemed hard to justify.
But…
The state of her fingers just now was clearly that of rampant Demonic Qi!
Had his father, Wang Fa, really seen this?
Or was Sandong lying through her teeth?
Wang Zhongxin understood that before he could confirm whether Wang Sandong had become a demonic cultivator, he must not act rashly.
This was no small matter.
It concerned not only Wang Sandong’s life but also the Wang Family’s reputation.
While Wang Zhongxin was lost in thought, Wang Sandong was cursing her luck inwardly.
She realized that Yuan Di hadn’t appeared.
Maybe she wasn’t at Anzhi Courtyard.
This was terrible.
If Yuan Di were here, she could help “control” Third Uncle Wang Zhongxin.
Since Yuan Di wasn’t here…
Although her Third Uncle’s aptitude was mediocre, he still had a Fifth-rank cultivation.
The gap in strength was huge.
Even with a sneak attack, her chances of victory were near zero.
What should she do?
Wang Sandong’s heart leaped into her throat.
“Huh? Where’s Yuanyuan?”
Wang Sandong pretended to casually look back toward Yuan Di’s room, hoping for a “miracle”—like Yuan Di watching from afar, waiting to step in at the critical moment.
But there was no miracle.
As her heart chilled, she accidentally caught sight of the Qin Room.
A sudden idea struck Wang Sandong.
She first let out a sigh, then looked at Wang Zhongxin and said, “Although your nephew is on the verge of death, I still want to do something for this world. So… I married Zheng Xiao and promised to guard the Qin Room for her.”
Hearing this, Wang Zhongxin was stunned.
He had been analyzing whether Wang Sandong could be a demonic cultivator, but now he looked confused and asked, “You? Guard the Qin Room?”
Wang Sandong countered, “Does Third Uncle know what’s inside the Qin Room?”
Wang Zhongxin certainly knew that there was a Demonic Zither inside.
He glanced again at Wang Sandong’s fair little hands and her now pink nails, suspicion growing in his mind:
Could Father have more to say?
Is there some connection between that Demonic Zither and Sandong?
Wang Sandong feigned mystery.
“Grandfather said that some things can’t be explained in just a few words, so he didn’t tell you about them.”
“Grandfather also said that if you have any doubts, Uncle, I could take you into the Qin Room and let you see for yourself.”
Wang Zhongxin snorted coldly.
“The Qin Room is filled with a hundred instruments—anyone entering will die!”
Wang Sandong sighed, a look of sorrow on her face.
She was genuinely worried.
Because her Third Uncle wasn’t easy to fool.
What should she do?
There was no other way.
At a time like this, she couldn’t afford to let him think calmly.
So she had to keep pressing.
Damn it, Yuanyuan! Where the hell is she wandering off to at a critical moment like this?
Wang Sandong stood up.
“Third Uncle, please.”
With that, she turned her back to Wang Zhongxin, appearing completely defenseless.
She dragged her frail body toward the Qin Room, speaking in a soft, emotional voice filled with grand ambition:
“Your nephew has no other wish in this life. I only hope to resolve the trouble of that Demonic Zither before I die.”
After Wang Sandong had taken five or six steps, Wang Zhongxin hesitated and then followed.
The distance to the Qin Room wasn’t far.
Wang Sandong felt like her brain was about to smoke from overthinking.
She knew she had to come up with a way to deal with Wang Zhongxin—and fast!
Otherwise, her life was as good as over.