Chapter 123: The Ambition of the Ghost Asura (Please Subscribe)

Ghost Xuanwu bowed respectfully and asked with deference, "Lord Shura, do you have any orders for me?"

Sitting behind his desk, Ghost Shura stopped inking his brush, set the document aside, and raised his slender eyes.

"General Xuanwu, it has been nearly a month since Xue Ju escaped from Red Moon City, has it not?"

His golden-pupiled gaze fell upon Ghost Xuanwu, who stood below the dais. Ghost Shura’s voice turned interrogative: "Have there been any updates from the assassins—Joyce, the Ghoul, and their group—sent to Winterfell City?"

Ghost Xuanwu bowed slightly. "Not yet. It has been nearly a month without word; we have completely lost contact. I fear... the mission has failed."

"You say... it failed?"

Ghost Shura’s voice grew cold. Anger rose within him, and his hand, resting on the desk, tightened into a fist.

Ghost Xuanwu lowered his head slightly and reported truthfully, "Yes. It is likely that the entire assassination squad has perished in Winterfell City."

"So, after all this time, Xue Ju has still not been eliminated?" Ghost Shura glared at him, demanding an answer.

"Yes."

"Bang!"

Ghost Shura’s expression turned icy. He slammed his hand against the desk with a thunderous crash, causing the files on it to jump.

His voice was thick with irrepressible rage. "A bunch of useless trash! You cannot even catch a mere cat demon, yet that group of monsters dares to call themselves the best assassins. They are nothing but worthless garbage!"

The sequence of events began a month ago.

Entrusted by Princess Ghost, Xue Ju had taken advantage of the night to flee Red Moon City, heading for Winterfell City to track down the whereabouts of Black Yaksha.

She had hoped to inform Black Yaksha of the coup in Red Moon City—the disappearance of Empress Tamamo no Yuki and Ghost Shura’s impending usurpation—and persuade him to return to take control of the situation. After all, the heir to the city should have been Princess Ghost Lingyuan, but the position had been snatched away by Ghost Shura. Furthermore, if the ambitious Ghost Shura were to become the city lord, he would undoubtedly invade other cities and ignite a war. Such a tragedy could not be allowed to happen.

Upon learning of Xue Ju’s defection to Winterfell City, Ghost Shura had ordered a wave of assassins to hunt her down, aiming to eliminate her before she could reach Black Yaksha. Black Yaksha possessed the City Lord’s Token; if he were to return to Red Moon City, Ghost Shura’s claim to the throne would be in jeopardy.

Winterfell City was human territory. For a demon like Xue Ju to go there was perilous enough, and with a wave of assassins from Red Moon City in secret pursuit, it stood to reason that a minor cat demon like her had no path to survival.

Ghost Shura had been confident, yet he never expected that not only would Xue Ju remain alive, but his own squad of assassins would be wiped out entirely. How could he not be furious?

Ghost Xuanwu stepped onto the dais, retrieved a photograph from his person, and presented it to Ghost Shura at the desk.

Under his superior’s suspicious gaze, Ghost Xuanwu explained, "According to intelligence reports, Xue Ju was taken in by the human in this photo, which is why she has managed to survive in Winterfell City until now."

Taking the photo, Ghost Shura saw a young man wielding a lightning-imbued katana. He appeared to be no more than eighteen years old. In the human world, at that age, he was merely a high school student.

"Why would this human take in a cat demon?"

Ghost Shura’s anger flared. "Judging by his attire and weapon, is he not clearly a Demon Hunter? How could he harbor a demon? They are mortal enemies."

Humans and monsters were inherently irreconcilable. That a Demon Hunter would shelter Xue Ju was illogical and impossible, a mystery that left Ghost Shura at a loss.

"The reason is unclear," Ghost Xuanwu explained coldly. "We only know that both times we sent assassins—first the Ghoul, then the werewolf Joyce—they were thwarted by this man and died at his hands, leading to the failure of the missions."

"This human... dares to oppose me."

Ghost Shura crumpled the photo of Cheng Feng, causing it to bend. "I will remember this. Once I become the city lord and lead my armies to invade Winterfell City, I will make sure to kill him!"

Ghost Xuanwu remained calm, adding with a hidden meaning, "Lord Shura, please calm your anger. In fact, there is no need for you to be upset about this matter."

"Easy for you to say. How can you expect me not to be angry?"

Amidst his rage, Ghost Shura spoke with a hint of anxiety. "The King Selection Ceremony begins in a few days. As long as I keep Lingyuan locked away and prevent her from appearing, she will be considered as having forfeited her right to compete for the throne. At that point, the votes of all the ministers will go to me. The final heir will surely be me. But if Xue Ju is still alive, and if she successfully finds Black Yaksha and returns to Red Moon City with him when the ceremony begins... what then? Would all my painstaking plans not come to nothing? The Empress’s disappearance is the perfect opportunity to seize the throne!"

Ghost Xuanwu reported calmly, "Lord Shura, please rest assured. On that point, you have no need for concern."

"What do you mean?" Ghost Shura looked up, detecting the subtext.

Ghost Xuanwu sneered, "I have received the latest intelligence: the 'Tyrant' Black Yaksha died two days ago."

"What did you say?"

Ghost Shura was stunned, his sharp, golden eyes fixed on Ghost Xuanwu, momentarily doubting his own ears. Suppressing his inner joy, he hurriedly asked, "Black Yaksha is dead? He was the fourth Abyss-dweller, possessing immense power, a peer to the previous city lord. He is actually dead?"

"Indeed. It is said he was besieged by a group of Demon Hunters and ultimately fell at the hands of that human ace," Ghost Xuanwu replied with a faint smile. "Black Yaksha has vanished from this world. This news is absolutely certain. After the Demon Hunters finished off Black Yaksha, they posted a notice of victory on the network. We intercepted this intelligence immediately; there can be no mistake."

"Truly, this is magnificent news..."

A cold, sinister grin spread across Ghost Shura’s lips. "To think those lowly humans would inadvertently eliminate my greatest obstacle. Excellent, simply excellent! Now, the throne is undoubtedly mine."

"Once I become city lord, I will lead the entire city’s forces and use the strength of the nation to raze Winterfell City to the ground." Ghost Shura laughed with unbridled ambition. "After conquering Winterfell, the 'Hundred Ghosts Night Parade' will begin in two months. Once I win that war of ten thousand demons, I shall become the sixth Abyss-dweller!"

Ghost Xuanwu suddenly added, "Lord Shura, I feel that Princess Lingyuan remains the greatest obstacle to your succession. Merely keeping her under house arrest is not enough. She may yet become a significant threat. Perhaps..."

Ghost Shura stroked his chin, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You have a point."

"Brother Shen!"

"Hmm!"

Shen Changqing walked along the road, exchanging greetings or nods with those he recognized.

But regardless of who they were, no one had any excess expression on their face, as if they were indifferent to everything.

Shen Changqing had grown accustomed to this.

For this was the Demon Suppression Division, an institution dedicated to maintaining the stability of the Great Qin. Its primary duty was to slay demons and monsters, though it naturally had other side responsibilities.

It could be said that everyone in the Demon Suppression Division had blood on their hands. When one is accustomed to life and death, one becomes indifferent to many things.

When he first arrived in this world, Shen Changqing had been somewhat unaccustomed to it, but over time, he had grown used to it.

The Demon Suppression Division was vast. Those who remained within its walls were powerful experts or those with the potential to become such. Shen Changqing belonged to the latter.

The division was divided into two roles: the Guardians and the Demon Slayers. Everyone who entered the Demon Suppression Division began as a low-level Demon Slayer, then advanced step by step, with the hope of eventually becoming a Guardian.

Shen Changqing’s predecessor had been a trainee Demon Slayer, the lowest rank among them. Possessing the memories of his predecessor, he was very familiar with the environment of the Demon Suppression Division.

Before long, Shen Changqing stopped in front of a pavilion.

Unlike the other, more grim areas of the Demon Suppression Division, this pavilion stood out like a crane in a flock of chickens, exuding a unique tranquility amidst the blood-soaked atmosphere of the division.

The doors were wide open, with people occasionally entering and exiting.

After a moment of hesitation, Shen Changqing stepped inside.

Upon entering, the atmosphere changed instantly.

A scent of ink mixed with a faint smell of blood rushed toward him, causing him to instinctively frown, though he quickly smoothed his expression. The scent of blood on everyone in the Demon Suppression Division was something that could almost never be washed away.