Chapter 48: The Beautiful, Powerful, and Tragic Cannon Fodder Villain—My Father Is a King (Part 1)

In contrast, the new generation Saintess of the Demon Sect, Qi Shushu, could only end up as an insignificant cannon-fodder supporting character. Among them, Qin Bing’s life was a tragedy from start to finish.

His birth mother did not love him; his birth father was unaware of his existence; and the family of his adoptive father, who treated him as their own, perished because of his mother. After leaving the mountain, he knew only his missions, only killing, until he encountered the protagonist group and was wounded by Bai Yu Jing.

His attitude toward Qiao Mingyue was special—he believed it was what others called love. But he had no understanding of what normal emotions should be; he only knew that if he liked something, he should destroy it. This was how Qiu Lingsu indoctrinated him: weapons should have no weaknesses, no attachments, and he was unworthy of any.

Qin Bing was obsessed with killing Qiao Mingyue, while Bai Yu Jing always protected her. Bai Yu Jing possessed only the power of the divine weapon and no martial skills, creating vulnerabilities in his protection. Qin Bing came close to killing the protagonists several times, only to be thwarted by the older generation of masters supporting them.

In the end, Qiu Lingsu secretly united the Demon Sect members to attack Shuiyue Nunnery, forcing them to hand over their divine weapon. She knew that when the nunnery faced trouble, the reclusive Yan Wushuang would inevitably return. Yan Wushuang had vanished from the martial world for more than ten years, and everyone believed he had disappeared into some unknown corner.

As the righteous and demonic factions gathered, Yan Wushuang indeed appeared. Qiu Lingsu immediately ordered Qin Bing to kill him. Qin Bing was not a divine weapon master and was no match for Yan Wushuang, who pierced his heart with a single sword.

At the brink of death, Qiu Lingsu laughed into the sky, revealing the long-awaited hidden truth. Yan Wushuang, who had just killed his own son, lost control and slaughtered indiscriminately, injuring the abbess Sang Lanxin.

Qiao Mingyue, seeking vengeance for her master, seized Bai Yu Jing’s hand while Yan Wushuang was lost in madness, borrowing the power of his divine weapon to kill Yan Wushuang. At the crucial moment, Qiu Lingsu leaped forward, shielding Yan Wushuang from the fatal blow.

Sang Lanxin did the same, but was a step too late. Qiao Mingyue’s origins were also revealed by Sang Lanxin.

Seriously injured, Qiu Lingsu, blood at her lips and trembling hands, caressed Yan Wushuang’s face, saying, “I thought I hated you deeply, but it turns out I loved you even more. If I could start over, I wish I had never met you in this life.”

Qiu Lingsu died in Yan Wushuang’s arms. Sang Lanxin resigned as abbess, taking her daughter and future son-in-law to truly retire with Yan Wushuang.

Thus the story reached a perfect conclusion.

As for Qin Bing, the tragic figure at the side, he was only given a sigh of regret and a hypothetical musing: If Sword-Casting Manor had survived, perhaps as its young master, Qin Bing’s life would not have been so miserable.

This time, Bai Juan’s content was even longer than before.

Qin Ye opened his eyes and spat out a mouthful of black blood.

The martial world figures chasing the original owner had resorted to every kind of poison and ambush; the original body had been struck by countless toxins, only surviving thanks to deep internal strength.

This time, the beloved son turned out to be an adopted child.

Though he had not known this while alive, he learned it after death.

The original owner was utterly alone, with no ties, for all friends and family had perished. Only Qin Bing remained alive.

This last confirmed surviving son became the original owner’s final pillar and greatest obsession.

The obsession had only one focus: to find Qin Bing and protect him for a lifetime of peace and happiness.

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In a martial world where divine weapons existed, safeguarding someone’s lifelong peace and joy was a formidable task.

No revenge, no resentment—only pain and love for the adopted son, Qin Bing.

Given all this, perhaps Qin Bing was not truly so wretched. Though his father knew nothing of his existence, and his mother only hated and used him; though he was killed by his father, and his mother died saving his father—as if the hatred she fiercely instilled was only part of their twisted game.

Though the woman he felt closest to turned out to be his own elder sister, whom he pursued to kill time and again.

Though whenever he showed affection for anything, the next day he would find only its remnants.

Though from the destruction of Sword-Casting Manor, at the age of six, he was thrown among assassins, forced to eat and sleep with them.

Though after forging deep bonds, he was ordered to slaughter his companions.

Though he narrowly survived countless training and missions, and even when he succeeded, meeting Qiu Lingsu yielded only punishment and indoctrination.

Though… though there were so many "thoughs", Qin Bing’s misery was enough to make any onlooker weep.

But it didn’t matter—Qin Ye had arrived.

Son, endure a few more days of hardship. Once your father’s martial arts are perfected, he’ll storm the Demon Sect headquarters and rescue you from the abyss.

Having absorbed the original owner’s memories and obsessions, as well as Bai Juan’s information, Qin Ye ventured out, randomly slew a lucky beast for food supplies, and then began his seclusion.

While Qin Ye secluded himself to heal and practice martial arts, at the Demon Sect headquarters atop Snow Mountain, a group of eleven- and twelve-year-old boys and girls were undergoing brutal and rigorous training.

They had eaten, lived, and trained together for five years. Now, it was time for the next step.

Assassins needed neither companions nor emotions. Companions and feelings were weaknesses.

They needed only to become obedient weapons, eliminating all threats for the Holy Lord.

Other emotions, preferences, even personal thoughts—they were forbidden.

Three years prior, the Holy Lord had announced his seclusion, seeking to reach the ultimate martial transcendence. All sect affairs had since been managed by the former Saintess, now acting sect leader, Qiu Lingsu.

The trainer responsible for this batch of assassins was puzzled by Qiu Lingsu’s personal involvement in their final assessment.

She even insisted on attending in person.

As the leader of the demonic path, the Holy Sect boasted immense power, training countless assassins each year. Yet to them, assassins were mere expendables.

Double their number and the sect leaders would not care.

Why, then, would Qiu Lingsu involve herself?

Qiu Lingsu had once betrayed the Holy Sect; had she not begged the Holy Lord’s forgiveness, and restored her strength through forbidden techniques, she would have died in some obscure corner.

The Holy Sect worshipped strength—those who were powerful could command the entire demonic path, just like their Holy Lord. Lacking strength, even if one was the Holy Lord’s own child, no one would pledge allegiance.

Unable to fathom it, the trainer shook his head and looked down at the youths whose friendship had grown deep and pure, his gaze filled with pity.

The deeper and purer their friendship, the more painful tomorrow’s forced mutual slaughter would be.

Ultimately, only one would survive as the final victor.

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In this vast martial world, orphans who lost their families for various reasons were never in short supply.

Give them food, and they became the Holy Sect’s best weapons.

Qin Bing and Xiao Jiang supported each other back to their lodging after today’s intensified training.

After training, they could spend an hour soaking in the medicinal pool to restore their energy and heal past injuries.

The pool would be crowded at this hour; Xiao Jiang suggested Qin Bing rest at their quarters first and visit the pool later.

Originally, they all slept in a communal dormitory. Later, those who performed well in training were paired off, and Qin Bing and Xiao Jiang were grouped together.

Xiao Jiang was a year or two older than Qin Bing; when Qin Bing first arrived, it was Xiao Jiang who took care of him.

"Little Bing, you said you remember your family—do you know where they are?"

Qin Bing had suffered a great upheaval, abducted at age six. He was clever for his age, remembering more than most children, but still limited—he had been too young.

Xiao Jiang’s situation was different; he was an orphan who had willingly followed the Holy Sect.

That winter was bitterly cold, so cold that Xiao Jiang believed he would die in a ruined temple.

When members of the Holy Sect brought a group of children to rest temporarily in that temple, he overheard their leader promise food and shelter. Xiao Jiang immediately volunteered to join.

The Holy Sect’s promise of risking one’s life meant nothing to him; had he not followed them, he would have perished that winter.

Life afterward was harsh, but being fed and clothed was enough for Xiao Jiang.

Qin Bing, on the other hand, had been the young master of Sword-Casting Manor, doted upon by all—even the old cleaning lady was fond of him.

New to this environment, Qin Bing could not adapt and nearly failed at the outset.

Where those eliminated ended up, no one knew, but the precocious Xiao Jiang understood there was no such thing as a free lunch.

The so-called Holy Sect took in orphans, fed and housed them, taught them martial arts, and demanded daily training—not because they were philanthropists.

Xiao Jiang had no intention of meddling, but Qin Bing had truly been adorable as a child. Seeing him, Xiao Jiang felt as if looking at a little brother, though he had never had one—his parents died at birth.

He had been found in a barrel on the river by an old beggar, who shared his meager food and raised him.

The old beggar had died long ago, kicked aside by a passing martial hero—too old to dodge—spitting blood and dying on the spot.

Xiao Jiang was clever and talented, well-acquainted with the previous steward, but that steward had been transferred away.

He knew Qin Bing had a family; when Qin Bing first arrived, he cried constantly, calling for his father, uncle, aunt, brothers, sisters—everyone he could think of.

Clearly, his life had once been very happy.

Unfortunately, no one knew what had changed.

Xiao Jiang had asked; young Qin Bing could only say, clenching his tiny fists, that bad people had come, his father had fought them, and the bad men broke in and took him away.

That was all.

But he remembered his name, and that his family owned many weapons.

Xiao Jiang guessed his family were martial world figures as well.