Turns Out I'm the Real Monster?!

"It’s a good thing you went to press for the grain delivery yesterday. By a strange twist of fate, you stumbled upon this matter, and you acted decisively to kill it.

"If it had been a few days later, things would have been much more troublesome. The entire village could have been lost. These Demons... the longer they live, the harder they are to deal with."

Jiang Mu’s brow was knitted in a tight frown.

"So you’re saying it’s highly likely that Elder Wu encountered a Demon in the deep mountains, was wounded by it, or came into contact with something tainted by demonic poison, and that’s how he was afflicted."

"Yes. I’ll send the Third Hall into the mountains to search for the specific source."

Ran Qingshan nodded and said,

"Also, I’ve been briefed on the Yuan family’s situation. I’ve already sent for a physician to treat the child. But the boy’s illness is deep-rooted. Whether he can pull through will be up to fate.

"For the next few days, just focus on your cultivation at home. Don’t go back to that place. I’ll say it again: that place... just don’t go."

"I understand."

Jiang Mu nodded lightly.

Ran Qingshan lifted his teacup for a sip, his gaze gentle as he looked at him.

"Xiaojiang, you’re still young. You’re hot-blooded and full of drive, and that’s a good thing. But there are some things you and I can’t change.

"This world is like a great boiling cauldron with a ceaseless fire beneath it. The people inside struggle just to stay afloat.

"You want to be the ladle that pulls people out, the shield that blocks the fire. Your heart is in the right place. No one will stop you from being a great Samaritan or a hero.

"But you have to remember, sometimes the more you do, the more people you might get killed—including yourself. Do you understand what I mean?"

Jiang Mu remained silent.

Ran Qingshan rose and paced to the window. With his back to Jiang Mu, he gazed at a solitary plum tree in the courtyard, where a few last buds still clung to the branches against the autumn wind. His voice was low and deep.

"In our line of work as Demon Slayer Envoys, the greatest taboo is sympathy. Because sympathy will slow the hand that draws your saber. You may not understand it now, but one day... you will."

He waved his hand, his spirit seeming to wane.

"Alright, I’ve said enough. Go back and focus on your cultivation. If a suitable new mission comes up at the department, you’ll be assigned."

"Yes, Sir. I’ll take my leave."

Jiang Mu rose, clasped his hands in a deep bow, then turned and left the office.

Ran Qingshan stood alone at the window. He reached out and gently stroked a plum branch that poked in from outside, his fingertips feeling the rough bark and the cold buds. He murmured in a low voice:

"In your conduct, neither conform to the worldly nor stray too far from it. In your actions, neither invite aversion nor seek adoration..."

"Such is the way of the world."

When Jiang Mu returned home, the oppressive feeling in his heart quietly dissipated the moment he stepped into the courtyard.

The afternoon sun spilled down lazily.

Bai Xiang was tending to her little patch of a vegetable garden.

In less than a month, the once-barren plot of land was now bursting with life.

A row of verdant bok choy with plump, tender leaves grew against the wall.

Beside them were a few pea shoots that had just sent out tender vines, and in the corner was a small patch of green onions and garlic, lush and vibrant.

Just then, Bai Xiang was busy at work with a small hoe.

She wore her usual simple dress.

The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, revealing her fair forearms.

Sunlight filtered through the branches of the locust tree in the courtyard, casting mottled shadows that danced upon her with every movement.

From a distance, she was part of the scenery; up close, she was like a painting.

Jiang Mu gazed quietly at her graceful back as she worked serenely among the vegetable beds, and he found himself momentarily lost in thought.

He realized that this woman seemed to possess a peculiar quality.

No matter where she was or what she was doing, she always appeared calm and at ease, as if she were leisurely enjoying herself.

Enjoying the freedom of blending in with nature.

Whenever he was in a gloomy mood, just seeing her would always brighten his spirits.

"Have you given it a name?"

Jiang Mu walked over and asked.

Bai Xiang straightened her slender waist and turned her face toward him, a hint of confusion in her clear eyes.

A bead of sweat trickled down from her temple, first kissing a stray sunbeam before shyly vanishing into the depths of her slightly open collar.

Jiang Mu gestured to the vegetable patch.

"I mean, have you thought about giving this little garden a name? Many scholars, artists, and reclusive masters like to name their gardens to express their leisurely sentiments."

Bai Xiang gently shook her head.

Jiang Mu stroked his chin in thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers.

"How about this? I’ll come up with a name. Let’s call it... ’Morning Fragrance’."

?

Bai Xiang’s expression grew a little strange.

"What? You have a problem with it?"

Jiang Mu crossed his arms, striking a domineering pose as if to say, ’I’m the Patriarch, so my word is law.’

A playful glint appeared in Bai Xiang’s beautiful, expressive eyes.

She put down the small hoe, dusted the dirt from her hands, and then raised them to sign:

[Since it has an elegant name, shouldn’t you, the master, compose a poem to commemorate it? If you can write a good poem, then I’ll agree to the name.]

"Compose a poem?"

Jiang Mu faltered and scratched his head. "Well... let me go back to my room and think about it. I’ll tell you when I’ve got something."

’Even though I have a belly full of poems from my past life, I can’t think of one that fits a vegetable garden on such short notice.’

Watching Jiang Mu beat a hasty retreat, Bai Xiang smiled faintly.

She hadn’t really expected the spoiled young master to come up with any poetry anyway. Taking it as a bit of fun, she lowered her head and went back to tending her garden.

Jiang Mu returned to his study and took out the Saber Manual for the *Heaven-Breaking Eight Skills*.

The Saber Manual began by explaining the core principles of this Saber Skill. Its essence lay in the word "break," emphasizing simplicity over complexity and overwhelming skill with raw power. The saber forms were fierce, powerful, and violent.

Its goal was to unleash maximum destructive power in the shortest possible time.

It was especially focused on practical combat, with remarkable effectiveness at breaking armor and sundering weapons.

Cultivating it required coordinating a specific breathing method with the circulation of Qi and Blood. It shared common principles with the Body Tempering Dharma Gate of the *Body Casting Skill*, allowing them to complement each other.

The Saber Skill had five levels of mastery:

Initial Glimpse, Entry, Minor Accomplishment, Major Accomplishment, and Perfection.

Each level had progressively stricter requirements for the mastery of strength, speed, timing, and understanding of the saber’s momentum.

Jiang Mu carefully studied the Entry-level Heart Method, the diagrams for the first two forms, and the methods for channeling strength, getting a general idea.

He changed into a set of short, practical clothes suitable for movement, picked up his saber, and prepared to practice in the sand pit in the courtyard.

As he reached the door, he suddenly remembered Bai Xiang’s request for a poem.

Gazing at the small vegetable garden in the courtyard, he thought about his inexplicable arrival in this world, about his past life, about his experiences over the past month...

He thought about many, many things.

A hundred emotions swelled within him, a torrent of feelings churning in his heart.

He suddenly turned back to his desk.

He picked up a brush and dipped it in ink.

After writing, he picked up the still-damp rice paper, blew on it gently, and walked out of the study.

When he arrived in the courtyard, he found that Bai Xiang was no longer busy in the garden.

She was leaning back in a bamboo chair under the eaves, her eyes gently closed. Her chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of her breath, and she seemed to have fallen asleep.

On the small table beside her lay the hoe she had been using and a half-full cup of water.

She was clearly tired from her work and was taking a short rest.

Jiang Mu didn’t wake her.

He went back inside to get a thin blanket, tiptoed over, and draped it over her. Then, he placed the paper with the poem on the small table next to her, using a teacup to hold down one corner.

After doing all this, he carried his saber to the sand pit and began to practice, following the Saber Manual one move at a time.

But the moment the man turned away, Bai Xiang’s eyes opened.

She looked down at the blanket covering her, her gaze deep and inscrutable, her thoughts impossible to guess.

Then, her gaze fell upon the paper on the table beside her.

Bai Xiang picked up the paper.

She was slightly taken aback when she saw the short poem written on it.

She placed the paper gently on her lap and tilted her head back, gazing past the edge of the eaves at the azure sky.

Her eyes, usually as gentle and clear as an autumn lake, were now veiled in a faint, hazy mist, reflecting the drifting clouds and the light of the sky, weaving a tapestry of loneliness.

After a long time.

She extended a slender finger and swiped it through the air toward the garden.

In a corner of the garden, on two freshly unfurled flower petals, faint vein-like patterns appeared, transforming into elegant script.

On one petal, the word "Morning."

On the other, the word "Fragrance."

She unfolded the paper in her hand again, her red lips parting as she softly recited:

"This garden, though so narrow, is for me a world in bloom."

"I watch the water feed the greens, and share its life with yellow blooms."

"The air feels warm when frost descends, a gentle breeze, a banner bends."

"I smile and grasp my bamboo cane; when will the day come I lean on it and go home again?"

When she reached the last line, she paused for a long time, a thousand emotions seeming to churn in the depths of her eyes.

"...when will the day come I lean on it and go home again..."

"...When will that day come..."

She slowly closed her eyes, as if whispering in a dream, "...home."