The Demon Lord Wants a Vacation - Chapter 14: The Shattered Malefic Array

Unaware that Song Gui had fallen victim to the Demonic Sovereign’s mercurial temperament, Luo Xianyun stepped into the valley and inhaled gently. The air here was crisp and invigorating, lifting his spirits almost instantly.

Duanmu Wuqiu had maintained this place with care—it exuded the aura of a secluded paradise, detached from the chaos of the outside world.

The crisp chirping of sparrows echoed through the forest canopy, and a cool breeze swept across Luo Xianyun’s face. Amid this tranquility, he found himself gradually growing fond of the valley.

It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to stay here for a few days, he mused.

His gaze soon fell upon the pond that had so often occupied Duanmu Wuqiu’s thoughts.

As he drew closer, the fish—unfamiliar with fear—gathered eagerly at the surface, their mouths opening and closing in silent plea as they faced him.

Though they were voiceless, Luo Xianyun could almost hear them calling out, Feed me, feed me.

Familiar with Duanmu Wuqiu’s temperament, Luo Xianyun began to understand the subtle distress he had carried.

He crouched beside the pond and extended a hand into the water. The fish swarmed around him, their mouths gently nudging his fingers.

Just then, he heard the sudden barking of a dog.

Turning his head, Luo Xianyun saw Wangcai—the dog Duanmu Wuqiu had named—barking furiously at him, clearly warning him not to pilfer its master’s fish.

“If I really did take a few of these fish,” Luo Xianyun said with a smile, “I think your master would be overjoyed.”

Wangcai, oblivious to his words, barked on with dutiful fervor. It did not charge, but remained steadfast in its post.

Only when Luo Xianyun withdrew his hand from the pond did Wangcai fall silent. Its tail wagged slightly in response to him.

Luo Xianyun had no fear of being bitten.

Since his youth, the world’s creatures had shown him affection. As long as he bore them no malice, all living beings seemed to treat him with reverence.

The more intelligent the animal, the more it would be drawn to him.

If he stood on a mountaintop and extended his hand, birds would alight upon it. As he walked through the woods, serpents, insects, and rodents would instinctively steer clear, unwilling to cause him harm.

This affinity was precisely why Luo Xianyun restrained himself from consuming more than was necessary.

He understood the law of nature—every creature needed to eat to survive. He bore no hatred toward wolves that hunted sheep, nor did he blame sheep for grazing on grass. That was the balance of existence. He could not favor one species while denying another its right to live.

All he could do was hold himself to a higher standard. Since life itself extended goodwill to him, he did his utmost to avoid harming it in return.

Wangcai was no exception—it took to Luo Xianyun instinctively. When he extended a hand, the dog trotted over, tail wagging, its demeanor filled with trust.

Luo Xianyun gently rubbed the top of its head. Wangcai’s ears drooped in contentment, eyes closing as it melted into the sensation.

Delighted by the dog’s innocence, Luo Xianyun couldn’t help but tease it.

Keeping one hand stroking Wangcai’s head, he reached the other toward the pond, feigning an attempt to snatch a fish.

Wangcai reacted instantly, barking with urgency in an effort to thwart the “theft.”

Yet Luo Xianyun continued to scratch its head gently.

Dogs, unable to reach the tops of their heads or backs when scratching, particularly enjoyed being touched in those places.

Though Duanmu Wuqiu was Wangcai’s master, he rarely displayed affection toward the animal and had never patted its head.

This was Wangcai’s first time experiencing such gentle attention. It longed for Luo Xianyun’s touch and couldn’t bear to push his hand away.

But—he was still trying to steal fish!

Conflicted between duty and desire, Wangcai’s barking turned into plaintive whines, equal parts protest and plea.

Unable to keep teasing the poor dog, Luo Xianyun relented and pulled his hand away from the water.

Wangcai voiced two soft, aggrieved barks.

Drying his hand, Luo Xianyun cupped the dog’s head in both palms. “Good boy, Wangcai,” he murmured, comforting it. “Such a loyal and faithful guardian.”

Wangcai didn’t understand the words, but it recognized the tone and basked in the praise. Pressing its head against Luo Xianyun’s neck, it hesitated to lick him, afraid of soiling him, and instead rubbed its head affectionately along his collarbone.

As Luo Xianyun soothed the dog, several birds began to gather around his head. Some had brilliant plumage; others were humble sparrows. Sensing no threat from either man or beast, they alighted on his head and shoulders.

Once perched, they tilted their heads upward and chirped melodiously, as though offering a song in tribute.

Luo Xianyun lingered in their company for a time, playing with both dog and birds, nearly forgetting himself.

Then he rapped his forehead lightly, a quiet admonition.

He couldn’t afford such moments of indulgence—he had a task to complete.

Though he had only spent a short time in the valley, Luo Xianyun now understood how sacred it was to Duanmu Wuqiu.

This was the sanctuary carved out from chaos, the sole remnant of peace in the heart of the Demonic Sovereign.

Duanmu Wuqiu was unbound by laws or morality. The only reason he had managed to restrain his nature was because this haven remained intact—a piece of untainted serenity buried deep within him.

For the sake of this place, he had been willing to lay down his sword.

But Duanmu Wuqiu’s mind was already unstable. Even without the Destruction System, he was haunted by inner demons and often unable to distinguish dream from reality.

If this valley were to fall, he would truly become a demon.

Luo Xianyun pressed his palm against the ground, suppressing his aura and extending his consciousness deep into the earth’s spiritual veins, seeking the source of the disturbance.

Wangcai tilted its head, confused. Its eyes, clear and curious, faintly mirrored Duanmu Wuqiu’s own expression.

Drawing upon years of cultivation and his deep connection with the natural world, Luo Xianyun swiftly detected the formation and discerned its structure.

It was the Earthly Fiend Soul-Devouring Array.

The term “Earthly Fiend” referred to the seventy-two Disha stars. Mirroring those celestial bodies, seventy-two vengeful spirits had been transformed into malevolent entities and sealed within spiritual stones.

These stones had been buried throughout the valley, aligned with the heavenly positions of the Disha stars above.

Once the array was triggered, the evil spirits would ravenously absorb the spiritual energy within the stones, conjuring a phantasmal heavenly demon.

In response, the array would call upon the celestial force of the Disha stars to suppress the demon—seventy-two rays of divine light would descend to smite the afflicted ground.

The array’s spirits were attuned to wicked qi. The heavier the malevolence, the fiercer their reaction—and the more devastating the celestial onslaught.

The Disha stars were summoned to destroy a demon. At full power, this formation could rival the force of eighty-one bolts of divine lightning.

If Duanmu Wuqiu entered the valley without his defenses raised, he would be struck directly by a punishment no less potent than a supreme heavenly tribulation.

By the calculations of those who laid this trap, Duanmu Wuqiu would meet his end here.

But Luo Xianyun was unconvinced.

Back at the Beichen Sect, Duanmu Wuqiu had demonstrated a strange power that distorted space itself. His true capabilities clearly exceeded what he had revealed thus far.

This array might inflict serious harm—but it would not be enough to claim his life.

Song Gui, though steeped in the demonic path, had long accumulated heavy wicked qi through countless killings. When the formation was activated, its wrath would be slightly tempered compared to what Duanmu Wuqiu would have faced, but still beyond what any Law Body cultivator could endure.

He must have relied on the Hidden Wind to survive.

Only Luo Xianyun, untouched by malevolence, would remain invisible to the array’s fury.

Once he had confirmed the nature of the array, the solution became straightforward. Luo Xianyun simply needed to unearth each of the seventy-two spiritual stones and exorcise the malevolent spirits bound within them. Once that was done, the array would naturally collapse.

Letting out a soft sigh, he gave Wangcai a pat on the head and asked, “Is there a shovel around?”

Wangcai tilted its head at him, uncertain of his words. It wagged its tail once or twice, then abruptly took off, clearly beckoning Luo Xianyun to follow.

The dog led him to a small shed hidden behind the thatched cottage. The structure was encased in a robust defensive formation—any intrusion would instantly alert Duanmu Wuqiu. Most cultivators reserved such formations to safeguard their most precious possessions.

Luo Xianyun opened the door and found it stocked not with treasures, but with farm tools and a millstone for grinding tofu. Where Duanmu Wuqiu had procured these items was anyone’s guess. Beside the millstone stood a wooden donkey puppet.

Cultivators often crafted humanoid puppets to handle menial chores like brewing tea or sweeping floors. These mindless constructs, usually made from paper or wood, performed only the tasks they were programmed for. Demonic cultivators often enslaved weaker cultivators or captured mortals for such purposes, while those on the righteous path preferred puppets.

But he had never seen anyone fashion a puppet in the form of a donkey.

The donkey, roughly hewn from wood, was so crude that if not for the word “donkey” engraved into its body, Luo Xianyun might have mistaken it for a malformed table.

Toward the back of the shed stood an even larger and uglier wooden figure labeled “cow”—clearly another puppet, this one for plowing fields.

Luo Xianyun was perplexed. Given his power, Duanmu Wuqiu could easily have seized a real cow and donkey, just as he had collected the fish and adopted Wangcai. Why, then, go through the trouble of making such rudimentary puppets?

After a moment’s reflection, Luo Xianyun understood.

Fish lived in the wild, and catching a few made no real difference. Wangcai had been a stray, unwanted by anyone. Neither act caused harm.

But a cow or donkey represented a family’s livelihood. For a struggling farmer, such animals were invaluable assets—the very cornerstone of survival. For Duanmu Wuqiu to take one would have meant stripping a destitute family of years of hard-earned wealth.

He chose instead to carve crude puppets with his own hands. They sufficed for the task, and in doing so, he avoided burdening the innocent.

Understanding this, Luo Xianyun felt his heart soften.

He retrieved an iron shovel from the shed, equally unrefined in appearance but unmistakably the work of a cultivator. Though coarse in design, its effectiveness far surpassed that of any ordinary tool.

With one swing, he could dig half a meter into the earth. In just a few attempts, he uncovered the first spiritual stone.

Labor such as this posed no threat to Luo Xianyun’s constitution. Within two hours, he had excavated all seventy-two stones.

Each one bore soul-binding talismans, imprisoning within them a vengeful spirit.

Luo Xianyun gazed at the stones, releasing a quiet sigh.

The array was utterly malicious. Each spiritual stone had been formed through the sacrifice of a human life. Worse, these weren’t ordinary deaths—each soul had endured unspeakable torment, dying in agony and clinging to unresolved hatred.

And yet, in these chaotic times, gathering such spirits required little effort. The world was awash with pain and injustice. A brief walk through the mortal realm would yield far more than seventy-two such wraiths.

Though he had found the spiritual stones, they could not be removed. Each was precisely aligned with a celestial coordinate. Until the array was broken, moving them would be impossible.

Luo Xianyun bit his fingertip and used his blood to inscribe exorcism seals onto each stone.

Though he possessed cinnabar ink, it required activation through true essence—and he lacked enough essence to complete seventy-two talismans. He could only rely on the power of his heavenly spiritual root, channeling the virtues he had accumulated and the purity of his blood to purify the spirits.

Once his preparations were complete, he stepped into the center of the array and bowed thrice to the heavens.

With a swift hand, he used his blood to trace seventy-two sigils in the air, one for each spirit.

“I, Luo Xianyun, beseech the seventy-two Disha stars: descend your divine radiance, and cleanse these lost souls,” he intoned, voice ringing clear and resolute.

By substituting his blood for ink and converting the array’s offensive power into spiritual force, he redirected its destructive intent into purifying light.

Summoned by the blood-drawn stars, celestial starlight rained down. Each of the spiritual stones was bathed in this gentle, radiant energy.

The combined force of Luo Xianyun’s spiritual virtue and the heavens’ mercy dissolved the malevolence trapped within. Soft motes of light rose from the stones, forming a gentle glow that spread across the valley like a veil of stars.

As the purification began, Song Gui sensed the shift in energy.

He quickly said to Duanmu Wuqiu, “My Lord, the array has been broken. We can enter.”

By now, Luo Xianyun had been in the valley for over six hours. Duanmu Wuqiu was visibly agitated, his glances at Song Gui growing darker with each passing moment.

Song Gui suspected that if Duanmu Wuqiu hadn’t presented him to the Beichen Sect as a gift, and if his principles didn’t forbid him from harming a gift he had given, he likely would’ve already been killed just to appease the Demonic Sovereign’s mood.

Sensing the change, and fearing for his life, Song Gui had spoken up without delay.

Duanmu Wuqiu stormed into the valley, only to see Luo Xianyun standing at its center, surrounded by countless motes of white light—like a constellation descending to earth.

The exorcised spirits floated around him in reverence, each pausing to gaze upon him one last time, mouths shaping silent words of gratitude, before they gently dispersed into the air.

Overhead, birds flew in slow circles. At his feet, Wangcai bounded joyfully.

It was a vision reminiscent of a celestial immortal walking among mortals.

Luo Xianyun smiled faintly and stroked Wangcai’s head, calming the excitable dog.

As Duanmu Wuqiu stared at his hands, a stray line of poetry surfaced in his otherwise unliterary mind:

The immortals have touched my head—tying my hair, they granted me eternal life.

—

Author’s Note:

Luo Xianyun: Do you even know what that line means?

Duanmu Wuqiu: It means, if an immortal touches my head… he has to marry me.

Luo Xianyun: …

Duanmu Wuqiu is jokingly twisting the original meaning of the poetic line to imply something romantic or possessive.

The line “The immortals have touched my head—tying my hair, they granted me eternal life” (仙人抚我顶，结发受长生) comes from Tao Yuanming’s poetry, and traditionally it expresses a divine blessing—immortals touching the speaker’s head, tying their hair (symbolizing a coming-of-age or a sacred bond), and granting them longevity or enlightenment. It’s a metaphor for being chosen or favored by higher powers.

But Duanmu Wuqiu deliberately misinterprets it in a romantic way:

If an immortal touches my head, he has to marry me.

He’s treating the “touching the head and tying the hair” as a symbolic marriage ritual—implying that Luo Xianyun, in his immortal-like glory, has now “claimed” him and must take responsibility, like a groom tying up a bride’s hair.

It’s both flirty and teasing—a classic moment of comic relief with romantic undertones.