The Demon Lord Wants a Vacation - Chapter 6: Goodwill Stat

Although Luo Xianyun was running low on spiritual energy, he could still pilot a flying boat with ease.

His vessel was shaped like a feather over ten meters long—tapered at both ends and widening to nearly four meters at the center, forming a subtle concave surface.

The moment Duanmu Wuqiu boarded, he could hardly sit upright. The boat didn’t just resemble a goose feather in appearance—sinking into it felt like falling into a bed of down.

Luo Xianyun had constructed this feathered boat as part of his training to cultivate willpower.

There existed a tenet among the righteous: those who were powerful must not indulge in excess. Cultivators, walking the path of defiance against heaven, needed to curb their mortal impulses—for their goals were inherently contrary to human nature.

A cultivator on the righteous path must not chase after comfort and indulgence. Discipline, restraint, and clarity of purpose were essential.

After all, a Golden Core cultivator, left unchecked, could topple a nation with ease. The stronger one’s power, the more critical it became to exercise self-control.

Hence, every time a righteous cultivator ascended in cultivation, it was necessary to temper their mental state, to prevent their desires from spiraling out of control alongside their power.

The demonic path, in contrast, required no such mental refinement. Demonic cultivators, unrestrained by discipline, often grew drunk on power, viewing all beneath them as insignificant and committing unspeakable acts.

Without the balance provided by righteous sects, demonic cultivators might have long since turned the mortal realm into a wasteland, reducing all life to ash save for one final, solitary survivor.

Luo Xianyun’s downy feather boat was deliberately crafted for this test of will. It was excessively soft and relaxing, designed to tempt one into indulgence—yet he always sat straight-backed, resisting the urge to relax.

Duanmu Wuqiu, however, had no such resistance. The moment he settled into the boat’s plush embrace, sleep began to tug at him.

This boat, he thought drowsily, was even more comfortable than his newly acquired bed.

Seeing him sprawled inelegantly across the deck, collar open and robes disheveled, Luo Xianyun almost couldn’t bear the sight. But though he was rigorous with himself, he was indulgent toward others.

What was suitable for his own cultivation might not be appropriate for someone else. He wouldn’t impose his practices on others.

After all, there were monks who ate meat and drank wine, believing that adherence to Buddhist principles resided in the heart. Perhaps Duanmu Wuqiu subscribed to a similar logic.

But Luo Xianyun would never compromise his own standards. If something displeased him, he acted on it.

With a flick of his sleeve, a white cloak—woven from the embroidered clouds of his robe—fluttered down and covered Duanmu Wuqiu.

Now he no longer had to behold such unrefined posture.

He even gave me a blanket! Duanmu Wuqiu was stunned. He had never been treated this kindly in his life. His goodwill toward Luo Xianyun soared.

He had just been thinking about snuggling into Luo Xianyun’s robe, when the man had offered it without being asked.

Was this what they called a fated bond? An unspoken understanding?

Duanmu Wuqiu gazed up at Luo Xianyun.

Luo Xianyun, catching the look in his eyes, couldn’t very well say “You looked unsightly.” So instead, he offered a faint smile. “The winds at high altitude can be sharp. This will shield you. If you dislike it, you may toss it aside.”

Why would he do that?

Duanmu Wuqiu curled up in the cloak like a cat. “Then this Lord would be remiss to refuse.”

An unspoken accord formed between them.

Luo Xianyun’s spiritual reserves were depleted, so the boat drifted at a leisurely pace.

The gentle rocking lulled Duanmu Wuqiu into slumber.

Meanwhile, the Destruction System continued to whisper in his dreams, urging him to kill Luo Xianyun. The “accept” button flashed red.

Eventually, Duanmu Wuqiu shouted in the dream: “I’m not doing it! I’m not killing him! If you keep pestering this Lord, I’ll tear you out of my soul even if it rips me apart!”

The system sounded mildly exasperated. [If you do not eliminate Luo Xianyun, you will die.]

“How long do I have?”

[Forty-nine years. But if you spend those years preparing to destroy the world, you will achieve immortality.]

Duanmu Wuqiu scoffed. “So I have to work nonstop for forty-nine years just for the chance to destroy the world. And after I do, what then? How long do I get to rest?”

The system hesitated. [System data ends at the destruction of the world.]

“So you don’t know.”

[Correct.]

Duanmu Wuqiu, who had eradicated countless demonic sects and united the demonic path under his own banner—the Taoyuan Sect—understood just how difficult it was to build something from nothing.

It had taken him ten years to subjugate every wayward demonic cultivator and consecrate their blood in the Shanhe Records.

“If I destroy the world, either I die with it, or I become a god and have to rebuild it all from scratch. In both cases, I still have to keep working.”

“But this Lord… is not working right now. He’s napping. On a boat. That feels like a cloud.”

“Compared to your options, I’d rather enjoy these forty-nine years. Let whatever happens, happen.”

With that, he sank deeper into sleep, tuning out the system entirely.

He vaguely sensed its inner workings becoming unstable.

Its last message: [System logic circuit compromised. Initiating rebuild. Please wait.]

Who has the patience to wait for you, Duanmu Wuqiu thought.

But truly, few could vanquish their inner demon simply through the power of rhetoric.

By the time they arrived at Lingdu Peak, Duanmu Wuqiu still hadn’t stirred.

Throughout the journey, the Beichen Sect Master had privately relayed information to Luo Xianyun, cautioning him about Duanmu Wuqiu’s volatility.

“Beware. He may appear courteous, but his temperament is erratic and his true motives unknown. We still don’t know how he subdued Song Gui—he remains sealed, eyes frozen, mouth clamped shut. Our strongest cultivators can’t undo what he’s done. His strength surpasses us.”

Only the World-Waking Bell could restrain him, should it come to that.

Guards had already been stationed at the bell. If Luo Xianyun felt the slightest threat, he need only break a message talisman, and the bell would toll instantly.

Upon receiving this warning, Luo Xianyun approached the sleeping Duanmu Wuqiu. He studied him, then extended a finger to press the space between his brows.

The glabella—where soul and body connected—was a cultivator’s most vital aperture. Even in deep unconsciousness, instinct would prevent any touch there.

But Duanmu Wuqiu allowed it.

He didn’t awaken.

Could he truly be the monstrous figure everyone feared?

To Luo Xianyun, Duanmu Wuqiu was honest to a fault.

He killed when he said he would, but he never made false overtures. When he wanted to talk, he did so with no deceit.

To earn Luo Xianyun’s trust, he had fully dropped his guard.

Could a person so sincere truly be untrustworthy?

Still, Luo Xianyun wouldn’t dismiss the Sect Master’s concerns. He tucked the talisman into his sleeve, ready to act if needed.

And then, something strange happened.

A translucent bar appeared in his field of vision, slowly filling—a progress bar.

He seated himself in meditation and waited.

Ten hours passed.

Duanmu Wuqiu woke, warm and rested beneath the soft cloak, reclining on a feathered boat that felt like drifting through the realm of immortals.

Luo Xianyun, sensing him stir, waved his sleeve over a small table. A teapot and two cups materialized.

“Daoist Duanmu,” he said gently, “would you care for some tea?”

Duanmu Wuqiu stumbled to the table and downed his tea in a single uncultured gulp.

The tea was sweet and rich in spiritual energy. Warmth bloomed in his chest.

Never had he slept so soundly. Never had he tasted tea so divine.

He looked at Luo Xianyun, his goodwill rising again.

“Daoist Duanmu,” Luo Xianyun asked, “have you come to the Beichen Sect for a particular reason?”

Duanmu Wuqiu didn’t hesitate. “This Lord has an inner demon urging him to destroy the world. It’s driven him mad. You righteous types should help, shouldn’t you?”

Luo Xianyun didn’t dismiss his words. Having survived the calamity two centuries prior, he knew better than anyone that it had not truly ended—merely been postponed by the Seven Stars of Deliverance.

Someone speaking of the end of the world? He took that very seriously.

“I’ll help however I can,” he replied solemnly. “What form does this inner demon take? Describe it to me.”

So Duanmu Wuqiu told him everything about the Destruction System.

Every so often, the system chimed in, warning him not to disclose its existence. He ignored it.

At last, the system threatened: [System restructuring underway. Punishment protocols will be installed.]

Luo Xianyun was deeply learned. The more he listened, the more he realized—this wasn’t an inner demon, but another consciousness. Perhaps a manifestation of fate.

Throughout history, heaven’s chosen had often seemed to possess divine assistance. This “Destruction System” appeared to be a concrete form of that phenomenon.

He’d never heard of such a thing taking literal shape and issuing verbal tasks. But the mystery was clear.

Just then, the progress bar in front of him filled completely.

A voice echoed in his ears.

[Ding! The Savior System has locked onto its target. Searching for compatible host…]

[Link established. Luo Xianyun, will you accept the mission to save the world?]

Luo Xianyun, having just heard of the Destruction System: …

Why had he suddenly become a chosen one too?

Was this Savior System a direct response to the Destruction System?

If so, he had to accept. He would stand in opposition.

He answered calmly: “I accept. Tell me—how do I save this world?”

Savior System: [The destroyer’s identity has been confirmed. Duanmu Wuqiu holds abnormally high goodwill toward you. Recommended strategy: Romance Route.]

Luo Xianyun: …

Several bars appeared before his eyes, displaying Duanmu Wuqiu’s goodwill levels.

Every other person’s stat was under ten.

Luo Xianyun’s alone was at 60.

He asked, cautiously, “Honored system, are you advising that I guide him toward righteousness through emotional connection? To pacify his urge to destroy the world?”

He carefully omitted the word “romance.”

But the system wasn’t having it.

[Romance route. Embrace him! Kiss him! Now!]

Luo Xianyun: …

His gaze, against his will, drifted to Duanmu Wuqiu’s lips.

Duanmu Wuqiu, sipping tea contentedly, noticed the stare.

He set down his cup and grinned. “Why are you looking at this Lord like that? Is my smile too wicked?”

His smile had always terrified his enemies.

Luo Xianyun shook his head. “No… I may have finally grasped the shape of your inner demon.”

And just like that, Duanmu Wuqiu’s goodwill jumped five points. Now at 65.

Savior System: [Ding ding ding ding ding!]

Luo Xianyun massaged his temples, feeling a headache begin to brew.

Noticing this, Duanmu Wuqiu leaned in, concerned. “Is your injury acting up again? This Lord doesn’t take advantage of the weak. If you’re going to help me exorcise my demon, I’ll help you recover. Just name it. This Lord swears—he’ll get it for you, even if he has to scour the heavens and the underworld.”

Savior System: [Look at that! He likes you! Push him down! Raise his goodwill stat to 100!]

Luo Xianyun: …

—

Author’s Note:

Duanmu Wuqiu: This system is unbearably annoying.

Luo Xianyun: This system is thoroughly indecent.