I Really Like the Male Supporting Character (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 41

“Luoyin!”

High in the sky, a man cloaked in blood-red robes held a young woman tightly in his arms. His dark red pupils seemed as if they were about to bleed, and his usual indifferent and stoic face was, for the first time, marked with an expression of sheer madness.

Daoist Master Lu Cang, who had never once bowed his head or bent his back, now hung his head low. His usually upright posture sagged under the weight of his grief, as though he wished to merge the lifeless girl in his arms into his very soul.

Outside the formation, a group of powerful cultivators exchanged glances. One of them muttered, “Could it be that his little disciple has taken her own life?”

Another sighed and said, “I never imagined that Lu Cang, who never showed emotion, would love so deeply and fiercely once his feelings were awakened.”

“Lin Luoyin is dead, and Lu Cang won’t last much longer either. Perhaps we should just withdraw and let things be.”

Just as the words left his mouth, someone else cried out in alarm, “No! Look at Lu Cang!”

All eyes turned toward the centre of the formation. Lu Cang still kept his head bowed, silver strands of hair draping over the pair like a curtain. His posture hadn’t changed at all. Yet, the horrific wounds on his body were healing at an astonishing speed, and his aura was growing stronger and stronger. If his strength before was equivalent to that of a Deity Transformation cultivator, it now skyrocketed straight to the peak of the Great Ascension realm!

Moments ago, his Dao heart had shattered, and his Dao foundation had collapsed. He was on the brink of death—yet, in an instant, he had returned to his peak strength!

This incomprehensible transformation left the onlookers in utter disbelief.

“How is this possible? His injuries… they’re completely healed!”

“No, look closer! He’s turned into a demonic entity! His body is brimming with demonic energy!”

“I heard a rumor from twenty years ago that the Demon realm obtained an extraordinary treasure—the primal demon pearl. Could Lin Luoyin be the physical manifestation of that pearl?”

“Yes! She sacrificed herself to rebuild his demonic form…”

Before the speaker could finish, a chilling voice cut through the air like a blade. 

“Silence.”

Lu Cang slowly raised his head. His eyes glowed a terrifying blood red. While holding the pink-robed girl tightly with one arm, he extended his other hand and struck downward. A surge of massive energy radiated outward, and the six individuals maintaining the formation were flung backwards as though they were struck by a hurricane.

This version of Lu Cang bore no resemblance to the snow-white-clad, otherworldly deity he had once been. Now, he was like a vengeful ghost that had clawed his way out of hell.

He attacked with relentless ferocity and showed no mercy.

At first, the six tried to join forces. They were confident in their combined strength. After all, they were among the most powerful cultivators in the world, each only a step away from overcoming tribulation and ascending. Surely, together, they could take down even Lu Cang.

But the brutal battle soon made one thing clear: they were no match for him. Even though they were on the same cultivation level, the gap between them and Lu Cang was insurmountable.

Lu Cang’s fame hadn’t been in vain. His mastery of Dao techniques was unparalleled, and his methods were both unpredictable and terrifying. No one could anticipate his next move or escape his deadly strikes.

Every time he attacked, he precisely incapacitated one of them. In less than half an incense stick of time, three of the six had fallen.

The remaining three quickly decided to retreat, but Lu Cang anticipated their every move. Like a grim reaper harvesting lives, he blocked their escape routes and slaughtered them one by one.

“Lu Cang, you’ve slaughtered your fellow disciples and committed heinous sins! Aren’t you afraid of divine retribution?!” the last survivor cried out, his face ashen and voice trembling.

Lu Cang approached him slowly. With an outstretched hand, a longsword materialised and pierced through the man’s inner core.

“You will all serve as her burial companions,” he said coldly.

The vast snowy plain fell silent once more, with only the howling wind and swirling snow echoing through the air.

Lin Qingyun stood frozen in place and stared blankly at her master’s retreating back. She couldn’t recover her senses for a long time.

Lu Cang cradled his lifeless disciple as he slowly turned around. His icy red eyes glanced indifferently at Lin Qingyun, then he turned back and walked away, step by step, into the endless expanse of white snow.

The once pristine snowfield was now drenched in blood, but the falling snow soon covered the stains and returned it to its boundless purity.

The snow bore a trail of lonely and desolate footprints stretching far into the distance.

Lu Cang’s ice and snow Dao realm was utterly destroyed. The pure, boundless snowfield within his heart had collapsed, the glaciers melted, and the world of untainted white transformed into an endless void of black.

In that dark expanse, only a single towering cherry blossom tree stood. Its pink blossoms cascaded like a rain of petals. They blanketed the ground with a soft, pink-white carpet.

Lu Cang gently laid the sleeping girl beneath the cherry blossom tree. Her delicate face was fair and serene, and her lips curved slightly upward; she seemed as if she were simply lost in a sweet dream.

But those bright, lively eyes of hers would never open again.

Fortunately, in her final moment, he had managed to capture a wisp of her remnant soul.

That wisp of soul resided within his chest and glowed faintly like a blue flame. Day by day, he nourished it with his own essence. He patiently and painstakingly strengthened it.

By this time, Lu Cang’s name had once again spread far and wide—this time for slaughtering the six elders of Guiyuan Sect.

Those who had once taken advantage of the situation to insult and condemn him all fell silent. In the face of absolute strength, rumours and slander dissipated like smoke in the wind.

Lu Cang was, without question, the strongest cultivator of his time. No one could defeat him. Even the mighty Guiyuan Sect, after crossing him, suffered the loss of over half its elite fighting force. For many years afterwards, the sect remained weakened and ultimately lost its title as the foremost immortal sect to another rising power.

Strangely, despite the infamy he gained for single-handedly bringing Guiyuan Sect to its knees, falling in love with his own disciple, and slaughtering six Great Ascension-realm cultivators in the snowfields of the Far North, the world still addressed him with reverence as ‘Daoist Master.’

In fact, young cultivators began idolising him in droves.

Stories of his tragic love with his young disciple, Lin Luoyin, spread far and wide. Within a few short years, the tale of the Daoist master and his disciple became a legend throughout the cultivation world.

Over time, other cases of romantic relationships between masters and disciples began to surface. After what had happened with Lu Cang, most people simply turned a blind eye. After all, who would dare to oppose such a union and risk provoking another Lu Cang-like figure?

Slowly, relationships between masters and disciples became less taboo. Instead of outright condemnation, people began to accept such unions and recognised that they were no longer rare occurrences.

After leaving Guiyuan Sect, Lu Cang’s whereabouts became a mystery. Some claimed to have seen him in the Ten Thousand Mountains; others swore they encountered a white-haired, white-robed figure near the entrance to the Abyss of the Demon Realm. Some others insisted they spotted someone resembling the Daoist master wandering among mortals.

The rumours varied, and no one could pinpoint his exact location. Occasionally, however, word would spread that he had slain another infamous demon who had committed heinous crimes.

Though it was widely known that Lu Cang had embraced his demonic side, he never behaved like a typical demon. Instead, he continued to eliminate evil and uphold justice, much as he had always done.

He was a demon in form but still human at heart.

This was why the cultivation world continued to revere him. It was also why young cultivators, fresh on their paths, saw him as a role model.

Time passed in the blink of an eye. Two hundred years flew by, and the cultivation world’s prominent figures had long since changed.

The once-dazzling white-robed Daoist master was no longer a hot topic of discussion. Instead, the cultivation world now buzzed about a woman known as the Cold Moon Immortal, Lin Qingyun.

Lin Qingyun was a prodigy blessed with a natural sword constitution. After the catastrophe that struck Guiyuan Sect two centuries ago, the sect kept an exceptionally low profile. It wasn’t until Lin Qingyun ascended to the Great Ascension stage at under three hundred years old that the sect once again caught the world’s attention.

When people looked into her background, they discovered that the Cold Moon Immortal was none other than the Daoist master’s eldest disciple and the elder sister of Lin Luoyin!

The irony of it all was not lost on anyone. Had Guiyuan Sect not interfered with the master-disciple relationship back then, none of this would have happened. By now, master-disciple romances had become common enough in nearly every sect, and most people had learned to accept them.

Instead, one was dead, another lived a life of loneliness, and the third had lost both her master and her sister. Truly, it was a tragedy beyond words.

This served as a lesson for everyone in the cultivation world: mind your own business. The secret to longevity was a broad heart and an open mind.

On a bitterly cold winter night, a blanket of snow turned the world into a silver wonderland.

In a small, dimly lit thatched hut within a remote village, a farmer’s wife lay on a straw bed, clutching her round belly and wailing in pain.

Outside, her husband, a simple and honest farmer, was sweating profusely as he chopped wood to boil water. His mother, seasoned and experienced, barked instructions to her daughter-in-law while occasionally feeding her a sip of sugar water.

“Guizhi, this baby better show some promise,” the old woman said. “We already have two girls at home. This one must be a boy.”

Outside the hut, two little girls, no more than three or four years old, pressed their innocent faces against the window. Their wide eyes were curiously watching the scene inside.

Not long after, the woman let out a piercing scream, followed by the sharp cries of a newborn. The old woman eagerly inspected the baby’s legs, but her expression darkened instantly. 

“Another girl!” she snapped.

Hearing this, the exhausted woman on the bed began to cry while the farmer outside lowered his head. The anticipation on his face vanished completely.

“Throw her away,” the old woman commanded coldly. “Take her far enough into the snow. She won’t last long in this weather.”

Ignoring the tears streaming down her daughter-in-law’s face and the silent plea in her eyes, she wrapped the newborn in a rough cloth and thrust the bundle into her son’s hands.

The farmer lowered his head and said nothing. While holding the baby, he trudged silently out into the snowy wilderness.

The forest was quiet. Its trees were barren and lifeless. He trudged through the thick snow, and each step he took was slow and heavy. The tiny baby in his arms whimpered weakly, though her cries were barely audible over the cold wind.

Finally, he couldn’t bear it anymore. He took off his outer coat and wrapped it around the infant before placing her gently by the side of a path. 

He stood there for a long moment, hesitating. However, in the end, he steeled himself and walked away without looking back.

The baby’s cries grew softer and weaker after her father left her behind. Her tiny face turned pale blue from the cold, and her expression twisted into a frown.

Suddenly, from the distance, a white-haired, white-robed man appeared out of thin air. He was tall and elegant, with sharp, godlike features. His crimson eyes gleamed like deep, silent pools.

He walked across the snow without leaving a single footprint. Though he seemed far away at first, with each step he took, he closed the distance at an impossibly fast speed.

In just a few strides, he stood before the abandoned infant. He crouched down and gently scooped her up, then cradled the tiny, whimpering baby in his arms.

A flick of his fingers unravelled the tattered cloth around her, leaving the baby bare. He wrapped her carefully in the folds of his wide sleeve and let his touch radiate warmth to her. Slowly, the baby’s pale complexion turned rosy, and her breathing grew steady.

Her little face scrunched up as her damp eyelashes fluttered. After much struggle, she finally opened her eyes—they were clear, black, and sparkling like fresh dew.

The infant gazed up at the white-robed man hovering over her. Then, as if she had recognised him, she suddenly broke into a pure, radiant smile. She reached out with her tiny hand and grabbed a strand of his silver hair that had drifted close, then wrapped it tightly around her fingers. She refused to let it go.

“Luoyin…”