Chapter 174: The Sage

One second.

This spacious, bright, and magnificently furnished living room looked as if a violent storm had swept through it, leaving a complete mess.

Including those expensive pieces of furniture, everything suffered varying degrees of damage.

The portraits hanging all over the living room sustained the most severe destruction.

Including that largest portrait, every single painting, accompanied by Kawakami Eiko's piercing wails, turned into a pile of dust — after they suffered Tang Luo's devastating strikes.

The raging wind stopped, and Tang Luo sat on the sofa that had barely remained intact, holding a rectangular painting in his hand.

The Kawakami Eiko in the painting wore a bright, captivating smile, exuded irresistible allure, and was dressed in a black evening gown.

A low-cut one at that; a deep cleavage and surging waves seemed about to "leap out of the painting."

In a trance, she looked just like a real person.

A true paper waifu!

Even more precious was that, right beside this paper waifu, stood a real Kawakami Eiko who looked exactly the same, wearing the same sexy evening gown.

It was practically a shut-in's gospel, double the joy — lick whichever one you want.

Aside from causing kidney deficiency, there were no other drawbacks.

"Can I take it that you just got lucky?" Tang Luo reached out and slowly brushed his hand over the painting.

The Kawakami Eiko beside him trembled slightly along with Tang Luo's movements.

It was as if Tang Luo's fingers were some sharp blade slowly slicing across her body, capable of severing her form at any moment.

"Or is it that you won't die as long as a single painting remains?" Tang Luo asked.

"Y-yes." Kawakami Eiko was truly afraid this time; any shred of teasing intent was completely erased.

The reason she could be this wanton, wanton in every sense of the word, was naturally because she had many portraits.

Even if she were killed outside and turned into a painted skin, as long as her portraits weren't all destroyed, she, Kawakami Eiko, would not die.

So many portraits in this living room, so many "bodies," would elevate Kawakami Eiko's charm to its limit.

Even as a woman, a mere glance could instantly pleasure her to the point of kidney deficiency, to the point of kidney depletion that harms the body.

Men, needless to say.

No one could withstand it.

The portraits weren't objects that could be casually damaged either; at least normal fire burning or knife slashing couldn't destroy these portraits.

A nigh-immortal body!

With such a trait, Kawakami Eiko was naturally wanton to the extreme.

But now, she truly didn't dare.

The painting in Tang Luo's hand was her last "lifesaving straw"; if Tang Luo killed her painted skin outside.

Kawakami Eiko could at least return to the painting, reappear, and not even suffer any consumption.

But if this painting were destroyed by Tang Luo, Kawakami Eiko would truly breathe her last, thoroughly "dead."

Her true body doesn't exist inside these paintings; rather, every single painting can be the "true body."

If Tang Luo picked slowly, even a full-body roam wouldn't let him choose the correct portrait.

Master Xuanzang, a man of righteousness, the man who entered and exited the Kingdom of Women seven times — how could he fall into such a full set?

Naturally, with keen insight, he saw through Kawakami Eiko's scheme and seized her lifeline in one move.

"Looks like this is the last one." Tang Luo, pinching Kawakami Eiko's lifeline, glanced at her.

Kawakami Eiko nodded with great reluctance.

This was indeed the last one; with her narcissistic personality, such beautiful portraits would absolutely not be stored away, left in some corner to gather dust.

Hanging them in such a luxurious house, unknown to outsiders, was already Kawakami Eiko's greatest concession.

Kawakami Eiko wasn't even willing to cover the portraits with a cloth.

Moreover, even if Kawakami Eiko truly overcame her flaw and hid the portraits, Tang Luo could just cast Soul Ferry and follow the vine to find the melon.

"Good." Tang Luo casually tossed the portrait aside, just like throwing trash, making Kawakami Eiko's heart jump in fright.

"Go, send An'an upstairs, get ready; we're staying here tonight." Tang Luo said.

Kawakami Eiko acted no different from a little wife: "Yes." She instantly exuded a Yamato Nadeshiko aura.

This morning I learned the situation of Tang Luo's original body's rental apartment, and incidentally refused a newly rich woman's happy ball.

At noon I went to Chu Chongtian's house, opened a new dungeon, cleared it directly in the afternoon, and incidentally resolved Hanako in the toilet.

Harvested quite a bit of merit power; the whole day passed very fulfillingly and meaningfully.

Tang Luo had no intention of working overtime through the night; he planned to rest a bit and continue acting on behalf of heaven tomorrow.

Of course, if the Slit-Mouthed Woman or the Corridor Mimic Ghost came knocking, Tang Luo would also be very happy to turn them into merit.

"I like survival missions."

Tang Luo said from the bottom of his heart; among God-Demon Walkers, there definitely wasn't anyone who loved survival missions more than him.

Hope the next mission is also a survival mission.

Roughly calculating: six missions total, survival missions appeared twice, maintaining this 33.333... % ratio, which is not bad.

Perhaps for other God-Demon Walkers, survival missions are more dangerous than general missions, terrible — they're what they least want to face.

After all, general missions at least still have the possibility of lying low for a wave; even if the mission fails, at least you can stay alive.

But survival missions — failure means death.

There's absolutely no room for negotiation; general missions tell you a certain place is dangerous, a knife at your neck forcing you to go.

If you really don't want to go, you won't necessarily get your throat slit.

But survival missions — danger chases you; if you can't run, it's a slit throat.

The dove occupies the magpie's nest; Tang Luo lay on Kawakami Eiko's soft big bed, pondering which fierce ghost to ferry tomorrow, going by the temperament of survival missions.

Actually, it's not really necessary for Tang Luo to deliberately seek it out; just wandering around the city aimlessly would probably attract a ghost to possess him.

Tang Luo has no doubt that they, these few demonic wanderers, possess a constitution here that "attracts fierce ghosts."

Kill one, and not long after, a second will appear, then a third.

From this perspective, if you don't eliminate the fierce ghost already eyeing you and instead just contend with it, won't you avoid encountering another fierce ghost?

There is indeed some possibility of that, but there's also the possibility of a group of fierce ghosts swarming in together.

For a survival mission, getting a bit of breathing time is already not bad.

The possibility of just loafing until the end is really not high.

"Speaking of which, there are still two demonic wanderers I haven't met; I don't know if they're dead or alive." He muttered softly, took off his glasses, Tang Luo closed his eyes, "I'm going to sleep."

The Heavenly Hound beside the pillow leapt up, slapping a paw against the wall's light switch.

The room plunged into darkness; outside, the pure moonlight streamed through the curtain's gap, casting a beam of light with a hint of blue into the room.

The Heavenly Hound returned to the edge of the pillow, lying down again.

Turning off the lights is what a mature dog should do.

Early the next morning, in the garden clearing outside the villa, Tang Luo took out the Cursed House and enlarged it.

"Go in by yourself." Tang Luo said to Kawakami Jiangzi, who was holding his own portrait, letting people move themselves—very domineering.

Kawakami Jiangzi stared at the gloomy, ghost-filled house, moving her steps with difficulty.

She was quite clear that once she put her portrait inside the house, her "entire life" would be changed.

"If you behave well, I'll let you retain your consciousness." Tang Luo said.

As the master of the Cursed House, he can let the house permanently keep Kawakami Jiangzi inside, making her no different from the many fierce ghosts within.

He can also grant her some privileges, allowing Kawakami Jiangzi to maintain her self, equivalent to imprisonment.

How does that sound so strange? It feels like not something a good person would do.

Actually, no—this is the normal operation of a monastic person; things like the Shu Mountain Demon-Locking Pagoda or the Shaolin Temple's Demon-Subduing Pagoda are of the same nature.

The Thunder Sound Temple on Spirit Mountain also has similar places.

Tang Luo had previously entered there twice; why only twice?

Because this guy was worried that after he entered, the precept monk arhats or whatever would suddenly smash a cup as a signal, and thousands of vajra warriors would rush out and swarm him, truly locking him inside.

Tang Luo has always been on guard against that.

As for why he still needs to go in while being on guard—of course, it's better to be prepared than sorry.

When he was actually locked inside, he also gained some understanding, preparing for escape.

Back then, during his days on Spirit Mountain, it was also very fulfilling.

Now, looking back, it's all Tang Luo's lost youth, wits and courage pitted against the air—no, wait, it should be said as preparing for a rainy day.

Even though he eventually suddenly returned and found it useless, one cannot be without caution toward people.

Kawakami Jiangzi entered the Cursed House, and Tang Luo also walked in, just seeing her wandering around, looking for a suitable spot to scrape the portrait.

She demanded it be conspicuous, able to fully display her beauty—one could say she's completely hopeless.

"Here will do." Tang Luo took the portrait, threw it into the toilet, and hung it above the flush toilet.

There just happened to be a nail there.

Kawakami Jiangzi opened her mouth, her face full of despair; she was wrong, she really was wrong.

She should have hung it on the staircase facing the door from the start; she shouldn't have disliked the staircase's lighting.

Kawakami Jiangzi dared not defy Tang Luo's decision; if she raised an objection, this heartless, cold man might just throw her portrait directly onto the floor, letting people trample on it.

"Just stare blankly, then." Tang Luo said, turned around, walked out of the Cursed House, and retracted it.

Before he even returned to the villa, the back door opened; An'an came out with a cold face, holding two large kitchen knives— the kind capable of chopping through thigh bones.

"Master." Seeing Tang Luo, An'an greeted him; that face was still somewhat tense.

"What's this?" Tang Luo felt a bit strange.

"Nothing much, just finding the human world boring." An'an said, without a doubt, this is the sage's time.

A girl of eighteen, in the prime of her youth, suddenly one day, being looked at with "glances" in a way that pleased her to the point of near dehydration—how could she not become a sage?

"Girl, want to go monastic with this poor monk?" Tang Luo suddenly asked.

"Ah? No need." An'an shook her head; becoming a monk or whatever, better forget it, though she'd definitely act as a "cold goddess" for a while—colder than the flower on the high peak.

The large kitchen knife in her hand had already explained everything.