The dusk had passed, and the night grew deeper. More than ten li away from Chen Qianfan’s residence was an icy cave.
Lord Bai huddled in Su Si’s arms, feeling confused for the first time.
There must be some major problem with its ability, but it couldn’t figure out where it went wrong.
Was it when it left the Chigou Sect?
The Chigou Sect took exploring the world’s great tombs as its responsibility, and they especially revered matters related to fortune-telling. When they went to tombs, they even brought talismans to ward off evil spirits and caught special ability monsters to offer them as sacrifices.
Lord Bai was transferred from a side branch of the Chigou Sect to the main branch. It had a strong natural intuition and knew how to ward off evil spirits, making it worthy of the title “a living spirit artifact” in the Chigou Sect.
The main branch of the Chigou Sect was located in the northwest desert. Despite the dry environment, it had its own clean pond. Normally, it slept on the freshest and cleanest straw and ate the most tender grass and fish fry. Those minor noble tombs weren’t even worthy of inviting it to preside over the ritual.
Lord Bai thought it could comfortably spend the rest of its life there.
A few months ago, after it happily finished wringing the neck of one of the human subordinates, it suddenly had an uneasy premonition—the feeling was complex and dense, difficult to explain. It felt like it needed to leave this place, but it didn’t know where to go.
So it could only lie despondently in its nest, using its small brain to think hard about its life as a goose.
Who could have expected that on that evening, a pair of wicked hands would reach into the goose pen? Lord Bai was furious, about to turn back and wring the person’s neck, but its mouth was caught in a noose. The whole goose was stunned—it was a premeditated attack!
However, the premeditated attacker had a good appearance and was skilled in martial arts. He silently picked it up, holding a glistening blade close to its neck.
Lord Bai didn’t struggle, and one of its fleshy antennae tingled, sensing the man’s fortune.
Although Lord Bai always looked down on humans, its brain wasn’t as good as a human’s after all. At that moment, it opened its small, bean-like eyes and made a simple and straightforward judgment—there was something ominous here, but the man’s fortune was very auspicious. So, it followed him without hesitation. What else was there to hesitate about?
Following the wrong person, it would end up being grilled at some restaurant, while accompanying the right one would bring it a joyful life full of food and drink.
However, ever since its “new servant” joined the Kushan Sect, it hadn’t encountered anything good. The declining fortunes of these humans made it almost doubt its goose life. Fortunately, everything seemed to go smoothly for the time being, and the group of people didn’t encounter any major disasters. Su Si became increasingly lively and active, and its premonition wasn’t completely wrong.
Until now.
At this time and place, its “joyful life” was in terrible condition, and it was about to breathe its last breath.
Su Si was huddled in a corner of the cave, his lips turning purple, his face pale, and the blood on his clothes had frozen. A few steps away, a tragic corpse lay on the ground, the robe of the Mishan Sect torn and tattered.
Lord Bai was firmly held in Su Si’s arms, its bean-like eye, in a rare instance, showed not severity, but concern.
Su Si smiled and rubbed its head with his chin.
“You’re not very good at seeking good fortune and avoiding disasters… But you’ve already helped me a lot. Everyone has their own fate, and I’m afraid I can only support you until here.”
Anxiously, Lord Bai twisted its body, breaking free from Su Si’s somewhat cold embrace. While raising its head and making a low honk, it continued to think, trying to find the place where it went wrong and led them astray.
According to its intuition, both of them should survive.
Could today be different?
Early in the morning today, Lord Bai sensed an extremely strong ominous aura. So it nudged Su Si awake, intending to save its own servant.
As expected, Su Si put on his clothes and chased after it murderously.
Over the past few months, Lord Bai had learned about its servant—Su Si was always vigilant, and he never left his butcher knife behind. He was also good at survival and would definitely be able to walk out of the snowy plains alive.
The most convenient thing was that Su Si was quite calm and ruthless, never doing anything useless. Su Si had used other humans before, but he was better at withdrawing in time than anyone else.
What a stable and useful rice bowl.
Lord Bai’s premonition came just in time. As soon as Su Si found the goose demon and was about to run after it, they saw a large group of monsters.
Seeing fresh human flesh, a few small monsters broke away from the group and pounced towards them. Su Si lowered his eyes, and the blade of his butcher knife flashed, splattering blood all over the ground.
So far, this was normal. However, what happened next was that the usually calm human seemed to make a wrong decision—
Faced with danger, Su Si didn’t escape. Instead, he kicked away the corpses of the monsters near his feet and was attracted by the broken runes on the monsters’ skins.
As the young Patriarch of the Chigou Sect, Su Si didn’t need to learn spellcasting and formations. However, he had to learn the basic formations often used by enemies and the sinister arts commonly used in tombs.
“Before, I only found these ghostly talismans annoying, but now I have to thank that old hag.”
Su Si picked up the inconspicuous pale piece of paper and carefully examined it in his palm.
“You called me out for this? …It’s just a simple formation-breaking technique. But someone deliberately tore the symbols into snow and spread them among the monsters, concealing the spell within the monster’s qi.”
“Did they want to weaken the protection formation without anyone noticing? Hmm, San Zi, Sect Master Shi, and Senior Yin should be fine…”
Lord Bai blinked its eyes, eagerly waiting for Su Si to take it away—the goose demon didn’t understand any spell or formation, and it was annoyed by the ominous aura of this place.
If it were before, Su Si would have run away already. But this time, he stood still, muttering incomprehensible words like “chasing the culprit” and “breaking the formation”.
It didn’t come to save him and be idle!
Lord Bai was furious, and it bit Su Si’s leg with one bite. Unfortunately, it was freezing cold, and Su Si’s clothes weren’t thin enough. Its bite was in vain, and it could only flap its wings anxiously.
“I know, we need to find the person who cast the spell quickly.” Su Si glanced at Lord Bai. “I don’t understand the spell, and Chen Qianfan’s protection formation won’t hold up for too long.”
“Honk!!!” What do you know? What does it matter what they’re doing!
However, Su Si only tightened his clothes, wrapping Lord Bai inside his robes, and continued forward following the horde of monsters.
…Fine, it didn’t care anymore. Anyway, it didn’t sense any ominous signs of trouble. As long as it and its servant weren’t going to die, it didn’t mind dawdling a bit longer.
Lord Bai felt somewhat disgruntled.
Of the three people from the Kushan Sect, except for the one with red eyes who was somewhat still human, the other two were much stranger. Su Si didn’t have fresh grass and fish fry, nor did it have its own clear pool. It couldn’t understand why Su Si was so attached to the Kushan Sect.
Half a day later, Su Si successfully found the remote spellcaster. However, the person was more cautious than they imagined and stronger than they anticipated.
The two fought for a full three hours while Lord Bai trembled behind a giant rock in the cave the entire time—it could only predict fortune and misfortune and had no knowledge of any spells. Any random spell that came their way could instantly send it to its demise.
Moreover, the spells that exploded in front of them were more than anything it had seen in its entire life.
Its servant exhausted all his strength before finally ending his opponent’s life. But when the enemy fell, Su Si was also covered in injuries, and he could barely stand steadily.
Under normal circumstances, these injuries wouldn’t be enough to take his life in one go. But here was the desolate and uninhabited northern region, where even someone in good health could easily freeze to death.
Lord Bai was almost frightened by Su Si’s situation.
His servant’s death was imminent, and it would be left alone in the icy and snowy wilderness, uncertain about its own fate.
Yet, it still couldn’t sense any ominous aura. Did its fleshy antennae get frostbite? Or was it too cold here, and it was weakened due to hunger and lack of vitality?
“Honk! Honk!” Lord Bai stumbled and ran towards the corpse, hopping and yelling on the body.
According to Su Si’s character, he should have gone to gnaw on the corpse. If he ate something, he might have more strength to support himself.
But Su Si just shook his head wearily.
“They will definitely come looking for me. Unfortunately, the horde of monsters won’t disperse for a while, and this place is well hidden. They probably won’t arrive until after sunrise… Even if I eat the corpse, I won’t survive until then. I don’t want them… to see me in that disgusting state.”
He exhaled a breath of cold air and even revealed a trace of a weak smile.
“Besides, even if I want to eat something, I should eat you first.”
“Honk!” What the hell! This is completely outrageous!
“Lord Bai, come over here.” Su Si’s voice suddenly became steadier.
Lord Bai stomped the ground, trying to appear majestic, and walked over. It hadn’t even stabilized its posture when something warm was added to its body. It lowered its head and saw a piece of warm red jade.
“I found it on that bastard’s body. It’s probably a little gadget they used to warm their fingers when casting spells. You wear this and go far away… You can go anywhere.”
“Honk?”
When something was unusual, there must be something demonic behind it. It was freezing cold here; how could this person bear to give away such a treasure?
“You’re small in size, so you can use this to protect yourself. In my current condition, just warming a finger won’t help… I don’t want to struggle to survive for a short time. It’s not worth it.”
Su Si seemed to have figured something out and smiled even more brightly.
“Doesn’t this line sound quite ‘heroic’?”
What a mess! Lord Bai, with the warm red jade on its chest, went to twist Su Si’s hand again.
However, Su Si didn’t respond anymore. He half-closed his eyes, not knowing if he was resting or already unconscious. Lord Bai nudged the palm of his hand with its head, feeling the icy coldness of Su Si’s palm.
‘Things shouldn’t be like this,’ it thought sluggishly.
Maybe it should wait here for a while. It couldn’t say for sure that it wasn’t mistaken, and perhaps there would be a turning point. It had lived for so long by warning about fortune and misfortune and leaving everything to fate. As long as it found a suitable human servant to attach to, it wouldn’t need to think or do anything.
Its ability had never been wrong.
Considering this, Lord Bai tried to twist Su Si again. Su Si still didn’t respond. It drooped its head and sat there dumbfounded.
Su Si’s life force was feeble; he was really about to die.
Maybe it should listen to him and leave this place, find the next person with good luck and live comfortably. Even if its predictions were half wrong, at least it wouldn’t have to worry about its own life.
But Lord Bai still felt somewhat displeased; the warm jade on its chest was making it uncomfortable.
Su Si probably came all the way here alone, relying on it to remain silent, right? The extent of its abilities…
Forget it.
Lord Bai straightened its neck, raised its head high, and let out a loud honk. Its fleshy antennae drooped completely.
It didn’t want to think about the existence or absence of abilities or the good or bad outcome of the situation. Those things were too complicated, and it gave it a headache. Being just a goose was fine. If it received benefits, it would return the favor. Even as a goose, it had to uphold principles.
Lord Bai flapped its wings for a moment, then rushed out of the cave. Its body was pure white, and as soon as it stepped on the snow, only its orange-red beak and feet were visible. The wind and snow subsided, and there was silence all around. Lord Bai ruffled its feathers, ran to the most open space, and lifted its head to keep honking.
It honked until it was thirsty, then it lowered its head and took a bite of the snow. It didn’t know how long Su Si could hold on or if there were any people nearby. It just kept honking like cursing, getting more and more exhausted, but also feeling more and more relieved.
It didn’t want to die, so it would shout until it had just enough energy to survive. That way, it could leave the northern region with its head held high.
If it owed its servant a favor, wouldn’t it be so humiliating?
Lord Bai couldn’t remember how long it had been honking. It was making so much noise that it started to feel dizzy. It only remembered that when the dark clouds dispersed and the stars appeared, a pair of feet stopped in front of it.
It lifted its head and saw a young woman. The woman wore a dark red cloak, with delicate makeup and radiant eyes.
“I was wondering what it was. It turns out to be a little goose demon.”
She said with a playful smile while caressing the small silver whistle hanging around her neck.
On her shoulder, three chubby sparrows crowded together, curiously tilting their heads.
The author has something to say:
Actually, it’s like this: At the beginning of this chapter, I was writing from Su Si’s perspective, but halfway through, I felt that something was off _(:з」∠)
I thought everyone probably wouldn’t want to read a one-man show and another fight scene, so I rewrote it.
Fifty-one years ago, the hunter woke up on the bed in the cabin.
The flames in the fireplace roared, the crackling of burning wood mixed with the howling of the blizzard outside. Despite the loud sounds, the room felt incredibly silent.
The grogginess of sleep faded from his mind, and the hunter got out of bed, wandering around a bit aimlessly.
He soon found a mirror, and the dirty mirror reflected a young face—the hunter had light blue eyes and deep brown hair that was thick and curly like bear fur. His lips were full, and the corners of his mouth turned up, as if he always carried a hint of a smile. But in his eyes, his face only showed confusion.
‘My name is Hunter, nineteen years old, a hunter,’ he thought to himself, looking around the familiar yet unfamiliar cabin.
There wasn’t much in the room. The cutlery and wooden chairs were simple, hunting equipment neatly arranged against the wall. Other than the bed, there was only a round dining table and a long desk. The desk held a few miscellaneous books and an opened letter.
A small letter opener lay beside the letter, gleaming new.
The letter’s writer claimed to be his friend, greeted him simply, and brought news of his long-lost relatives—they were all “players”, often busy, and it was uncertain when they might visit.
[This is fate, my friend.] The letter ended.
Relatives. Hunter thought blankly. Indeed, he had been orphaned since childhood, raised in this empty log cabin, always longing to see his family. When the players come to visit, he must treat them well and face them honestly. If all his relatives were good people, he could tell them the story of the white wolf…
But why couldn’t he go find his family? Why did he have to wait here?
With these thoughts, Hunter packed his bag, took up his weapon, and prepared to leave the snowy wilderness.
Strangely, on one hand, he felt like he was encountering these weapons for the first time, but on the other, he knew “how to use” them by heart. Hunter traveled through hills covered in snow, crossing towering forests, making marks along the way, marching enthusiastically.
He was going to find his family. The hunter’s cabin was cozy, but it was too empty. Hunter didn’t know how he had endured before, but he couldn’t stand being alone.
He walked from day to night and night to day. When hungry, he hunted pheasants and rabbits; when thirsty, he melted some snow to drink. He crossed snow-covered hills, crossed frozen rivers, encountered polar bears, and avoided wolf packs.
He walked for a month… maybe three months, or even half a year. Hunter didn’t count those endless days and nights. His hands became incredibly rough, his beard grew curly, covered in grease and dirt, but hope remained in his heart.
He had to keep moving. This snowy land must have an end.
At last, Hunter spotted a small log cabin in the vast snowfield. Warm light shone through the cabin’s window.
There’s someone!
Overwhelmed with emotion, Hunter shouted and rushed towards the cabin. But as he approached, his heart raced. Was it a hallucination? This cabin looked incredibly familiar.
No, no, perhaps it just looked alike. He had been away for so long; the fire should have gone out.
The door was unlocked, and Hunter cautiously pushed it open.
The fireplace roared with flames, and in the center of the table was an open letter. The lamp next to the letter shone quietly, and the letter opener still gleamed.
This was his hunter’s cabin; everything was exactly as he had left it.
[This is fate, my friend.]
Hunter felt as if all his bones were removed, leaving only the cold wind in his body. He collapsed at the door, silent for a long time.
At twenty-one, the young man would never give up easily. Hunter believed he had just taken the wrong path. Year after year, time and time again, he tried new directions, new ways to remember the route.
Ten years passed, then twenty. The starting point was always the cabin, and the endpoint was always this same cabin.
Along the way, Hunter saw countless desperate messages from those trapped. He once thought of saving an ordinary person, just to have someone by his side. But he couldn’t do it—
Once, he encountered a young man nearly frozen to death. The man cried out for help, but in a split second, Hunter completely forgot his rescue plan.
He had to wait for the players; this man didn’t deserve to enter the hunter’s cabin.
He had to wait for the players; this man was a disgraceful intruder.
He had to wait for the players…
So, he left the young man in the freezing night. When Hunter came to his senses and hurriedly returned, all he found was the man’s head left behind after being eaten by a wolf pack.
Time trudged on slowly, and the passionate youth turned into a dispirited middle-aged person.
Hunter no longer tried to leave. During the day, he chopped wood, hunted, and daydreamed. At night, he patrolled the forest. To not lose his ability to speak, he began talking to the air, imagining nonexistent friends and family.
It was then that Hunter encountered the white wolf.
He had, of course, tracked this suspicious white wolf before, but ever since he discovered the secret that the “white wolf was constantly being replaced”, he no longer bothered to investigate. The white wolf was gentle by nature, and out of a certain shared misery, he didn’t hunt it.
But this time, the white wolf looked only a few months old, recently weaned.
The little wolf was pure white—not the usual color for a wolf cub. It looked around in terror, instinctively calling, trying to summon its mother and pack. No wolves came for it, and the accumulating snow almost buried it.
Hunter glanced at it, then numbly turned away. This chance occurrence wasn’t great; it would die soon and be replaced by another white wolf.
‘If I died, someone else would replace me too,’ Hunter thought. Perhaps he should end it all… The thought surfaced briefly before disappearing. Hunter looked out of the window again; the fluffy wolf cub was still howling.
So noisy.
Half an hour later, cursing, Hunter stood up and warmed some deer blood. He put it in an old water bag and approached the cub.
The wolf cub, terrified, bared its teeth and shivered. It wanted to escape but only managed a feeble attempt with its limbs.
“Come, drink.” Hunter crouched down, opened the bag’s cap, releasing the pungent smell of fresh deer blood. “Drink before it gets cold.”
Probably starving, the cub hesitated, then cautiously approached. Its cold nose touched the hunter’s hand. It then turned its mouth to the bag, licking and sucking hurriedly and making continuous whining noises.
The cub was fluffy, warm, and soft to touch. Hunter’s hand trembled slightly, and he held the blood bag more firmly.
After quenching its thirst, the cub sniffed Hunter intensely, as if imprinting his scent into its soul. After sniffing, it tentatively licked his hand, rubbing its mouth against his fingers.
Hunter was stunned, his eyes inexplicably teary. Every creature on the snowy plains, from the mightiest to the weakest, was always alert and would never approach humans. When was the last time he experienced kindness from another living being…?
He stretched out his trembling hand and gently stroked the cub’s head.
From then on, the white wolf cub stayed nearby. Hunter fed it deer blood, roasted organs, root vegetables, and mashed meat. His mundane life was enriched by this new “entertainment” of caring for the wolf cub. The cub grew quickly, as young predators often do. Month by month, the white wolf developed sharp fangs and claws and could hunt the strongest stags.
Afterward, its visits to the cabin became less frequent. Hunter didn’t really mind; after all, it was a wolf, not a dog. He didn’t expect much affection from a beast.
Until one evening when Hunter was fifty-three.
During a hunt, Hunter had an accidental fall. His foot got stuck in a crevice beneath the snow layer, his ankle cut, rapidly spreading the scent of blood. He cursed silently as cold sweat formed on his forehead.
There was a pack of wolves nearby.
Sure enough, before he could free himself from the pain, pairs of glowing wolf eyes appeared from the darkness.
…This was the end. With a deep sigh, Hunter slowly put down his crossbow.
Just as he was about to close his eyes, a white figure darted in front.
His white wolf, now in its prime, stood tall and robust. It stood before Hunter, baring its fangs, growling deeply from its throat. However, being a lone wolf, its intimidation was limited. In the relentless cold, the wolf pack was always in need of food. The pack circled them for a bit and finally charged.
The first gray wolf to pounce was tackled by the white wolf, its throat bitten fiercely. Another wolf attacked the white one, tearing its flesh, staining its white fur with blood. But the white wolf stood its ground, fiercely biting back.
This time, Hunter didn’t hesitate to grab his crossbow. “You came for me, didn’t you? Come on!” Biting down hard, he aimed at the wolves attacking the white one.
……
The night grew darker. The accumulated snow melted from the warm blood, turning the surroundings muddy. Hunter’s arm had chunks of flesh torn away, and the white wolf was also riddled with wounds. After killing seven or eight wolves, the pack finally retreated.
The white wolf quietly walked up to the old hunter, signaling for support. With the wolf’s help, Hunter managed to free his stuck foot. He knelt on the blood-streaked mud, holding the blood-stained head of the white wolf tightly. The white wolf turned its face and licked away the blood and tears from his face.
“Friend,” Hunter said hoarsely. “…my friend.”
……
“After that, we’ve always looked out for each other,” Hunter said as the white wolf lay silently beside him. “I’m seventy this year, and it’s gotten so old, I thought we wouldn’t meet any players.”
Considering the white wolf and the couple couldn’t enter the hunter’s cabin, the group decided to chat in the igloo, which made it feel extremely crowded.
Hunter’s gaze towards Teest remained wary, but he had no choice but to recount everything that had happened.
Nol was deep in thought.
In the design of “Tahe”, such enclosed instances were separate maps. But the lich’s instance was placed underground, and the “Night of the Hunt” instance had become an alternate dimension. From the hunter’s description, it was almost like a miniature planet.
The strangest thing was the letter.
There was no such letter in the game. At the time, they felt that “a hunter living alone” seemed a bit lonely, so they added letters of correspondence between the hunter and his friends and family in the scene. Those letters were piled together, and they didn’t create any specific content. After all, this was just a game scene; they didn’t need to consider questions like “how the letter got in”.
Now all those blank letters had disappeared, leaving only this cryptic one emphasizing “fate”. Given this was a closed instance, how did the letter get in?
Nol suspected it had something to do with the mysterious force behind the game’s reality.
“Do you still have that letter?” Nol asked.
The old hunter gave a wry smile. “Of course, there’s so little to read here. I know what you’re looking for. The signature on the letter just reads ‘Your Friend’. The paper and envelope are nothing special.” He paused. “…No, I can’t really say that. After all, it’s the only letter I’ve received like this.”
Nol nodded. “Please find it for me. When we return, I’d like to take a look.”
“You’re going back? … Aren’t we leaving together? Didn’t we agree to stick together until the end?” Old Hunter questioned cautiously. “I really don’t mind if you stay in the house.”
Nol smiled. “It’s not that simple. We have friends to protect and the ‘intruder’ to deal with. If you’re worried, you can go back with the white wolf.”
“We will fully assist them, rest assured,” Rosen said to the old hunter, revealing a bit of his policeman demeanor.
After reassuring the old hunter, Rosen turned to Nol and said with a relaxed tone, “Thinking that we’ll be out in just over a week makes me so happy. This place is always so gloomy, and I really miss the blue sky.”
Nol guessed Rosen wanted to lighten the mood, trying to keep him from feeling guilty for potentially burdening their comrades. Unfortunately, the mood was instantly shattered by the old hunter’s question—
“What is ‘the blue sky’?” the old man asked with his cloudy eyes, cautious and curious.
The igloo fell into a deafening silence.
“…You should go back first,” Nol said with a forced smile.
The old hunter stared at him for a long time, then patted the white wolf’s head and left the igloo. As the old hunter’s figure disappeared, so did Nol’s smile.
He immediately pulled out a parchment from his bag and began scribbling calculations. Teest leaned against the wall of the igloo, unabashedly peeking at what he was doing.
Rosen took a glance, and the characters looked a bit like programming statements. Not being a programmer, he couldn’t make sense of it.
“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.
“My companion is researching magic.” Teest tilted his head. “…Hmm, it seems this is not a common research method for people from other realms.”
Rosen gritted his teeth—this kid was too sharp. Despite having a fellow countryman right in front of them, they still had to be cautious. So, Officer Rosen refrained from asking further. He instinctively reached into his pocket, seemingly searching for his phone.
“What are you doing?” Julie patted his head.
“I just find it weird,” Rosen whispered. “I have a buddy who’s a programmer. When they develop something, they release new versions and make changes from the backend… I’ve never heard of someone writing code directly in a game.”
“I’ve also never heard of growing up to be a two-meter-tall male wolfkin,” Dr. Julie replied. “We’ve already experienced something as unscientific as transmigration; why fuss about this?”
“If Xu Yue is a technician, wouldn’t he find it strange himself?” Rosen frowned. “How would he come up with this method?”
“We’ve discussed this before. Given the current unusual circumstances, don’t be suspicious of our companions.”
“Sorry, sorry. Occupational hazard…”
“I think my companion knows what he’s doing.” Teest ghosted behind the two, one hand on each person’s shoulder. “He can hear everything—both of you.”
Nol could indeed hear everything, but he didn’t care. A certain level of skepticism was necessary. If Rosen was someone who merely followed orders and acted foolishly, it’d be better for the police force to fire him sooner.
Right now, he had more pressing matters to attend to.
A quill pen glided swiftly on parchment, equations and structures forming rapidly. Nol’s eyes remained unblinking as lines of characters gradually transformed into magical runes.
[Bone Divination: Consumes 1,000 MP. Toss human or animal bones to receive a somewhat vague indication. ※ This is a trade. Your price is set. Please choose your question wisely.]
In the game, there were similar divination skills like [Divine Revelation] and [Whisper of Wisdom], but they belong to the light-oriented professions and weren’t related to a lich.
On the dark magic side, there was [Blood Gnome’s Bargain], which demanded the user offer animal blood or even life, which Nol disliked.
Clapping his hands, a skeletal rabbit emerged from the soil, obediently dispersing into random bones. Nol picked up several thin bones, his magic forming a black mist that wrapped around the white bones, creating intricate patterns.
The exchange had to be of equal value; his question couldn’t exceed the value of 1,000 MP. The higher the level or complexity of the answer, the greater the possibility of failure. He couldn’t directly ask “the truth of the world”, or the bones might respond with a string of obscenities.
His question had to be clear, concise, and have a definite answer.
Nol smirked, throwing the bones. “Tell me the incorrect coordinates of this map.”
…A basic mapping question.
This was his game, and he knew the rules of map creation—all locations had fixed coordinates. If there were hidden spaces on the map, an additional parameter would be added to the existing coordinates. Hidden spaces only existed on the universal map and couldn’t be set in instances.
The attribute of “Night of the Hunt” itself was a hidden space. According to the rules, there couldn’t be another hidden space within. Yet, with the trapped entities running all over the place and the fact that these physical save files remain undiscovered was truly strange. Knowing that the instance map had been tampered with makes things clearer.
If someone misused the rules of “Tahe”, forcefully creating hidden spaces, there would be “errors”.
Indeed, the bones danced on the ground for a moment, forming a string of parameters.
[Coordinates: 23, 7, 59, 0.1x, 0.03x?]
“Found you,” Nol whispered. “I hope this is your home, Mr. Cultist.”
“That’s it?” Teest crouched down, poking at the coordinates. “You always surprise me.”
“No, we’re far from done.” Nol waved, and the rabbit bones disappeared under the snow. “I’ve only provided a potential target. The rest is up to you.”
Teest blinked, feigning confusion.
“You’re best at hunting Eternalists, right? It’s the Night of the Hunt, Teest.” Nol stood up.
“As you command, my hunter.” Teest also stood, brushing snow from his clothes. “That guy is also from another world. If you want me to be gentle—”
“No need.” Nol smiled. “He treats this place as a ‘game’, so we’ll respond in kind.”
The author has something to say:
Jack: Hehe, I’m hiding in the physical save files. Bet you didn’t think of that.
Nol: Who’s causing trouble in my beautiful instance? Investigate every anomaly!
…Bullseye, Jack.
Mr. Teest, the bug-fixer, is itching to move.
Actually, wolves don’t usually live this long. Just consider it a miracle of the magical world! (…
The slap that Yao Tai struck on the sensory board also heavily struck the hearts of the young Tianxiu students.
“A fledgling Tianxiu person, on average, will enter the awakening period about ten years after awakening. There are mainly two conditions that induce awakening. The first is that it occurs automatically with age, and the second is that if someone reaches sexual maturity, the fledglings around them are easily influenced and induced to awaken, so the awakening of each class of students is likely to occur on a large scale.”
“If anyone finds that their body has undergone changes different from before, do not panic, as this is a normal reaction before awakening. Everyone will experience this; it’s just a matter of time.”
“When you officially enter sexual maturity, you will have the desire to mate and the craving to find a partner. This desire is controlled by reason, so no one needs to feel anxious. If you cannot find a suitable spouse, you can continue to stay in the fledgling period until you find the ideal partner, complete the coming-of-age ceremony, and formally step into adulthood.”
“Question.” A student raised his hand. “What exactly is the coming-of-age ceremony?”
“Idiot, it’s mating,” a student beside him whispered mockingly, causing a round of laughter.
The commotion below didn’t escape Yao Tai’s ears. She waited for everyone to finish laughing and then said, “Wrong, mating is not the coming-of-age ceremony, and it’s not even part of it. The real coming-of-age ceremony is obtaining the first drop of blood from the heart.”
“In each pair of spouses, only one person can get the other’s heart’s blood. This person, we call the Qizhu, and the one whose blood is taken will become his Qizi.”
“Whether male or female, anyone can become a Qizhu, and likewise a Qizi. The distinction of status depends entirely on the result of the coming-of-age ceremony and has nothing to do with gender or roles in love.”
“What should we do if one of the two parties in the relationship is awakened but the other isn’t?” a student asked.
“You can only wait. A fledgling that has not awakened cannot give or receive blood. But as I just said, awakening is easily induced by others. If it’s a couple that’s close and spends a lot of time together, they can easily synchronize into the awakening period.”
“So how can we get the heart’s blood?”
“This is our instinct; no one needs to teach it. During the coming-of-age ceremony, you will grasp it automatically.”
Yao Tai waited for a moment, and when no new questions were raised, she continued her lecture.
“The relationship between the Qizhu and the Qizi is a one-on-one spousal relationship, but they do not enjoy equal rights. The Qizhu has absolute control, and the Qizi can only obey the Qizhu’s orders. In other words, the result of the coming-of-age ceremony determines a person’s status in life.”
“This is the hierarchical system I mentioned earlier. It is the only unequal relationship on Tianxiu, but it is also the most stringent and inviolable class relationship. Whether you are willing to comply or not, you must accept it.”
“This relationship is lifelong and cannot be dissolved. Even if one party dies, the other cannot awaken again to find a new spouse. In this regard, Qizhus and Qizis are treated equally, without exception.”
Yao Tai snapped her fingers, and the human silhouette on the sensory board began to automatically change. “After the relationship is successfully established, both parties will enter the second development, with the Qizhu’s development being more noticeable. Taking males as an example. Male Qhizus will experience a noticeable increase in height. Their muscles will become more developed, and both strength and stamina will surpass those of the male Qizi.”
“Simultaneously, the secondary sexual characteristics of the male Qizhu will undergo significant changes. The Adam’s apple will protrude, the vocal cords will thicken, the reproductive organs will enlarge, and body hair will grow.”
“The same is true for the female Qizhu. Their body curves will change noticeably. Statistics show that female Qizhus are, on average, at least fifteen centimeters taller than female Qizis, and their physical fitness will also be superior.”
“Then, Dr. Yao, does that mean that the Qizi will stop developing from then on?”
“Of course not; everyone will develop. It’s just that compared to the changes in the Qizhu, the Qizi’s development seems more limited and is easily influenced by the Qizhu’s mental state.”
“How is it influenced?”
“For example, if the Qizhu likes someone who weighs two hundred catties*, then do not doubt, the Qizi will most likely develop in that direction as well. Even if they don’t reach the standard, they will come as close as possible. So, don’t assume that male Qizi will be short or female Qizi will be flat-chested; these are misconceptions. A Qizi’s development depends on their innate physical quality, environmental influence, and the Qizhu’s subconscious mind.”
*1 catty = 11⁄3 lbs.
Her words sparked a new round of whispers among the students.
“What distinction will there be in abilities between the two parties?”
“The most important aspect of the coming-of-age ceremony is that the Qizhu will gain the Qizi’s abilities. Simply put, the stronger the Qizi, the stronger the Qizhu. This is why the people of Tianxiu are naturally attracted to stronger partners.”
“Just as some birds are attracted to bright feathers of the opposite sex and many mammals compete for mating rights through strength, those biological instincts aim to provide the next generation with superior genes. Our instinct is to become stronger. To gain more substantial abilities, one must conquer stronger individuals, provided you have the strength to conquer them.”
“Our earliest souls, through generations of inheritance and evolution, to combat harsh environments and ferocious enemies, gradually evolved this survival of the fittest mating relationship. It made the victorious become even more robust, strong enough to protect the entire clan.”
“Although we live in peaceful and prosperous times, without survival pressures or wars, it doesn’t mean we can slack off. The master-servant relationship is the best incentive bestowed by our ancestors, making the descendants of Tianxiu people strive not to be dominated, even in peaceful times.”
“In the past decade, the academy has been committed to training you to be strong. Yet, the real victory depends only on the moment of the coming-of-age ceremony. This is the lifelong pursuit of every Tianxiu person—become strong, conquer the strong, and become stronger.”
The words “conquer the strong” stirred something in Ling Xiao’s heart, and he stopped paying close attention to what Yao Tai was saying afterward.
“That concludes the pre-awakening mobilization given by the school to the students about to enter the awakening period every year.”
“Every year, we emphasize to our students that they must win, gain dominance, and become Qizhus. This is our survival rule. However, the outcome is often not as beautiful as we imagine.”
“As a healthcare physician, I have to deal with several cases every year of depression caused by defeat in the coming-of-age ceremony and the inability to accept becoming a Qizi. The most severe consequence is even death.”
With her voice transitioning from passionate to subdued, an inevitable heaviness sank into everyone’s heart.
“The chance of becoming a Qizhu is fifty percent, and the chance of becoming a Qizi is also fifty percent. Among the students here, one in two will be defeated in the coming-of-age ceremony. If that person is you, will you accept it?”
As she posed the question, many were quietly asking themselves, their eyes filled with apprehension.
“If you lose, your lifetime will be controlled by someone else, who has the right to dictate everything about you… Does anyone here think this system is unreasonable?”
After waiting for a while, finally, a trembling boy raised his hand.
The woman on the podium smiled silently and, in the blink of an eye, disappeared from sight. As everyone realized she had vanished and started looking around, a hoarse cry sounded from the classroom. Yao Tai had unnoticeably appeared behind the male student with a dagger in hand that was pressed against his throat.
Even Ying Feng, who sat in the last row and always had keen observation skills, was stunned. Her movements were so swift that he only caught a shadow.
This sudden turn of events frightened the entire class. No one expected that a mere healthcare physician would have such agile skills, nor could anyone guess her intention.
Under the horrified gazes of everyone, Yao Tai said with nonchalance, “With my ability, I could easily kill you in a moment, and not only you, but anyone in this classroom would be a trivial matter.”
She said this first to the boy, then to the whole class. After she finished, she looked around and asked, “But now that I am here, do you feel your lives are threatened?”
Everyone looked at each other and shook their heads in unison, even including the one being held hostage.
Yao Tai withdrew her hand. “That’s right, although I have this ability, I have no intention of using it, so you are not afraid, nor do you feel it as a threat. You might even find security in it.”
“The relationship between the Qizhu and the Qizi is the same. Although the Qizhu possesses a strong controlling power, if it is a pair of true lovers, this power will not work at all. Their souls are equal, and their status is equal.”
She walked toward the podium. “What you hear today is the first time I’ve revealed it in front of students. I’m not teaching you how to lose but want you to know that everyone wants to be a winner, and that’s fine, but becoming a Qizi doesn’t necessarily mean your life is hopeless.”
“In true love, there is no hierarchy, no winners or losers. The rules may be cruel, but the executor of the rules is the one you choose. Whether he will hurt you, you know better than anyone else.”
She passed by Ling Xiao’s seat and woke him from his reverie.
“Can you tell me what I just said?”
“I…” Ling Xiao stammered and couldn’t answer.
“If you didn’t listen, I’ll repeat it for you. Yes, the Qizhu has supreme control over both, but if you want to use this power against your enemies, think carefully if you want to spend the rest of your life with someone you hate.”
Ling Xiao’s eyes flickered, but Yao Tai pretended not to notice.
“We, the people of Tianxiu, are the most loyal to our spouses. We live together as a couple for life; never cheat, never betray. So I warn every student here,” she looked slowly at each young face, speaking both to Ling Xiao and to everyone present, “Don’t hastily choose your partner because of youthful anger. The one who stands beside you and accompanies you for life is not an enemy or a foe…”
Her eyes finally fell on Ling Xiao’s face, and she said slowly and firmly:
“It can only ever be your lover.”
The first physiology lesson of tenth grade thus ended, with the students gaining knowledge they had never understood before, excitedly discussing it together. But the usually lively Ling Xiao was now silently sitting in his seat, touched by Yao Tai’s words.
At the same time, Ying Feng, who had left the classroom, was stopped by Yao Tai.
“Did you hear everything you said in class?”
Ying Feng nodded silently.
“Although what I said in front of everyone is correct, for you, I have only one thing to say: No matter who the opponent is, no matter what means, in the coming-of-age ceremony, you can only win.”
Ying Feng narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Last year, 102 students completed the coming-of-age ceremony in the academy, but only 99 graduated successfully.”
“What about the other three?”
“They committed suicide.”
Ying Feng was secretly shocked.
“In fact, every year there are Qizis who give up their lives because of defeat. The school doesn’t want this tragedy to repeat, so this year’s awakening mobilization has been much softer. Even the real relationship between Qizhu and Qizi has been deliberately downplayed.”
“Real relationship?”
“The so-called coming-of-age ceremony is actually a process of survival of the fittest. The losers will be stripped of all rights, and the control of the Qizhu over the Qizi is quite cruel—an absolute domination in every sense, from psychological to physical.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I have been working here for more than thirty years, and I have met thousands of fledglings. Some don’t care about subordination and can live happily even as a Qizi; others are born dominators and can only be dominators. I know what kind of personality leads to self-destruction, and what I can do is try to prevent this from happening.”
Ying Feng lowered his eyes and was silent for a moment. “I understand what you mean. You want to say, I have only one choice: either win or die.”
Yao Tai didn’t answer, which in itself was an admission.
He looked up. “Thank you, Dr. Yao, for the warning. I will keep it in mind.”
Yao Tai nodded, watched him walk a few steps, then stopped and turned back.
“Is the power of the Qizhu really as exaggerated as you say?”
Yao Tai’s expression was solemn. “I didn’t exaggerate a single word.”
Zhou Qian had a 70% clearance rate in “Apple Paradise”, so when Yu Xian bet 30,000 yuan, the probability of winning 1 million yuan was as high as 70%.
His principal of 30,000 yuan was actually a windfall.
This was equivalent to him not investing anything, so he wouldn’t lose in any way.
It was a simple calculation. After realizing it, Yu Xian was so excited that his hands started to tremble.
However, Zhu Qiang, who was by his side, became apprehensive. “It’s just 30,000 yuan, but now it’s 1 million yuan! When does such good fortune come? Who developed this game? Where did the players come from? Will they really die in the game?”
Yu Xian had an idea. “Baidu! Yes, let’s search for ‘Zhou Qian’ on Baidu and see if such a person really exists in reality!”
By comparing names and photos, they indeed found information about Zhou Qian.
There were many online reports about him.
Zhou Qian’s father, Zhou Chongshan, started out as a businessman. He owned many factories, had a lot of equipment, and owned a lot of land. However, this meant his assets weren’t very liquid.
Given this, Zhou Chongshan’s gambling addiction became a serious issue.
As a result, he eventually got into trouble because of gambling, lost all his money, the company’s funds dried up, and it ultimately went bankrupt.
But that wasn’t the most tragic part.
The most tragic event was when Zhou Chongshan decided to commit suicide with his wife and son by turning on the gas.
All three were rushed to the hospital.
In the end, both Zhou Chongshan and his wife died, and only Zhou Qian survived.
After being out of life-threatening danger and receiving treatment for some time, Zhou Qian was admitted to Spring Hill Mental Asylum.
Some say that after learning about the deaths of his parents, he couldn’t bear the psychological burden and went mad.
Others claim his brain was damaged due to inhaling too much gas.
After reading the news, Yu Xian and Zhu Qiang looked at each other in shock.
Yu Xian exclaimed, “Damn, so the player I bet on is a psycho?”
Zhu Qiang frowned. “Lao* Yu, something’s not right. Think about it, the initial tutorial was so easy? Most players could pass it, and we would easily get 30,000 yuan. We naturally felt that there was no cost to continue…”
*Old (老) When used in front of a name, it signifies closeness.
“But I think this feels like bait. Let’s not continue. Together, we have 60,000 yuan now, enough for half a year’s rent. Let’s start looking for jobs tomorrow…”
Little did Zhu Qiang know, just as he finished his sentence, his phone vibrated. The system sent him a message.
[The player you’re following, Lu Mengmeng, has chosen to enter the new instance “Ghost Eyes”. The game difficulty is level one, with a clearance rate of 70%… If Lu Mengmeng successfully clears it, you will receive a reward of one million yuan.]
Just moments ago, Zhu Qiang was advising Yu Xian sensibly.
But now, with the opportunity to gain one million yuan right before his eyes, and personally experiencing this temptation, Zhu Qiang realized he couldn’t resist.
Swallowing hard, Zhu Qiang quickly searched for “Lu Mengmeng” on Baidu.
A moment later, his expression changed.
“I found a news article about him. He’s a college student. One day he suddenly attacked his roommate with a knife. He was proven to be mentally unstable and is now… also in Spring Hill Mental Asylum.”
……
Early the next morning.
Spring Hill Mental Asylum. Zone 1.
Room 302, Bed 57.
Zhou Qian woke up from the bed. Recalling everything from the previous night, it felt like he had a dream.
He yawned and sat up, seeing a girl with braided hair standing beside his bed.
Soon, the girl turned her head, and her face still had the same braided hairstyle.
With a deadpan face, Zhou Qian commented, “Such a clichéd way to scare someone.”
Hearing this, the person removed the braided wig, revealing a handsome and indifferent face. He was wearing a white coat; it turned out to be a male doctor.
Contrasting his childish act of wearing a wig to scare was his stern, rigid expression.
This was Zhou Qian’s primary doctor, Li Xuehai.
“Heart rate shows no change.”
Glancing at the indicators on the nearby equipment, Li Xuehai shook his head, picked up his pen, and solemnly jotted down in the notebook. “The patient, Zhou Qian, still shows no fear reaction.”
Zhou Qian laughed. “It’s just that your scare tactics are outdated, not that I don’t feel fear.”
“Alright.” Li Xuehai put the pen back in his breast pocket, looked at Zhou Qian, and suddenly said, “The patient in the room across from you passed away yesterday.”
Zhou Qian looked surprised. “The patient across the room? The little girl?”
Li Xuehai stared into his eyes for a moment and nodded. “Yes, that little girl, who was admitted around the same time as you. You’ve lived together for eight months. You often helped her with building blocks in the recreation room. She liked you very much and always clung to you, calling you ‘brother’.”
Zhou Qian asked nonchalantly, “So?”
With a grave face, Li Xuehai asked, “So hearing this news, you don’t feel sad? Not even a little bit?”
Zhou Qian shrugged, his tone sounding slightly aggrieved. “So, Dr. Li, is there hope for me?”
Li Xuehai: “Stop pretending. I know that right now you can’t even perceive feelings of grievance.”
After his act was brutally exposed, Zhou Qian calmly replied, “Oh.”
After his illness, Zhou Qian could no longer feel happiness, sadness, sympathy, or fear.
He felt like he was an ascended immortal, devoid of emotions, but sudden bursts of rage would quickly bring him back to reality.
He wasn’t emotionless; his brain just locked away all emotions. When they broke free, the accumulated emotions would explode, driving him into madness.
In Zhou Qian’s eyes, he wasn’t an immortal but a monster.
The last time he had an episode, he not only slashed himself but also wrecked Dr. Li Xuehai’s office.
While being restrained and sedated, he even managed to start a fire, ruining Li Xuehai’s suit.
“I’ll pay for it, Dr. Li,” he said afterward.
Li Xuehai replied, “Okay, 3,000 yuan.”
“?” Zhou Qian was surprised. “So cheap? Are there even suits that cost 3,000 yuan?”
Li Xuehai: “……”
After a while, Li Xuehai bluntly reminded, “Your family is bankrupt. The hospital bill for this quarter is 25,000 yuan. Can you pay on time?”
Zhou Qian: “……”
Seeing Zhou Qian’s expression, Li Xuehai couldn’t help but shake his head.
After a pause, he said, “Zhou Qian, I’ll do my best to help you. I’ll accompany you for some emotional stimulation experiments. You need to cooperate.”
Zhou Qian smiled again. “Alright. I trust you. Look, I haven’t been restrained for a while. I think I’m getting better.”
Facing the seemingly well-behaved Zhou Qian, Li Xuehai frowned again and asked, “Have you seen the dragon recently?”
Dragon…
Zhou Qian’s gaze shifted from the doctor’s cold face to the window.
Spring Hill Asylum was built on a hillside.
Through the window, he could see the light of dawn gradually covering the dark base of the mountain.
At that moment, Zhou Qian’s expression became mysterious. “No. Not anymore.”
“Good. The hallucinations have decreased. That’s it for today’s round. Go wash up and eat. I’m leaving.” As Li Xuehai turned to leave, he noticed something and asked, “Where did you get the watch on your wrist?”
Zhou Qian looked down at the special watch that allowed him to enter the game, reminding him that everything that happened last night wasn’t just a dream.
“A friend visited me yesterday. He gave it to me.”
Hearing this, Li Xuehai scrutinized Zhou Qian for a moment but didn’t comment further and left.
……
The ward was temporarily empty.
Zhou Qian picked up the watch, trying to access the game panel, recalling how he joined the game.
Regarding the tragedy of his family, the consensus among police, reporters, and bystanders was the same—after going bankrupt, his father, in despair, wanted to drag his wife and son with him to death, so he drugged them with sleeping pills and then turned on the gas.
But Zhou Qian knew that wasn’t the truth.
He knew of his father’s cruelty since childhood.
He believed that night, his father only wanted to kill him and his mother.
He didn’t know the details of what happened that night.
But he faintly remembered that a dragon had saved him.
He once thought that seeing the dragon was just a hallucination due to gas poisoning.
Until he saw it again in Spring Hill Mental Asylum.
Last night, under the guidance of the dragon, Zhou Qian found a watch.
[Player Zhou Qian, the gods have heard your inner voice—you’ve lost the most important thing in your life, harbored resentment towards those you shouldn’t, and now you feel life is unbearably dull. Everything you do seems meaningless.]
[Your life is filled with “nothingness”. Now, the gods have chosen you, inviting you to partake in a game.]
[By joining the game, you will have the opportunity to step into the realm of gods, rediscover the three thousand worlds*, and perhaps even obtain what you most desire.]
*Reference to the Buddhist concept “Three thousand realms in a single moment of life”, which refers to the (infinite) possibilities in each instant of our lives.
[The pursuit of immortality is not just a saying; where there’s a will, the living can die, and the dead can live*.]
*From Tang Xianzu’s “The Peony Pavilion”. See Kinky Thoughts for more details.
[You have ten minutes to decide whether to participate.]
Had the dragon that once saved him tried to convey something through this game?
The person he missed… could they really come back?
His life couldn’t get any worse.
Perhaps this mysterious game might bring the surprise he yearned for.
Guided by subtle intuition, Zhou Qian unhesitatingly chose to enter the game.
Before entering the tutorial stage, he found himself in the ward where he lived alone.
After leaving the game and returning to reality, he was still in the ward.
After a night’s sleep, the doctor made the routine rounds as usual, and Zhou Qian responded with his usual aloof attitude.
Every day in the mental ward seemed the same, as if nothing would ever change.
He knew he was trapped in an unbreakable prison.
Perhaps in that game, he could find the freedom he so craved.
…..
Two days later.
At night, the Spring Hill Mental Asylum was silent.
Zhou Qian closed the door to his room and re-entered the game using his watch.
[Loading Instance for Player Zhou Qian: “Apple Paradise”]
[Player count: 5—The 5 players will appear at random locations near Apple Paradise. Your first mission is: Find a way into the park.]
[The trading post is now open; players can buy and sell items here. Player Zhou Qian’s starting gold is 300.]
After reading the panel’s prompts, Zhou Qian found himself in a deep mountain.
Midway up the mountain, by the woods.
The sunset shone through the gaps in the leaves, and the babbling stream was dyed with the red-orange glow of the setting sun.
Several people were passing through the woods towards a grand building that looked like a palace—it must be Apple Paradise.
Despite having [Li Dafu’s Invitation] Zhou Qian didn’t rush to enter the park but instead hid in the woods by the roadside.
Leaning against a tree, he checked his stats on the system panel.
He saw two bars at the top left corner: a red one representing health and a blue one for mana, which depleted with each skill use.
But Zhou Qian hadn’t acquired any skills yet, so the blue bar was just for show.
Now, he was at the lowest rank, F, with a mere 300 points for both bars.
After checking his stats, Zhou Qian began observing from behind the tree.
It wasn’t long before he spotted the man he was looking for—a stout man with a fierce face.
This man must be Li Dafu.
With each step he took, the ground seemed to tremble under his weight.
Zhou Qian knew he was Li Dafu because the previous night, after opening the treasure chest in the game, he had seen a huge wedding photo in Li Dafu’s villa.
Now, lifting his watch towards the stout man outside the woods, Zhou Qian tried to access his data through the system.
[Name: Li Dafu]
[Rank: E]
[Specialty: Boxing; former national boxing champion]
[Note: He has a violent temper. Players, please avoid direct confrontation to prevent injury or even death.]
Indeed, this man is Li Dafu.
As a Rank E NPC, his red and blue bars were three times that of Zhou Qian’s.
Furthermore, he was a national boxing champion, while Zhou Qian had no skills at all.
The “Blessing of the Little Boy” buff that Zhou Qian possessed could only shield him from damage once when his health was almost gone, which made it practically useless.
Facing Li Dafu head-on would be equivalent to courting death.
Watching as Li Dafu slowly passed before him, Zhou Qian’s eyes grew more solemn.
If he wanted to successfully complete this side quest, it seemed he would have to think of a strategy.
……
10 minutes later.
Outside the game, inside the presidential suite of a five-star luxury hotel, Yu Xian and Zhu Qiang, with dark circles under their eyes, sat up abruptly. They immediately grabbed their phones from the bedside table and found that Zhou Qian had been in the game for a while.
The reason they could afford such a place was that two days ago, Lu Mengmeng, despite having only 1% HP left, barely cleared the “Ghost’s Eye” level, allowing Zhu Qiang to receive a million yuan. With Lu Mengmeng not entering a new dungeon for the time being, Yu Xian and Zhu Qiang took the opportunity to splurge with the money.
After partying all night, it was only the constant vibrating of their phones that reminded them that it was Zhou Qian’s turn to play.
Skipping meals, both of them glued their eyes to their phones and noticed that Zhou Qian had teamed up with another player.
He was a male player in his 30s, dressed in a plaid shirt. At first glance, he looked scholarly and refined, but there was an indescribable cunning air about him.
Yu Xian noticed an icon flashing above the player’s head.
He clicked on it and was able to view the player’s information.
[Player Name: Dong Xiang]
[Player Rank: E]
[Specialty: Stealth skills, such as assassination and theft]
They heard Dong Xiang ask Zhou Qian, “I just went to the entrance of the park. Only those invited can enter. We don’t have an invite, so we need to figure something out soon. The park closes at 8 tonight.”
Yu Xian felt anxious.
Over the past few days, he had looked up news about Zhou Qian.
The way he was described in the reports could be summarized with phrases like: “The rich second generation who wouldn’t eat minced meat”, “naively innocent”, “God spent all his intelligence on his looks”, “He’s just a pretty face but is actually dumb and crazy”…
“I’m so worried about Xiao* Qianqian.”
*Little (小) When used in front of a name, it generally signifies closeness. In this context, it’s like an affectionate way he’s referring to Zhou Qian.
“Me too. The other players might try to steal Zhou Qian’s invite.”
“If he reveals that he has an invitation, he’s doomed. The player in front of him is an E ranked player who excels at both theft and assassination…”
“Please, Xiao Qianqian, just don’t say anything!”
The two anxiously stared at the phone.
On the screen was Zhou Qian’s smiling face.
He had a beautiful, radiant look, extremely photogenic, with deep, shiny eyes. Given his rich second-generation background, he looked like a delicate flower of wealth.
But at that moment, his demeanor and smile were just too naive.
The elegant, proud, delicate flower suddenly became the foolish son of a landlord—
He carelessly took out [Li Dafu’s Invitation] and said to Dong Xiang, “An invite? I have one. So, I can go straight in! I’m so happy!”
Yu Xian and Zhu Qiang exclaimed, “Fuck!!!”
The author has something to say:
“The living can die, and the dead can live” – from Tang Xianzu’s “The Peony Pavilion.”
Kinky Thoughts:
The quote “The living can die, and the dead can live” is from Tang Xianzu’s “The Peony Pavilion“.
This play touches on themes of love, death, and resurrection. The play tells the story of a young woman named Du Liniang who falls in love with a scholar named Liu Mengmei in a dream. After waking, she is unable to forget him and, consumed by her unfulfilled love, she becomes ill and eventually dies. Later, her spirit encounters Liu Mengmei, and through a series of events, she is brought back to life, and the two are united in love.
The phrase reflects the cyclical nature of life and death presented in the story and suggests that the boundaries between life and death can be porous, especially when influenced by profound emotions like love. It speaks to the transformative power of love and the idea that even in death, love endures and can defy the natural order.
[Player Zhou Qian, you’ve been bound to the game and is player A7577.]
[Welcome to the tutorial stage.]
[Please wait for the instance to load…]
[Loading completed.]
With these prompt lines, Zhou Qian pushed open the door in front of him and walked into a pink room.
The ceiling, floor, bed, wardrobe—all were pink.
Sitting on the bed was a little girl with pink hair and pink clothes. The bed and the floor around her were filled with dolls.
Each doll looked different; some had round faces and noses, big heads, and small bodies; some were cloth-made, and the style was more towards the cute side; some were like rubber Barbie dolls, slender and thin, looking somewhat sexy.
The styles were so different that most likely they came from different manufacturers, but like the little girl on the bed, they all had the same long pink hair and were all wearing pink princess dresses.
The moment Zhou Qian stepped in, the entrance door closed automatically. He raised his hand and tried to turn the door lock but could no longer open the door.
At the same moment, the little girl on the bed looked up at Zhou Qian with a pair of cold eyes and said in a childlike voice, “Help me find the doll I hate the most!”
[Player mission has been triggered: Find the most hated doll.]
[Task time limit: 90 seconds.]
[Select the correct doll and say, “Let’s kill it together” to pass the level; the player has only three chances; if all three selections are wrong, it will be considered as a failure, and the player will be devoured by the resentful doll.]
A semi-transparent panel popped out from the watch on Zhou Qian’s left wrist. These sentences suddenly appeared on the panel, blinked for a few seconds, and then disappeared automatically.
At the same time, Zhou Qian heard a rustling sound. He looked up and saw all those dolls standing up. They all cracked a smile in unison and then slowly walked towards him.
Not long after, all the dolls, along with the little girl, and even the pink color of the entire room deepened a bit. Everything was changing towards the color of blood at a speed visible to the naked eye, as if the whole room was a huge mouth of a demon opening. If Zhou Qian didn’t pass the level in 90 seconds, this mouth would close, tearing Zhou Qian to shreds and swallowing his flesh.
At first glance, these dolls stood very chaotically, but they roughly stood in three rows. Zhou Qian easily counted that each row had 10 dolls, so it wasn’t difficult to calculate that there were a total of 30 dolls in the room.
He had three chances to select the correct one from the 30 dolls; purely based on luck, his chance of clearing was 10%.
But Zhou Qian was clearly not a man who believed in luck.
He had been hanging around casinos with his father since he was young. Winning cards was never about luck, but observation, psychological quality, and hand speed.
Therefore, Zhou Qian didn’t immediately take action but thought about the limited information he had.
These dolls were all different, but all cute and beautiful. There were none that had a distinctively hateful characteristic, so why would there be a doll that the little girl hated the most?
Wait, she used the word “most”, which meant she hated all these dolls, but there was one that she hated the most.
The little girl dressed up these dolls like herself, so it stood to reason that she should like pink and them as well.
But since she hated them…
Zhou Qian tried to speak to the little girl. “Do you hate pink?”
“Of course I hate it!” The little girl stared at Zhou Qian angrily. “I hate pink, I hate dolls! Help me find the one I hate the most as soon as possible!”
Hate pink, hate dolls.
But she was wearing a pink skirt again, surrounded by a bunch of dolls who were also wearing pink skirts.
These clues could only point to one thing—she was forced to dress up like this, and these dolls were bought for her by others.
While thinking, Zhou Qian quickly glanced at all the dolls again.
These dolls didn’t seem to be produced by the same manufacturer, which he noticed from the beginning.
At this moment, Zhou Qian focused on their eyes. The eyes of the dolls had different colors: blue, green, black, brown, and the like. As for this little girl…
Looking back at the little girl, Zhou Qian found that her eyes were black.
The dolls’ hair, eyes, and costumes should have been different, but after they were bought back from different stores, they were replaced with uniform pink hair and dresses.
What about the little girl?
How could a little girl with black eyes and a Chinese face have pink hair?
It should be the same as the dolls; she was dressed like this.
Zhou Qian probably guessed the truth of the matter.
But he still needed to confirm it again.
[Friendly reminder: You have 70 seconds left to clear the level.]
Zhou Qian didn’t even look at the prompt that popped up on the panel but walked directly towards the little girl.
As the room approached blood red, all the dolls showed darker and harsher smiles, as if waiting for the countdown to end so they could enjoy Zhou Qian’s flesh to the fullest.
The little girl also smiled. She opened her mouth, and bright red blood flowed from between her teeth. The pink room, which was beautiful and warm just a moment ago, immediately became bloody and terrifying.
Zhou Qian walked up to the little girl, who was bleeding from the corner of her mouth, without hesitation.
Reaching out, he grabbed the little girl’s hair and pulled it hard.
The pink wig was immediately uncovered and fell to the ground.
It was clearly a boy under the wig, but he was dressed up as a girl, looking like a Barbie doll.
Zhou Qian narrowed his eyes, pulled his sleeves and lifted them up. “Sorry, I just want to make sure if there are any injuries on your body.”
After that, Zhou Qian clearly saw that his arms were full of bruises.
This boy was dressed up as a girl, and he had such injuries on his body. It wasn’t difficult to imagine what he suffered.
[Friendly reminder: You have 60 seconds left to clear the level.]
Accompanied by such prompt words on the panel, the little boy’s mouth opened wider, and more and more blood flowed out of it, even onto Zhou Qian.
The dolls were also close at hand. They almost formed three circles, enveloping Zhou Qian inside.
Three of the dolls walked faster and had already bitten Zhou Qian’s trouser legs.
He didn’t know if it was an illusion, but Zhou Qian heard the sound of them swallowing saliva, as if they couldn’t wait to enjoy a good meal.
[Alert: Player has touched the resentment doll. Player Zhou Qian’s HP has dropped to 99%.]
When touched by the resentment doll, the player Zhou Qian’s HP drops to 99%.]
[Once HP drops to 0, the player will die.]
On the panel, the red health bar representing life value had only slightly decreased, posing no threat at all.
Therefore, in this simple game, the only thing to worry about was the time limit.
Zhou Qian glanced at the panel and turned his eyes back to the little boy. He asked, “You hate pink, you hate dolls, so what do you hate the most? The person who bullies you?”
The little boy shook his head.
At that moment, a dagger suddenly appeared in his chest, incessantly stabbing inward. More and more blood gushed from his chest and mouth as if it were inexhaustible.
But the little boy was smiling, as if he were about to be set free.
The increasingly blood-red room reflected in Zhou Qian’s eyes, turning them the same bloody hue.
With his bloodshot eyes, Zhou Qian looked at the little boy and asked almost emotionlessly, “I see, you hate yourself the most, don’t you?”
“Yes.” The boy’s face was adorned with a detached smile. Yet as he continued to vomit blood, this smile became eerily strange. “I poisoned myself, and after taking it, I vomited a lot of blood. I was in so much pain. I wanted to die quicker, so I stabbed myself.”
“I feel so cold and lonely after death… Come and keep me company…”
[Friendly reminder: You have 50 seconds left to clear the level.]
After this reminder, more and more dolls started to surround Zhou Qian.
One couldn’t help itself and bit into Zhou Qian’s flesh through his trouser leg.
[Player Zhou Qian’s HP has dropped to 95%.]
Zhou Qian kicked the doll away without any pain or itch, showing no anxious expression.
He asked a few things just now because he wanted to confirm one thing—whether this little boy hates himself the most. Now he had received a positive answer.
The little boy should have been dressed up as a little girl by an adult man with a dark hobby and was forced to be with the dolls all day long.
He was forced and humiliated, but he forgot to hate the person who humiliated him, but instead resented himself.
So he killed himself.
The person he hated most was himself, so much so that in the space where resentment formed after his death, he was still repeating suicidal behaviors.
In this way, it was self-evident what the answer to clear this level was.
[Friendly reminder: You have 40 seconds left to clear the level.]
Taking a casual look at the prompt that jumped out of the panel, Zhou Qian thought to himself—he had enough time to examine a doll every second, there should be plenty of time for everything.
Zhou Qian began to quickly check one doll after another.
[You have 30 seconds left to clear the level.]
[You have 20 seconds left to clear the level.]
[You have 15 seconds left to clear the level.]
[Player Zhou Qian, please clear the level as soon as possible! Otherwise, you will die!]
With time so tight, Zhou Qian had no chance to make mistakes.
But he didn’t panic.
After checking 15 dolls and still not finding the target, all he could do was sigh about his bad luck.
[You have 10 seconds left to clear the level.]
[You have 9 seconds left to clear the level.]
……
When the prompt [You have 5 seconds left to clear the level.] popped up, Zhou Qian didn’t even blink, but the man sitting in front of the screen became panicked.
Seeing everything through the screen, he couldn’t help but yell, “You’ve wasted too much time at the beginning! No need to observe so much, nor ask questions! Just brutally tear open each doll to check!”
The person who was shouting was Yu Xian.
He was currently sitting in a rented room, staring intently at his phone screen without lifting his head.
Whether this player named Zhou Qian could complete the level was related to whether Yu Xian could win a bonus, so he was particularly nervous.
Yu Xian and his roommate Zhu Qiang both lost their jobs a month ago. They were both at the end of their ropes. If they couldn’t find work next week, they planned to leave this big city and return to their hometown to find another way to make a living.
But tonight, they both received an advertisement on their phones at the same time.
[Do you want to get rich overnight?]
[A group of players is trying to complete a game. Bet on the selected player, and if he succeeds, you will win 30,000 yuan.]
Neither of them had money in their bank accounts, so they weren’t afraid of getting scammed or getting their phones infected with viruses.
So they both clicked in.
When it was time to select a player to bet on, many avatars appeared in front of Yu Xian. He chose with the mindset of watching a movie and randomly selected a good-looking player, who happened to be Zhou Qian.
But as the game progressed, Yu Xian couldn’t help but doubt his choice—Do good-looking people really have bad brains?
In fact, Yu Xian didn’t really think that a pie would fall from the sky.
But just 30 seconds ago, his roommate Zhu Qiang received a text message—his bank account had received 30,000 yuan.
The player Zhu Qiang chose was called Lu Mengmeng, a young man in his early twenties who looked quite cute.
Lu Mengmeng completed the level 30 seconds ago. The system sent him a treasure chest. After receiving the prize from the chest, he left the game.
At the same moment, Zhu Qiang received the bank transfer notification.
“Holy shit!” “Holy shit!!” “Holy shit!!!”
After carefully reading the deposit text message three times, both of them simultaneously exclaimed in surprise and then focused their attention on Zhou Qian, who hadn’t completed the level.
Seeing Zhou Qian procrastinating, Yu Xian roared, and Zhu Qiang couldn’t help saying, “Lu Mengmeng’s method of passing the level just now was right! He didn’t ask anything; he just tore open all the dolls to check!”
Yu Xian: “Damn it, I’m really anxious! You got your 30,000, while I’m still hanging here! If Zhou Qian doesn’t pass, you’ll have to cover the rent next month!”
“Ah, finally!” Yu Xian let out a sigh of relief. “Zhou Qian finally passed the level! He finally found the doll!”
Zhu Qiang: “So all those stories and plots are useless. They’re all just coverups, wasting the player’s time! Alright, it looks like Zhou Qian is about to leave the game. Eh… eh? Why isn’t he leaving?! What’s he doing?!”
“Fuck, that little boy is about to turn into bones, and he dares to touch it?! What if he gets attacked?! Even though his health bar is quite high, there’s still a risk, right?!”
At this moment, in the game.
Zhou Qian had no idea that someone was watching him play and even placed a bet on him.
He just calmly found the key to complete the level.
The little boy hated dolls. Because to him, the existence of the dolls was actually a reminder that he, like them, was just a toy to be touched and played with.
Hidden among all the dolls was a boy doll, forced to wear a pink wig and a pink dress, resembling the little boy.
Since the little boy hated himself the most, he certainly hated it the most.
With a swift motion, Zhou Qian picked up the doll, turned to the little boy, and said, “Let’s kill it together.”
Immediately, the countdown on the system panel stopped.
[Player has found the most hated doll and successfully passed the tutorial level. An ending animation will play next. After the animation ends, the player can log out of the game.]
Sounds of faint crying echoed around, seemingly coming from all the dolls.
The bed, cupboard, ceiling, and floor, all of which had turned blood-red, slowly darkened until they merged with the black night. The little boy collapsed to the floor, his flesh peeling off, turning into a skeleton.
Zhou Qian didn’t retreat. Instead, he approached the boy, squatted down beside him, held his hand without fear, and said softly, almost bewitchingly, “None of this is your fault. You shouldn’t hate yourself, let alone kill yourself. The person you should kill is the scum who did this to you.”
Suddenly, a look of hatred appeared in the boy’s eyes. “You’re right, I should kill him! Kill Li Dafu!”
[Player Zhou Qian has triggered a side quest for the associated level: Kill Li Dafu.]
Glancing at the new prompt on the panel, Zhou Qian asked the boy, “Who is Li Dafu?”
“My uncle!” The little boy clenched his fists.
“I see. Your uncle tormented you. Blood must be repaid with blood. I will take revenge for you,” Zhou Qian said with a hint of excitement in his eyes.
His gaze at the boy seemed filled with pity at first, but a closer look revealed a trace of bloodlust. It was as if he was not only seeking revenge for the boy, but also looking for an opportunity to kill freely.
“Now, can you tell me where Li Dafu is?”
“He will be attending a meeting at Apple Paradise. I stole his invitation. Now I’m giving it to you! With the invitation I give you, you can blend into the park. If you run into him, kill him for me!”
[Player Zhou Qian has obtained the item: Li Dafu’s Invitation.]
[Li Dafu, you are the most devout believer in the “God Epoh”. Unfortunately, God has let you down. To make up for it, God has granted you this precious invitation, allowing you to meet him in Apple Paradise.
At that time, you can do as you wish with Him. “No matter how outrageous your actions are, God will not refuse you.”]
So, Li Dafu is a follower of a god called Epoh.
But what could have caused God to disappoint him?
Gods are usually high above us. What could have possibly happened for a god to allow his followers to do as they wish with him?
Zhou Qian narrowed his eyes slightly and quickly asked the boy before he disappeared, “Since you were able to steal such an invitation, do you know any secrets about Li Dafu? What’s the deal with this God Epoh that he worships?”
“The great God can fulfill people’s wishes. Li Dafu wanted money, and God gave it to him; he wanted…”
The boy said resentfully, “He wanted me, and God gave him that too! Bound by God’s power, I couldn’t escape from Li Dafu, so I had no choice but to kill myself! Now… Now Li Dafu has made another wish to God, saying he wants to resurrect me. But God said his power has weakened, and he cannot fulfill Li Dafu’s wish. He felt sorry and sent this invitation…”
Hmm, so… this god isn’t a traditionally benevolent god.
What is his purpose in doing all this?
Zhou Qian pondered briefly, his gaze falling on the last sentence of the invitation—[Only guests with an invitation are eligible to enter the park. Please keep it safe.]
Now that he had cleared this mini-instance, Apple Paradise and God Epoh must be elements in another instance.
Normally, the first challenge for players entering that instance would probably be how to get into Apple Paradise.
But with this invitation, the problem was already solved for Zhou Qian.
Indeed, triggering hidden plotlines could be beneficial.
Everything he had done previously wasn’t a waste of time.
The earlier mini-instance was a beginner’s tutorial mode, with almost no risk of death, just allowing the player to familiarize themselves with the operation process.
Among the 30 dolls, 29 were female, and only one was male. Thus, “gender” became the only distinctive trait that made this doll different from others. Therefore, the answer to the puzzle had to be it.
There was no need to explore any storyline; the player could quickly find the answer by examining each doll.
But after all, the system designed this tragic story, so there must be a purpose behind it.
At this point, Zhou Qian found out that his guess was right.
By the time Zhou Qian put away the invitation, the little boy had completely turned into a pile of bones.
All kinds of furniture, and even the whole room, had disappeared.
Zhou Qian arrived in the middle of the night, with the unlit villa behind him and the villa’s backyard in front of him.
The backyard was very desolate. A skeleton quietly lay on the ground, and the 30 brand-new and exquisite dolls next to it formed a sharp contrast.
After the little boy committed suicide, he was buried in the backyard. These dolls became his burial objects. However, he still hated them after death. Therefore, the player accidentally dug up the bones and dolls in the backyard and entered his space of resentment.
At this moment, both the villa and the backyard were slowly fading away in the night, implying that the end of the animation was about to be played.
A red light rose from the skeleton and fell on Zhou Qian.
[Player Zhou Qian has obtained a one-time defensive buff—”The Blessing of the Little Boy”.]
[When your HP drops to 5%, this buff can help you withstand 100% of the next damage.]
Yu Xian: “Ah, does this mean that this buff can only prevent damage once?! What a poor bargain. I mean, if you encounter a situation where you’re getting beaten up by a boss and only have 5% left, what’s the use of preventing damage once? If the boss uses his toe, the 5% HP will be gone…”
Zhu Qiang: “Indeed, it’s not that useful, but it’s better than nothing. Hey, hey, there’s a treasure chest coming; let’s see what he got?”
After the red light on Zhou Qian disappeared, a shiny golden treasure chest appeared in front of him.
[Player successfully passed the tutorial mode and got a treasure chest. After opening, you can get a random item.]
Following this prompt, Zhou Qian walked up to open the chest and opened it. Inside was a green mass.
[Player gets item: Grass]
[Function Description: A plant?]
[Grade: F]
In the game, Zhou Qian: “Fuck.”
In front of the screen, Yu Xian and Zhu Qiang said at the same time: “Fuck.”
In this game, the level of items was ranked from high to low in the order of A to F, and special level items belonged to the S series.
Undoubtedly, a grade of F was the lowest level of items.
Lu Mengmeng just passed the game and got a Grade C defense bracelet.
It was true, comparing to others could really piss one off.
After collecting the reward item, Zhou Qian’s system panel received a new prompt.
[Player Zhou Qian can enter the associated instance: “Apple Paradise”.]
[Player Zhou Qian is about to log out of the game. You must enter a level one instance within three days.]
[Tip: You have the side mission of “Killing Li Dafu”, who is Rank E. You have just cleared the tutorial mode, haven’t obtained any skills, and all your attributes are at the lowest Rank F.]
[Due to the considerable disparity in power between the two sides, you can choose to tackle other level one instances first. After gaining levels and skill upgrades, you can then enter “Apple Paradise”…]
[Of course, the greater the difference in power, the higher the rewards for completing the task. Players should make a careful choice based on their needs.]
[This game adopts a customized instance recommendation mode.]
[The tutorial mode can also reveal a player’s characteristics and potential. In addition to “Apple Paradise”, the system has provided an additional 5 regular level one instances based on your traits for you to choose from.]
[Please choose the instance you want to enter and the time of entry. You have three days to think about it.]
Zhou Qian didn’t need to think about it at all; he made his choice on the spot—Instance: “Apple Paradise”; Time of Entry: Three days later.
His operation made Yu Xian and Zhu Qiang exclaim in surprise.
—With the useless buff, useless grass, and without obtaining any skills, Zhou Qian was going to take these two things and directly challenge the Rank E Li Dafu?
Yu Xian had no time to grieve for Zhou Qian when he received several lines of prompts himself.
[The player you bet on, Zhou Qian, successfully cleared the level. 30,000 yuan will be credited to your account. Player Zhou Qian will enter the level one instance “Apple Paradise” in three days. You can choose to continue betting on him, or, of course, you can take the 30,000 yuan and leave this game altogether.]
[To participate in the bet, you need to pay 30,000 yuan. If Zhou Qian fails to clear the game, you will lose these thirty thousand yuan; if Zhou Qian successfully clears the game, you will receive a reward of 1,000,000 yuan.]
[Gambler Yu Xian, you have ten minutes to make a decision.]
Kinky Thoughts:
I always wanted to do an infinite/unlimited flow novel, so I picked this one up from a recommendation.
In the principal’s office on the second floor of Bikong Academy, the principal, whose eyes were a light shade of gray, stood leaning by the window. Where his gaze reached, a group of energetic students were coming from afar, laughing and playing.
“When I was young, I met a visitor from a distant galaxy,” the principal lazily said. “His eyes were a clear and bottomless blue, like vast oceans, unforgettable at a glance.”
The corners of the principal’s mouth rose slightly, recalling the pleasant memories. “I once told him that he possesses the most beautiful eyes on his planet, but guess what he said?”
The other person in the room didn’t respond, but the principal didn’t seem to need him to answer and continued on his own. “He said that in his homeland, everyone has eyes of different colors. There are green like emeralds, red like amber, gold like glass… Even though I couldn’t see it with my own eyes, imagining it is already beautiful enough.”
The group of students drew closer, and their faces became more distinct. They were different in appearance and stature, but their eyes were all the same smoky gray.
There were so many magnificent colors in the world, yet here they were unified into the most unremarkable one. Some of the light spectrum was greedily absorbed, and the remainder was mixed into a foggy gray that filled the entire pupil.
“How monotonous the colors of our planet are in comparison,” the principal lamented.
Not far behind him stood the much taller Director of Education, whose eyes were as black as ink, seemingly trapping even light. Such profound eye color, however, was also considered one of the monotonous colors in the principal’s eyes.
The director quietly shifted his gaze from the students on the ground floor to the principal’s profile. Although this man often mentioned things about youth and memories, his appearance and figure weren’t much different from the students of the academy. Without looking at his eyes, it would be hard to discern his real age.
This was the planet Tianxiu, where people’s eyes had only three colors, which were also essential identity markers. The majority of Bikong Academy’s students, regardless of gender, had smoky gray eyes; the color exclusive to minors. Only a few had eyes that had changed, signifying their awakening as adults and their impending departure from the academy.
People on this planet had neither childhood nor old age. They came into existence in a unique way, awakening as teenagers after a long dormant period. Born with survival skills, they didn’t need to learn to walk or speak and even retained the most basic survival memories through generations of reincarnations.
Without parents, siblings, they were born equal without any difference in social status. During their fledgling stage, all adults collectively raised them, allowing minors to spend their formative years in academies like Bikong. After completing the coming-of-age ceremony, they would develop for the second time into adults and maintain that appearance until the next dormant period.
This was the Tianxiu people, with no birth or real death. Generations after generations have lived on this planet for thousands of years.
“These students are in the tenth grade, right?” the principal asked, watching them pass below. Since age couldn’t be judged by height or appearance, educators here generally developed exceptional memory.
The director gave a brief glance and quickly identified a few targets. “Yes, most of them are in the fledgling stage—around nine to ten years—the peak period of awakening.”
“It would be nice if they could pass the awakening period carefree.” The principal tapped on the glass. “I don’t want to repeat the past tragedies. For this year’s health education, should we assign someone gentle…”
The students who had just walked past had splintered into small groups, discussing the physical fitness test that had just ended.
“Have you heard? Two people in our grade scored over three hundred points in this physical fitness test. Are they really that strong?”
“Who else could it be? It must be Ling Xiao and Ying Feng, I bet.”
“Who do you think scored higher between them?”
“Probably Ling Xiao.”
“It must be Ying Feng. Although Ling Xiao is also very strong, he’s still slightly inferior to Ying Feng…”
The students were enthusiastically discussing, unaware that behind them, one of the parties mentioned was walking by.
Ling Xiao’s face was cold. The results of everyone’s physical fitness test were sent directly to their private terminals from the host computer, so others didn’t know. But the instructor hinted to him after the test that although his results were good, they weren’t the best of this grade.
And among his peers of the same grade, there was only one person who could surpass him: Ying Feng.
Ying Feng and Ling Xiao had awakened within half an hour of each other and were both assigned to Bikong Academy. They had been classmates for ten years, since the first grade. They almost had all the prerequisites to become good friends, but due to Ling Xiao’s competitiveness and Ying Feng’s indifference, they remained strangers.
Ying Feng had a slight edge over Ling Xiao in almost everything, but this slight edge was enough to keep Ling Xiao in second place forever. The only thing that could redeem his pride was that he was a few centimeters taller than Ying Feng. This had been his only victory over him in these past ten years.
“Why the long face?” One of Ling Xiao’s best friends, Lan Sheng, hooked his arm around his neck. “Let me guess, you lost to him again?”
Another friend, Ping Zong, gently elbowed him, indicating: Do you have to be so blunt?
“What’s there to fear? Our Xiao* Ling Xiao is best at turning sorrow into strength. This small failure can’t defeat him, right?”
*Little/young (小). When used as a prefix in front of a name, it expresses familiarity or affection towards a person, usually used when the person is younger or lower rank than you.
“Of course not.” Ling Xiao was spurred on by the words. “The instructor said I was only two points behind him. A little more effort, and I can surpass him.”
Lan Sheng punched him in the chest. “That’s a must. I’m counting on you.”
The three walked back to the classroom together. When they entered the classroom, Ling Xiao was still arguing with Lan Sheng. “And, I’m older than you, so don’t call me ‘Xiao’ Ling Xiao.”
“You only woke up half a year before me, and our ages during our fledgling phase don’t mean anything.”
“You’re so confident I won’t become an adult before you?”
“Hahaha. Really? You?”
The two chatted happily, and soon more boys joined in. As the classroom was buzzing, Ying Feng appeared at the entrance, but only Ling Xiao noticed.
Ying Feng’s seat was in the last row, so he had to pass by Ling Xiao’s group. As he passed, Ling Xiao, who had been leaning against the desk, suddenly stood up straight, lifted his chin, and congratulated him in a tone that was hard to interpret as complimentary.
“Congratulations.”
Ying Feng didn’t even turn his face, coldly glancing at Ling Xiao, who was trying hard to make himself look tall, and walked by without a word. The other students were well aware of the animosity between the two and turned a blind eye as usual.
Seeing Ying Feng ignore him once again, Ling Xiao’s anger flared.
“Sooner or later, I will, I will…” Ling Xiao thought of the most vicious threat he could think of as a Tianxiu fledgling. “I will take your heart’s blood and make you my Qizi. You’ll obey me all your life!”
Ling Xiao’s bold words were like dropping an atomic bomb in the classroom, shocking all the students. To these young minds, adulthood was a vague concept. Although many were facing awakening, the relationships between adults were still a mysterious existence.
Their knowledge of adult matters came from surreptitiously obtained vulgar literature, where Qizi were described almost like slaves, completely under the control of their Qizhu without any capability to resist. This made Ling Xiao’s words seem particularly outrageous and daring.
“Haha.” After a long silence, someone laughed awkwardly. “Ling Xiao, you really dared to say that.”
With the ice broken, the crowd immediately laughed and agreed, like teenagers accidentally discussing dirty jokes; embarrassed but unable to resist wanting to know more.
“Hey, I heard the equipment teacher say yesterday,” Lan Sheng suddenly whispered mysteriously, and everyone immediately huddled together, “that he was taken four times in one night, and he was weak-kneed when he went to work.”
“No way?” someone exclaimed as others snickered. “Why did he say that?”
“It’s true. I heard him complaining to his Qizhu on the communicator. There was no one else in the office, and I was hiding by the door, eavesdropping.”
The forbidden door, once opened, would not easily close again. “What else did he say?”
“I don’t know. I only heard this much. I was afraid of being discovered, so I quickly ran away.”
“Tch.” Everyone collectively groaned. A good opportunity to spy on the adult world was killed.
Ling Xiao sneered disdainfully. “Four times a night? That’s nothing. When I become someone’s Qizhu, it will be seven times a night, and they won’t be able to get out of bed for three days.” Having said that, he glanced meaningfully at someone’s seat. The person unexpectedly raised his head, and the two made brief eye contact.
There erupted a round of cheers among the boys, including cries of admiration and encouragement, while the girls distanced themselves, as if they wanted nothing to do with these shameless people.
Yao Tai walked into the classroom just in time to catch Ling Xiao’s arrogant words, making her inwardly curse.
These ignorant* little brats, not even old enough to grow pubic hair, dared to speak so wildly. Rather than psychological health education, the fledgling who started this should be tied up and beaten until he learns his lesson.
*Not knowing the height of the sky and the thickness of earth (不知天高地厚) Idiom referring to someone who is overconfident, arrogant, or naive about the reality of the situation, which can lead them to act recklessly and make unwise decisions.
She strode to the podium in her high heels. Seeing their teacher arrive, the students dispersed and returned to their seats.
Yao Tai possessed a stunning figure rarely seen in the academy and possessed deep black eyes. Many students referred to her as Queen Yao behind her back. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t a teacher of the academy.
Indeed, as soon as she stood at the lectern, a student raised a hand.
“Dr. Yao, are you our substitute teacher today?”
The academy’s health doctor, Yao Tai, crossed her arms. “Starting today, the tenth graders will have additional physiological health classes, and I will be the instructor for this course. If any of you have questions in this area, feel free to ask me.”
Physiological health class? The students’ eyes lit up, but no one dared to raise a hand.
“What’s the matter? No questions? Weren’t you all discussing very passionately just now?”
Realizing they had been caught, several boys who had just been making a fuss started scratching their heads sheepishly.
Yao Tai didn’t press further. She drew two human silhouettes on the sensory board, clearly distinguishing a male and a female.
“As you all understand, we, the people of the Tianxiu, have a unique way of reproducing, which is asexual reproduction. There are only two stages in our lives—fledgling and adult—which is why we have a unique way of calculating age.”
“You.” She pointed at a student in the front row. “How old are you?”
“Nine years in the fledgling stage,” the student replied fluently.
“Good, I’m eighty-seven years old as an adult. How much older am I than you?”
“I…” The student couldn’t answer.
“You should answer, ‘I don’t know’,” Yao Tai continued. “The length of the fledgling stage varies. Some awaken as early as four years, while others don’t awaken until eighteen, although these are exceptions.”
“Over 80% of our people reach sexual maturity around their tenth year after awakening. That means…” She drew out her words, sweeping her gaze over each student’s face. “A significant portion of you here might be approaching your sexual awakening.”
The girls who were shyer were already blushing at this point, but Yao Tai continued unfazed. “Although we reproduce asexually and don’t need to mate for reproduction like other species, that doesn’t mean we don’t have physical desires. Our primary purpose for mating is to complete our secondary development and evolve into actual adults.”
Yao Tai was addressing the subjects the students were most curious about but couldn’t easily learn elsewhere. At this moment, every student was listening intently.
However, Yao Tai suddenly changed the subject, seemingly to pique their curiosity, and then began to describe the customs of other planets.
“Many of our neighboring stars, even those in distant galaxies, have very different social structures. The most obvious difference is they have families. Everyone may be born into different families—some in wealthy households enjoying riches, others in slums struggling in poverty. They have differences in status and wealth from birth, receiving unequal treatment.”
“Their lives are unequal from the beginning, with distinctions of rank and hierarchy, high and low social status, rich and poor. Though a person can change their circumstances through effort, the starting point and required effort will differ vastly. Among them, the only equality might be that no one can choose where they are born.”
Yao Tai’s words opened a door to a new world. For the first time, the students learned that some people were forcefully divided into different social ranks upon awakening—or birth, though they had no concept of birth—while they were only forcibly divided into grades. Hearing such an eye-opening statement, they couldn’t help but feel extremely fortunate.
Yao Tai guessed their thoughts and immediately delved deeper.
“Compared to them, we, the people of Tianxiu, are equal. After awakening, we receive the same material treatment, public healthcare, education, and political rights. This is unparalleled and unique in any galaxy.”
At this point, some students straightened their backs proudly.
“But,” Yao Tai shattered their newly-built pride, “if you think that we are a race that values equality and pursues human rights, you are sorely mistaken.”
“To avoid the laziness stemming from innate equality, our requirements for acquired effort are even more stringent. We have the most brutal ranking system in the universe, which is—”
She slapped the board. “The master-slave relationship between spouses!”
Kinky Thoughts:
I decided to pick this up due to a recommendation from a friend (whom I deeply trust for all recommendations). Some things to note about this novel.
There is smut (which is probably the main factor in why I decided to do it), so be sure you’re at an appropriate age to read it. I won’t be putting up any NSFW warnings and such except here, so be advised.
Given the context, make sure you are comfortable reading this type of theme before proceeding. There will be no warnings throughout the chapters. Just know there is, what some would consider, dubious consent. Check the tags on Novels Update.
——
An important note regarding Qizi and Qizhu.
Qizhu (契主) translated would be contractor/owner/master, while [qi] (契) in [Qizi] means contract/deed combined with [zi] (子) would mean something along the lines of “one who’s being contracted”.
Given that Qizi is the title of the novel, I decided not to give translations to these terms.
——
So… we can hold Ling Xiao accountable for 7 times a night, right?
Crimson’s hearty laughter came through the communication crystal. He was ecstatic. “What to do now, Jack? If you had mentioned it a few days earlier, maybe I would have sneaked in to help you—but now the mission is already a third over, and I can’t enter the instance now.”
“Those two players, the torture target, and me made four at the beginning.” Jack insisted it was an accident. “I didn’t want to kill the torture target the second day I entered. I just didn’t think about getting reinforcements…”
“Oh, are you sure those two are players? Did you see their earrings?” Crimson didn’t really push the point.
“No.”
Jack gritted his teeth. The fireplace burned with fierce flames, making him feel irritated. “Their methods are nothing like the locals. I can tell that much. Even if the instance is full, creatures other than players can still enter, right? Get some locals and monsters in.”
“Oh—you want to use those disposable cannon fodder against players? Seriously?” Crimson was still laughing.
“Those two seem to have some moral baggage,” Jack said. “Their team has a dwarf and a gray wolfkin, and they seem to get along well. The dwarf even cooperates with the wolfkin.”
Crimson’s smile faded. “That’s a rare combination. Dwarfs and wolfkins don’t get along; their languages are completely different… Ah, that reminds me of some recent rumors. It’s said that there’s a place where monsters who understand languages have appeared. The Temple of Life has started paying attention to this.”
“Don’t tell me I should capture them,” Jack said cautiously.
“The dwarf and wolfkin? They aren’t worth the effort. Do as you please.”
Crimson paused for a moment. “I’d rather you capture that swordsman and his companion alive. Since they haven’t joined the Temple of Life, there’s a chance to win them over—but if they are hypocritical do-gooders, killing them is fine too.”
Back to square one. Annoyed, Jack said, “So, I need more hands, don’t you get it? Besides the two players, there are also two monsters. Even if I have many items, it’s not enough to handle all of them.”
“But you have the shadow wolf,” Crimson reminded him. “Use your brain, my friend.”
“You make it sound easy,” Jack muttered, glancing at the communication crystal in front of the fireplace.
Here it comes, the highlight of the communication. Crimson may be smart, but he always loved to show off. He would always hint at what he might do, which was what Jack was looking for.
Game ID Crimson, real name Crimson Lamier. A notorious serial killer from Country A, known for his brutal and bizarre crime scenes.
His known victims numbered 26. He loved to target males in their prime with good families—he would kill them, skin them, and then place them on a homemade altar, offering these “perfect lambs” to his imagined god.
The victims’ families would have their eyes and tongues removed, forced to eat the cooked flesh of their relatives. When found, most were mentally broken, unable to provide useful testimony.
…This was what Jack learned from the news.
This notorious criminal fled to Country C, where there’s no extradition treaty with Country A, hoping to hide among its dense population. When it was discovered that he entered the country illegally, the local police were on high alert. Strictly speaking, Jack was trapped indirectly by Crimson.
But Jack had to admit, when it came to “how to destroy a person”, Crimson had a much greater knack for it.
“Ugh, I’ve said it a thousand times, you killers who murder for the lower half are so boring,” Crimson lamented. “Always targeting the same type of weak person, not understanding the complexity and beauty of human nature…”
“Of course, I can’t compare to a renowned killer like you,” Jack said sarcastically.
“It’s simple. Aren’t those two players actively looking for the white wolf? This means they value the dwarf and wolfkin, who can’t enter the house. Otherwise, they could have just stayed inside, sipping hot soup, and waiting for the timer to run out.”
“To deal with a protector, the best attack is to kill those he’s protecting. Of course, if they don’t care about the deaths of the monsters, it shows they can be won over—don’t think about how to handle those two players, Jack, target the two monsters.”
Crimson casually summarized, ending with a wolf howl imitation.
Jack’s eyes lit up. He knew he could extract something from Crimson.
“I know that.” He snorted. “Never mind, whether I get external support or not, I’ll figure something out.”
Crimson’s chuckle came through the crystal. “Of course, of course, you surely know. Waiting for your good news, friend… Oh, by the way.”
Jack was about to end the call but stopped. “What?”
“Earring,” Crimson elongated the word. “The player’s earring, you have to confirm. In any world, the self-righteous always die the fastest.”
He thought it was something significant. Jack scoffed. Players were the strongest. He might as well assume both were players; what could go wrong?
He already knew what to do.
……
Teest was touching Nol’s left ear.
Nol’s earlobe was of average size, pale in complexion, and cold to the touch, almost like squeezing packed snow. Teest rubbed it gently with the pad of his finger, slowly warming the soft flesh with his body heat.
It felt like some sort of contamination, Teest thought with pleasure, applying a slight pressure. The sharp hook of the earring pressed against the earlobe, and the shining gold slowly pierced into the flesh. A drop of bright red blood oozed out, quickly tinting the gold with a layer of red. Against Nol’s pale skin and dark hair, these colors seemed especially pure.
Teest deliberately slowed his movements to savor the rare sight, even deliberately touching a bit of the blood with his fingertip.
Nol’s brows slightly furrowed from the pain. His breathing was faster than usual, but he didn’t make a sound. His hair wasn’t long, and as he tilted his head, most of his neck was exposed.
Teest’s gaze irresistibly drifted to Nol’s neck.
It was perfect, the lines as smooth as a sculpture. Teest’s eyes wandered to the locations of the artery and throat. They were within easy reach, but he wondered if they were lethal for a lich.
“Done,” Teest said a few seconds later, stepping back with satisfaction.
The player’s earring now adorned Nol’s left ear, still stained with a glaring blood mark. Nol, still with furrowed brows, nonchalantly cast a healing spell on his ear and asked, “Why did it take so long?”
Just to put on a player’s earring, Teest took four to five minutes. The continuous pain made Nol uncomfortable. Not to mention, he had to hold still and let someone else handle him, which wasn’t a pleasant experience.
“I had to get it just right. Otherwise, our enemies would spot the flaw,” Teest explained, gently touching the earring pendant. “You agreed to this.”
The touch made Nol flinch slightly. He glanced skeptically at Teest but only clicked his tongue without saying more.
‘People do need to vent,’ Teest thought. Nol seemed in better spirits than yesterday, reminiscent of their first encounter. In a way, it was easy to deal with him—after all, good people tend to be alike.
And indeed, Nol suited moonstone better; heavy gold would ruin his temperament.
“That burly guy might mistake me for a player, and there might be Eternalists waiting at the instance’s exit,” Nol said seriously. “I’ll pretend to be a player from now on. Remember to cooperate.”
“Of course, I remember.” Teest smiled. “By the way, I need to take you somewhere… How about I blindfold you for a surprise?”
“Let’s go,” Nol replied, pretending not to hear the last part.
If it took that long to put on an earring, who knew what would happen if he was blindfolded? Maybe he’d open his eyes to find himself hung up by the Mad Monk’s golden thread. Nol couldn’t guess Teest’s thoughts, but he was sure the man was unpredictable in this regard.
Upon reaching their destination, Nol once again confirmed that Teest was far more unpredictable than he had imagined.
Their destination was an igloo built a few days ago, where Rosen and Julie had been spending the night. However, the most eye-catching thing inside the igloo wasn’t them—
The old hunter was tied up tightly with a golden thread, sitting in the igloo they had built. An old white wolf was circling him, its nose making anxious sniffs. The wolf was frantically digging around the old hunter, as if trying to hide him.
Catching the scent of herbs on Nol’s snow boots, the white wolf abruptly turned its head. Its nose wrinkled, baring all its teeth, and let out a threatening growl.
“Idiot! Idiot!” the old hunter shouted, his eyes bloodshot. “Run, run!”
Instead, the white wolf lowered its body, adopting a battle stance, getting even closer to the old hunter.
Nol was silent for a while. “What’s going on?”
“Last night we found the hunter and the white wolf. They’re close,” Rosen said, sounding brighter upon seeing Nol had recovered. “I wanted to let you guys know, so I cast a light spell near the cabin… but only Teest came out.”
Teest blinked innocently. “My companion was sleeping soundly, and I didn’t want to disturb him. But this is a great discovery, so I quickly captured them—mainly Mr. Hunter. The white wolf didn’t leave on its own, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”
Rosen frowned, clearly not approving of Teest’s methods. But given the dire situation, he said nothing.
Nol closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Finally, he walked over to Teest and patted his shoulder. “Thank you for not killing the white wolf.”
He was certain if the Mad Monk had entered the instance alone, the moment Teest saw the white wolf, it would have been doomed.
“Of course, I have to discuss this kind of thing with you,” Teest said cheerfully. “Besides, if I killed the wolf on the spot, Mr. Hunter here might have a heart attack.”
The old hunter’s veins throbbed on his forehead, unable to break free from the golden threads that bound him. He cursed vehemently. The white wolf looked even more tense; its tail tucked between its legs but still growling softly.
“Alright, everyone’s here.” Teest ignored the white wolf’s intimidation and looked at Nol. “Honey, what do you think? The Eternalist hasn’t found us yet. If we kill it, we can all leave.”
“It’s just an animal that’s about to die of old age. Think about your compatriots. A cultist and shadow wolf are running amok; the longer they stay here, the greater the risk.”
Nol didn’t answer.
Teest glanced at Rosen and continued with a grin, “This law enforcer didn’t stop me. It seems that in your world, human life is more important than an animal’s.”
“That’s my friend! Damn it, it’s been my friend for decades!!!” the old hunter roared, his eyes bulging as he sprayed spit everywhere. “If you dare to kill it, I will—I will—”
He stumbled over his words, unable to speak.
Rosen pursed his lips tightly, his face looking terrifying. It was Julie who stepped forward, her tone as calm as ever.
“Mr. Xu, we need to clarify one thing,” Dr. Zhu said softly, incongruent with her fearsome beastly appearance. “Without you, we would still be lost. We have no position or right to demand you to end the quest immediately. Both Rosen and I feel the same.”
“It’s our lives at stake, and you don’t have to take responsibility. Whatever judgment you make, we’ll accept.”
Teest didn’t speak. He folded his arms, looking interested. On one side of the scale were the lives of his compatriots, and on the other were the aging hunter and his wolf.
For a kind-hearted person, this choice was somewhat cruel.
To his surprise, Nol barely hesitated. He walked up to the old hunter. With a flash of blue fire, the golden threads fell to the ground. Just as the old hunter was about to rise, Nol pressed him back down with one hand.
He showed no expression and didn’t utter the heartwarming words Teest had expected.
“Answer my question,” Nol said gravely. “If you want to protect your wolf, do as I say.”
The old hunter swallowed hard and nodded.
“The player is your only family. You can’t refuse to help the player, you can’t lie to the player, and when necessary, you have to give the player clues about the white wolf… is that correct?”
The old hunter stopped struggling. He looked at Nol in astonishment. “…Yes.”
Nol was silent for a few seconds. “Who told you this?”
“Nobody told me.” The old hunter sat down disheartened, trying to shield the white wolf with his body. “I was young when I woke up in the cabin… After waking up, all I remembered was that my name was Hunter, I was 19, and I lived here as a hunter.”
He shook his beard, his tone almost mocking.
“Waiting for the player, helping the player, guiding the player to find the white wolf—this is my fate. I just know these things, like a bean knows it should sprout… Isn’t that what destiny is?”
“Do you know if there were other hunters before you?” Nol continued.
The old hunter laughed.
It was hard for Nol to describe that smile—a mixture of pain, contempt, and despair, like a blunt knife stabbing at him.
“Of course, I have some guesses,” Hunter said. “Listen, since I’ve been here, the white wolf has cycled three times. One white wolf dies, and a new one appears right away. There’s always a white wolf here; only ever one white wolf… If that’s true for the white wolf, why not for me?”
He looked up with his clouded eyes, staring directly into Nol’s. “Young man, both humans and wolves live in packs. Why are only we left waiting here alone?”
“You realize all of this but still can’t violate the rules regarding the player,” Nol muttered.
Must help, must be honest, must guide. These were the core rules when the system randomly generated the “Hunter” NPC.
“Fate cannot be defied.” The old hunter sighed. “No matter how much I hope or curse, it will come.”
Nol was silent for even longer. After a sigh, he asked the question he had been concerned about from the beginning—
“You didn’t finish your sentence earlier, ‘If you dare to kill it.’ What were you going to say? ‘I’ll die with it?'”
“Is not being able to end your own life also part of your ‘fate’?”
The old hunter still maintained that wry smile. “Isn’t it obvious? Do you like living alone in such a ghost of a place?”
However, when the system generated the “Hunter” NPC, there was no such rule. That was what Nol thought.
Reality? Game? Countless clues point to the same answer, and Nol didn’t like it.
No, these were just… circumstantial evidence; he needed stronger and more brutal proof.
“That’s enough, Mr. Hunter.” Nol reached out to the hunter. “Thank you for your answers. We—well, at least I—don’t want to kill your wolf. Let’s hold on until the end. Maybe we can find a better solution.”
Teest took a sharp breath, his eyebrows raised high. “Oh honey. A little kindness is charming, but isn’t it too soft-hearted to let your compatriots bear the risk for an old wolf?”
Nol helped the confused old hunter to his feet before turning to Teest.
“It’s not about being soft-hearted or not.”
He smiled at Teest, the golden earring on his left ear gently swaying, almost dazzling against his black hair.
“Rushing to clear the game means killing the white wolf, letting the hunter die in despair. Then we leave here with our heads full of tragic memories—it shouldn’t be like this; this place shouldn’t be that kind of terrible place.”
“I just don’t like the way it is now. That’s my only reason.”
The author has something to say:
Teest: After the hug, my partner seems to be mentally stable!
Teest:
Teest (surprised): …Maybe I was wrong. Let me look again.
“Do you want me to activate the Living Puppet Curse now? Are you eager to die faster?”
Chen Qianfan retorted the absurd words of Sect Master Shi in one sentence. He stood up from the wooden platform and stretched his muscles for a while. Time had taken its toll on him, and despite focusing on breaking the ban for around seven hours, it was still challenging for him.
The defensive formation outside seemed a bit off. It was supposed to last for two or three days, but it decayed much faster than he had imagined.
Fortunately, the enemies were becoming desperate, providing ample corpses. The plan to break the formation that was initially supposed to take three days was completed in just half a day.
Elder Chen showed a little kindness to Shi Jingzhi. “Anyway, let’s eat something first. You look so weak that you could fly and become a flag in the sky. When we start fighting later, be careful; otherwise, your disciple might tear me apart.”
Seeing that the light in the main hall had dimmed, Granny Wei returned.
She brewed a pot of hot tea as usual and served it to Chen Qianfan. Then, she wrung a hot towel and sighed while wiping the dirt off Shi Jingzhi’s head and neck.
Chen Qianfan leisurely drank his tea, gazing at the exhausted young man on the wooden platform.
After Yin Ci left, Shi Jingzhi no longer pretended to be fine. He coughed up more blood and collapsed, struggling to breathe for a while before recovering.
No wonder he was eager to drive Yin Ci away; this master and disciple were getting on his nerves.
Chen Qianfan scolded Shi Jingzhi upfront, and surprisingly, Sect Master Shi didn’t say much and obediently rinsed his mouth and drank sweet porridge. Holding the porridge bowl with both hands, he looked calm, as if he were about to ascend to the heavens with the bowl in his hands.
Chen Qianfan raised an eyebrow involuntarily.
From Shi Jingzhi’s previous clinginess, he thought the sect leader was planning to put on a tragic act and insisted on going outside to help his disciple. However, the man turned out to be surprisingly calm and even enjoyed his porridge.
This guy only recovered memories from when he was three years old; he hadn’t cured his illness completely, and Chen Qianfan couldn’t fathom where this serenity came from.
After finishing his porridge, Shi Jingzhi adjusted his posture on the wooden platform and closed his eyes, preparing to take a short nap.
Chen Qianfan couldn’t hold back and fell into his usual sarcastic manner. “They say that too much concern can lead to chaos, but your mindset seems quite composed, young man.”
Earlier, he was afraid to go up on the wooden platform, and Sect Master Shi seemed desperate, resisting with all his might. Now, they were about to confront the Arcane Arts head-on, facing a considerable risk of death, yet this person appeared calm.
It was unbelievable.
This young man’s appearance didn’t belong to the category of a treacherous villain, but he possessed a heavy demonic aura and wasn’t someone of pure benevolence either. Although Chen Qianfan knew that this person wouldn’t betray him, he didn’t hold back in his words. “Are you planning to make a deal with your disciple to run away as soon as you step outside?”
Shi Jingzhi smiled and replied, “Wouldn’t that be disrespectful to Senior’s goodwill?”
“Goodwill? Once the Living Puppet Curse is activated, you won’t have any peace of mind. I’ll just impart the technique into your mind temporarily and give you a target for the attack. Let me make it clear beforehand. Even if it’s a temporary measure, you’ll experience enough suffering. And once the technique is activated, you and the Arcane Arts will be inseparable, and you won’t be able to escape even if you want to.”
Shi Jingzhi: “I see.”
He didn’t show any fear but rather seemed eager to try.
Oh no, it’s over. It seemed like there was a slight problem with breaking the ban, and it affected that kid’s mind. Shi Jingzhi might not be foolish, but he was definitely eccentric.
Chen Qianfan sighed and got straight to the point. “Aren’t you afraid of death?”
Shi Jingzhi: “I am afraid, but now I fear being confused and living aimlessly more.”
Chen Qianfan clicked his tongue. “Now you are getting spirited. Did you live in a temple before the age of three?”
Shi Jingzhi smiled. “No, it’s just that I have the power to fight desperately and trustworthy companions around me. I don’t want to timidly yield to fate; that’s just not my style.”
Unfortunately, no matter how much Chen Qianfan thought about it, he couldn’t figure out where the three-year-old child got such determination. He could only attribute it to the side effects of breaking the ban. Ignoring Shi Jingzhi, he poured himself a cup of hot tea, rolled up his sleeves, and prepared to activate the Living Puppet Curse.
In half a stick of incense’s time, Chen Qianfan rummaged through various objects and pulled out a wrinkled dead person’s head from somewhere, dangling it in front of Shi Jingzhi’s nose.
The head was shriveled and deformed, looking like a misshapen gourd. Its neck was sewn with hair into a small body, and the strange, pungent smell went straight to the nose, looking both funny and horrifying.
Shi Jingzhi’s heroic spirit froze instantly, and he swallowed his saliva, visibly shrinking back.
Well, it seemed he was susceptible to emotions and desires, so he should show some fear.
Seeing him tremble again, Chen Qianfan breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, don’t close your eyes. Watch carefully; I’m about to begin.”
“Understood, Senior.”
The moon was concealed by a gloomy atmosphere outside the door. Shi Zhongyu covered her injured arm, speechless.
She and Yang Qing did their best to stop the Arcane Arts from attacking and managed to secure many corpses. They were afraid of disturbing the formation, so they just threw them into the house through the window.
It wasn’t because their abilities had dramatically improved, but because the Arcane Arts seemed to have gained intelligence and become cunning—it didn’t directly target them but instead focused on the defensive formation. Every time it struck, the brilliance of the formation would dim momentarily, frightening them.
For this reason, it was willing to sacrifice some of its body.
As the night grew deeper, the demonic qi of the Arcane Arts grew stronger. However, the two of them were running out of energy and gradually found it difficult to continue.
Shi Zhongyu’s arm and ribs were injured, leaving her with only half of her combat power. Yan Qing was also exhausted, with a deep wound on his leg. His hands holding the sword trembled slightly, and he was anxious.
The Arcane Arts clearly intended to reap the benefits easily.
Once the defensive formation failed, the hordes of monsters would instantly transform into ravenous locusts, engulfing all living beings within the formation. They wouldn’t be able to retreat to recuperate inside the formation anymore and would undoubtedly be wiped out.
They did their best, made no mistakes, and even fought harder than the previous two days, but they could only watch the situation worsen.
This feeling was quite despairing. While water dripping on stone* may still have an effect and they had collected numerous corpses from the monster horde, it seemed as if the opposing side barely even flinched.
*(水滴石穿) Idiom referring to constant efforts brings success, like how water constantly dripping on a stone will eventually wear it out.
The demonic qi was becoming dense, as if about to take tangible form.
No wonder, given the situation, no one from the Mishan Sect extended a helping hand—aside from considering the restriction of ‘not destroying the Arcane Arts’, the current situation was beyond the capability of ordinary people to handle. Sacrificing one or two disciples was deemed an acceptable “loss” compared to being targeted by the Arcane Arts.
It seemed like the Arcane Arts sensed their frustration; it narrowed its countless eyes, slightly tilting its head, exuding a mocking expression from every single one of its eyes.
Yan Qing’s pair of red ghost eyes looked horrifying; he had been intentionally or unintentionally protected by Shi Zhongyu, which allowed him to preserve some strength. Young people always had such stubbornness; he faced numerous monsters wandering in front of the Sword of Compassion, resembling a scene of hell that completely tarnished Kongshi’s name.
The monster horde on the ground smelled the blood on Yan Qing’s legs, and their oddly shaped eyes widened as they let out ear-piercing squeaks and screeches. The Arcane Arts calmly guarded outside the formation, waiting for this foolhardy young man to seek his own death.
A hand rested on Yan Qing’s shoulder.
“The ban has been lifted, and everything is going smoothly. Taking care of Sect Master Shi. There are even spare corpses, enough for the battle… You both have worked hard.”
Yin Ci spoke in a deep voice.
“It’s time to dismantle these ignorant monsters.”
Shi Zhongyu’s exhausted heart skipped a beat but didn’t settle—having spare corpses meant they didn’t need to worry about the disaster warding talisman. However, currently, only Yin Ci came out; he had no inner force, so the situation wouldn’t change much.
Yin Ci didn’t say anything more. He simply held the Hanging Shadow Sword and walked toward the crowd of screaming monsters outside the formation.
He didn’t conceal his true strength, and there was no caution or hesitation in his steps. The monster horde fluttered like willow catkins; as they were hit by his icy and formidable qi, their demonic qi and killing intent momentarily diminished.
Under the moonlight, the black sword swept through.
This time, even Yan Qing could see the difference in the situation—
Yin Ci stepped on the heads of numerous monsters and headed straight for the Arcane Arts. His sword techniques were intricate; each strike was aimed directly at vital points, seemingly just like in the past. However, this time, the sword actually left a wound when it pierced the Arcane Arts.
For some reason, something had changed.
The Sweeping Bone Sword technique was unpredictable and hard to anticipate. The most famous aspect of it was reflected in its name—the sword technique was filled with a heavy deathly aura, as if it originated from the underworld. Each move was connected to the next, and pulling a single hair could affect the whole body. It was difficult to change techniques.
The power of this sword technique was as oppressive as it was formidable, with only the intent to kill the opponent, devoid of any other emotion.
Shi Zhongyu doubted if her eyes were playing tricks on her, but she actually saw a glimmer of vitality in this Bone Sweeping Sword technique.
Like the melting snow and ice, a hint of warm wind emerged in the midst of the cold spring.
Wasn’t it Shi Jingzhi whose ban was lifted? How could this person’s state of mind change so much?
Yin Ci wasn’t much calmer than Shi Zhongyu. The myriad of monsters howled, and the eyes of countless dead people were fixed on him. But he had never felt so exhilarated before, and the cold blood that had been in him for so long gradually warmed, bringing bursts of thawing pain.
Before, this had been a “must-fight” battle. But now, he seemed to have something burning more and more intensely inside him. Countless emotions merged into one, all bursting out from the tip of his sword.
Yin Ci had already guessed that Shi Jingzhi was the Little Mute. He originally thought that “recognizing Shi Jingzhi” wouldn’t change him too much.
But his world almost turned upside down.
Whether it was the initial exploitation or the recent protection, whether it was the previous jest or the current commitment, he never needed Shi Jingzhi to understand or respond.
Immortality was like a cold glass cover, allowing him to overlook the world. However, in the instant when Shi Jingzhi held him tightly, after a hundred years, he was finally completely connected to the mortal world.
The feeling of “attachment”—was it always this wonderful?
Sword techniques were like the heart of a person; he watched as it revealed a faint sense of vitality. When the Arcane Arts retaliated with spells, he even unconsciously made an effort to evade—
In a flash, Yin Ci forgot his yearning for death. He only remembered that there was a place he had to return to.
The accumulated snow of a hundred years cracked at the summit of the mountain, and stagnant water stirred up enormous waves. Yin Ci turned into a bloody wind wrapped in battle intent, continuously stabbing at the Arcane Arts, each strike bringing down considerable corpses. The sword qi and the demonic qi tangled endlessly, creating sharp and explosive noises.
The Arcane Arts couldn’t even touch the protective formation anymore.
Yin Ci seemed to have forgotten the word ‘exhausted’. His techniques became increasingly unrestrained and free; he didn’t retreat to the protective formation even once. Despite Yin Ci having no inner force, the Arcane Arts couldn’t help but slowly widen its eyes, abandoning its previous calm demeanor and becoming noticeably more cautious.
Yan Qing watched with unwavering focus.
In a battle between top masters, each glance was precious. He held his breath, forgetting the pain in his legs, almost suffocating himself.
‘If only Yin Ci had inner force,’ he thought. This man, of flesh and blood, was evenly matched with the Arcane Arts’ spells, but he was reaching his limit. Compared to his and Shi Zhongyu’s gradual progress, Yin Ci was like waves crashing against cliffs, but unfortunately, the rock was still a rock, unable to be destroyed in an instant.
Midnight eventually arrived, transitioning between yin and yang. In a flash, the yang qi diminished and the yin qi intensified.
The Arcane Arts retreated dozens of feet; a sight rarely seen before. It hid among the restless horde of monsters, lifting its terrifying head and gazing at the sky. Its two arms, formed by corpses, crossed its chest, adopting a praying posture.
Countless spells moved rapidly on its body, emitting a dazzling blood-red light.
The next moment, it was no longer in its human form, kneeling on the ground. Numerous deformed arms and legs emerged from the pile of corpses, each wrapped in spiraling spells, stretching to abnormal lengths.
A couple of days ago, the Arcane Arts moved at a pace not much faster than a tortoise. But now, with numerous long arms and legs supporting its body, its movements brought about a nauseating twitching sensation, faster than even the smallest demons.
On the Arcane Arts’ head, countless dead heads surged again. The gap used for devouring widened, emitting a broken and ear-piercing laughter.
Yin Ci stopped his attack for the first time.
He had been battling the Arcane Arts for nearly two hours, and the accumulating monster corpses had formed a mountain of corpses around him. He stood atop this corpse mountain, vigilantly watching the Arcane Arts—
Something was wrong.
Even after lifting the restriction, the Arcane Arts was still just a mindless artifact. Its top priority should be self-preservation, not mutually assured destruction. The Northern Wasteland was barren, and who knew how long it had been accumulating this body made of ancient corpses to provide power.
In previous battles, its sense of self-preservation was no less than its attacking instinct. As an opponent in battle, Yin Ci was clearer about this than anyone else.
However, at this moment, it seemed like it had caught the scent of blood like a rabid dog, recklessly overextending its power.
In the halo of the blood-red spells, the Arcane Arts was covered in corpse water. It rushed toward the fragile protective formation. The formation made a creaking sound, appearing to be on the verge of collapse, causing the earth to tremble.
The spells even temporarily left the Arcane Arts’ body and scattered erratically around it. Yin Ci just barely brushed past them, and his arm was half rotted away.
This was no longer about sitting back while reaping the benefits but about sacrificing oneself before the soldiers.
Although he didn’t know the reason for the sudden change, the battle had to continue. The situation was dire, and he had no time to consider his own well-being. Thankfully, the darkness and the horde of monsters provided cover; as long as he “died” discreetly, Yan Qing and Shi Zhongyu shouldn’t notice any clues.
Yin Ci adjusted his breathing, and his sword was about to rise—
The tips of his hair swept across his cheek, splitting the night into two with golden flames.
Shi Jingzhi had changed into the long robe of the Mishan Sect. He rushed out of the formation with his Medicine Cures Illness Flag burning with golden flames.
“A’Ci, you set fire as an official, burning across the Nine Provinces*, but you won’t even let me light a single candle. You’re really unreasonable.”
*(九州) Poetic name for China, often referring to ancient China when its geographical division was nine provinces.
Shi Jingzhi’s voice was full of amusement, teasingly pointing out the situation as if he hadn’t seen the transformation of the Arcane Arts.
Unlike twenty years ago, Shi Jingzhi didn’t hide behind him, crying for his parents. He leaped nimbly onto the corpse mountain, standing beside him.
“Senior Chen lent me his spell-casting experience, and I have a brilliant idea. Come closer; I’ll tell you.”
Within half a stick of incense time.
Unlike the forbidden area, Shi Jingzhi used the monster corpses as a guide and spontaneously set up a formation in front of them. The yang fire didn’t spread as it had in the past; it floated in the air as fist-sized fireballs, gracefully revolving around the Hanging Shadow Sword.
Shi Jingzhi remained motionless on the mountain of monster corpses, meditating in place. Even though the Arcane Arts were very close to him, he showed no intention of evading—Shi Jingzhi was multitasking. His left hand controlled the fireballs, while his right hand kept moving, arranging an extremely complex formation.
Before the formation was completed, its power was already astonishing. Around Shi Jingzhi, the demonic qi from the corpses turned into whirlpools, creating a mountain-like pressure.
The Arcane Arts seemed to sense the threat and gave up attacking the protective formation. Instead, it charged around at an extremely fast speed, trying to stop the incomplete spell.
However, it couldn’t touch Shi Jingzhi.
Yin Ci switched from offense to defense, standing a few steps away from Shi Jingzhi. Over a dozen golden fireballs rotated around him, igniting along the edge of his sword without the slightest deviation, perfectly compensating for the shortcomings of the Bone Sweeping Sword Technique—
Whenever the Arcane Arts approached, its protective spells were instantly burned away by the golden flames. In the blink of an eye, several ancient corpses fell to the ground and turned into material for Shi Jingzhi’s spell.
If the Arcane Arts were to attack Yin Ci, those fireballs would automatically cluster around it, turning its magic attack into a gust of hot wind.
It was like a living suit of armor.
Naturally dark clouds rolled in, and a pitch-black vortex spun above Shi Jingzhi’s head. Icicles and minced meat on the ground rose with the wind and fell from the earth to the sky.
Shi Jingzhi remained still on the pile of corpses with a calm expression. The sleeves of the Mishan Sect robe fluttered, and he stood on the muddy flesh and blood, controlling the formation with both hands in an elegant and decisive posture. One golden formation after another unfolded behind him, and from a distance, he truly looked like an idol of an evil god.
Before that “idol”, Yin Ci raised his sword horizontally. More and more clusters of golden flames swirled around him, flying faster and faster like living beings. His sword became increasingly elusive. Even though it didn’t touch any spells, it seemed purer and more elusive, unlike anything in this world.
“They want to use a large-scale battle formation,” Shi Zhongyu murmured. “Just two people supporting a large-scale battle formation… Sect Master Shi is simply…”
Simply mad.
She was certain that Chen Qianfan lent his spell-casting experience to Shi Jingzhi, not for him to be so cocky. A large-scale battle formation usually required several people and several days of effort, with no room for the slightest mistake, let alone multitasking. The formation must not be too far from the target, and any unusual occurrences during the process would surely be noticed by the enemy, so even more people were needed to guard the formation.
But now, one dared to cast the spell, and the other dared to defend the formation. For a moment, she couldn’t tell which side was more insane.
The evil qi of the Arcane Arts rolled in, but it was all blocked by the lone sword in front of Shi Jingzhi, preventing it from taking a single step past the lightning pool.
The Arcane Arts suddenly stopped moving.
The golden light of the formation reflected in its countless murky eyes, and it hugged its extended long arms and legs, no longer attacking rashly—
The dead heads on its head trembled, and every one of them opened their dark mouths, revealing their black tongues, as if they were about to vomit. However, after a commotion, what came out of those mouths wasn’t corpse water but a strange melody that gradually became clear, drifting in the night.
It began to sing.
The countless dead heads moved their lips, and their singing was coarse and cold. The lyrics seemed to be an ancient Milan dialect with strange intonations and rhythms.
Hearing it made people’s hair stand on end and their hearts tremble in fear.
“Cover your ears!” Shi Zhongyu immediately roared at Yan Qing, who was still in a daze, and thus missed the perfect timing. The song affected her inner force, causing her to spit out a mouthful of blood on the spot, nearly succumbing to the evil qi.
Yan Qing was a step slow and couldn’t stabilize himself, curling up in pain on the ground. Shi Jingzhi also frowned, her hands trembling.
However, Yin Ci smiled.
He immediately sheathed his sword and retreated behind Shi Jingzhi. The Hanging Shadow Sword was inserted diagonally into the corpse mountain, freeing Yin Ci’s hands, which he used to gently cover Shi Jingzhi’s ears. Instantly, the look of pain on Shi Jingzhi’s face dissipated, and his hands stabilizing the formation regained their composure.
Yin Ci listened to the ominous ghostly song with an unchanged expression.
He had long witnessed more desperate states of insanity; this exotic elegy wasn’t enough to push him into the abyss.
“…You won’t harm him,” Yin Ci silently said to the Arcane Arts.
In an instant, golden light emanated.
It wasn’t the raging wildfire, but tens of millions of finger-thick fire chains. They flashed in an instant, piercing through the enormous body of the Arcane Arts, firmly imprisoning it between heaven and earth.
The blood-red spells fiercely tangled the fire chains, seemingly attempting to break them. However, yang fire inherently countered the yin evil, and Shi Jingzhi’s yang fire was incomparably pure, causing the opposing spells to emit a charred smell and melt away like snowflakes.
The Arcane Arts reached a dead end. Its demonic arms deformed and elongated again, reaching towards Shi Jingzhi not far away. All sorts of spells exploded without hesitation, illuminating the night sky filled with dark clouds.
The song continued, and the curses never ceased.
Shi Jingzhi’s complexion turned pale. Even though he had the ancient corpses and monster corpses as materials, the battle formation had completely drained him. Numerous hands of the Arcane Arts reached before him, seemingly about to touch his body, yet he didn’t even waste energy trembling.
Shi Jingzhi just slightly tilted his head and felt the warmth in Yin Ci’s palms.
Then he exerted his last bit of strength, and with two fingers, he flicked upwards.
The gentle fire chains tightened, finely sawing through the Arcane Arts’ body. Countless fire chains moved slightly but without any mistakes. Complete ancient corpses were stripped away from the Arcane Arts, resembling autumn leaves leaving the branches.
Although he had only borrowed Chen Qianfan’s experience temporarily, Shi Jingzhi still brought it to its ultimate potential.
In just a moment, the blood-red spells were completely extinguished. The “Queen” fell, and the monster horde that had been running around in chaos was stunned for a moment.
Ancient corpses scattered all over the ground, stiff and intact. The Arcane Arts still stood in place, but it didn’t quite look like the Arcane Arts anymore.
Queen Xu Luo of Milan, with her fair skin and beautiful appearance.
Her corpse was still standing, like an immortal born in the snow-capped mountains of the North. The Queen’s cloudy eyes stared directly at Shi Jingzhi with a rigid expressionless face.
The clothes on her chest were rotten and tattered, exposing half of her breasts, and a dark spider-shaped birthmark lay quietly on her fair skin.
The Queen stood still for a moment, opening her arms in front of the two people.
“Smile for me…”
Her vocal cords were stiff and rotten, and her voice was unpleasant, but it carried a different clarity and confusion.
“…Smile for me, please.”
Yin Ci showed no mercy, casually pulling out the Hanging Shadow Sword. The Queen of Milan had long since died; what stood before them was merely a pure corpse, the core of a killing weapon.
However, Shi Jingzhi seemed to sense something. He grabbed Yin Ci’s wrist with one hand and shook his head gently.
The closer Shi Jingzhi got, the clearer her voice became, and the more vivid her expression—on the face of the corpse, a faint trace of hatred appeared.
“…My… compatriot… It’s good that you… defeated me…”
The Queen’s corpse emitted a faint halo. The blood-red light was incredibly faint, more like sorrow than fierceness. Gradually, the light converged and condensed into a semi-dormant rune, lying weakly in the Queen’s palm.
The Queen’s corpse clasped her hands and stiffly handed the rune to Shi Jingzhi, her face becoming rigid again.
“…Smile…for me…”
“A’Ci, under the Living Puppet Curse, I can recognize this technique to some extent. What the Queen of Milan left behind isn’t a killing weapon but a last testament—a testament left to her ‘kind’… Only when the prohibitions of the Mishan Sect are lifted will the weapon recognize me.”
Shi Jingzhi sighed lightly and closed his eyes. He slowly stretched out his hand, touching the fading rune.
“I’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Yin Ci lowered the tip of his sword.
The moment the spell touched Shi Jingzhi’s fingertip, it dissipated abruptly. Yin Ci remained silent, catching Shi Jingzhi’s falling body—the person’s body was warm, and their breathing was steady, as if they had fallen into a deep sleep.
Almost at the same time, the corpse of the Queen of Milan fell.
She fell onto the snow-covered ground soaked with blood and turned to ashes in an instant. The monster horde had not yet dispersed, and the protective formation remained as thin as a cicada’s wings but still steadily flickering.
Not long ago, inside the house.
The juniors were fighting fiercely outside, and Chen Qianfan had already prepared the artifact for escape. Extremely bored, he picked up some pieces of corpses from under the window and made two sets of disaster warding talismans.
As for the housekeeper, Granny Wei, she used demonic flowers to weave two delicate tranquility charms. She didn’t care whether Yin Ci made a sincere request or just casually brushed her off. She only cared about wrapping the charms, patting her stiff back with a serene face.
“It’s getting late. Those kids are still outside?”
“Mm.” Chen Qianfan put away the disaster warding talismans and tidied up the research tools on the table. “Xiao Chun, pack some clothes and food. We’ll have to run later.”
“Why?”
“They might win, but they can only delay for some time. There are many monsters outside, and the protective formation won’t hold for long. We need to go far away and find a new place to live.”
Granny Wei looked at him blankly for a moment and then asked again, “It’s getting late. Those kids are still outside?”
Chen Qianfan’s movements paused. He didn’t lose his temper and instead repeated his answer, “Mm… This place is going to become a monster’s lair. Remember to pack your things and follow me.”
“Yes.” Granny Wei’s face turned pale, twisting her hands uneasily. “I want to go out casually, but the master will beat me again.”
Chen Qianfan straightened up, and he felt Granny Wei’s pulse. His eyelids twitched, but he didn’t say anything in the end.
Granny Wei suddenly came to her senses. Seeing Chen Qianfan’s expression, a hint of sadness appeared on her face. She stood still, like a child who had done something wrong.
Chen Qianfan’s face remained calm. “…Did your dementia strike again?”
Granny Wei lowered her eyes, still smiling. “I just occasionally forget things, getting old and muddled. It has been happening more frequently lately. It’s nothing; I’ll go pack my things.”
Chen Qianfan didn’t say anything and continued to pack his luggage. But in less than half an hour, there was a muffled sound. Chen Qianfan turned around and saw Granny Wei falling to the ground—she struggled for a while but seemed to forget how to get up.
Chen Qianfan walked to her side, and in less than ten steps, she had forgotten how to climb. Granny Wei lay dazed on the ground, unconsciously humming that tune. The surrounding air seemed a bit colder, with a faint smell of urine in the air.
The hoarse voice echoed in the icy hall, carrying a hint of desolation.
Chen Qianfan picked up a piece of monster corpse, carefully supporting Granny Wei’s head. Several blood-red lines wrapped around her forehead. Then Chen Qianfan quickly set up a formation and performed his spell. All day long, he lifted prohibitions and cast the Living Puppet Curse. He was at his limit, and his face showed signs of exhaustion.
Only then did Granny Wei regain consciousness. She murmured blankly, “It’s getting late. Those kids are still outside?”
After asking this question, as if she sensed something, she slowly shed two muddy tears. Then she immediately wiped the tears from her face.
“Master, is this what you call Heaven’s Displeasure’?”
Chen Qianfan said calmly, “Yes.”
There were limits to diseases. Treating them before the limit was reached was twice the result with half the effort, but once the limit was crossed, even the best medicine wouldn’t help. Unfortunately, every person was different, and no one knew the exact location of that boundary.
“I just haven’t thought of a solution for dementia yet.” Chen Qianfan handed her a new pair of pants while replying in a still flat tone. “Let’s leave first; there will be a solution eventually.”
If her intestines were rotten, he would give her new ones. If she had a tumor in her stomach, he would give her a new one. Repeating this, even mortals could become immortal.
But what if her mind was confused?
Chen Qianfan pondered for a long time, unsure of what to replace. This illness was tricky, and he needed more time.
However, time waits for no one, not even for the departed*.
*逝者如斯夫，不舍昼夜) Famous saying from Confucius that describes time passing like flowing water—once passed, it’s gone forever.
Granny Wei stood up swaying, seemingly having opened an invisible hole in her body, and her vitality was irreversibly draining away. She tried to catch the pants Chen Qianfan handed her several times, but each time she failed to do so. When she finally held it in her hands, she looked at it in confusion, unable to understand why she was holding such a strange thing.
Thankfully, there were still many pieces of corpses left. This time, Chen Qianfan simply used ancient corpses, using up four or five pieces in one go. Granny Wei’s face was mostly covered by the formation.
She regained consciousness again, touching the uneven marks on her face, but said nothing.
Chen Qianfan finally let out a sigh of relief and continued packing his luggage. Beside him, Granny Wei changed into clean clothes and calmly organized daily necessities. She also touched the peach blossoms she had embroidered.
“Master, do you remember the day we first met?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Do you remember why I call you ‘Master*’?”
*[Fuzi] (夫子) A respectful title to address an older person who is well-learned.
“I don’t remember.”
“Forgetting is good.” The wrinkles on her face gathered and scattered, whether from sadness or relief.
Granny Wei carefully smoothed out the creases in her clothes and stood still for a moment. Not long after, she seemed to have recovered and said softly, “It’s midnight; I’ll make some tea.”
The small pot sat on the fire, and the fragrance of tea filled the air.
Not long after, the four people who were stumbling and swaying entered—Shi Zhongyu had serious external injuries, while her internal injuries weren’t insignificant either. Yan Qing supported her; his legs were covered in blood, and his once healthy complexion now appeared pale.
Yin Ci held the unconscious Shi Jingzhi and looked relatively composed. “Senior, we completely dismantled the Arcane Arts. The core of the weapon was damaged, but the other ancient corpse spells remained intact.”
Chen Qianfan said, “Good. Since you have fully dismantled the weapon, this place will become lively again. Even if the core is broken, it can be considered an offset; there won’t be any major problems.”
“As for the protective formation—”
“The protective formation won’t hold for long. The demonic qi of the Arcane Arts hasn’t dissipated, so the monster horde won’t retreat so easily.”
Chen Qianfan stroked his beard, looking completely untroubled.
“If you hold on a little longer, we can leave with the artifact and run for a day and night. Those things won’t be able to catch up.”
Yan Qing’s expression changed slightly. “Su Si hasn’t come back yet. What if something happens…”
“Currently, our situation isn’t good, and there’s no way to find him.” Yin Ci shook his head. “Su Si is being guarded by that goose demon, and he knows very well how to protect himself. We’ll find him once we reach a safe place.”
Yan Qing looked at his heavily injured companion, lowered his head, and swallowed back the words he hadn’t spoken.
Yin Ci’s judgment was extremely rational. If he were to cause trouble now, it would only create more problems. Even for himself, with a leg injury, he wouldn’t be able to go very far.
Shi Jingzhi’s golden fire formation and Yin Ci’s peculiar sword technique were firmly etched in his mind, and he understood the vast difference between them.
If only he had that kind of power too, would he still need to temporarily leave his companions?
Yin Ci ignored the melancholy thoughts in Yan Qing’s heart and took the lead, placing Shi Jingzhi on the magic artifact—
The magic artifact looked like a wooden boat, with no arrow horses or other monsters pulling it in the front. There were two boxes with complex arrays at the stern, and beside the boxes were full of monster corpses emitting a faint stench.
The wooden boat floated in the air, and the arrays below were already flickering, activating the process.
Yin Ci placed Shi Jingzhi at the stern and covered him with a thick cloak.
Chen Qianfan picked up the disaster warding talismans and openly handed it to the near-fainting Shi Zhongyu. Then, he secretly slipped a pair to Yin Ci. “You mentioned during the lifting of the ban, we had an agreement?”
“I know where to find the immortal body, and I’ll bring one for you to study.” Yin Ci accepted the talisman with a slight smile. “I’d like to ask Senior to quickly remove the remnants of the Living Puppet Curse.”
Chen Qianfan’s beard twitched, holding tightly to the record book in his arms, and his eyes brightened momentarily. “Alright.”
After about half an hour, the wooden boat finally activated.
Chen Qianfan pulled it outside the house. The monster horde was grinding their teeth outside the protective formation. As the saying went, many ants could kill an elephant*, but without the Arcane Arts, the protective formation’s collapse was slower. However, it couldn’t withstand the impact of the monster horde and slowly began to crack.
*Idiom referring to a large number of weak or insignificant entities, when combined or united, can achieve a powerful or significant effect, even against a much stronger opponent.
Granny Wei responded and carefully extended her body toward Yin Ci. “Child, this is the tranquility charm you wanted. Take it and have a safe journey.”
The brocade bag was exquisitely embroidered with fine stitches, clearly crafted with great care. Yin Ci thanked her. At the time, he only wanted to dismiss the old woman, but Granny Wei still took it very seriously, just like embroidering a tablecloth that no one would appreciate in an empty room, or tying small flowers to dead branches.
Looking at the kind eyes of the old lady, Yin Ci always felt that something wasn’t quite right.
Granny Wei looked kindly at him for a while, then turned to continue, “Master, this bag is for cooking utensils. This bag is for changing clothes. This bag is…”
The wooden boat already had five people on board, and it was full with more than a dozen bags of luggage. Granny Wu was still not satisfied, pulling up a large bag. “This bag is the items you commonly use, Master.”
“Let it be.” The protective formation made a dangerous cracking sound. Chen Qianfan was in a hurry to leave, and his tone quickened. “If it’s gone, I can buy more. That’s enough.”
Granny Wei looked at the group of monsters not far away. “Alright.”
“Come up. We’ll fly out from there later. Then…”
“I won’t go.” Granny Wei smiled.
Chen Qianfan’s words came to an abrupt halt, and he furrowed his brows, as if he had heard something outrageous. “Xiao Chun, what are you saying?”
“After Master used precious materials to cure me, it hasn’t been long since I started to be confused again… I can still speak like this now, but later I might start to talk nonsense again.”
She smiled even more gently.
“Thank you, Master, for allowing me to steal so many years from heaven and live peacefully for thirty years… People always say that fallen leaves return to their roots*, and I also want to die at home.”
*(落叶归根) Idiom referring to returning to one’s place of origin or going back to where your family/roots are.
Chen Qianfan: “There will always be a way.”
“If it could be cured, you would have told me long ago.” Granny Wei shook her head. “It’s alright, I’m not some important figure like a sect leader. I don’t need to fight against ‘Heaven’s Displeasure’. Instead of living in misery, I’d rather leave with dignity.”
Chen Qianfan remained silent for a moment before calmly asking, “Have you made up your mind?”
“I have,”
Granny Wei was extraordinarily calm.
Shi Jingzhi was still unconscious, while Shi Zhongyu had fallen asleep holding the disaster warding talisman. Yang Qing was in a semi-conscious state due to excessive blood loss. Yin Ci remained silent while looking at them with a complicated expression.
No one tried to stop her, and Granny Wei sighed with relief.
“Go.” She waved her hand and turned back into the house.
‘Chen Qianfan had underestimated her,’ Yin Ci thought. The old woman had looked at the horde of monsters and remained calm, without any fear on her face, only tranquility.
Chen Qianfan pulled down the mechanism with a stern expression. The heavily loaded wooden boat floated up with great difficulty, swaying dangerously, seeming unfit for the burden.
Not far away, the protective barrier was on the verge of collapse. Chen Qianfan appeared to have forgotten about Granny Wei as he muttered, “Too heavy, it can’t fly. We need to throw some things off.”
The rest of the people had almost no luggage, so his words were just for himself. Chen Qianfan reached into the baggage, digging through the scattered and broken equipment to find the pack of kitchenware.
The package that Granny Wei had prepared was tidy and convenient to throw away. When it hit the snow-covered ground, it made a series of cracking sounds. The wooden boat stabilized somewhat, but it still couldn’t gain enough height.
Chen Qianfan picked up the bag of clean clothes. The clothes were soft and gentle, and as soon as they hit the ground, they made a dull sound.
The boat flew a little higher, but the height was still insufficient.
Chen Qianfan took a deep breath and opened his bag of “commonly used items”. He looked inside the bag several times before finally untying the opening and pouring the contents out onto the ground. Teapots, tea containers, and other odds and ends scattered all over the place, in complete disorder.
There were no valuable items inside, only insignificant trinkets. Chen Qianfan quickly calmed down, and the pouring speed seemed to have increased.
In the torrent of items, a teacup rolled out of the bag and fell to the ground.
Chen Qianfan instinctively caught it.
Yin Ci remembered that cup. Every midnight, Granny Wei would unfailingly pour a cup of tea for Chen Qianfan. It was his teacup.
Chen Qianfan’s hand trembled as if the cup was scalding his palm, but his fingers refused to let go. He held the cup tightly, frozen in thought.
In the next moment, Chen Qianfan mercilessly cast a spell.
“I need to get rid of these trivial thoughts; I don’t have time to record them. Brother Yin, you’ll fill me in on the situation later.”
Chen Qianfan was undoubtedly a master of sorcery, and his movements were extremely skilled, precise in every detail.
However, the spell stopped midway and failed.
“Senior?”
“…It’s too trivial.” Elder Chen looked somewhat lost. “It’s too trivial, how do I erase this?”
He and Granny Wei had had no heart-stirring events between them. The only thing that seemed different was their initial encounter, but he had long forgotten about it. After that, they spent only two or three hours together each day, with a few plain and ordinary conversations.
In addition, there was a bowl of hot rice, a cup of warm tea, and nothing else.
Other than treating her illness, Chen Qianfan would occasionally bring her a few demon flowers, which she would use to dye threads for embroidery.
He thought and thought, but he couldn’t find anything special. However, for thirty years, he had clung to these tiny fragments, and he couldn’t remove them. He didn’t know what would be left after he cleared away everything, and he didn’t know if he could remove them all without anything left.
Chen Qianfan lowered his head and looked at the dilapidated house where he had lived for thirty years. He remembered every corner inside—the hall was messy on one side, but on the other side, it was warm and inviting, as if two completely different worlds were coexisting.
Should they have been so distinct? It was simply unreasonable.
Most human illnesses were like this. They remained unnoticed when there was no trouble, but when they struck, the pain was continuous and piercing.
The pain, like a dagger, penetrated his heart.
Chen Qianfan shook his head, suddenly bursting into laughter. As he listened to the cracking sounds of the protective barrier collapsing, he spoke as calmly as usual, but it wasn’t clear whom he was addressing.
“It’s amusing. I gained the heart, liver, spleen, and stomach of a living person, and threw away the ups and downs of my life, but I can’t get rid of a broken cup.”
He looked at Yan Qing, who clung tightly to the Sword of Compassion, and suddenly remembered the moment he was sent flying by the sword years ago.
At that time, he had thought that he might not be suitable to be a monk.
Now, he thought he might not be suitable to be an immortal either.
Chen Qianfan pondered for the time it took to finish a cup of tea and let out a long sigh.
“Brother Yin, forget it.” He stroked his beard, feeling a little lost. “I suddenly don’t feel like pursuing that immortal body anymore.”
“Your friends are in bad condition. You need to hurry and find a safe place for them to rest. It doesn’t matter if you’re not skilled in magic; you can activate the formation with the corpse pieces and adjust the direction… As for my records, you can give them to your master. It’s a waste if someone with a bit of talent like you doesn’t use them.”
Chen Qianfan’s tone was still exasperating.
Even though Yin Ci was experienced and knowledgeable, he was momentarily speechless. “You…”
Chen Qianfan shook his head and put the teacup in his pocket. He carefully looked at Yin Ci and smiled.
“Even if I were to obtain an immortal body, I’m not the type to cut off emotions and desires. It’s inherently unsuitable for me, so why bother forcing it?”
“So be it.”
He said.
“This is fine too.”
Yin Ci didn’t have time to respond before Chen Qianfan leaped over the side of the boat and landed gracefully on the ground. With one person’s weight gone, the boat shuddered and shot up into the sky.
Once Chen Qianfan reached the ground, with his hands behind his back, he calmly walked into the house.
“It’s not midnight yet; let’s have another cup of tea.”
The protective formation was broken, and the horde of monsters, carrying the remnants of the demonic qi from the Arcane Arts, surged in. Under the starry sky, a spell was activated. It absorbed all the intruding monsters and then extended its body, blooming vibrant flowers from the buds.
A peach tree stood in the icy northern land, quietly blooming for half an hour.
In the end, it dissipated without a trace.
The author has something to say:
I haven’t forgotten Su Si! Or Lord Bai!!! They will appear in the next chapter, I promise!
Please cherish the pure and sincere(?) emotions between the two male guests. Once the affection bar is full, they might undergo some transformations√
Kinky Thoughts:
The title of this arc is “Seeing A Gentleman”, which is part of the line in the poem “Wind and Rain”. The whole line goes “Having seen a gentleman, why wouldn’t one be happy?”
Applying it as a whole to the poem, it means how can I not be happy to see you in a stormy time.
Dong Zhi found that the place where they emerged from was one of the positions in the Eight Direction Demon Sealing Array.
Beneath the Dragon Cave of Sansha in the South China Sea. This position was hit by a torpedo during World War II, damaging the stone tablet below and thus becoming a little-known weak point of the Demon Sealing Array. It was exploited by Otowa Yasuhiko, eventually triggering the array’s core.
Yet, after all was said and done, this abyssal gap became their lifeline. It truly resonated with the saying, “In the unknown, there’s cause and effect*.”
*Basically means fate works in mysterious ways and everything happens for a reason.
They drifted at sea for a long time. Later on, Dong Zhi lost consciousness and couldn’t remember what happened. He didn’t know how Long Shen contacted the Special Administration Bureau to rescue them.
By the time he woke up, he was already in a hospital. This hospital stay lasted three full months. Although Dong Zhi was out of danger, he was seriously injured and needed to be hospitalized for observation.
Long Shen was in slightly better condition, remaining conscious and only needed rest and self-cultivation for recovery.
Yu Buhui and Liu Si were hospitalized with them. Besides various internal and external injuries, Yu Buhui had a broken arm, and Liu Si had a broken leg. The two of them, one with an arm in a cast and the other limping, were jokingly referred to as “the heavenly handicapped” by He Yu.
Several other figures, such as Sect Master Zhang and Xin, also suffered various injuries while defending the Kunlun formation’s core. However, they didn’t stay in the hospital, choosing to return to their respective sects instead.
It was rumored that Sect Master Zhang resigned from his position at Longhu Mountain and went into seclusion for healing, estimated not to come out for several years. Shortly after, there was news that Sect Master Xin had passed his position to his senior disciple. He Yu even went to congratulate, and as a nominal disciple, Dong Zhi should have gone too, but he was still weak, sleeping half the day, and even if he wanted to go, Long Shen wouldn’t let him.
During Dong Zhi’s hospitalization, many came to visit him. Even William, whom he met at the World Exchange Conference, flew to China to visit him upon hearing of his severe injuries. However, Dong Zhi felt that William’s visit was mainly for Li Han’er.
Besides him, there were also old friends like Ba Sang and Gu Meiren. There’s also Mu Duo and Zhang Chong from the Lucheng office, as well as Lao Zheng and Wang Jie from the Northeast branch and Shu He from the East China branch. Due to their inability to leave their posts, they could only send their greetings via the internet. Some even sent elixirs and snacks.
Since regaining consciousness, Dong Zhi realized for the first time that he seemed to be quite popular.
This hospital was affiliated with the Special Administration Bureau, with one building specifically allocated for its use. During the hospitalization, doctors and nurses were unfazed by seeing patients sitting cross-legged instead of lying down or animals coming and going, like a fat yellow cat nibbling on a patient’s apples. As long as the patient didn’t protest, they wouldn’t stop them.
For instance, right now, Dong Zhi was speechlessly watching at the foot of the bed, where on one side lay a fat yellow cat and on the other, an octopus. The former was playing a game with its paw, while the latter was using all eight of its tentacles with four mobile phones in front of it: its own, Dong Zhi’s, He Yu’s, and Zhong Yuyi’s. They were playing a team battle on all four devices, with one of the accounts taking on the role of team captain. The octopus managed all four simultaneously without any difficulty.
“You were supposed to teach it Chinese, but you taught it to play games?” he asked Kan Chaosheng.
“I did teach it!” Kan Chaosheng replied without lifting his head, focusing intently on following the octopus Meika’s in-game movements. “It’s precisely because I taught it Chinese that it can now understand the prompts in the game!”
Dong Zhi: “…”
The two of them were so engrossed in their game that they lost themselves in it. However, Kan Chaosheng was terrible at gaming. No matter whether He Yu or Dong Zhi teamed up with him, after playing for so long, his skills were still mediocre. On the other hand, the octopus, which was introduced to the gaming world by him only a few days ago, was already much better than Kan Chaosheng and could now even multi-task in four games simultaneously.
Dong Zhi, exasperated, said, “Meika, I didn’t ban you from playing games. But if you want to cultivate and transform, and become an apprentice to Senior Wuzhiqi, just learning game terms isn’t useful and won’t help your Chinese. There’s a saying in China, ‘obsession leads to loss of purpose*’. Look at Chaosheng; because he plays games all day, even when he turns into a human, he still looks like a child.”
*(玩物丧志) Idiom referring to blindly enjoying and appreciating useless things, thus killing one’s ambition.
“Okay,” Meika replied obediently, managing to glance and wink at Dong Zhi while still engrossed in the game.
“I’m not a child! I’m just a bit short!” The fat yellow cat meowed, dropping the phone and pouncing at Dong Zhi. The impact almost made Dong Zhi spit blood.
Just then, Dong Zhi saw the octopus activate the voice chat feature on one of its game accounts and berate a teammate. “Fuck, do you even know how to play? I told you to aggro, and you got yourself killed?”
The teammate replied apologetically, “Sorry, captain. I lost connection for a moment. It’s okay now; the network’s fine!”
Dong Zhi: ‘…Brother, do you even know your captain is an octopus?’
Octopus: “Never mind, follow my lead next time. Don’t rush ahead!”
The teammate eagerly agreed, “Sure captain, you’re so kind! But your accent is strange. Are you a foreigner?”
Seemingly confused, the octopus looked at Dong Zhi and Kan Chaosheng for guidance.
Kan Chaosheng: “Just say you’re an international student. Name any country.”
The octopus responded on voice chat, “Yes, I’m an international student from the Democratic Republic of Sao Tome and Principe!”
It said the country’s name in English.
Dong Zhi was exasperated. “…Where did you get that name? Is that even a real country?”
“This is the result of you teaching it Chinese? Do you think the Wuzhiqi would want such a disciple when he sees it? Letting it play games all day for your amusement?” Dong Zhi angrily said to Kan Chaosheng.
The fat yellow cat, speaking softer, said, “The Wuzhiqi has been underwater for thousands of years; he lacks entertainment. Maybe he would be fond of a disciple who can play games…” There was a trace of guilty conscience.
Just then, there was a knock on the door, and Long Shen entered. Seeing Kan Chaosheng squatting on Dong Zhi, he frowned.
“Boss!” The fat yellow cat quickly jumped to the foot of the bed and tapped the octopus’s head. “Greet the boss!”
“Hello, boss,” the octopus obediently said.
“You’re not from the Special Administration Bureau.” Long Shen paused. “Fish, you don’t need to call me boss.”
Dong Zhi couldn’t help but laugh, which turned into a cough due to his injuries.
Placing a bowl of porridge down, Long Shen turned to Kan Chaosheng. “Haven’t you been assigned any missions lately?”
Kan Chaosheng sat upright, tail stiff, stuttering. “Boss Wu asked me to guard the General Administration.”
Long Shen: “Is this how you guard?”
Even though Dong Zhi knew that Kan Chaosheng’s original form was a dragon serpent, he also knew that Kan Chaosheng wasn’t too fond of his human form, which resembled a short-limbed child. This form made it inconvenient for him in many situations, so he would often transform into a cat. However, after spending so much time as a cat, Kan Chaosheng unknowingly started to behave more and more like one, not only in temperament but also in certain small gestures and movements.
Unmoved by Kan Chaosheng’s pitiful look, Long Shen instructed, “Take Meika to the Wuzhiqi. Ensure he reaches safely within ten days.”
Kan Chaosheng’s ears perked into airplane ears. “Ten days is too short!”
Long Shen: “How many days do you want?”
Kan Chaosheng: “At least a month!”
Long Shen was unyielding. “You’re just looking for an excuse to play, aren’t you?”
Kan Chaosheng chuckled. “How could that be? Seeking a master to learn from is serious business; I never procrastinate on important matters! How about this: is twenty days alright?”
Long Shen: “Nine days.”
Kan Chaosheng protested, “Fifteen days should do, right?”
Long Shen: “Eight days.”
Kan Chaosheng: “Fine… ten days it is.”
Long Shen: “Before you come back, your phone will be confiscated, and you’re not allowed to play games on the road.”
Kan Chaosheng’s eyes widened in surprise. “What if I need to contact you all?”
Long Shen: “I still have a Nokia 1280 in my drawer; you can use it to make calls.”
Kan Chaosheng: “…”
He quickly rolled his eyes and put on an obedient expression. “Alright, I’ll return within ten days.”
Long Shen: “Meika cannot transform right now. On the way, ensure you don’t alarm the common people. I’ll have someone book round-trip tickets for you both. In places without stops, just walk. This way, you don’t need to carry money.”
Kan Chaosheng felt like crying—first not being allowed to play with his phone, and now even money!
“What will we eat on the way?”
Long Shen: “Unless you promise not to go to illegal internet cafes to play games with the money.”
Kan Chaosheng: “…”
He felt as if his innermost thoughts were transparent. The fat yellow cat was momentarily choked on its yowling, while Dong Zhi almost died laughing.
Even when Kan Chaosheng turned human, he still behaved like a child. Regular internet cafes now required ID for entry, which he couldn’t provide. However, in small towns, illegal cafes didn’t have such restrictions. Long Shen’s understanding of him pinpointed every one of his weaknesses.
“I promise,” the fat yellow cat said dejectedly. “I swear in the name of the Goddess Nuwa, I won’t go to illegal internet cafes to play games on the way, nor will I indulge in gluttony or leisure. I’ll make sure Meika reaches the destination within ten days, meet the Wuzhiqi, and then return.”
Though Kan Chaosheng was naive, impulsive, and playful, once he made a vow, he would stick to it. Most importantly, he couldn’t muster the courage to oppose Long Shen, unlike how he’d react fiercely towards He Yu.
Long Shen nodded. “Then, you both prepare now.”
The octopus has a keen sense of danger and a powerful presence. As soon as Long Shen entered, it exited the game and hung motionless at the end of the bed like a lucky charm. When Kan Chaosheng jumped off the bed and walked out, it quickly jumped onto Kan Chaosheng’s back, also sneaking out.
Finally, peace was restored in the room. Long Shen closed the door and said to Dong Zhi, “What you need most now is rest.”
He knew without Dong Zhi’s indulgence, Kan Chaosheng and others wouldn’t have caused a ruckus in the sickroom for so long.
Hearing the disapproval in Long Shen’s tone, Dong Zhi touched his nose. “Lying down all day is boring. Chatting with them is quite fun.”
Originally, Dong Zhi shared a room with Long Shen. However, Long Shen woke up earlier and due to his responsibilities, inevitably got busy. Once Long Shen recovered a bit, the influx of people and documents increased. Only then did Dong Zhi truly realize how hectic Long Shen’s daily work was. However, to avoid disturbing Dong Zhi, Long Shen often went out to handle matters.
Dong Zhi didn’t agree with him diving back into work so soon.
“Master, how have you been feeling lately?”
“I’m alright now.” Long Shen sat next to Dong Zhi’s bed and offered his wrist for a pulse check.
Dong Zhi felt the steady pulse but knew it didn’t reveal everything. He suddenly pulled Long Shen closer, sealing their lips in a long-missed kiss.
Long Shen didn’t resist, and they shared a passionate, lingering kiss.
“I still have a feeling that it’s all unreal, as if I haven’t escaped the illusion,” Dong Zhi murmured, wrapping his arms around Long Shen’s waist and resting his chin on his collarbone.
By rights, when Dong Zhi confronted Mara, he should’ve died. Similarly, after Long Shen absorbed so much demonic qi and was possessed by the demon, his survival seemed unlikely. The reason both were still alive was that half of the divine soul Long Shen infused into the Changshou Sword reinvigorated them at the moment of death. Their lives now stemmed from that half of Long Shen’s divine soul. Essentially, they shared the same life force, making their fates interwoven.
Thankfully, Mara, suppressed by the Eight-Directions Demon-Sealing Array for so long, had diminished powers upon awakening. Coupled with sacrifices by Che Bai and Zong Ling that weakened some of the demonic qi, the situation was salvageable. Otherwise, even if a hundred Dong Zhis were willing to sacrifice themselves, it would’ve been in vain.
“I sometimes feel that we’re still in the abyssal hell, and all this is just a dream I’m having.” He looked at Long Shen, his gaze becoming hazy and distant.
“It’s real, not a dream.” Long Shen was familiar with this feeling. With an iron will, having faced countless trials without wavering, he had achieved a semi-immortal body. Dong Zhi, despite his exceptional talent, had only recently entered the world of cultivation and could easily become confused and lost.
Long Shen reached out and touched Dong Zhi’s forehead; the slight coldness made Dong Zhi shiver.
“All the life force in you now comes from my divine soul. If I say it’s real, then it is.”
“Like that pot of Yulu plant?” Dong Zhi curiously asked.
“Somewhat, but not quite,” Long Shen replied, leaning down to nuzzle Dong Zhi’s nose. “I wouldn’t kiss a pot of Yulu.”
A thought seemed to strike Dong Zhi, and he burst into laughter, hugging Long Shen tightly.
“So being with me now, aren’t you just hurting yourself?”
Long Shen: …
Dong Zhi: “So, calling me ‘Master’ would be appropriate, right?”
Long Shen: “…If I call you that, would you dare to respond?”
Dong Zhi chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I? Let me hear it.”
Keeping a straight face, Long Shen said, “Master.”
Dong Zhi grinned from ear to ear. “Ah, good disciple!”
But in the next moment, he immediately experienced the consequences of his own mischief, finding himself pinned down on the sickbed and overwhelmed with affection. He was playfully touched from head to toe, even being teased at sensitive areas to the point he couldn’t break free. In the end, with tearful eyes, he had to beg for mercy, continuously calling out “Master” a hundred times before the playful torment was over.
After their playful interaction, Dong Zhi, wrapped in a blanket with only his head exposed, complained, “Master, that was a sneaky move!”
Long Shen raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you enjoy it too?”
Dong Zhi was taken aback, noticing that Long Shen’s slight gesture was a bit different from before, carrying a hint of an indescribable mischievous aura. However, it wasn’t the malicious aura like that of a demon, but more like a person playfully up to some harmless mischief.
Yet, this didn’t seem like something that would typically manifest in Long Shen.
“Master, having merged with Mara for so long, did it have any effects on your body?”
Long Shen contemplated for a moment. “Recently, I’ve been busy handling transitions, aiming to resign from my deputy director position.”
Dong Zhi was taken aback. “Why?”
Long Shen: “I feel that the demonic qi inside me hasn’t been completely purged. While it may not impair my judgment, it will likely affect me in the short term. After all that’s happened, I’m tired and want to rest, spending more time with you.”
Hearing him admit that he was “tired”, Dong Zhi felt a surge of emotion. This man, who had always been tirelessly working for the world, seldom admitted his weariness.
“So when I recover and return to Lucheng, will you come with me?”
Long Shen smiled faintly. “Of course.”
Perhaps by then, Dong Zhi might get promoted. But to allow him to rest peacefully, Long Shen decided not to tell him just yet.
“There’s one more thing,” Dong Zhi said, pulling out a notebook from beneath his pillow and waving it. “You wrote about many things in here that you’ve never told me. If it weren’t for the incident at Kunlun Mountain, were you planning to never let me see this?”
Looking at the notebook, Long Shen slowly said, “For every book I write, I burn one. I intended to burn this one as well.”
The reason he didn’t was that this notebook was different from the others. It marked his transformation into a “human” and held unique memories different from the rest. Because of his attachment, he kept it.
Dong Zhi understood that, strictly speaking, there were many details related to the Special Administration Bureau’s operations inside the notebook, which weren’t suitable for outsiders to see. Although it was written in waste text, there were few in the world who understood it, but not none. If someone with malicious intent got hold of this notebook, there would be many ways to exploit it.
Yet, for Dong Zhi, this notebook held a different significance.
Within it, there were many sentiments that Long Shen wouldn’t ordinarily express aloud. Only through his writing, in unseen corners, would Long Shen open up slightly. Dong Zhi even felt that such a version of Long Shen was a bit reserved, but that was just Long Shen’s nature.
This made the notebook even more precious. Dong Zhi thought that even if he read it once a year, he could do so for many years without getting tired of it.
“I will cut out and burn all the work-related parts inside and keep only the parts related to me. Is that okay?”
Long Shen nodded, sighed, and gently touched Dong Zhi’s face, which had become even more gaunt due to injuries and illnesses.
“In the past, I hoped you could soar high and grow stronger than anyone else. Later on, I hoped you could live in peace, even if it meant living like an ordinary person without risking your life, so I wouldn’t have to worry. But now,” he said with a rare hint of concern and self-doubt, “I hope to always stand behind you, so no matter where you go or what you face, I’ll always have your back. Maybe this is also a manifestation of the lingering demonic qi within me.”
Unable to hold back his laughter, Dong Zhi hugged him and gave him a big kiss.
“Congratulations, Boss Long, this means you really, really like me now!”
Lin Chen had never experienced such a life before.
It wasn’t that it was too leisurely and comfortable, but when he thought back carefully, he realized that the concept of a vacation was completely foreign to him.
As a child, due to his parents’ jobs and during an era when working-class families didn’t have much of a concept of vacationing, going out to have fun meant taking time off to visit famous cities and sightseeing. Usually, it was a rushed two-day round trip.
Later, because of his busy academic schedule with high school entrance exams and classes during the winter and summer vacations, traveling seemed too extravagant.
During the summer of his senior year, he should have had the chance to go out and have some fun, but a major incident occurred at home, causing him to lose both of his parents. Because of this, he changed his major from physics to psychology.
In college, needless to say, his department was very demanding, so undergraduates had to work for their professors and be available at all times. Of course, this was also an excuse, as the underlying issue was that he didn’t have much money at the time.
The most interesting vacation-like experience he could recall was a barbecue trip to Nanshan with his college class, which coincided with a torrential downpour. They ended up spending the night in tents while the air was soaked with the damp smell of rainwater and mud.
A group of students played cards by flashlight inside the tents, but the rain was so loud they couldn’t hear each other.
Still, it was fun, and the strong contrast between utter silence and roaring noise provided a feeling of vastness—a powerful world on the outside while they were confined in a small space.
When the rain stopped and they walked out of the tents, it looked like the sky at this moment.
“Just like the sky right now…”
Lin Chen repeated this sentence twice, then turned his head to look at Xing Conglian.
At that moment, they were lying on beach chairs on the cruise ship’s deck. The ship was in warm waters, and the sea breeze was gentle.
The noisy night party had ended some time ago, and the staff had cleaned up the “battlefield”. Parents who had taken their children to play in the water had gone back to their rooms to sleep. Only a few scattered couples, old and young, were chatting and kissing under the starlit sky on the deck.
So Lin Chen turned to look at Xing Conglian.
Xing Conglian, propped up on his elbow, had his eyes slightly closed as he listened to Lin Chen, half asleep, half awake.
After Lin Chen stopped speaking for a few seconds, Xing Conglian finally reacted and turned to look at him, asking, “The same, then what?”
Lin Chen smiled, sincerely saying, “Like the sky right now, but not as beautiful as your eyes.”
Xing Conglian didn’t laugh at this comment but instead grasped Lin Chen’s hand and said nothing.
He didn’t ask what had happened to Lin Chen’s family during his senior year, nor did he comment on the abrupt ending of the story. He simply held Lin Chen’s hand, the gesture meaning simply, “I’m here for you now.”
Lin Chen didn’t mean to complain. He was merely recounting his past experiences. But he found that casual chatting with Xing Conglian could easily become profound.
It was like how patients, when facing a psychologist, unknowingly reveal many things they are unwilling to say or have long forgotten and, in the end, have to pay for it.
For Lin Chen, although he didn’t have to pay money, he still had to compensate in other ways after sharing memories.
It was simply addictive.
Lin Chen pinched his nose bridge, turned to look at the sky, and began to reflect. Xing Conglian rested one leg on his, his rough heel rubbing against Lin Chen’s calf as if to comfort him.
Lin Chen shivered; yes, that was precisely the trick.
Xing Conglian reacted sharply.
“Then let me tell you my story, is that alright?”
“Can you guess if I think that’s good or bad?”
“Which part would you like to hear?”
“…”
“You can choose anything, as long as it doesn’t violate confidentiality regulations.”
“Whatever.”
“It can’t just be ‘whatever’.” Xing Conglian sat cross-legged. “Otherwise, I could give you a list, and you can choose which part to listen to, even dragging the progress bar back and forth for free replays.”
As Xing Conglian said this, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers against the night sky, usually a summoning gesture for Wang Chao.
Lin Chen thought that Xing Conglian had forgotten that he hadn’t brought Wang Chao onto the ship and was about to remind him, but the captain reacted on his own.
What surprised Lin Chen was that Xing Conglian didn’t stop.
He made a show of lying down in his beach chair, shuffling over in his sandals to a deck crew member, whispered something, and the worker trotted off. He then lazily shuffled back to his chair and sat down.
Lin Chen felt a headache coming on. “You didn’t send someone to Hongjing to get Wang Chao airlifted onto the cruise ship, did you?”
“How could I? I’m not that kind of person!” Xing Conglian reacted strongly.
“Really?”
“I’m very low-key, as you well know,” he said. “I don’t squander money like other rich people.”
Lin Chen thought about it and seemed to agree. Then he heard Xing Conglian say, “Mainly because I squander it much better than they do.”
“…”
Xing Conglian sat cross-legged, his eyes clear, not looking embarrassed at all.
Lin Chen thought for a moment, then asked, “Like this cruise ship?”
“It’s mine.”
Hmm… not my family’s.
“I meant, why this ship?”
“Because it’s my ship,” Xing Conglian said matter-of-factly.
Lin Chen changed positions, lying flat on the deck chair, feeling communication was difficult.
“If I take you out, of course we have to ride my ship,” Xing Conglian said.
“Eh?”
“Otherwise, wouldn’t we be boarding someone else’s ship?”
“Makes sense.”
“I think so too.”
Xing Conglian lay back down, continuing to hold his hand, his voice calming.
He said, “Actually, I wanted this ship before I left home.”
Lin Chen closed his eyes, pretending to sleep like Xing Conglian and pretending not to hear.
“Back then, my grandfather wanted to send me away to the ‘Door’ base for training. Before leaving, they said they would fulfill one wish of mine, so I said, I wanted to buy a boat.”
“I had just come of age and only knew about that hellish place from what I had heard. Knowing I had to go, I watched many movies about warfare, both domestic and foreign, and was scared out of my mind. I thought my life was over. So when they promised to fulfill a wish, my first reaction was to say my wish was not to go. Of course, that wouldn’t work. So, I made my second wish, for a boat.”
“I always thought that after leaving that hellish place, I wanted to sail around the world with the world’s hottest babes, to be a king on the sea, to host Victoria’s Secret shows on the water, and to revel in luxury every day. Fuck the civilized world!”
Xing Conglian was impassioned.
Lin Chen couldn’t help but laugh, finding the young Xing Conglian’s ideas utterly adorable.
He could even picture the curly-haired, green-eyed boy with dreams of conquering the world, giving his home the middle finger as he left, tears in his eyes.
“I had many ideas for my ship,” Xing Conglian said. “I had clear requirements for tonnage and functionality, even some sci-fi elements that were beyond the current shipbuilding technology, so it took 10 years to design and build the ship.”
“Actually, I made all those demands to give my grandfather a hard time.”
“I didn’t expect them to take it seriously and actually build it.”
“After my grandfather passed away and I retired, I never once came aboard.”
“I don’t actually like big ships, nor tall women with big breasts. What I asked for was out of spite, but he outdid me by really building this ship and giving it to me as a gift,” Xing Conglian said, taking a deep puff of his cigarette. The highly emotional content was conveyed in a very calm voice. “If I had known, I would have asked for a spaceship…”
“To send you to the stars?”
“How can that be!”
Xing Conglian put out his cigarette, draped his leg over Lin Chen again, turned, and hugged him tightly, almost enclosing his earlobe as he whispered, “Of course, to build a spaceship and contribute to the progress of human science.”
Lin Chen slowly opened his eyes. His gaze slid over Xing Conglian’s profile while he looked deep into the night sky.
“You’ve made a lot of progress in your thinking.”
“It’s not deep enough yet.”
“Mm…”
“Consultant Lin needs to continue to guide.”
“Mm…”
……
When Wang Chao was brought up, it was said that the sky hadn’t yet brightened.
It was said to be because, later, the two of them had cuddled together under the blanket and fallen asleep.
Xing Conglian’s crew didn’t dare disturb them, so they kept guard over Wang Chao nearby for half the night.
The teenager’s hair had been turned into a bird’s nest by the sea breeze, and there were still traces of sauce from the midnight snack on his mouth and collar. It seemed he had been found in some restaurant.
With Wang Chao’s personal abilities, he might even have played a game of cat and mouse with the crew before finally being caught.
Lin Chen sat up, wrapped in a blanket that someone had brought. The sky had just started to lighten. The sound of sea wind and waves could be heard, and all around was peaceful blue.
Wang Chao was escorted forward in front of Xing Conglian, who was lying on his back, smoking, with his legs propped up like a lord.
“A’Chen Gege, did you snitch?” Wang Chao whined.
Lin Chen shook his head, pointing to the one who was smoking.
In fact, he also didn’t know when Xing Conglian had discovered Wang Chao was on the ship.
“Boss, you’re so mean!” Comrade Xiao Wang Chao was very unhappy, ranting, “Not taking me along is one thing, but sending people to catch me, catch me!! They found me even when I hid in the engine room! What’s wrong with that?! Can’t a poor child oppressed by you pay for a cruise himself??? Is this your ship to be so domineering!”
Lin Chen rubbed his forehead and nodded.
“I know, I’m just a sycophant, only saying this to please him secretly!” Wang Chao paused, saving his pride.
Lin Chen wanted to say, Your boss wasn’t really pleased to see this ship…
But Xing Conglian himself had already impatiently beckoned Wang Chao over.
“What do you want, calling me over like I’m your sweet little thing?”
“Do you like abseiling?” Xing Conglian asked.
“???”
“It’s when you’re hung from the high deck and swooshed down. It’s quite fun; many guests enjoy it.”
Wang Chao’s legs went weak at once. “Boss, what would you like me to do?”
“Find Alice’s location.”
“Oh, can I have a computer?”
The conversation between Xing Conglian and Wang Chao was incredibly succinct.
Lin Chen also had a moment where he thought that Alice sounded like one of Xing Conglian’s favorite Victoria’s Secret models.
It wasn’t until three hours later that he saw…
He saw, in the endless expanse of the ocean…
The world’s largest marine creature emerging from the sea. A milky-white spout shot into the sky, and the huge tail slapped the sea, causing waves that echoed across the vast waters.
Cheers erupted on the cruise ship.
All the passengers were gathered on the deck or their own cabin balconies.
They were shouting and exclaiming, awed by a never-before-seen spectacle—the miracle of marine life.
Only Xing Conglian leaned against the railing, very calm.
Lin Chen was stunned for a long time before pointing at the whale that had just surfaced and asking, as though still immersed in illusion, “Alice?”
Xing Conglian nodded.
“Another birthday gift?”
“Just a pet.”
“……”
Xing Conglian turned around and looked at the computer screen beside him.
The blue dot on the screen indicating Alice’s coordinates showed that the whale had re-submerged into the sea, so the concept of a pet was probably just Xing Conglian’s wishful thinking.
“When I was 12, I rescued her when she was stranded near the shore,” Xing Conglian said, facing the sea breeze with certainty. “I said I wanted a huge aquarium to keep her.”
Looking at Xing Conglian’s expression and his unusual behavior after entering this area, Lin Chen guessed something.
He asked, “What did your grandfather say?”
“Grandfather said no.”
“Why?”
“Because my ambition was too small,” Xing Conglian said. “He took my hand by the seaside and told me that I should consider the ocean as my aquarium, rather than building a very small structure.”
“Very persuasive.”
“Yes.” Xing Conglian smiled, showing a reminiscent grin. “So he suggested I put a locator on her. First, to contribute to the protection of marine life by tracking the habits of whales, and second…”
“Second?”
“Second, if I ever have a girl I like, I can take her to the ocean to see the whale, point to her, and tell her this is my pet. It would be very cool.”
Lin Chen also smiled, interlocking his fingers with Xing Conglian’s.
The sea breeze whispered like a loved one, gentle and soothing.
“Now, although the person I like is not a girl, I’ve brought him here too,” Xing Conglian said, looking at the vast sea.
“I love him very much, and even thought for a long time about how to express my love and romance him. In the end, I wanted to bring him here to meet you.”
“Of course, I don’t need your agreement on who I like, so I’m not here to seek your opinion.”
Xing Conglian continued, “But he is the one I love the most, and you are the person I respect the most. I want to be with him for the rest of my life, so I brought him here to notify you.”
Lin Chen was silent for a long time.
The sea was calm, and the whale’s figure was no longer visible.
Xing Conglian was back to normal, clearing his throat and pulling Lin Chen’s hand to walk inside the cabin. “My grandfather was very peculiar; he demanded his ashes be compressed into a diamond and sunk into the trench of this sea area. I’m not sure if Alice swallowed him…”
“…Why?”
“To be closer to the Earth’s core, extremely willful.”
Lin Chen lifted Xing Conglian’s hand. Gazing into his moss-green eyes, he kissed his knuckles and said, “It’s also very romantic.”
Kinky Thoughts:
This marks the end of the novel. I hope you enjoyed it. The smut was a nice surprise.
If you like the novel, please consider supporting the author by buying the raws. You can use Google Chrome with their auto-translate and this guide on how to buy novels on jjwxc. Remember, only with your (financial) support can artists continue to produce more great work.
I would also like to thank everyone for your comments, encouragement, help with my translations, and ko-fi donations. It in part fuels my motivation to release so frequently.
Kinky Translations 