Xie Shi spent the entire night dreaming.
He had never dreamed once back at the Matchmaker Bureau, but somehow, ever since arriving in this world, a myriad of bizarre and surreal dreams had come flooding in one after another.
All night long, Xie Shi dreamed that beneath the cold moon, someone stood like falling snow, gripping a sword.
Yet he could not make out the person’s face.
This scene repeated countless times in Xie Shi’s dream, until the piercingly cold sword light flashed across his eyes, sending a sharp, agonizing pain straight through his heart.
Xie Shi jolted awake.
Daybreak was just beginning.
A single thread of golden light tore through the dark night, and the sunlight pierced the clouds, banishing the chill of the night and bringing a familiar warmth.
Xie Shi stared blankly at the magnificent morning glow on the horizon, his mind feeling somewhat dazed.
“What’s wrong?” Song Yan leaned in, looking with concern at Xie Shi’s pale face.
Xie Shi had already forgotten what he had seen in his dream.
He only remembered the lingering palpitation of his heart when he woke up.
He took a few heavy breaths, then shook his head and moved to sit up.
Xie Shi propped himself up on the arm that Song Yan had been resting on, but little did he expect that having someone pillowing their chest on it for an entire night would cause half of his body to go completely numb. The moment he moved, it felt as though thousands of needles were stabbing into his flesh, tingling, aching, and numb all at once.
He instantly froze with a deadpan expression, not daring to move an inch.
Seeing this, Song Yan took the initiative to reach out, intending to help him massage his shoulder and arm.
“It’s fine, no, no need. Hiss.” How could Xie Shi possibly have the nerve? He waved his hand to dodge, but lifting his arm inadvertently tugged at the numb limb, drawing in a sharp breath.
Disregarding his refusal, Song Yan used his two boneless, soft hands to gently knead Xie Shi’s shoulder, leaning close to his ear and whispering softly, “A-Shi, relax a little.”
Unable to push him away, Xie Shi half-heartedly gave in, his ear tips turning red as he stopped moving.
Their positions were reversed, and before he knew it, Xie Shi found himself resting his head on Song Yan’s lap.
Song Yan always smelled so nice.
It was somewhat like a certain floral scent; Xie Shi couldn’t quite name the fragrance, but he only felt that it was as faint as an orchid, yet extremely overbearing.
The moment he leaned in, this scent seemed to spring to life, enveloping him completely, aggressively drilling into his nasal cavity, seeping into his body, and leaving an invisible trace upon him.
Yet this fragrance was also so pleasant that it failed to stir even a trace of discomfort in Xie Shi.
[A Gold Core stage bone spirit came by last night.] The system’s voice sounded in his mind.
Xie Shi instantly furrowed his brow: [Why didn’t you wake me up?]
[Because it left again.]
[Left again?]
[Song Yan seemed to have seen it.]
[What are you trying to say?]
[That bone spirit had just emerged from the edge of the desert. When Song Yan glanced in its direction, it ran away.]
[Are you trying to say that bone spirit was wary of Song Yan?] Xie Shi’s brow furrowed even tighter: [Yet yesterday, he was chased quite miserably by two bone spirits.]
The system stated: [It only took him five days to escape from Heavenly Prison, too.]
[That was because the seals of Heavenly Prison had loosened, and he just happened to seize that opening, which is also the reason the plot deviated,] Xie Shi said. [Didn’t you already run a pre-check on this?]
The system did not speak.
It clearly knew that its own deductions did not match reality.
[Last night’s bone spirit should have been deterred by the tiger bone behind me. No matter how you think about it, that has to be the more likely possibility, right? Song Yan has never consumed his own kind, and his demonic veins are weak; his strength is only equivalent to a Qi Condensation stage immortal cultivator. If he could truly deter a Gold Core stage bone spirit, how could he have been captured and brought to the Wilderness so easily?]
The system fell silent for a second before saying: [You are right.]
Xie Shi keenly sensed that something was amiss.
When all was said and done, the system was merely an artificial intelligence, and all of its conclusions had to be based on data and facts.
Since the system believed there was no deviation in Song Yan’s data, then why would it harbor doubts regarding Song Yan’s identity?
This did not fit the system’s programming at all.
This trace of doubt flashed past, and before Xie Shi could ponder it further, he heard the system say: [Song Yan stared at you all night last night.]
Xie Shi’s train of thought was derailed: [Huh?]
[He didn’t sleep the entire night, constantly watching you.]
Xie Shi: [Oh.]
The system’s tone grew strange: [Why are you blushing? Isn’t this pretty perverted?]
[Ahem.] Xie Shi gave a dry cough and said, [He probably just couldn’t sleep.]
The system sighed.
Your filter for him is way too thick!
Xie Shi’s arm had already regained its sensation. Song Yan stopped his hand movements and began stroking Xie Shi’s hair.
Finding it truly unbearable to look at Xie Shi’s decadent posture of a beauty in whose lap a weary traveler lies, the system couldn’t help but ask: [Just when on earth are you sending him back to Heavenly Prison?]
Xie Shi kept his eyes open. From this angle, he could see Song Yan’s delicate, sharply carved chin.
Song Yan truly lived up to being the protagonist shou; he was the most gorgeous creature in the entire cultivation world.
Even from this fatal angle, it did not affect his appearance in the least.
He was unrealistically beautiful.
[Do we really have to send him back to Heavenly Prison?] Xie Shi asked in his mind.
[What did you say?] The system’s mechanical voice was once again filled with a rolling roar of static current.
This indicated that the system’s emotional fluctuations were vast, and it might even inflict punishment upon him.
Yet Xie Shi’s expression remained calm, devoid of the slightest trace of fear.
He continued, [Isn’t it enough just to let them reunite six years later?]
[Yes.] The system replied.
[Therefore, the process prior to their reunion is variable.]
[If he isn’t locked up for six years, how can you guarantee that he will exact revenge on Meng Jingxue?] the system asked coldly.
[He will.] Xie Shi looked at Song Yan and said softly in his heart, [Even if he is locked up for just a single day, he still will.]
For Song Yan, what difference was there between being imprisoned for a day and being imprisoned for six years?
For his own selfish reasons, Meng Jingxue disregarded his wishes and imprisoned him within the Wilderness.
This was an unchangeable fact.
What was more, Song Yan possessed a personality that sought an eye for an eye, repaying favors or grudges tenfold.
The system did not refute this.
It knew that this genuinely fit Song Yan’s established persona.
[Besides that…]
[Besides what?]
[I don’t just have one task, do you know.] Xie Shi said.
The S-10 Immortal Cultivation Small World.
There were a total of two tasks.
First, to reunite the protagonist gong and shou, and correct the plotline.
Second, to search for the Glass Heart.
The Glass Heart, a legendary object that the original text had only mentioned in passing.
It was said that the Glass Heart was the heart of a god.
Whoever obtained the Glass Heart could become a new god and rule the Three Realms.
In the current cultivation world, the gods had fallen and the immortal realm had withered.
Even the Immortal Ascension Ladder had not appeared for over a thousand years.
In ancient times, the cultivation world was rich in spiritual energy, and major powerhouses frequently manifested in the world; the Immortal Ascension Ladder opened almost every decade.
Those who attained the Dao and became immortals were too numerous to count.
However, with the withering of the immortal realm, even the cultivation world had grown dormant.
Achieving immortality had once been an ordinary, commonplace matter in ancient times.
Yet nowadays, it had become an obsessive yearning and an unattainable dream for all immortal cultivators.
The last time the Immortal Ascension Ladder opened was a thousand years ago, when a dragon demon that had practiced for many years saw through the Great Dao and successfully crossed its heavenly tribulation to ascend.
However, that dragon demon also failed its ascension, and in the end, it fell into parts unknown.
Perhaps it had already perished beneath the rolling heavenly tribulation.
A thousand years later, each generation of immortal cultivators had grown inferior to the last. The only person with any hope of ascension was the protagonist gong who cultivated the Heartless Dao, Meng Jingxue.
Since cultivation was difficult to accomplish, everyone could only turn to other methods in pursuit of eternal life.
These delusional immortal cultivators began searching for the legend of the Glass Heart.
Though glossed over in a single stroke by the original text, the Matchmaker Bureau had shown an exceptionally high degree of focus toward it.
Xie Shi had once asked why they needed to look for the Glass Heart, but he never received an answer.
This was an order issued by the Main God, as well as the Main God’s policy.
He had no right to peek into the truth, much less question it.
As an employee, the only thing he could do was rack his brain to complete the mission.
[Since Song Yan is the protagonist shou, at least half of the world’s fortune rests upon him. If the Glass Heart truly exists in this world, won’t it be easier to search for it with Song Yan by my side?] Xie Shi reasoned.
Although Meng Jingxue also held half of the world’s fortune, he was in seclusion after all, making him difficult to approach; it would also be hard for Xie Shi to rely on him to find the Glass Heart.
From the looks of it, keeping Song Yan around was instead the best choice.
At least it beat wandering around blindly like a headless fly by himself.
[So you want to help Song Yan escape the Wilderness?] the system asked.
[Yes.]
The system fell silent for a long time.
It understood that what Xie Shi said was not without reason, but it still hesitated.
Within its mind, the system rapidly calculated the feasibility and danger of this matter, transmitting the analyzed report back to the Main God.
Before long, a powerful current of electricity merged into its body, bringing with it the guidance of the Main God.
A long time later, daylight broke completely.
The scorching sun popped above the horizon, and brilliant morning light paved across the earth.
Finally, the system’s metallic voice sounded in Xie Shi’s mind.
[The Main God has approved your application.] The system’s mechanical voice was cold, devoid of a shred of emotion as it stated: [However, if the mission fails, you will be repatriated, locked away in solitary confinement, and all your points and benefits will be forfeited.]
Xie Shi thought for a moment and asked: [And then?]
[And then what?]
[If the mission fails, what will happen to Song Yan?]
The system replied coldly: [The S-10 Immortal Cultivation Small World will be rebooted, and other employees will be sent to execute this mission.]
Xie Shi lowered his gaze and remained silent.
There were two paths leading out of the Wilderness.
One was located at the Man-Eating Sands in the east, which was the eye of the sealing grand array for the entire Wilderness. A giant stone monster guarded the eye of the array, hunting down any prisoners who intended to escape.
The other was located at the extreme northern edge, where there stood a black mountain.
It was said that by crossing the black mountain, one could also walk out of the Wilderness.
The original text mentioned that the Black Mountain was treacherous.
However, it didn’t specify how treacherous it was, only stating that this was the sole place where the giant stone monster and bone spirits did not dare to set foot.
In the original text, Song Yan had chosen to head toward the array eye and utilize the giant stone monster to escape.
Naturally, Xie Shi did not want to risk things and intended to head out following the escape route taken by Song Yan.
After walking for another two days, the two finally arrived at the location of the array eye.
The boundary of the Wilderness was unlike its central region, which was a flat and boundless expanse of yellow sand.
Here, the sand was coarse, the gravel sharp, and rugged, gigantic grotesque boulders could be seen everywhere.
The two of them stood atop a massive boulder, looking at the array eye not far away.
It was a vortex within the ocean of yellow sand, measuring hundreds of feet in diameter. Streams of sand rapidly rolled endlessly into the pitch-black vortex. Blade-sharp gale winds raged above the vortex, capable of shredding any living creature that drew near.
To walk out of the array eye, one inevitably had to pass through the vortex.
And once one stepped into the vortex, they would rapidly sink into the sandy ground and be swallowed up.
Therefore, the sand here was also known as the Man-Eating Sands.
Violent winds blew continuously, whipping the robes of the two figures so that they fluttered loudly.
Song Yan clutched the corner of Xie Shi’s robe, looking somewhat frightened. His voice was nearly shredded by the fierce winds here: “A-Shi, can we really get out through here?”
Naturally, it was difficult to pass through using merely a mortal, physical body.
Within the vortex, at the edge of the array eye, a giant stone monster had guarded this place year-round.
In the original text, Song Yan first lured out the giant stone monster, then held his breath and flattened himself against its body, using its strength to draw close to the center of the array eye.
Xie Shi intended to follow the same formula.
He glanced left and right, looking for the giant stone monster’s physical form while replying: “Of course we can…”
Wait, the earth suddenly gave a faint tremor.
Xie Shi’s last word stuck in his throat.
He abruptly realized that the giant stone monster was not at the array eye at all, nor was its figure to be seen within the Man-Eating Sands.
Where had the giant stone monster gone?
At the same time that the question arose in Xie Shi’s mind, the tremors beneath his feet also grew increasingly violent.
Thud by thud.
The sand surface boiled, and all the sand and gravel kept bouncing along with the tremors.
It was as if some colossal behemoth was charging straight toward them.
A bad premonition blossomed in his heart.
A chill rushed straight from Xie Shi’s tailbone up to his crown.