The Bamboo Forest rustled, and morning dew condensed into clear droplets on the tips of the bamboo leaves, plopping into the freshly turned brown soil.
Arthur straightened his back, wiped the non-existent sweat from his brow, and squinted at the result of his half-day’s work—a small Vegetable Garden of about twenty square meters, divided into neat furrows.
The soil was moist and soft, exuding a fresh scent.
“Cabbage, radish, scallions…” He counted the types of seeds he had just sown on his fingers, muttering in a voice only he could hear.
“If only I could get some potatoes, they yield a lot and are easy to grow.
Too bad this era…”
He looked around.
The Bamboo Forest surrounded him, distant green mountains were like painted brows, and clouds coiled around the mountainsides.
Several simple yet elegant Bamboo Houses were nestled nearby, with dried herbs and strings of red chili peppers hanging under the eaves.
Further away, steep mountain paths and a sea of clouds were visible—that was the main peak of Tai Xu Mountain, the place where the Red Kite Master occasionally went for secluded cultivation.
And he, Meizhaole Apocalis, was currently the sole, founding Head Disciple under the Red Kite Master on Tai Xu Mountain.
“A vacation, this is definitely a vacation.”
Arthur leaned the hoe against the Bamboo House wall, walked to the nearby water vat, scooped up a ladle of cool mountain spring water, and drank a few gulps, letting out a satisfied breath.
“What’s more, it’s an overseas business trip, all-inclusive room and board, no 996, and Main World time is paused—to get this kind of treatment before, I’d have to outcompete countless colleagues.”
He walked over and sat down on a flat bluestone beside the Vegetable Garden, staring blankly at the distant mountains.
A month ago—calculated according to this world’s time—he “woke up” in this body.
Aside from the system’s cold announcement in his mind: [Successfully loaded “Scarlet Requiem·Sorrow” worldline.
Time anchor point: Shenzhou, Ming Xuande Era, Tai Xu Mountain.
Identity loaded: Meizhaole Apocalis, Head Disciple of Red Kite Master.], he also gained a set of the original host’s Remembrance, which was not complicated but sufficient for him to understand the current situation.
The original host, Meizhaole Apocalis, was a collateral descendant of the Apocalypse Family in Western Europe, born in 1424.
At the age of twelve, dissatisfied with the family’s strict, rigid rules and excessive pursuit of power, he ran away from home, carrying romantic fantasies about the “Mysterious East,” heading all the way east.
Whether it was fate or pure luck, the kid actually managed to cross the Eurasian continent and, at the age of fourteen, met Fu Hua, who was traveling under the pseudonym “Red Kite Master” on the land of Shenzhou.
Described by the overflowing youthful fervor and obsession in the original host’s Remembrance—it was called “love at first sight, struck by a divine beauty, willing to follow, loyal until death.”
In short, the original host utilized his peculiar stubbornness (or perhaps thick skin), relentlessly pestering and cajoling for two full years, finally persuading the Red Kite Master—who seemed to have entertained the thought of “perhaps leaving behind a legacy”—to accept him as a disciple and bring him back to Tai Xu Mountain, making him the founding Head Disciple.
“That’s why you can’t have a love-struck brain.”
Arthur shook his head and sighed, feeling a hint of pity for the original host’s boundless, misplaced youthful passion.
The original host genuinely followed the Red Kite Master as his lifelong belief and…
well, a certain object of vague yearning.
Then he was replaced by this transmigrator, who only cared about making money, feared trouble, and viewed his “Master” purely as a “high-risk mission target and boss.”
However, Arthur adapted to this identity quite well; one could even say he was in his element.
The reason was simple.
First, time was abundant.
little tree clearly stated that the Main World worldline time flow was almost stagnant here, with a time ratio of 36500:1.
This meant he had plenty of time to “grind” here without worrying about Main World missions expiring or any trouble arising from the three observation targets.
He treated it as a paid long vacation, although the salary originated from the subsequent settlement of the Deliverance mission, which he hadn’t seen yet.
Second, the environment was peaceful.
Tai Xu Mountain was remote, the scenery was superb, and the air was fresh, free of pollution and noise.
Although the Bamboo House was simple, it was enough to shelter them from wind and rain.
The Red Kite Master seemed to have extremely low material needs but had never shortchanged her disciple on food or clothing.
There were no Honkai Beasts, no exams, no frequent confessions, and no need to maintain a professional fake smile every day.
Third, the mission target was clear and “safe.” To cure the Red Kite Master.
Not to defeat her, not to oppose her, but to cure her.
And curing, in Arthur’s understanding, often equaled “companionship” plus “subtle influence,” especially for a “patient” who clearly had a deep-seated emotional knot.
This was far more cost-effective than making him fight desperately against the Red Kite Immortal in her prime; the cost-performance ratio was extremely high.
Therefore, over the past ten days, Arthur quickly adjusted his mindset and formulated his “work” strategy in this world: integrate into the environment, maintain a low profile, observe the target, slowly penetrate, and incidentally…
improve the quality of life.
Growing vegetables was the first step toward improving the quality of life.
Although the original host was obsessed with his Master, his life skills were truly lacking.
His days on the mountain before were probably just practicing martial arts, watching his Master, and occasionally going down the mountain to purchase necessities, living quite haphazardly.
The original host could endure it, but Arthur couldn’t.
In his previous life as an office worker, he at least had takeout when working overtime; in this life, he had the academy cafeteria at Saint Freya.
Here in the ancient deep mountains, hoping for the Red Kite Master, who seemed to live on air, to improve the meals?
Better to do it himself and have plenty of food and clothing.
Thus, he spent a few days finding a sunny slope next to the Bamboo Forest, clearing weeds, leveling the land, and even making simple fences and irrigation channels out of bamboo.
The seeds were bought secretly the last time he went down the mountain with his Master to buy supplies in the small town.
“When the cabbage grows, I can pickle sauerkraut, radish stew, scrambled eggs with scallions…” Arthur was already planning the Vegetable Garden’s output, his green eyes sparkling with anticipation for a beautiful future.
“Self-sufficiency reduces purchasing, which is equivalent to saving money in disguise.
Although this world’s currency isn’t interchangeable with the Main World’s, frugality is a virtue, and a virtue is…
uh, potential future wealth.”
He was immersed in the simple joy of “farming to get rich” when a cool, plain voice sounded from behind him:
“Zhaoer.”
Arthur’s body imperceptibly stiffened for a tenth of a second, then he turned around naturally, his face already wearing the brilliant smile customary in the original host’s Remembrance, mixed with respect and adoration.
“Master!
Have you finished your seclusion?”
At the end of the Bamboo House path, a person stood with hands clasped behind their back.
Still wearing that simple white Daoist robe, which accentuated her figure, straight as bamboo.
Her long, grayish-blue hair was simply tied up with a wooden hairpin, with a few strands falling beside her cheek.
Her face was youthful, even possessing a maidenly grace, but her deep blue eyes were profound and calm like an ancient well, holding years and loneliness far beyond her appearance.
The Red Kite Master, or rather, Fu Hua at this point in time, watched him quietly, her gaze sweeping over his dirt-stained hands and trouser cuffs, then resting on the newly cultivated Vegetable Garden.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice devoid of inflection.
“Reporting, Master, your disciple saw the empty space on the back mountain going to waste, so I cleared it and planted some vegetables.” Arthur’s smile remained unchanged, his tone respectful yet containing a hint of eagerness for praise.
“This way, we won’t always have to go down the mountain to buy things; it’s convenient, and…
it saves some money.”
He appropriately displayed a thoughtful expression that conveyed, “Your disciple knows Master’s cultivation is difficult, so we should save whenever possible.”
Fu Hua watched him in silence, then looked at the neatly organized vegetable patch, and after a long moment, slowly spoke.
“A cultivator should focus on the Great Dao; there is no need to dwell excessively on trivial external matters.”
“Master is right to instruct me.” Arthur nodded readily, but immediately added.
“It’s just that your disciple feels that for every bowl of porridge and every meal, one should remember how hard-won it is.
Personally cultivating and experiencing growth and harvest might also lead to insights into the Dao of ‘Generation’?”
He blinked, attempting to elevate vegetable growing to the level of “gaining insight into the Heavenly Dao.”
Fu Hua seemed momentarily stunned by his rationale; a flicker of something resembling “helplessness” quickly crossed her placid, ancient eyes, but soon returned to calm.
“Do as you wish.” She finally said lightly, turning to walk towards another Bamboo House, which was her Quiet Chamber for daily meditation and cultivation.
“Just don’t neglect your daily practice.”
“Your disciple understands!
I will certainly practice diligently!” Arthur responded loudly from behind, only slightly relaxing his rigid back after Fu Hua’s figure disappeared behind the Quiet Chamber door.
The smile faded from his face, and a trace of contemplation flashed in his green eyes.
He had captured that momentary “helplessness.”
Unlike Class Monitor Fu Hua in the Main World, who always carried a sense of scrutiny and distance.
The Red Kite Master here, though equally cool and carrying the detachment of accumulated years, seemed to possess…
a touch of human warmth.
She would show subtle emotional fluctuations because her disciple was “neglecting proper duties” to grow vegetables.
She would tacitly allow this seemingly “wasteful” behavior from her disciple.
She didn’t even delve into the issue of “money”—one must know that in the original host’s Remembrance, the Red Kite Master had almost no concept of money; the original host was always responsible for procurement, and she never asked the price.
“There’s an opening.” Arthur squatted down, touched the moist soil, and murmured to himself.
“Whether it’s a heart demon or grief, it’s ultimately emotional stagnation.
And emotions often stem from loneliness, suppression, and…
taking things too seriously.”
He recalled the confusion and sorrow that pierced his soul—”Why…
must it be like this?
Have I, your Master…
ever wronged you?”
That was Red Kite’s incomprehension of betrayal at the last moment of her life, her questioning of her own efforts, the final echo after the collapse of her beliefs.
To cure her, perhaps the goal isn’t to tell her “you weren’t wrong,” or “they were wrong.”
Rather, it is to make her feel that in this world, besides the “Dao,” besides “responsibility,” and besides the framework of “Master and Disciple,” there are simpler, warmer, and more “mortal” things.
For example, a Vegetable Garden that needs tending.
For example, a meal carrying the smoke and warmth of human life.
For example, a disciple who is not so “perfect,” who will slack off, who will worry about “saving money,” but who exists vividly by her side.
“Let’s start by making her accustomed to the troublesome existence of ‘Arthur Le’ first.”
Arthur clapped the dirt off his hands, stood up, and looked toward the Quiet Chamber, the corner of his mouth curving into an arc that lacked warmth but was absolutely genuine.
“After all, the first step in treatment is often making the patient realize they need treatment, and…
not rejecting the doctor.”
He walked back to his simple Bamboo House, dragged out an old wooden box left by the original host from under the bed, which contained several basic Qi cultivation formulas and sword technique diagrams—all introductory materials given by Red Kite.
Arthur sat down cross-legged, casually picked up a copy of *Taixu Sword Qi Elementary Explanation*, and flipped through two pages.
Hmm, he recognized all the characters and could understand the diagrams, but what they meant when put together required contemplation.
The original host had practiced for two years and seemed to have only just grasped the basics; a faint stream of air, called True Qi, was circulating within his body.
Arthur tried to sense the meager True Qi within his body, following the book’s description.
His consciousness settled, and soon, he “saw” it.
In his Dantian, a warm current, finer than a strand of hair, was lazily circulating.
At the same time, he “saw” something else.
In the depths of his consciousness, on the interface belonging to the “System,” beneath the entry representing [Deliverance Mission: Scarlet Requiem·Sorrow], a new, very inconspicuous line of small text had appeared:
[Current Synchronized Identity: Meizhaole Apocalis (Head Disciple of Red Kite Master)]
[Identity Adaptation Rate: 37%]
[Special Status: Mortal World’s Atmosphere (Weak)—You are introducing “life atmosphere” that does not belong to this world into Tai Xu Mountain.
This action may have unknown effects on the target individual.]
[worldline Restoration Progress: 0.1%]
Arthur stared at the “0.1%” progress and raised an eyebrow.
“Planting a Vegetable Garden increased the progress by one-thousandth?” He rubbed his chin.
“Looks like the direction is right.
To cure her, shouldn’t I start by subtly introducing the mundane necessities of life and the Mortal World’s Atmosphere?”
As for the identity adaptation rate of only 37%…
Arthur glanced toward the Quiet Chamber, then looked down at his well-defined, jointed hands, which were stained with a bit of dirt from the recent labor.
“Slowly but surely.” He closed the book, lay down on the simple bed, clasped his hands behind his head, and gazed at the bamboo ceiling.
Outside the window, the wind in the Bamboo Forest roared like waves, and the mountain stream gurgled in the distance.
Everything was quiet and peaceful.
Only Arthur knew that beneath his calm exterior, his brain was rapidly calculating and planning the next “treatment protocol.”
The Vegetable Garden was just the beginning.
The next step could be improving the diet, perhaps trying to develop new dishes using mountain game and mushrooms; repairing the Bamboo House to make it more livable, or even…
introducing some simple entertainment possible in this era?
He needed to closely observe Red Kite’s reaction to his “neglecting proper duties” behavior.
Would she completely ignore it?
Would she occasionally show helplessness?
Or…
would there be a trace of faint curiosity?
He couldn’t abandon the original host’s martial arts; he had to at least show some progress.
This was the foundation for staying by her side and gaining trust.
Furthermore, perhaps “cultivating together” could also be a channel for emotional exchange?
He needed to find a way to learn more specific details about this era from Red Kite, or through other means, especially…
where were the other possible “future disciples” now?
Had the seeds of tragedy already been sown?
While thinking, fatigue washed over him.
This body was young after all, and he had been working all morning.
Just before his consciousness blurred and he was about to sink into slumber, a thought abruptly flashed through his mind—
Wondering how things were in the Main World?
The thought only appeared for an instant before being swallowed by deeper sleepiness.
The sound of the bamboo waves was like an ancient sigh.
Inside the Quiet Chamber, the Red Kite Master slowly opened her eyes, and a trace of faint doubt crossed her deep blue pupils.
She looked toward the disciple’s Bamboo House.
While meditating just now, her heart lake seemed…
slightly less calm than usual.
Was it because of the child’s action of cultivating the Vegetable Garden?
Or was it the slightly dazzling, worldly vitality in his eyes when he mentioned “saving money”?
She was accustomed to seeing great changes and shifts in human hearts.
She clearly saw the fervent admiration in the child’s eyes but only regarded it as a temporary infatuation of youth that would fade with time.
Yet recently, while that admiration seemed unchanged, the child was somewhat…
different.
She couldn’t pinpoint exactly how he was different.
It was just that occasionally, something she couldn’t understand would flash in those green eyes from a foreign land.
It wasn’t admiration, nor obsession.
It was more like a…
calm scrutiny?
And a kind of almost certain smile, as if planning something?
The Red Kite Master gently shook her head, dispelling these distracting thoughts.
Forget it, it is merely the nature of youth; let him be.
As long as it didn’t hinder his cultivation or violate his true heart, if he wanted to grow vegetables, let him grow them.
She closed her eyes again, her aura calm, merging into the boundless spiritual energy of the surrounding heaven and earth.
However, in the deepest part of that eternally silent heart lake, a dust particle so tiny it was almost non-existent seemed to tremble slightly because of this insignificant “difference” today.
Outside the Bamboo House, in the Vegetable Garden, the newly sown seeds were quietly gathering the strength to break through the soil beneath the moist earth.
And on the system interface, the 0.1% progress seemed to jump up slightly, infinitesimally.
[worldline Restoration Progress: 0.2%]