This dragon-pride protagonist, who treated monsters like a game, continued his path of physical "deliverance," scattering dozens of Wraiths with his blade.
Generally speaking, when faced with such a massacre, any Wraith with even a shred of consciousness left would know better than to provoke someone they couldn't afford to offend. But wherever his sword pointed, they still surged forward in waves, willingly submitting to his "deliverance." They were practically a flock of experience points delivered right to his doorstep.
Rong Chunsong thought to herself that these Wraiths had likely long lost all awareness from their living days—they were merely bound to this place, attacking intruders day after day.
Another swing of the sword, and the last Wraith on the road let out a wail before dissipating beneath his blade.
The Glamour Ghost, who had only recently acquired his magnificent Painted Skin, sheathed his longsword and cast a cold gaze downward. "Lowly, ugly things."
Rong Chunsong genuinely laughed. This male lead sure forgot his roots quickly—he'd become a looks-obsessed snob in no time, when not long ago he'd been someone who needed a blur filter.
With a clang, the pitch-black longsword slid into its scabbard.
A light chuckle, its tone unreadable, followed: "Lord Cult Leader, what are you laughing at now?"
Rong Chunsong spoke without missing a beat: "I was admiring the graceful, flowing form of your swordplay—a pleasure to behold. So I laughed."
Her tone was flippant, not so much appreciative as scrutinizing—like one examining a curiosity. A Buddha statue, a lifeless object, gazing down from on high would have been enough to make him burn down the entire temple. Yet when her lofty gaze swept down upon him, he merely felt a flicker of irritation stir within.
This Ghost Immortal treated him as her daily entertainment. Was he really going to let her toy with him like this?
But before he could think of a retort to turn the tables, she spoke again: "Isn't that house up ahead more imposing than the other dwellings? Let's go take a look and see if there are any clues."
That more imposing residence—he'd already spotted it long before she needed to point it out.
…She had merely noticed it a breath before he did.
Shang Daoling turned his gaze languidly toward the mansion at the end of the road. But a gust of wind swept through, bending the knee-high wild grass toward the barren mountain behind the village, like some impatient guide. A few blades of grass, carried aloft by the breeze, even deliberately drifted across his line of sight, blocking his view of the great house.
Pathetic tricks.
Luring him into a trap, were they? He'd shatter this ugly trap to pieces soon enough.
Shang Daoling vanished in a flash and reappeared before an ancient mansion with jade-green tiles and vermilion eaves. With extreme distaste, he brushed away the grass blades that had settled on his shoulder from the wind of his teleportation.
The residence boasted grand gates and imposing architecture—surely the home of some great clan or wealthy landowner in the village.
As expected, stepping across the threshold and casting a casual glance around, he confirmed this was the former village head's estate.
Everything in the main hall remained as it had been—there was even a table of rotting dishes, as if hosting some unseen guest.
Seeing Shang Daoling seemingly examining the expired feast, Rong Chunsong said, "These are all common scenes in horror games, you know—people leave, food stays, one dish passed down for ten years."
She patted his shoulder, gesturing for him to look at the ground. "What's strange is this patch of wild grass. It's one thing for the village to be overgrown, but how is it that even the blue-brick floor of this courtyard is covered in knee-high weeds?"
Just as she'd said, even the main hall was choked with withered, yellowing grass spreading across the floor.
Shang Daoling dismissed it: "Perhaps it's meant to create some eerie atmosphere—to frighten passersby."
The sword left its sheath, and in that instant, eerie blue ghostfire blazed to life, severing the disgusting weeds that clung to his calves like dry, tangled strands of hair—and burning them to ash.
He said with a grin, "There we go. Now the grass Your Holiness cares so much about is gone."
What's wrong with this guy? Is he developing a rebellious streak?
If this were an escape room, he'd be the last teammate she'd want—the kind who works against her while searching for clues. Sigh, can't carry him, just can't carry him.
She said flatly, "So Little Shang, you enjoy weeding, huh? No problem—labor is the most glorious thing, and loving work is a fine, good, virtue."
Fine, good, virtue.
Was this Ghost Immortal deliberately throwing back the words she'd used when she called him stingy earlier?
Whatever. He couldn't be bothered to bicker with her.
Stepping through the carpet of ash, he went on to examine the other rooms.
The entire village had been preserved exactly as it was years ago—including this grand mansion, and including one of the guest rooms within it. Soon, he discovered that one of the guest rooms bore traces of outsiders having stayed overnight. And those outsiders were likely cultivators.
Because a Bagua Mirror used to detect anomalies from the outside world hung right by the door.
But after all these years, the mirror had long since lost all its spiritual power, reduced to a scrap of waste bronze.
The guest room contained two beds—one was an ordinary rosewood bed, and the other was… a hammock. The hammock had clearly been added on a temporary basis, suggesting two people had stayed here.
Given the size of the original bed, two people could have slept in it without any problem. The fact that they'd strung up a hammock on the fly probably meant the two were a man and a woman—traveling together, but not lovers, and thus unwilling to share a bed. With a few casual glances, he'd already roughly pieced together the situation from back then.
There had once been a pair of perhaps—
"Did a pair of cultivators—maybe fellow disciples, senior and junior—come through here before, to exorcise evil?"
The Ghost Immortal had actually voiced his guess before he could.
Ha, so her observational skills weren't half bad after all.
Rong Chunsong had loved playing games in her past life, and ever since awakening her previous memories, she'd been treating this so-called strategy quest as a game. She hadn't expected the System's game library to be so extensive—not just strategy games, but horror puzzle games too. She was already brimming with excitement, and like a player directing a little "pawn" in a game, she tapped Shang Daoling's broad shoulder again.
"Look, there's a notebook over there."
"Got it."
She'd beaten him to a clue again, and he felt a fair bit of displeasure at that.
With long strides, Shang Daoling sauntered over—looking utterly unhurried, but in truth moving quite slowly—toward the desk where a notebook lay open.
Watching his slow, smug swagger, Rong Chunsong thought to herself, Little Shang, you really, truly, absolutely deserve another spanking.
Fortunately, it was only a dozen or so steps from the door to the desk, and soon the little "pawn" on screen obtained [Item: Notebook Recording Past Events].
She was thoroughly delighted, even adding a little sound effect in her head.
Indigo cover, yellowed pages.
Judging by the crest on the cover, the notebook's owner seemed to be a—
Shang Daoling snorted with a laugh. "A Youtian Sect disciple?"
On the notebook's cover, a cloud-shaped crest of the Youtian Sect was stamped prominently.
The Youtian Sect—that is—one of the third-ranked sects of the Central Continent.
When she was young, she had accompanied her parents to a meeting of the Central Continent Immortal Alliance. While waiting outside the council hall, she had once heard several Youtian Sect disciples speaking passionately: We, the five great sects ranked in the top three, have always been united, like brothers and sisters, pulling together through thick and thin—outsiders had best not try to sow discord! Now that she thought about it, wasn't that just the five of us TOP3 sects being like brothers and sisters… So the fact that TOP3 has five members is something that has existed since ancient times…
Oh, stop letting your mind wander.
The notebook had already been opened by a pair of slender hands.
Rong Chunsong's gaze traveled along the elegant handwriting in the booklet.
Over a hundred years ago, the owner of this notebook and her senior brother had come here to exterminate demons and purge evil.
This fishing village had originally made its living by the sea, surviving through fishing catches, until a villager discovered that on a nearby mountain, endless melons, fruits, and game had suddenly appeared. The melons and fruits could be picked at will, and the game was dull and sluggish, standing still and letting itself be caught. Gradually, many people were unwilling to go out to sea to fish, and instead relied on the mountain's abundant produce to get by.
Then one day, thunder roared mightily, and a golden bolt of lightning descended from the sky, splitting a towering ancient tree.
Beneath the cracked ancient tree appeared a white jade statue of a deity.
The statue was tall and slender, its celestial robes flowing elegantly, its features ancient and noble—truly a transcendent immortal from beyond the world. On the ancient tree that had split and fallen to one side, four large characters had emerged: "Venerable Qingji."
Before long, the villagers built a temple on the mountain and began worshipping this Venerable Qingji.
When Rong Chunsong read this page, she said, "The people of this village were living perfectly fine—going out to sea to fish, supporting themselves, suffering no natural disasters or man-made calamities. Yet this Venerable descended with 'blessings,' luring them to abandon their skills and indulge in the dream of reaping rewards without labor. This must be the evil creature that this pair of Youtian Sect senior brother and junior sister were meant to destroy."
Changing her tone, she slapped Shang Daoling on the shoulder and said, "Little Shang, I'm still the better Heavenly Venerable—I give you blessings and cultivate you as a capable subordinate, without letting you waste your skills."
Shang Daoling let out a scoff. If she really treated him as a capable subordinate, then after more than a month—nearly two months now—why was he still just an "ordinary follower," Guest Six?
Yet as she pointed and gestured by his ear again, in some mysterious way, it was as if a young woman truly had leaned in close to whisper by his side.
The slender hand wrapped in black gloves paused for a moment, then quickly turned the notebook to the next page.
Rong Chunsong thought to herself, What's with this guy suddenly flipping pages so fast?
Never mind—she had already finished reading the previous content anyway.
The last few pages of the notebook contained some scattered thoughts casually written down by this Youtian Sect junior sister.
The village was decaying faster and faster. The village chief's family, who had been the first to notice something was wrong, earnestly begged them to hurry and perform the demon-expulsion ritual. Although she had not yet thoroughly investigated what the true form of Venerable Qingji was, she thought to herself that with her and her senior brother's cultivation, dealing with this demon should not be much of a problem.
The last page.
A few strands of youthful affection, scattered among the ink characters.
"Senior brother is always so flippant and never serious. Relying on his high cultivation, he always treats me like a little sister who needs his protection. Tomorrow, I will make him witness my true abilities, and make him sincerely admire me and be obedient ever after."
The elegant handwriting stopped there, on the eve of the battle with Venerable Qingji.
Alas, but judging by the fact that this sinister village still remained, these two had probably failed in their evil expulsion. She and her senior brother had both perished here. A few traces of sympathy and regret rose in Rong Chunsong's heart.
Shang Daoling closed the notebook and tossed it back onto the table. "In that case, the temple on the mountain is most likely that so-called Venerable One's hiding place."
To think someone dared to trap him here for over an hour. In that time, someone might have already taken the high-paying job from the middleman. The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became.
At this thought, he drew his sword from its sheath once more. The blade was sharp, with dark light flowing across it.
"You're planning to charge up the mountain and kill them just like that?"
Shang Daoling laughed. "What, didn't you tell me, Sect Master, that since someone laid a trap for me, I should just smash it open quickly?"
Rong Chunsong thought it over. This plot point couldn't be found in the original work, and there were no usable clues. This guy was the protagonist of this book—at least, he still was for now. He was still immortal, stacked with a bunch of buffs. He'd probably be fine no matter what he did, so just let him go up the mountain and take a look.
A clear, elegant female voice drifted from the void, tinged with amusement: "Alright, it's time to review the results of your project. I'm looking forward to it."