The serpent sinew, winding for several li, gradually transformed into a bundle of snow-white rope in Shang Daoling's hand.
He turned it over and over, then suddenly said, "This magic treasure is… the Floating Dust Tether."
The sculptures on the mountain had been too severely weathered, and he had been too busy bickering with that Ghost Immortal to look carefully.
Hmm, the Floating Dust Tether?
She had heard a little about this immortal artifact as well.
The Floating Dust Tether—a hundred li of mountains and rivers as its prison, ten thousand lives strung upon its rope. Its purpose was to connect the land within a hundred li in every direction, and it could also manipulate the souls of the dead like marionettes on strings, capturing and binding wandering spirits. In short, it was a magic treasure that both urban planners and ghost cultivators would desperately covet.
In the book, the Floating Dust Tether was part of the same series as the Myriad Spirit Furnace. Legend had it that nine ancient magic treasures were scattered across the world. She felt this was one of the hidden threads of the story, but before the author—the Emperor—abandoned the novel, he had only written up to the fourth magic treasure, the Heaven's Inquiry Sword.
As for the others, because the Emperor never wrote about them, "the world had yet to learn their names."
The Myriad Spirit Furnace, the Floating Dust Tether, the Immortal Gathering Tripod, the Heaven's Inquiry Sword. These were the four ancient immortal artifacts that Shang Daoling had already collected in the book. Unlike the Myriad Spirit Furnace, the original work never explained how Shang Daoling obtained the Floating Dust Tether. In the chapter where the male lead first revealed his villainous identity, he used this very thing to command mountains and rivers and flood Tianwen Palace. So this was where it came from.
She said, "This serpent monster's immense power must be thanks to the Floating Dust Tether."
"But its taste is truly vulgar. It actually transformed the Floating Dust Tether into its hair and strung together a mass of ugly Wraiths. Now I feel a bit disgusted just holding it."
"Then you, with such refined taste—do you still want this magic treasure?"
Shang Daoling: "I'll keep it for now. Who knows, maybe one day I can sell it for a good price." At the very least, if he ever found this female ghost's true body, he could use it to tie her up and avenge himself for all the times she had teased him. But he did not say this last part aloud.
Magic treasures were all external things. A strong person could be invincible and unmatched relying solely on themselves. Moreover, connecting mountains and rivers and capturing wandering souls were of no use to him. Compared to all this messy business, he preferred the thrill of swords rising and falling, blood splattering three chi. This rope—if the Ghost Immortal wanted it—if she asked him, he supposed he could casually give it to her when he saw her next.
While he was conversing with Rong Chunsong, the two hazy figures not far away had already walked over.
Though they did not know why this fellow Daoist kept talking to himself…
Within the clear white light, the faces of a man and a woman gradually emerged. But a hundred years had passed, and their features were no longer distinct, flowing and shifting as if underwater.
Rong Chunsong thought to himself: These two—the senior brother was only in his early twenties, and the junior sister only seventeen or eighteen. Truly, they died young.
He heard the senior brother say, "Fellow Daoist, thank you for eliminating this Demonic Entity."
It turned out that a hundred years ago, this pair of senior and junior disciples had been passing through a nearby small town. They had originally intended to stay only a single day, but encountered the village chief of a fishing village who had come to town seeking help from cultivators. When they learned that a demon disguised as an immortal lord was causing havoc, they felt they could not allow it to continue harming the local people, and so they returned to the fishing village with the village chief…
"Unexpectedly, the village chief had actually been following the orders of the serpent demon, seeking out cultivators for it to devour. On the day of the great battle, he sent people to remove the demon-breaking talismans that my senior brother and I had set up around the village. When we confronted him about why he had done this, his human skin peeled away, revealing a serpent's face." said the woman in the ghostly form.
"Although it possesses the Floating Dust Tether, a precious treasure, its own cultivation is not high enough to control this ancient artifact. Over a hundred years ago, it could still manifest the form of a celestial being descending from beyond the heavens, but now its mind has been corroded, and it can barely maintain a human shape."
Shang Daoling gave a stiff smile and nodded casually.
If it weren't for the Ghost Immortal whispering in his ear that she wanted to hear "the story reveal after settling the battle results," he wouldn't bother wasting words with these two wandering spirits.
The Ghost Immortal told him to ask, "Have the two of you remained here for the past hundred years?"
But he deliberately spoke with sarcasm: "Although your mortal lifespans have ended, you could still cultivate as ghosts, right? For over a hundred years, you've just drifted as two wandering spirits—never thought of cultivating the ghost path for revenge?"
Rong Chunsong was truly speechless. This male lead was like a malfunctioning Gundam—when she pointed him east, he insisted on going west.
Then the junior sister spoke: "My senior brother and I were trapped by it. Using the Floating Dust Tether, it merged the land for a hundred li in every direction with itself, also trapping everyone who died on this land."
"For a hundred years, my senior brother and I have been bound by the Floating Dust Tether, able only to help some passersby escape, but never able to defeat it. Moreover, it's only been… in the last decade or so, as its mind gradually deteriorated, that we've been able to break free from the Floating Dust Tether's restraints by a fraction."
On the day she and her senior brother descended the mountain to travel and drifted to this place, the sky was vast and the sea wide, the waters clear and clouds white, a few seagulls fluttering past, disappearing into the distant horizon where sea and sky merged. That day, her senior brother smiled beside her and said that in the future, they too would be like the birds in the sky, soaring through the vast universe.
Yet a hundred years had passed, and she was still trapped with her senior brother in a demonic village, until this very day.
On the day they fought the serpent demon, her senior brother, whose cultivation was higher than hers, could have escaped. But when she was dragged down into the abyss by it, her senior brother, who was usually so carefree and nonchalant, froze with a solemn expression, as if plunged into an icy pit. In an instant, he had jumped down with her—
Throughout these hundred years, it was also her senior brother who comforted her in the darkness, believing that they would one day break free from this evil illusory realm.
She said in a low voice: "Nightmare Nest Daoist, thank you. It's because of you that my senior brother and I have regained our freedom."
Beside her, the Youtian Sect senior brother, whose handsome features could still be faintly discerned, also clasped his fists and said: "Brother Nightmare Nest's techniques are indeed formidable—to be able to render the demon's dozen or so hands limp and powerless in an instant."
Shang Daoling let out a light laugh.
"That's not my technique—it's the spell of our Lotus Heaven Venerable," he said, a ghostly smile surfacing on his face that was so handsome it bordered on the uncanny. "I also follow this Venerable. And as it happens, I'm a Divine Envoy."
"Divine Envoy? A Divine Envoy should be at least K9; you're only K6."
It seemed that the B-rank skill "Identity is Self-Proclaimed When Away from Home" was being used to its full potential by this male lead, even without binding to the System.
The two siblings before him fell silent for a moment.
Finally, the junior sister spoke: "People have good and evil, loyal and treacherous—so too do demons, and so too do immortals. This Lotus Heaven Venerable that Brother Nightmare Nest follows has deigned to bestow divine power to help you slay the demonic entity. Surely this Venerable is a righteous deity with a compassionate heart."
Rong Chunsong nodded, thinking to herself that she liked hearing that. From now on, the Youtian Sect would be the only TOP3 in her heart—the other four sects didn't count.
But Shang Daoling let out a dismissive laugh. "She's just treating today's events as entertainment." Compassion? A righteous deity? That Ghost Immortal was clearly nothing but a frivolous, mischievous creature… Fortunately, she had found the right person. Having possessed his body, he had plenty of bloody games and crimson spectacles for her to slowly savor.
Unexpectedly, the Youtian Sect junior sister shook her head and continued, "Treating everything as entertainment could be called playing with the world, or it could be called unbridled freedom. Taking a terrifying demon as a source of amusement and casually descending divine power to subdue it—isn't that equally dashing and satisfying, showing courage, wisdom, feeling, and wit alike?"
The young woman spoke slowly: "Though appearing to play with the world, in truth her heart is bound to it. I too admire such a person." Her face remained frozen in its youthful form from a hundred years ago, and her gaze of youthful longing flickered toward the senior brother beside her for just a moment.
A cold smile curled at Shang Daoling's lips. What "too"? A load of nonsense. I don't admire that pretentious trickster.
Feeling his junior sister's gaze, the handsome man beside her was momentarily stunned.
After a moment, he finally parted his lips: "No, junior sister, I didn't…" I didn't protect you.
If he couldn't even protect her, how could he boast of having the world in his heart?
In an instant, the cavern began to collapse. He didn't finish his sentence, instead pointing toward the tunnel above the cave: "Junior sister, Brother Nightmare Nest, I think we should get out of here first."
The rest of his words—his self-blame, his regret, his… affection—if she wished to hear them, he would tell her slowly, at the boundary between yin and yang, of life and death, upon that chaotic path through the underworld.
The serpent demon was dead, the Magic Treasure fused into its body had been stripped away, and the extradimensional space it had created with the Floating Dust Tether was naturally collapsing as well.
The village that had been "divinely hidden" for over a hundred years reappeared at the foot of the slope, but only broken tiles and crumbling walls remained—no trace of its former vitality. Perhaps with just another year or two of wind and rain, it would vanish completely from the world.
Most of the Wraiths bound here had regained their living appearances, transforming into specks of white light that gradually rose into the air and dissipated into nothingness.
The dark clouds in the sky also dispersed, and a few shafts of clear heavenly light spilled down. The pitch-black sea returned to blue-green—one vast expanse of azure, merging with the sky at the horizon.
Her electronic pet made a show of waving goodbye to the two departed souls, then walked away without looking back.
On the System screen, the two white figures still stood on the cliff by the sea, the senior brother's arm tightly around his junior sister's shoulder as they gazed together at the vast emerald waves before them.
Rong Chunsong thought to herself that whether this pair of senior and junior siblings was now embarking on the path of reincarnation through the underworld, or cultivating the ghost path after their physical forms had perished, she hoped they would get what they wished for.
She offered a silent blessing from the depths of her heart, then shifted her perspective, pulling the camera back to Shang Daoling.
And beyond the camera's frame—
The azure sea was clear as a mirror, reflecting clouds and sky. Past events, vivid and clear, also shimmered across the blue-green glow of the water's surface.
Senior brother, on this journey down the mountain, we must surely achieve great deeds—or at the very least, make a name for ourselves. Also, you must no longer treat me as a little sister, no longer watch over me day and night, and no longer tease me with your constant jokes.
You're my junior sister, my closest sister. I just like looking at you every day—is even that not allowed?
Who… who is your closest sister? What closest? I have more than just you as a senior brother! And you're still laughing!
A hundred years ago, on their journey down the mountain, there had been plenty of bickering and playful quarrels between them. A hundred years later, the road still stretched out beneath their feet, but in this moment, neither spoke again. Her hand, already a mere phantom, simply gently clasped his hand—equally cold, equally floating within the white shadow.
Whatever the road ahead might hold…
The sky was bright and radiant, the mountain path lush and green.
Wind lifted the hem of a crimson robe, injecting a streak of vivid red into the verdant landscape.
"Cult Leader, what a pity. Those two dead men—oh, pardon me, the deceased—who knows whether they've gone off to become Buddhas or ghost cultivators. Two ghosts can't exactly spread your fame."
Rong Chunsong felt that this little Shang's Corruption Value was truly too high. All sorts of snide, passive-aggressive remarks came pouring out of his mouth at the slightest provocation. She really needed to teach him a lesson.
"Doing good deeds doesn't require leaving your name behind. Do you think everyone is like you? Little Shang, you mustn't measure others by yourself—don't gauge a gentleman's heart with a petty man's mind, or a K16's belly with a K6's."
The handsome man in the image fell silent for several breaths.
So there were ten levels between him and her?
He had entered that Illusory Realm at her instruction and slain the serpent monster lurking within. Yet regarding his promotion, she said not a word. Even if this was just a game of make-believe, he refused to accept playing nothing more than an ordinary cult member.
Shang Daoling was just about to pretend to casually bring up the matter when he looked up and found they had already arrived at the entrance of the small town at the foot of the mountain.
Beneath the gate tower, a sea of people.
All were townsfolk who had come out to see the white light in the sky.
A man dressed as a woodcutter came running hurriedly toward the crowd: "I just came back from over there—a village suddenly appeared at the foot of the mountain, it's that, that—"
So this town also had legends of the ghost village by the sea.
Then the woodcutter continued: "I dared to go in and take a look. It seems to be no different from an ordinary ruin now. I wonder if some immortal or expert passed by and eliminated the Demonic Entity on the mountain…"
Hearing this good news, the townsfolk all wore joyful smiles.
Yet from within the crowd, a deep voice suddenly rang out: "Yes, that immortal expert is me."
The people, still immersed in the good news, finally noticed that there was a cultivator here dressed in black and red Daoist robes.
In truth, if not for the light screen in the sky having drawn most people's attention earlier, such a tall, handsome man would have stood out greatly in a crowd—it would have been impossible for anyone to miss him.
An elderly man of high prestige, surrounded by the crowd, asked: "May I ask, Daoist, who are you?"
"My Daoist name is Nightmare Nest. I am a Divine Envoy of Lotus Heaven Venerable of the Huazang Cult," Shang Daoling said, then unhurriedly drew the Floating Dust Tether from his sleeve. "This is the Magic Treasure that the Demonic Entity had fused into its sinews and bones. I extracted it."
It was just a trivial snake demon he'd killed anyway. He'd cede the credit and let her spread her name—it was no big deal. Besides, she really had helped him once again…
In any case, if she had any sense, she'd show him a little more respect in this make-believe game. At the very least—she must stop labeling him an ordinary cult member, a K6. It was downright humiliating.
Rong Chunsong watched him putting on airs again and thought to herself: I already told him a Divine Envoy needs to be at least K9. This kid…
The Floating Dust Tether shimmered with a pure, radiant light. Even the common folk, who knew little of cultivation, could tell this was an immortal's magic treasure.
This Daoist master, who called himself a Divine Envoy, was extraordinarily handsome—like a figure painted into a scroll, his features resplendent, as if brushed with the most vivid pigments in the world. His haughty demeanor, bolstered by tales of vanquishing demons and subduing evil, appeared to onlookers as the untamed spirit of an immortal.
All around, the crowd began to murmur:
"Thank you, Nightmare Nest Daoist!"
"Thank the Lotus Heaven Venerable for descending with divine miracles…"
Praise for Lotus Heaven rang out one after another, and Rong Chunsong, watching from outside the scene, heard every word.
This little merchant wasn't entirely devoid of social awareness.
At the very least, at this critical juncture of "promotion," he knew enough to flatter and show off a bit.
Sigh, who could blame him—she was such a good leader, after all. The pie she'd dangled before him earlier wasn't so hard to take a bite of.
"Considering you did successfully complete this seaside village project, I'll promote you to K7—Senior Devotee."
The praises of these mortals meant nothing to him, passing by like wind through his ears. But her words, suddenly ringing out, he heard every syllable with perfect clarity.
Shang Daoling walked through the townsfolk who lined the path to welcome him, letting out a derisive snort: "Just K7?"
So… still a devotee. Merely upgraded from an ordinary devotee to some "senior" one.
"Promoting you to K7 in just over a month is already me breaking convention to elevate talent."
Little Shang, you have no sect or faction, no academic credentials, and as for experience—you have none of the legitimate kind either, just a string of fights and kills. Promoting you at all—isn't that me breaking convention to elevate talent? Of course, that speech bordered on manipulation, and given that he'd shown some tact just now, she decided not to say it.
Shang Daoling's eyes darkened.
…Breaking convention, he says. If he truly broke convention, he wouldn't be climbing rank by rank, slow as a snail.
Whatever. At least she kept her word.
[Ding. Target Shang Daoling's Favorability Value +2. Current Favorability Value: 29.]
To thank this Divine Envoy for eliminating the demonic entity in their region, the town's innkeeper wanted to host a banquet in his honor. But this big-shot protagonist actually said he was in a hurry to return to Gusu Terrace to take on missions and earn money, so he wouldn't be staying at some little inn like this.
Rong Chunsong thought to herself that he couldn't go a single second without running his mouth. She'd just praised him for having some tact, and now he was back to being sarcastic again.
That inn was clearly one specializing in Cloud Capital's signature dishes. In the System's live feed, she spotted a few Cloud Capital natives working away from home, and she actually felt a bit of warmth toward it.
She said, "That's no little inn—their storefront is the biggest in this town. Free mint-fried pork ribs, sour soup beef, and mushroom hotpot, and you're still not happy." He truly had no appreciation for fine food.
In the feed, Shang Daoling listened to her rattle off the dish names, offering only a casual smile, seemingly unmoved.
Thanks to that layer of demon-subduing mystique, the onlookers assumed his refusal of the banquet was him not taking so much as a needle or thread from the common folk. The town head spoke up again, saying that since the Daoist had rid them of a great scourge, he hoped the master would accept a token of their gratitude. If he didn't mind, this bit of silver…
Shang Daoling said with a beaming smile, "I don't accept silver. But if you had spirit stones weighing the same as this box of silver, I'd gladly take those."
So it wasn't that he wouldn't take a single needle or thread—he was going to take Spirit Stones directly! For a moment, the town mayor, the innkeeper, and the crowd of onlookers all felt a bit embarrassed.
After leisurely enjoying the sight of these mortals so nervous they didn't dare breathe, he raised his long brows and spoke with magnanimous mercy: "Fine, whatever good wine you have, give me a jug. It just so happens I'm in a good mood today." Today, that Ghost Immortal had been sensible.
Rong Chunsong thought to herself, this guy is so money-grubbing, and yet he has moments where he's this easygoing and doesn't care about money?
In any case, as dusk fell, her immortal-realm electronic pet—who for once had shown a rare indifference to fame and fortune—continued on his way, carrying a jug of wine.
He was quite at ease, but Rong Chunsong propped her chin on her hand, bored out of her mind.
Although today was a rest day, she had spent nearly the entire day grinding this little dungeon. After all that effort, she had only gained two points of Favorability Value. A mere two points, and not a single reward.
Fine, she should just experience the joy of the game itself and not be so utilitarian, always thinking about speedrunning and rushing to get achievements.
It wasn't like she had anything else to do anyway. After dinner, she'd meditate and practice her cultivation while playing a bit more.
And so she played until the moon's shadow first rose.
A cluster of brilliant crimson fire flew from Shang Daoling's fingertips, instantly igniting the pile of firewood on the ground.
The firelight flickered, casting a layer of crimson shadow over his intensely vivid features, further bringing out his gorgeous face. He produced a wine cup from his sleeve, poured the wine, and drank a cup beside the campfire. As he tilted his head slightly back, a drop of amber-colored wine rolled past the small mole at the corner of his lips, then rolled over his prominent Adam's apple—like an amber bead tumbling down the peaks of a jade mountain.
Even drinking wine was this scorching.
If she had to make a comparison, this guy was practically a white phosphorus man—able to combust on his own with nothing but air.
She had barely finished her mental grumbling when the white phosphorus man had already narrowed his eyes slightly before the campfire, his phoenix eyes half-closed, his gaze unfathomable.
"Lord Cult Leader, you couldn't possibly be… from Cloud Capital, could you?" The young man's tone was casual, as if he had merely mentioned it offhand, yet an inexplicable sense of pressure spread through his dark, long eyes.
Earlier, in that Cloud Capital outlander's inn, she had clearly spoken of those Cloud Capital dishes with the familiarity of counting her own treasures.
Rong Chunsong thought to herself, ah, earlier when fellow townsfolk met fellow townsfolk, she'd gotten a little excited and let her mouth slip.
But what was this male lead putting on airs for? Did he think he'd caught her out and now had to strike some wicked, wild, and arrogant expression for whose benefit? And half-squinting his eyes like that—anyone who didn't know better would think he was gazing dreamily, burning on top of burning.
She said slowly, "No, I'm a White Jade Capital local."
[Ding. Skill "Reborn as a Capital Noble Lady, White Jade Capital Local Ning" is in effect.]
What nonsense, they'd known each other so long, and from her accent, she was nothing like White Jade—
Wh-what, why was his temple suddenly throbbing so… A wave of dizziness spun through his mind. It was as if a pair of languid, leisurely hands were gently stirring waves deep within his Sea of Consciousness.
His thoughts were kneaded into various shapes by these hands—the shapes she wanted.
Yes.
A White Jade Capital local.
She was a White Jade Capital local. This Ghost Immortal was a White Jade Capital local.
With the small skill activated, Shang Daoling in the scene wore a dazed expression, motionless. She poked him, and he remained blank, only able to emit some vague, muffled grunts.
The male lead maintained this appearance—as if time-stopped—for quite a while before gradually regaining his language abilities.
"So… so Lord Cult Leader, you're a White Jade Capital local."
Rong Chunsong took over his words jokingly: "Right, I'm a White Jade Capital local, a capital city noble lady, a genuine West City girl. Have you eaten? You're drinking, huh? Drinking's good—a little wine lifts the spirits, have some." Very deliberately, she even showed off a string of erhua accents in front of him.
Seeing that he still hadn't come back to his senses from the aftereffects of the hypnosis, she got a wicked urge and used another little skill.
[Skill "Atmospheric Aura" activated.]
Deng, deng-deng-deng, deng-deng-deng, an old ○ Beijing ditty "Gate Tower" started playing!
Even after all that, it was blatantly messing with him, yet he didn't show the slightest suspicion—he merely nodded, his eyes dazed. This System's causality skill was indeed top-notch. When she'd first drawn this White Jade Capital native Ning skill, she'd even complained it was useless. It seemed there were no useless skills, only players who didn't know how to use them.
It wasn't that she insisted on deceiving him. In this life, she had always prided herself on being from Cloud Capital, but meeting this male lead offline would inevitably stir up a lot of trouble, and she didn't have time to entertain him for now. Might as well just use the skill to muddle through with him.
After quite a while, the deng, deng-deng-deng music faded, and the aftereffects of the hypnosis ended.
Shang Daoling finally regained some clarity.
This Ghost Immortal was actually from White Jade Capital…
"So the Cult Leader is now transmitting your voice to me all the way from White Jade Capital."
"Yeah, that's right."
The campfire flickered faintly.
She came from White Jade Capital, the number one Immortal City of Central Continent.
He had thought she was like him—a lone wandering soul, roaming the world without needing anyone to rely on. At this thought, Shang Daoling let out a scoff. Well, of course. When she occasionally spoke seriously, the bearing that flowed through her words made it clear at once that she had grown up amid splendor. Rarely, he had thought he'd found someone similar to himself.
"The Cult Leader can claim to know my life story like the back of your hand, yet I know nothing of your past. That's hardly fair, is it?"
Rong Chunsong thought to herself, I'm not the kind of pretentious boss who starts rambling about my study-abroad experience, my big-tech career, and my middle-class family the moment I start communicating with a subordinate.
Still, gaining only two Favorability Value points over an entire day was a bit low.
She cleared her throat and said, "Since you've asked so sincerely, I'll share a bit of my story with you."
Half-truthfully, she revealed a little to him—memories from her past life.
The story of a girl who lived above a kendo hall.
From a young age, she woke to the sound of blades clashing downstairs. As a little girl, when she came home from school, she especially loved sitting on the bench off to the side, watching her father teach his disciples swordsmanship. The sword moved like flying wind—elegant and graceful—truly amazing, truly cool. As a child, she'd say with bright eyes, Daddy, when I grow up, I want to inherit the kendo hall too.
Her father would pat her head and say, Of course. The sword is the lord of a hundred weapons—perfectly suited for our little noble one, our precious daughter. Once you're a bit older, Daddy will teach you…
But the kendo hall, once bustling with disciples, gradually grew desolate after she entered high school.
Because her mother got sick.
Her father, once a national swordsmanship champion, had put the family kendo hall into a state of semi-closure in order to care for her mother.
She aced her exams because she wanted to see her mother's gratified smile.
She climbed over the school wall because she wanted to get home sooner to care for her mother.
She skipped class and came home to look after her mother—first, because she wanted to share her father's burden; second… she wanted to spend more time with her mother.
Though her repeated truancy led to her father being "kept after" by her homeroom teacher after the parent-teacher meeting—even if the child's grades were excellent and outstanding, you still can't carry on like this. You have to straighten out your attitude. How can you skip class to go play every single day…
On the way home, her father said to her, Don't skip class anymore after this.
No blame, no reproach. Dad merely wore a smile tinged with sorrow and nostalgia. Your mom was also the top student in her entire high school—smart, but she studied with exceptional diligence and seriousness. Girl, you should learn from your mom and straighten out your attitude. Your mom also told me… she always worried that her illness was holding back your studies.
The streetlamp cast its dim yellow light at a slant. She lowered her head, and after a long while said, I know.
Originally, she wanted to apply to medical school for her mom's sake. But her ailing mom said, I'd still rather you choose a major you're interested in. Back in my day, I too went against everyone's objections and followed my heart to study radio.
Her sick mother, thin and gaunt, wore a frail smile on her face.
These days, the radio department has long ceased to exist.
That was a major from Mom's era. The major her mom studied in her youth, and the career her mom took pride in.
The Radio Engineering Department of the nineties is today's Electronic Engineering Department.
During winter break of her sophomore year of high school, her mom passed away.
During summer break of her senior year, Dad and she spent an entire day under the lamp researching college applications. He asked if she had thought it through.
She nodded and said, Dad, I'll apply to Mom's alma mater's…
"So it was like that—before you 'became a god,' your father was a Sword Cultivator and your mother a Dharma Cultivator. You once wanted to follow in your mother's footsteps."
"Correct. They're both gone now."
After the memories of her past life awakened, she would from time to time wonder how Dad was doing now. Mom was gone, and she too… If only the System's final reward were the ability to travel between the two worlds.
After hearing her half-true, half-false account of the past, Shang Daoling was silent for several breaths.
So she too had once grown up carefree in the love of her family, only for everything to turn upside down overnight.
He had always enjoyed watching others' suffering. The taste of drinking deeply from others' pain was truly more pleasurable than fine wine on the lips. Yet hearing her words by the campfire, he could not muster the slightest joy in his heart, not a trace of delight.
How strange.
Was it because he felt she was a bit like him?
A childhood amid splendor had passed, and the world's storms and dust came rolling in. Adrift in this filthy mortal realm for many years, for the first time, he had met someone a bit like himself. Perhaps he had encountered people with similar backgrounds before, but his eyes—which watched the mortal world with mockery—had never bothered to clearly see the faces of others.
Only this female ghost, whose appearance he did not even know, had a voice that rang especially clear by his ear.
Teasing, toying, jesting, condescending. Elegant, encouraging, nostalgic, faintly sorrowful, and carrying a touch of sincerity.
They really were a pair—two lonely souls drifting together.
A paper crane flew from his sleeve, its long beak stirring the firewood, poking the campfire into greater brightness.
This Daoist of the Nightmare Nest, already notorious for his evil name, who in days to come would tread upon mountains of corpses and towers of bone, ascending step by step to become the Nightmare Nest Path Lord—at this moment, his pitch-black eyes, illuminated by the firelight, seemed to have taken on a touch of the mortal world's colors. Shang Daoling said casually, "Sect Leader, seems we get along quite well."
Rong Chunsong said, "Less of that workplace familiarity. I'll take your words as agreement with our sect's philosophy for now. Keep up the good work, little Shang."
The male lead in the scene: "Heh."
The mountain forest and open wilderness stretched vast, night winds blowing in gusts.
[Ding. Target of conquest Shang Daoling's Favorability Value +2. Current Favorability Value: 31.]
[Ding. Target of conquest Shang Daoling's Favorability Value +4. Current Favorability Value: 35.]
Rong Chunsong, who had thought this round was over, was a little surprised.
Truth be told, she had kept that bittersweet memory in her heart for far too long. Since he wanted to ask, she had simply poured it out. She hadn't expected it to raise her Favorability Value by six points in one go.
[Target of conquest's favorability has reached 30. Small-stage reward has been issued. Host may check it later. Note: a small stage occurs after every ten-point increase in favorability following the initial twenty points.]
With a quick series of actions, the reward was in hand.
Inside her Sea of Consciousness, she enlarged the image and carefully studied the male lead's handsome face.
In the original novel, he was written as an antisocial madman who took pleasure in others' suffering. She had confided a bit of her sorrowful past to him, yet his expression now was like a still reflection on calm water, his countenance quiet and melancholic. He did not look like a wicked person who delighted in others' misery.
It seemed this fellow, ever since he started following her, had gained a little humanity—his spiritual intelligence was just beginning to awaken.
She continued to enlarge the image, and before logging off, she admired this Painted Skin Glamour Ghost—whom she had molded and awakened with a single touch, like Nüwa shaping a little clay figure. She had to admit: when he wasn't putting on airs or running his mouth, he truly was a rare beauty in this world.
A cold, pale face, deep and heavy brows and eyes, broad shoulders and a narrow waist—what a dignified white marble sculpture of strength and beauty. The bonfire's red glow flickered faintly over him, as if draping a layer of light crimson gauze over that cold white marble statue—handsome, lush, and eerie.
Truly a male lead who could be sexy and fiery in motion, and a feast for the eyes in stillness.
After admiring him, Rong Chunsong did not forget to praise herself inwardly—she was quite the craftsman too, the Pygmalion of the Cultivation Realm.
The small-stage reward was not a lottery draw, but a direct issuance of a [Pleasure Feast].
Below it sparkled with starlight—still a five-star card.
[Five-star Pleasure Feast "The Red Dragon's Palace (Part One)" has been issued.]
Why was there a "Part One"? Could there be a "Part Two"?
Rong Chunsong scanned her Sea of Consciousness and quantum-read the plot of this Pleasure Feast.
[She was a Sword Cultivator who roamed the four seas, having slain countless demons and monsters beneath her blade in her lifetime. The red dragon coiled in the Desolate Sea Dragon Palace—that ancient legend that struck terror into the hearts of innumerable cultivators—would soon become her next trophy.]
[The Sword Cultivator set foot on her journey.]
[The Desolate Sea bordered a great desert. Stopping at a small inn at the desert's edge, she met a man who claimed he also intended to slay the red dragon—a Talisman Cultivator. Amid the vast yellow sands, the man's red robes fluttered, like an eerie crimson phantom in the windblown sand.]
[That night, he pushed open the door to her guest room. "Fellow Daoist, today I saw you fight a hundred alone, your movements extraordinary, driving back those sand-bandit evil cultivators at the inn. This one admires you immensely. Since you and I share the same aspiration, why not…"]
[Lamp shadows flickered. His well-defined knuckled fingers hooked her collar. And his dark red outer robe had long since loosened at the chest, a stretch of collarbone as stark as a silver mountain ridge faintly visible in the flickering dark red lamplight. A strange fragrance emanated from him, winding around her thread by thread…]
This plot—one glance was enough to know the traveling companion was that red dragon, right?
Below there was even a line of warning.
[Note: In "The Red Dragon's Palace," the target of conquest has a half-human, half-dragon form—that is, the upper half is human, the lower half is dragon. Host, please be mindful of the feast's intensity to avoid injury.]
Rong Chunsong: "…"
How thoughtful.
But then again.
Never mind whether she would even use this card—even if she did, she would just coil up Shang Daoling's big dragon tail and play with it slowly. Getting injured? How ridiculous.
Ugh, day after day, it never gives anything useful, always these fringe, barely-there things. She casually tossed this Pleasure Feast card into the last column of the 【Feast Compendium】. That's right, this 【Pleasure Feast】 even had its own collection slot, adorned with all sorts of exquisite little decorative flourishes. This Restricted Heroine System really had no end of tricks.
The Wu Clan's great hall stood by the banks of the Immortal Pool.
The hall rose upon layer after layer of steps, with long ridges and short eaves, covered in relief carvings, adorned with numerous bird ornaments and ox-horn ornaments in gold and silver.
Rong Chunsong had come this time for the matter of reinforcing the great sealing formation at Ailao Mountain next month.
The last time a demon had appeared in the primeval dense forest of Ailao had been over twenty years ago, when her father was young. At that time, her father had also been the Young City Lord of Cloud Capital, just as she was now. Her father and mother had joined hands to seal the great demon, and it was because of that battle that the Rong family and the Wu Clan—two groups of youngsters who had always been at odds—gradually came together.
Now, over twenty years later, to prevent the seal from loosening, the Wu Clan had deliberated and decided to reinforce the great formation next month.
Just as she stepped out of the council hall, Rong Chunsong's gaze shifted slightly.
A few wisps of lake wind blew in from beyond the railing. At the end of the corridor stood a figure in white robes whiter than snow, tall and elegant as jade.
She narrowed her eyes. This person seemed unfamiliar.
A ding—a notification sound rang out in her Sea of Consciousness.
【Important character of this book, "Bai Chenge," has appeared.】
So it was her twelfth cousin who had returned.
His appearance at the Wu Clan's great hall was probably connected to what she had said that day about making him come personally to explain things clearly to the elders.
【This character is closely tied to the Darkness Value of 《Celestial Feast of Consumption》. Changing the plot where Bai Chenge is killed by Shang Daoling can greatly reduce this book's Darkness Value.】
Oh, here comes a mission.
【As one of the key characters, the Host may view an overview of Bai Chenge's favorability toward you. However, detailed Favorability Values cannot be provided.】
【This character's impression of you is average.】
Rong Chunsong thought to herself: My impression of this cousin—who was raised on Wu Clan resources since childhood, yet turned around and ran off to the Central Continent Immortal Alliance to represent Tianwen Palace—is also quite average.
The man at the end of the corridor had clearly seen her too.
"Greetings, Young City Lord." Though his tone was respectful, he remained half-kneeling in place, showing no intention of stepping forward to pay his respects.
Rong Chunsong, of course, could not be bothered to walk over to him either. She merely stood where she was and raised a hand, signaling him to lift his head.
He was indeed as that cousin-uncle had advertised—handsome and striking, radiant as autumn chrysanthemums.
Her gaze drifted downward as she indifferently watched him maintain his half-kneeling posture, lifting a serene countenance from the shadows. In the shadows, the eyes he raised were calm and rippleless, like an ancient cold pool.
Just as written in the original novel—a white-robed cultivator, immortal in bearing, elegantly peerless.
What a pity. Such an immortal guest, pure as breeze and bright as moon, yet he had to serve Tianwen Palace.
Compared to this beautiful, strong, and tragic male supporting character on the "shatter beautiful things for all to see" route, the seemingly evil but actually sexy and fiery male lead was more endearing. The male lead was also easier to fool—promote him to K7 and he'd be happy as anything. Stubborn with his words yet always gaining favorability.
The Young City Lord's gaze once again returned to the person before her.
She had never met or heard of Bai Chenge before, so naturally she held no old friendship or sentiment toward him. In her eyes, he was like a pot of snow-white peonies passing by in the corridor.
Toward this peony that would one day wither, Rong Chunsong felt a faint trace of sympathy, because he had been inexplicably killed by her electronic pet. Beyond sympathy, there was also a hint of observational curiosity—to see whether this young prodigy could "mend his ways" in time and return to Cloud Capital to contribute his share.
Rong Chunsong said, "Have you explained yourself clearly to the Great Elders?" She smiled slightly, as if showing concern.
"Reporting to the Young Master, I was just about to enter the hall to present my case."
"Oh, is that so? Then go ahead. After you present your case, a copy of your statement will also be sent to the City Lord's residence. I'll be sure to read it carefully." She raised her hand, signaling that he could stand.
Almost the instant he rose, she had already departed, surrounded by her attendants and retainers.
All he caught in his peripheral vision was a faint trail of her pale golden robes.
Just as he had expected—this cousin he had only seen from afar once in his childhood, the Young Master of the Rong family whom his father had urged him relentlessly to court—was exceedingly proud and haughty.
When they learned that he had made rapid progress in cultivation at Tianwen Palace and begun to distinguish himself, his father and mother's first reaction was to think he could become the Rong family's prized son-in-law. How laughable. In their eyes, he was perhaps nothing more than a tool to bring glory to the family.
The decaying Bai family, the decaying… shaman clan.
The towering gates of the Council Hall stood before him like a mountain.
Various deities were painted upon the doors.
In the immortal realm of Cloud Capital, all things possess spirit. Mountains have spirits, waters have spirits, green trees have spirits, flying birds have spirits—everything in nature has its deity.
The colors in the paintings were resplendent and vivid: mountain spirits in bronze robes and crowns, water spirits draped in sheer veils, half-human half-bird goddesses, and serpent-tailed mothers winding gracefully… That primal, dreamlike reverie.
He looked up at the magnificent divine paintings adorning the doors. As a child, he too had believed in them devoutly. Now he knew—they were all decay and backwardness…