Chapter 169 - 63-68

063 Disciple & Daughter

The scenery shifted once more, bringing us to a bustling dock. Wooden piers stretched out over murky waters, and the air carried the scent of salt and fish, mixed with the sweat of laborers hauling cargo. Unlike the past visions, this one felt… grittier, more grounded. There was no grandeur of the Heavenly Demon's reign or the chaos of war. Just the dull, suffocating weight of survival.

Gu Jie stood beside me, her face unreadable as she continued her story.

"I didn't know where I was going," she said, staring out at the water. "I just knew I had to leave. Riverfall sounded nice, I thought."

She recounted how she had barely scraped by, clinging to life with nothing but desperation and instinct. Each day bled into the next, a miserable cycle of hunger, exhaustion, and the constant threat of death.

"I became a petty thief," she admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Stealing chickens, scraps of food… anything that could keep me alive. At some point, people started calling me a plague rat. Fitting, I suppose."

I remained silent, letting her speak.

Gu Jie turned, facing me with an expression that was both bitter and amused. "There was even a time I tried to sell myself."

I barely managed to keep my expression neutral, but she caught the flicker in my eyes.

She scoffed. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Master. It's not like it worked." She spread her arms wide, gesturing at her own frail form in the vision. The younger Gu Jie was little more than skin and bones, her once-bright eyes dulled by suffering. "I wasn't exactly… desirable. Too thin, too sickly, too close to death. They threw me out, nearly killed me for the offense."

I clenched my fists.

If it weren't for her sliver of cultivation and talents, she would have died long ago. Even then, it wasn't a gift—it was a curse. Every moment she lived was another moment her life force drained away, another moment where her own misfortune gnawed at her from the inside out.

She laughed again, but it was empty. "Looking back, I don't know whether to be ashamed or impressed that I lasted that long."

I didn't let it show on my face, but I felt immensely sorry for her.

No one should have to live like that.

Gu Jie's voice carried no emotion as she continued her story.

"I got desperate," she admitted. "So desperate that I started advertising myself."

I glanced at her. "Advertising?"

She smirked bitterly. "My Sixth Sense Misfortune. I figured someone out there would find it useful. A clan, a sect, maybe even a rich merchant. Or…" Her gaze drifted away. "Well, I wouldn't have minded if they just bought me outright."

I inhaled slowly, processing her words.

That must have been how Kang Shi knew about her bloodline ability.

The vision around us shifted again, morphing into a chaotic chase. A younger, more desperate Gu Jie darted through a dense cityscape, her breath ragged, her limbs trembling from exhaustion. Behind her, a group of cultivators pursued with murderous intent, their shouts carrying over the rooftops.

"She's a rare specimen," one of them sneered.

Another scoffed. "She's barely holding herself together. Useless in combat. But her bloodline…"

I watched the scene with narrowed eyes. These weren't demonic cultivators. Their robes bore the insignias of righteous sects.

"She has no sect, no family."

"She'll make a fine pill."

I exhaled sharply. Even knowing the nature of cultivators, hearing it out loud still left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Gu Jie merely shrugged. "Turns out my plan didn't go so well."

I turned to her. "You were hoping to be bought, not hunted."

She nodded. "I thought I could be useful. Maybe as a breeding pig for some clan that wanted special talents. Maybe as a lab rat for an alchemist. I didn't have any trace of demonic qi in me, so I figured I was still… viable."

I clenched my jaw.

She chuckled. "I underestimated cultivators."

I turned to the present Gu Jie and asked, "What was even the benefit of turning you into a pill?"

She raised a brow, then let out a short laugh. "Plenty. My misfortune could be harnessed for certain cultivation techniques." She tilted her head. "Ever heard of the Calamity Reversal Method? Supposedly, absorbing misfortune in controlled doses can strengthen one's Dao Heart. Of course, that only works if you don't die first."

I frowned.

She continued. "And if not a pill, I could be refined into a talisman to curse an entire clan. There are ancient arts that use misfortune as a weapon, condemning bloodlines for generations."

I kept my expression neutral, but inwardly, I grimaced.

"If not a talisman," she went on, "then a cursed weapon. The properties of my misfortune could be bound to a blade, a spear, or something even worse. Imagine a sword that spreads catastrophe with every swing."

I stayed silent, digesting the implications.

"And then there's dual cultivation." Her lips curled into a humorless smile. "Under specific conditions, my misfortune could be transferred to another person and—get this—transformed into fortune. Of course, that would come at the cost of my life."

"…You learned all of this while on the run?"

She nodded. "Hunted people pick up things quickly. I gained quite the reputation as a cultivator without ever fighting anyone. I just kept surviving."

I didn't miss the irony. She had become infamous just by existing.

"But infamy only lasts so long," she added. "Eventually, my cultivation deteriorated to the point that I barely registered as a cultivator at all."

The scene before us shifted once more. The dark alleys and dense forests faded away, replaced by a humble, rural landscape.

Gu Jie, frail and barely distinguishable from a mortal, knelt in the dirt, tending to a patch of potatoes.

I wasn't a stranger to a tough life.

Even in the 21st century, for all its so-called progress, cracks ran deep beneath the surface. Society dressed them up, covered them with distractions, but those flaws hid horrors of their own.

I'd seen homeless people huddled in the cold, their gazes hollow yet resigned. I'd been in arguments debating the morality of things that never should have needed debating. I'd been robbed before—felt that cold, helpless frustration in my gut. I'd seen death too, even if only secondhand. If not in the newspapers, then from the whispers of neighbors.

But that was the difference, wasn't it?

Death in my world was distant, something to be avoided, feared. But in this one? People had long made peace with it. To them, the next life mattered more than the suffering it took to get there—whether that ending was happy or not. This was especially true for mortals.

What about cultivators then?

The vision before us shifted.

Gu Jie sat at the edge of a cliff beneath a vast night sky. The cold wind toyed with her ragged sleeves, yet she remained still. Her eyes, once filled with bitterness and survival instincts, now held something quieter.

Resignation.

She watched the night sky with dull eyes. A single shooting star burned its way across the heavens, falling slowly, inevitably. Slowly, her eyes sparkled a bit.

For a long time, neither of us spoke. The night stretched on, silent and heavy.

Then, softly, Gu Jie murmured, "I used to believe that if I ran far enough, I'd find a place for myself." She let out a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. "Turns out, I only found higher cliffs to sit on."

"I get what you mean," I said, my voice calm under the vast night sky. "But cliffs aren't so bad."

Gu Jie turned to me, arching a brow. A tiny, suppressed chuckle escaped her lips.

"I was planning to go to Yellow Dragon City," she admitted, eyes flicking back to the sky. "I was going to beg the Isolation Path Sect to take me in."

I hummed, waiting for her to continue.

"On the way," she said, "I saw a shooting star." A pause. Then, softer, "It was beautiful."

She tilted her head slightly, lost in memory. "For a moment, it almost looked like… a falling winged man." She let out a slow breath, as if weighing her words. "I believe the word is 'Angel.'"

That caught my attention. Angel? Did that word even exist naturally in this world?

"I made a wish right then and there," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wished for someone to save me."

The vision played out in front of us, shifting to the memory of her infiltrating Yellow Dragon City. Of her slipping through alleys and shadows, her presence reduced to a mere flicker. And then—she met me.

And I healed her.

There was a poetic lilt to it, a rhythm to the way events had unfolded.

Warlocks had a skill called Wish Upon a Star. It was sometimes shared with other classes too, but the idea remained the same—a desperate hope given to the heavens, a plea cast into the void.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Maybe that shooting star was me."

Gu Jie turned, eyes wide with surprise.

"Maybe," I continued, smirking, "the reason I fell into this world was, in part, because of you." I shrugged. "Maybe fate is real, and we were meant to meet."

It was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet…

I laughed.

Gu Jie blinked at me before breaking into laughter herself.

Why were we even laughing?

For me, it was the sheer irony of it all.

And Gu Jie?

I think she was just happy.

I stopped laughing first, but Gu Jie kept going. Her shoulders shook as she covered her mouth, failing to suppress the lingering chuckles that spilled past her lips.

"Pffft… what the?" she wheezed between giggles. "Ha ha ha… Master, that's the first profound thing I've ever heard you say that truly moved me."

I blinked. "Huh?" I scoffed, pretending to be offended. "I think I'm pretty good at it. Maybe youjust aren't listening enough."

Gu Jie wiped at her eyes, still smiling. "Thank you, Master."

For a moment, she didn't say anything else. She just stood there, looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite place. It was warm. Grateful. Maybe even… at peace.

I exhaled, shaking my head. "You sure know how to kill a moment."

Gu Jie took a step back, inhaling deeply as if steadying herself. Then, before I could even ask what she was doing, she dropped to her knees.

I froze.

She lowered her head until it touched the ground, her palms resting flat beside her. A full kowtow.

"Master," she said, her voice resolute. "I have no family. No home. No sect. I have lived through suffering, abandoned by both righteousness and wickedness alike. You saved me. You gave me purpose. And even knowing the weight of my misfortune, you accepted me without hesitation."

I swallowed, still processing what was happening.

She raised her head, looking up at me with a rare, sincere expression. "From this moment onward, I vow to serve you not only as a disciple but as a daughter. My life is yours to guide, my path yours to illuminate."

I stared at her, words caught in my throat.

She… she really meant it.

My thoughts ran in circles. I had expected loyalty, sure. Maybe even a bit of admiration. But this?

I had no idea how to be a father. Hell, I was barely keeping myself together half the time.

But the way she looked at me—so certain, so unwavering—I knew I couldn't reject her.

I exhaled, stepping forward. "Get up, Gu Jie."

She hesitated, but I reached down and helped her to her feet.

"If that's what you've decided," I said, "then I'll accept it. From now on, you're my disciple… and I'll treat you like my daughter."

Her lips parted slightly, as if the words took a second to sink in. Then, for the first time since I met her, Gu Jie's eyes glistened with something that wasn't bitterness or pain.

She bowed her head again—not in reverence, but in gratitude. "Thank you, Master."

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Just don't expect me to be good at this."

She laughed softly. "That's alright. I think you'll be just fine."

064 Evernight's Undead

A blood-red sky loomed over an endless wasteland of fire and ruin. Jagged obsidian spires jutted from the ground like the ribs of a rotting beast. In the distance, rivers of molten lava carved their way through the desolation, their heat suffocating and all-consuming.

Lu Gao stood at the precipice of a broken bridge, staring down into the abyss below. Chains clattered in the distance. A grotesque symphony of wails and laughter echoed through the air, the kind that burrowed into the soul and festered like an unhealed wound.

Then, from the darkness, it emerged.

A horned demon, wreathed in black flames, stepped forward. Its eyes burned with a sickly golden light, filled with neither hatred nor malice—only hunger. Its grin stretched unnaturally wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth.

It wasn't the same demon

"Why do you struggle, child of ambition?" the demon purred, its voice layered with countless whispers.

Lu Gao tried to move, but his body felt heavy, as though unseen hands were pulling him down. The ground beneath him cracked, skeletal hands clawing their way to the surface. They grasped at his ankles, his wrists, his throat—pulling, dragging, drowning him in a tide of suffering.

The demon took a step closer.

"You have been marked. The deeper you tread the path of the blessed, the clearer you see us, the closer you bring yourself to our grasp. You are not a savior, Lu Gao. You are a gate."

The abyss yawned beneath him.

Then, he fell.

Lu Gao woke up with a sharp gasp, his breath ragged and uneven. His body was drenched in sweat, his heart pounding against his ribs. The lingering echoes of screams still rang in his ears.

A warm hand touched his shoulder.

"You're awake," Ren Xun said. His voice was calm, but there was a slight crease of worry in his brow.

Lu Gao took a deep breath, steadying himself before sitting up. His hands trembled slightly as he wiped the sweat from his face.

"I'm fine," he muttered.

Ren Xun didn't look convinced. "You've been having these dreams more often, haven't you?"

Lu Gao hesitated. It had been a few weeks since he first learned the spell Bless, and ever since, his dreams had become more vivid, more terrifying. At first, they were nothing but fleeting images—shadows in the corner of his vision, whispers that faded upon waking. But now… now they felt real.

The heat, the pain, the suffocating despair. He could remember them all too clearly.

"I'm fine," he repeated, more firmly this time. Then, without another word, he raised his hand and cast Bless on himself.

A warm light surrounded him, like the touch of the sun breaking through dark clouds. The trembling in his hands stopped, and his breathing evened. The remnants of his nightmare faded, though he knew they would return.

Ren Xun watched him for a long moment before sighing. "If you say so."

Lu Gao forced a smirk. "I do."

But even as the divine light wrapped around him, he couldn't shake the feeling that something—someone—was watching him from beyond.

Lu Gao rubbed his temples as the remnants of his dream faded. The lingering sensation of claws grasping at his throat sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

He sat up and stretched his arms, the stiffness in his muscles easing slightly. His gaze wandered around, taking in their surroundings. "Where are we?" he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

Ren Xun, who had been leaning lazily against the ship's railing, glanced over. "Still in Evernight," he answered. "One more warp, and we should be in the next continent over."

Lu Gao blinked, then turned his attention to their boat—the Floating Dragon. It was currently perched on the side of a jagged cliff, suspended as if it had always belonged there. He frowned.

"Is this safe?" he asked hesitantly.

Ren Xun scoffed, arms crossed. "Of course it's safe." He sounded almost offended by the question. "Master Da Wei made sure of it. You worry too much."

Lu Gao sighed, deciding not to press further. If the ship hadn't fallen yet, then maybe it really was fine.

He yawned, running a hand through his hair. "Where's Master and Senior Jie?"

Ren Xun didn't even look up as he answered. "Training, of course."

Lu Gao exhaled sharply through his nose. Training, huh? Again?

He would be lying if he claimed he wasn't envious of Gu Jie for being granted the official rank of disciple. It had happened so suddenly, but in hindsight, he should've seen it coming. There was something about her that made Master Da Wei treat her differently—something that set her apart.

Lu Gao clenched his fists. He knew he had to prove himself. He couldn't let himself be defined by the taint in his soul, the stain of being demon-possessed. One day, he would cleanse himself of it.

A flicker of movement caught his eye.

He turned and found himself staring into the round, unblinking eyes of the goldfish.

Ren Jingyi stared at him. He stared back.

She didn't say anything, nor did she need to. The message was clear.

Lu Gao sighed.

It was bad enough that he had to compete with Gu Jie, but now he also had this smug little fish to worry about. Master Da Wei can't only have one star pupil, huh?

He sighed again, heavier this time.

"You know, it's kind of incredible," Ren Xun mused.

Lu Gao cracked an eye open. "What is?"

Ren Xun leaned against the railing of the Floating Dragon, smirking. "The fact that you can cast a spell despite having no qi in your system. Not to mention…" He gestured vaguely, "…the whole broken dantian thing."

Lu Gao exhaled, brushing the comment off. "It's not a big deal. You'll probably get it faster than me and the fish."

Ren Xun blinked in confusion. "The fish?"

Lu Gao nodded toward Ren Jingyi, who was floating nearby, her round eyes unblinking as she lazily swayed her tail.

Ren Xun gave him a skeptical look. "What does a fish have to do with this?"

Lu Gao shrugged. "The spell comes easily to those of pure and righteous heart."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Ren Xun let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Pure and righteous? Yeah, that's not me. I have… impulses that would say otherwise." He smirked. "You of all people should know."

Lu Gao wasn't convinced.

Sure, Ren Xun liked to joke about being some shameless and lecherous cultivator when Master Da Wei wasn't looking, but Lu Gao didn't buy it. He remembered the way Ren Xun's eyes softened when he spoke of the woman he fell in love with at first sight. Not some seductive courtesan or noble beauty, but a beggar. A woman no one else would have looked at twice.

Lu Gao wasn't the type to pry, but it was obvious Ren Xun's heart wasn't as impure as he liked to pretend.

Ren Xun, perhaps sensing where Lu Gao's thoughts were drifting, let out a theatrical sigh and wandered off to his corner of the boat. He pulled out a strip of dried jerky and started chewing on it absentmindedly.

Meanwhile, Lu Gao settled back down, focusing on his next challenge.

Blessed Weapon.

A spell that would imbue a weapon with divine energy, making it more effective against evil beings. He needed this. If he wanted to stand a chance, if he wanted to prove himself, he had to master this spell.

He closed his eyes and began meditating on the incantation, steadying his breath, his thoughts.

…And then he felt it.

A stare.

He opened his eyes, only to find Ren Jingyi still floating there. Watching him. With a dumb, unreadable expression.

Lu Gao twitched.

"What?" he asked, exasperated.

The goldfish blinked slowly.

Lu Gao groaned and turned away, doing his best to ignore her.

It wasn't easy.

Just because he and the fish could use the Bless spell, it didn't mean they had become Paladins.

Master Da Wei had been clear about that.

"The path I walk is not one of righteousness, nor of blind devotion," he had said, his voice carrying the weight of something far older than himself. "It is a path of understanding, of will. I can guide you into inheriting my Legacy, but it is up to you to choose if you will walk it."

Lu Gao had no idea what a Legacy really was. Or Mana, for that matter.

But he did remember the first time he had cast Bless—that subtle brush with an unknowable force, something vast and deep. It had felt familiar somehow, eerily close to the presence of the demon that had once possessed him. Yet, at the same time, it was fundamentally different.

Where the demon had been suffocating, oppressive, this force had been… boundless. Neither welcoming nor rejecting him. Simply there.

Lu Gao was deep in thought when suddenly—

Fwsh!

Gu Jie appeared out of nowhere, materializing onto the deck of the Floating Dragon in a blink of an eye.

"Ugh," she groaned, stumbling slightly. "That damn scroll is nauseating…"

She looked rough—clothes singed, a smear of what looked like black soot on her cheek, and her hair was a tangled mess.

Lu Gao frowned. "What happened?"

Gu Jie waved him off. "Undead. Lots of them."

Ren Xun raised an eyebrow. "Master left you to deal with them alone?"

She snorted. "No, idiot. He should be back soon—he's mopping them up now." She sighed and rolled her shoulders. "He figured it'd be faster if I just left first, so he tossed me a Scroll of Great Teleportation and told me to get lost."

Without another word, she strolled past Ren Xun and Lu Gao, stopping by the goldfish.

She pulled out a few leaves of lettuce, tore them up, and dropped them into the water. "Here, Jingyi. Be useful for once and purify the water or something."

Ren Jingyi swam forward and nibbled on the lettuce, her expression as unreadable as ever.

Ren Xun scratched the back of his head. "Should we move the Floating Dragon? If there are that many undead around, maybe we should get some distance."

Gu Jie shook her head. "Nah, we should be fine. Master will find us either way."

Lu Gao exhaled and glanced at the sky. The sun was setting, casting the sky in streaks of red and gold. It would be night soon.

Ren Xun, being Ren Xun, was the first to break the silence.

"So, what's training with the Master like?" he asked, his tone as casual as if he were asking about the weather.

Lu Gao tensed.

He had his own experiences with "training" back in the Lu Clan. Harsh, grueling, and suffocating. Training wasn't a method of learning—it was a method of proving whether you were worthy of being taught in the first place. If you couldn't keep up, you were left behind. That was simply the way things were.

Gu Jie, however, didn't seem particularly bothered by the question. She tilted her head, considering.

"My Legacy is different from Master's," she said finally. "He can't teach me skills I can use."

Ren Xun blinked. "Then what does he teach you?"

Gu Jie crossed her arms, rocking back on her heels. "He teaches me what skills to prioritize. How to actualize my vision of myself in the future."

Lu Gao frowned. "What does that even mean?"

She shrugged. "Something about creating a 'full build.'"

Ren Xun narrowed his eyes. "And that means…?"

Gu Jie rolled her eyes. "Don't ask me—I barely get half the things Master says when he's in one of his moods."

She then leaned against the railing, staring at the water. "He gives me assignments. He calls them Quests. They should allow me to learn skills in the Repentant Path of the Warlock Legacy."

Ren Xun's mouth twitched. "Quests? Like an adventurer?"

Gu Jie smirked. "Apparently."

Lu Gao absorbed that information slowly. Master Da Wei's cultivation method was… bizarre. Not only did it use skills that didn't seem tied to qi, but it also seemed structured in a way that none of the traditional cultivation methods he'd heard of worked.

And now there was a Repentant Path of a Warlock Legacy?

Lu Gao wasn't sure what kind of path he wanted to walk yet, but one thing was certain—Master Da Wei's way of doing things was something unlike anything the world of cultivation had ever seen.

The Floating Dragon rocked violently as something landed atop its deck with a resounding thud. Lu Gao's hand shot out, gripping the railing to steady himself. His heart pounded as he turned his head.

From above, a figure stood, arms crossed, the moonlight casting an eerie glow over his features.

"Master?" Lu Gao called hesitantly.

The man looked at him, then sighed dramatically. "No, it's Dave, his Holy Spirit."

Lu Gao blinked. "...Dei-what?"

Gu Jie, crouched beside him, snorted. "Just treat him like Master's clone." She tilted her head, squinting. "What is it, Master Dai-vu? Dai-Fu?"

"It's Dave..." Master's clone corrected, looking exasperated. He lifted his arms, summoning a pair of massive tower shields as if they weighed nothing. "No time for questions. Move the Floating Dragon and hide it behind the cliff."

Ren Xun was already in motion before the words had fully left his mouth, scrambling for the controls. "Lu Gao, Gu Jie, remove the hooks, the anchor, and everything!"

Lu Gao scrambled to the side of the ship, gripping the anchor's thick chain and beginning to unwind it as fast as he could. Metal rattled against wood as the heavy weight dropped below. On the other side, Gu Jie leaped into the air, her movements precise as she unlatched the hooks securing their position.

Lu Gao stole a glance at the Master's clone, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that this was a thing that could exist. "What's happening?"

Master's clone raised his shields and began hurling spells everywhere. "Brace yourselves! There's been a powerful undead—"

Before he could finish, the sky darkened.

Lu Gao felt his breath hitch.

From the heavens, a golden light began to descend. No—not light. A sword.

A massive divine blade, glowing with radiant energy, fell from above, cutting through the clouds like divine judgment made manifest. It was like the heavens themselves had deemed something in this world unworthy of existing.

Lu Gao was momentarily paralyzed by the sheer divinity of it. He had never seen anything like this before.

Ren Xun gritted his teeth, pulling hard on the ship's controls. The Floating Dragon lurched, tilting as it veered behind the mountainous cliff.

A split second later, dark miasma surged up to meet the golden sword. The two forces clashed—holy radiance against cursed darkness. The sky itself seemed to shake as a pillar of light erupted from the collision, so bright it turned night into day.

A wail—long, high-pitched, and ghostly—echoed across the landscape.

Lu Gao swallowed hard.

Whatever had just been struck down was something terrifying.

065 Kill Steal?

The sky had darkened with heavy, swirling clouds, crackling with divine energy. A massive golden sword descended from the heavens, its radiance splitting through the darkness like a verdict from the divine itself.

Heavenly Punishment.

The skill took form with a sheer force that sent shockwaves across the desert. It was a skill built upon karma, one that delivered absolute devastation in proportion to the sins of its target. And yet—

The undead warrior beneath its judgment did not falter.

He stood clad in ancient, corroded armor—a cuirass dulled with age, yet still boasting its once-proud engravings. A long, jagged halberd was clutched in his bony hands, its blade chipped but no less deadly. His hollow eyes flared with ghostly green fire, staring down fate itself.

The moment Heavenly Punishment struck him, the impact sent ripples of divine and unholy energy clashing. The golden sword turned into a pillar of light upon impact, its sheer force carving deep trenches into the desert. The sand beneath darkened, corrupted by the collision of opposing forces.

The lower-level undead surrounding us were annihilated instantly, their spiritual embers snuffed out as their bodies crumbled into dust. Yet the warrior endured.

"Surprises one after another..."

Beneath my helm, I watched as he braced himself, his halberd raised. He didn't dodge. He didn't flee.

He parried.

A massive shockwave erupted as his halberd met my divine judgment, the sheer force of resistance making my grip on my sword tighten. He staggered, feet dragging against the scorched sands, but he did not fall.

A part of me acknowledged the skill it took to deflect even a fragment of Heavenly Punishment. Another part of me found it mildly irritating.

"Stubborn bastard," I muttered. "You'll make a nice punching bag!"

I'd never seen anything like this.

Parry an Ultimate Skill? Yeah, great for him. And more work for me.

In the future, I would only face just as ridiculous opponents. Again, I was reminded by Jiang Zhen's ridiculous technique of burying underground and surviving the same skill I threw against undead. If the undead in front of me had the wit it used to have, this would have evolved into a more challenging fight.

"Okay, let's go for round two."

The aftermath of Heavenly Punishment settled like a divine decree. The sky remained dark, shrouded in remnants of light and shadow clashing in the heavens. The desert beneath me had been scarred—blackened and cracked where holy and unholy energies had met in catastrophic opposition. The wave of energy from the collision alone had been enough to clear the immense swathe of undead around me, speaking of how destructive the collision of opposing energies was.

Hopefully, the collision hadn't harmed anyone from my party. Dave should have reached the Floating Dragon by now, ensuring their safety. They should be fine.

As the last remnants of divine light faded, I turned my gaze back to the undead warrior standing before me.

He was still intact.

I couldn't discount the possibility this undead had some innate abilities that allowed him to tank an Ultimate Skill where he should be plenty vulnerable to. Or maybe it was an effect of equipment? It could go either way...

Still, that didn't mean the undead had been unscathed.

Worse for wear, yes, but very much still there. His ancient cuirass had deep cracks, his skeletal frame bore signs of strain, and the green fire in his eyes flickered erratically—but he had survived Heavenly Punishment.

Stronger than the Heavenly Demon? Yeah.

More difficult to deal with? Not really.

The key difference was simple. The Heavenly Demon had thought. He had schemes, unpredictability, and, most importantly, intelligence. This undead? Not so much.

Not to mention, I was handicapped when fighting the Heavenly Demon.

"RAAAAAGH—!"

With an incoherent roar, the undead lunged at me, halberd swinging in a wide arc. I met it head-on, raising Silver Steel to parry the attack. Sparks erupted from the clash, the weight behind the blow forcing me to adjust my stance.

I wasn't wearing my Lofty Jade Proposition cosmetic item this time.

Instead, I was clad in full gear—helm to greaves, every piece optimized for battle. The weight felt familiar, comfortable, like stepping into an old routine. The inherited memories from David_69 were a great boon that allowed me to perform at a level I'd never be able to imagine.

The undead pulled back, shifting into another stance. It wasn't refined—it lacked the precision of a true warrior—but it had instinct. It had power.

That was fine. I had my stats.

I met his next attack with a sidestep, deflecting the halberd just enough to disrupt his momentum. Another strike, another parry—my movements grew sharper, faster, more efficient. This was exactly what I needed.

This was the best training I could ask for.

Sparring with Dave whenever I could was getting stale, anyway.

The undead moved like a force of nature—relentless, unyielding, and utterly devoid of hesitation. It was all stats now.

No tricks. No complicated techniques. Just a direct contest of raw numbers.

The moment I deflected his halberd, he came at me again, adjusting his stance with unnatural precision. The weight behind his swings was immense—every strike carrying a force that could shatter boulders and cleave through weaker cultivators like paper.

But I wasn't weak.

I held my ground, bracing my stance and meeting his attack head-on.

CLANG!

The impact sent a shockwave through the scorched desert. Sand burst into the air around us, disturbed by the sheer force of the collision. My arm trembled under the weight of the halberd, but I stood firm, Silver Steel locked against his weapon.

He pushed forward. I pushed back.

No fancy footwork. No intricate strategies. Just power against power.

I relied solely on Divine Sense to track his every move. No need for unnecessary reactions. Just slight shifts, tiny adjustments—just enough to neutralize the attack while keeping my own balance.

When he swung from above, I sidestepped.

When he aimed for my legs, I lifted a foot just enough for the blade to scrape harmlessly against my greaves.

When he tried to throw me off with a sudden feint, I had already seen through it.

It was pure stat competition.

He had endurance, but so did I. He had monstrous strength, but mine wasn't lacking. His speed was formidable, but my reactions were sharper.

The undead suddenly shifted. The green fire in his sockets flared as he executed a technique.

The halberd twisted mid-swing, shifting momentum in an instant—an overhead strike that transformed into a sweeping slash in the blink of an eye.

I moved before it finished.

Not with another parry. Not with a counterattack.

I simply stepped to the side.

The halberd carved through the air where I had been a split second ago. His own momentum betrayed him, leaving him open for just a moment.

I could have struck back.

I didn't.

I wanted to see how far this could go. How much I could push this battle without relying on skills, buffs, or any external advantages.

The undead roared in frustration, correcting his stance, and came at me again.

Fine. Let's keep going.

Slowly, but surely… I was making steady progress.

The battle had become effortless.

A flick of the wrist.

A slight shift in stance.

The halberd came down like an executioner's blade, but I barely needed to move. A simple flick sent it gliding harmlessly across my Silver Steel. The undead staggered, his momentum wasted.

It had taken me some time, but I was growing fluent in parrying—not just blocking, but redirecting. Turning an enemy's force against them.

This was it.

This was the peak of efficiency.

The undead snarled, green flames flickering in his sockets as he adjusted his grip and swung again. I didn't even flinch. I guided his attack away with nothing but precision, the halberd scraping harmlessly against my blade.

Stronger enemies always had a breaking point. If I kept this up, he'd wear himself out before I did—though considering he was undead, that might take a while.

Then, out of nowhere—

Silver arrows of moonlight rained down from above, homing in on my opponent.

I tensed.

In the next moment, the undead burst into blue flames. He howled, thrashing violently as the fire consumed him from the inside out.

I looked up.

Gliding down from the darkened sky was a silver-haired, youthful-looking man. His robes shimmered with the faint glow of the moon. He moved like a spirit, untouched by gravity, with an elegance that screamed power.

Trailing behind him was an older, more reserved man, his posture deferential, yet his presence no less imposing.

I immediately scanned them with Divine Sense.

The young-looking man? Stronger than the undead I had just fought.

The elder beside him? As strong as the Heavenly Demon inside Gu Jie.

I exhaled, tucking my sword and helmet into my Item Box.

If this was going to be a conversation rather than a fight, I might as well play the part.

I clasped my hands, straightened my back, and executed a perfect martial artist's bow.

"Greetings, fellow Daoist," I said smoothly, voice even and respectful. "How may I help you?"

Hah~!

I think being a cultivator wasn't so hard after all.

Honestly? I am kind of pissed...

The silver-haired man in front of me exchanged a glance with the elder at his side.

I could tell they were speaking. Not with words, but through Qi Speech—a supernatural form of communication moving at speeds beyond normal comprehension.

A split second later, the older man stepped forward.

"I am Bai Bai of the White Clan," he declared aggressively, his tone carrying the weight of authority. "And before you stands the Grand Patriarch of the White Clan, Bai Rong."

Bai?

Ah.

Of course.

Why did cultivators always have to be so damn aggressive with introductions? Couldn't we all just nod and exchange names like normal people?

I offered a polite bow and responded, "It is an honor. I am Da Wei." They had no particular reaction. It seemed my deeds in Yellow Dragon City were yet to reach the rest of the Empire.

I could feel Bai Rong's gaze boring into me, his expression was that of half-arrogance and half-expectation.

I knew this type. The kind who measured people not by words, but by presence.

Well, I had presence in spades.

With a flick of my wrist, I reached into my Item Box and slapped on my cosmetic item—Lofty Jade Proposition.

A casual show of power? Maybe.

A demonstration of style? Absolutely.

My previously armored figure was now clad in the flowing, elegant robes of an immortal scholar, their pristine jade fabric shimmering ever so slightly.

For just a fraction of a second, I caught the barest twitch on Bai Bai's face.

Bai Rong, to his credit, controlled his expression rather well.

In the past few weeks, I had Ren Xun drill me on everything he knew about the Grand Ascension Empire—its factions, its politics, and especially its great powers.

So did the White Clan and the surname Bai ring a bell?

Yes. Absolutely.

The Yellow Dragon City Festival had hosted the Seven Grand Clans. The White Clan was among them.

To the rest of the Empire, the Seven Grand Clans were known by a different name—The Seven Imperial Houses.

According to Ren Xun, each of these clans held immense power, ruling over one of the Empire's seven continents.

And the White Clan?

They ruled the Evernight Continent.

That meant Bai Rong was a man of considerable influence.

The grand patriarch's gaze bore into me with thinly veiled suspicion.

"What's your affiliation? And where are you going?"

Oh, none of your damn business.

Of course, I couldn't just say that. I might be a little harsh on Gu Jie sometimes—like that one time I shooed her while I was playing in an arcade stall—but this wasn't exactly an attitude that the self-important cultivators of the world would take kindly to.

I considered my options.

I could say Isolation Path Sect, but from what I remembered, the White Clan and Isolation Path Sect weren't exactly vibing well back in Riverfall considering the rumors.

I could say Ren Jin's name, but that might be misconstrued as support for an imperial prince.

Yeah, no thanks.

In the end, I decided to keep things casual.

I clasped my hands together and smiled. "I am but a humble adventurer, traveling wherever the wind takes me. As for my destination? The imperial capital, of course. A place of culture, history, and opportunity—what traveler wouldn't want to see it?"

I spoke with an easy confidence, keeping my tone light-hearted yet firm.

It was the perfect answer.

Technically true, entirely noncommittal, and most importantly—none of his business.

Among the eight continents of the Grand Ascension Empire, Riverfall was the newest addition.

Each continent had a clan that was considered its central powerhouse…

Except for Riverfall.

The Seven Grand Clans were, in essence, offshoot branch clans of the major imperial clans—created as a way to compete by proxy over who would rule Riverfall.

In another perspective…

Ren Jin could also be a proxy of the Emperor, sent to compete for the same prize.

It made me wonder—just how much power did the Emperor truly have?

A man capable of keeping the Seven Imperial Houses in check? Managing the constant power struggle between the clans, sects, and nobles of the empire?

I could barely imagine it.

These thoughts ran through my mind as Bai Rong and I stared at each other.

For a long, tense moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, finally, Bai Rong said, "The imperial capital is truly a destination worth visiting."

A neutral statement. A neutral ending.

Just like that, the two of them floated away and disappeared into the sky.

I was a little salty, though.

Dude just stole my kill.

I sighed and shook my head. Whatever.

Back to the Floating Dragon, then.

066 Into Deepmoor

The Floating Dragon warped, and in an instant, we arrived in Deepmoor Continent.

The change in scenery was immediate.

Dark, jagged mountains loomed over the land like broken fangs, their peaks lost in thick, swirling clouds. The ground beneath us was a mixture of ashen dirt, black stone, and dense marshland, where twisted trees and creeping fog made everything feel eerie and half-dead.

The air was damp. Heavy. It smelled of earth, decay, and something metallic—like rusted iron.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

So this was Deepmoor.

It was one of the eight continents of the Grand Ascension Empire, and Deepmoor was infamous for two things:

Firstly, it was cursed lands. Legends spoke of ancient battlefields, forgotten tombs, and places where even cultivators hesitated to tread. That was more like what Evernight Continent should have sounded like, considering the undead that existed there, but the travelogues insisted otherwise.

Secondly, the Abyssal Clans. Unlike the Seven Grand Clans, these clans specialized in esoteric, forbidden techniques. Necromancy, soul manipulation, and abyssal arts—practices that other continents outlawed were freely studied here.

Not exactly the kind of place you'd take a vacation.

The moment we stabilized from the warp, Ren Xun let out a low whistle.

"Man," he said, glancing out over the murky landscape, "this place has a real 'don't touch anything unless you want to die' kind of vibe. So I suggest, please try to avoid touching stuff."

I couldn't help but agree.

From the deck, Gu Jie yawned. "I hate warping. Makes my head feel weird."

Deepmoor Continent was ruled by one of the Seven Imperial Houses, and ironically, it was the Black Clan with the surname Hei.

Even more ironic? Their closest neighbor was the White Clan of Evernight.

You'd think that if any cultivators were going to set up shop in Evernight, it would be the ones obsessed with necromancy, soul manipulation, and abyssal arts. After all, Evernight was teeming with undead. It seemed like the perfect place for them.

But no. That wasn't the case.

Apparently, undead from Evernight had a particular taste—they liked cultivators who smelled of death. And according to the books I had read, that was meant literally.

I rubbed my temples. I was feeling very complicated about this.

Here, in Deepmoor, practices that were outlawed in other continents were freely studied. The Paladin in me itched to do something about it.

But I sighed, shaking my head.

If I tried to solve every problem in the world, I'd be the one who would end up destroyed.

I just had to hope the Empire knew what it was doing. It wasn't like necromancy was innately bad… of course, that might be an unpopular opinion.

Behind me, Gu Jie's voice cut through my thoughts.

"Is everything fine, Master?"

I glanced at her and gave a small nod. "Yeah, just thinking about some things."

Nearby, Lu Gao stretched his arms. "How long until we reach the imperial capital?"

Ren Xun answered without looking up.

"We're right on schedule. We took about three weeks to cross Evernight, alternating between warps and short-distance travel. If we do the same here, it'll take us about five weeks. Then, we'll take a shortcut that should bring us to the imperial capital in just two days."

I considered that for a moment. "Could we get there faster?"

"We could," Ren Xun admitted, "if we pass through Stormcall Continent. But… well, you know. Sudden storms."

Yeah. That was the problem.

Stormcall Continent was notorious for its unpredictable weather. And while I had a lot of skills at my disposal, I didn't have a spell to protect the Floating Dragon from storms. Sure, this vessel could survive a Fifth Realm's attack, but who knew how strong storms could get?

So I had chosen to take the path through Deepmoor instead.

Ren Xun glanced at me and asked me for my opinion. "Senior, should we push through or let the warp cooldown?"

I considered it for a moment. Warping again would put a strain on the Floating Dragon's formations. And while I wasn't eager to stick around in Deepmoor, rushing in blindly wasn't smart either.

"How bad is crime here in Deepmoor anyway?" I asked.

Ren Xun shrugged. "It depends."

I gave him a look. "Depends on what?"

"The Black Clan mainly enforces law in this continent, even overruling the local law enforcement of cities—barring the lords, of course." He gestured vaguely. "If it's just banditry, they crack down on them harshly. Because some Abyssal Clans like to hire bandits or disguise their illegal procurement of lab rats as banditry."

I stared at him. Lab rats.

That was not the phrasing I wanted to hear.

Ren Xun continued, "So, most organized groups are either careful or completely crushed before they grow too big. Random highwaymen might still exist, but nothing crazy."

"Well, that's nice to know," I muttered, rubbing my temples.

I didn't want to overuse warping if it wasn't necessary. And if the worst thing we had to deal with was some small-time criminals, then we weren't in any real danger.

"Let the warp cooldown," I said. "Find us a place to set up camp."

Ren Xun found a relatively open area where we could set up camp. The spot was close to a treeline, with enough cover to keep us hidden but not so dense that it limited visibility.

With practiced ease, Ren Xun parked the Floating Dragon just above the trees and activated a formation inside the ship, cloaking it with invisibility. The ship shimmered briefly before vanishing from sight, as if it had never been there in the first place.

I reached into my Item Box and pulled out a large tent—one big enough to comfortably house all of us.

Without needing instruction, the trio immediately got to work. Lu Gao secured the stakes, Gu Jie adjusted the fabric, and Ren Xun inscribed a few quick formations to enhance stability. They worked with the familiarity of people who had done this many times before.

I, on the other hand, had no interest in setting up camp. Guilty as charged, I had no idea how to set up a camp. Instead, I grabbed Ren Jingyi and walked under the tree where the Floating Dragon was parked, finding a relatively calm spot to sit.

Technically, we could have slept inside the ship. But Ren Xun had made a point about comfort. Simply put, campsites were way more comfortable than staying on the boat. Here, he could properly use the formations and talismans he brought along, ensuring a better rest.

While the others finished up, I sat cross-legged, placing Ren Jingyi beside me.

The cool night air settled around us as I began to cultivate, my senses stretching outward, keeping silent watch over the camp.

Ren Xun stepped out of the tent and looked at me with a mix of exasperation and mild confusion. "Senior, are you really going to stay out here all night?"

I glanced up at him and shrugged. "Yeah."

He crossed his arms. "I just don't get it. Why not come inside? It's warmer, more comfortable, and we have formations set up for better rest."

I leaned back against the tree, watching the leaves shift under the dim light of the stars. "Because when you guys are sleeping, I'm training," I replied simply.

Ren Xun exhaled sharply. "You could just summon that clone of yours to keep watch instead."

I chuckled. "Yeah, I could. If all I wanted was a reliable guard, I'd just summon Dave and call it a night. But that's not the point."

Ren Xun shook his head, clearly thinking I was being stubborn. "Suit yourself," he muttered before retreating back inside the tent.

With the camp settling down, I returned to my cultivation.

I sat cross-legged, focusing on my breathing. Hollow Breath Technique. I had been trying to make progress with it for what felt like forever, but no matter how much effort I put in, nothing remarkable happened.

I delved deeper into my perception, directing my awareness toward my dantian. Instead of clarity or insight, I felt the same muddled mess of my spiritual roots. Rough, unformed, stubbornly refusing to align properly.

I sighed and opened my eyes.

Beside me, Ren Jingyi floated lazily, her fins drifting in the still air. I stared at her for a moment, watching her tiny movements, then let my thoughts wander.

For the next five minutes, I focused my mind and activated Divine Possession.

A familiar weightlessness overtook me as my consciousness slipped into Ren Jingyi. My senses shifted, the world around me tilting as I perceived everything from her perspective. It had become somewhat of a routine—a way to push my mastery of this Ultimate Skill as far as possible.

Meanwhile, I left Dave in charge of my main body.

Through my shared awareness, I could feel him sit cross-legged, taking up my training in the Hollow Breath Technique. Letting Dave handle cultivation while I honed Divine Possession was efficient, but also frustrating. Even under his precise control, my spiritual roots remained as muddled and stubborn as ever.

As the duration of Divine Possession ended, I was pulled back into my body with a breathless jolt.

Immediately, I shifted gears.

Summon: Holy Spirit.

A ripple of golden light spread from my fingertips, forming into Dave's armored figure once more. Without hesitation, I began my real training—testing my Zealot's Stride and Divine Smite in tandem.

Of course, I wouldn't be training so noisily right next to the camp.

Before starting, I made sure to move a fair distance away, close enough that my Divine Sense could still reach the others but not far enough to disturb their rest. The last thing I needed was Ren Xun nagging me about unnecessary risks… though, I could hardly see it happening.

While I was at it, I also silently snuck the goldfish inside the tent. She'd be safer there, tucked away from any stray bursts of energy.

With that handled, I focused on my training.

I dashed forward, feeling the sharp acceleration of Zealot's Stride. The ability was enhanced not just speed but also fluidity of movement, allowing me to close distances instantly. I pivoted mid-step, swinging my sword downward as Divine Smite surged through my blade, coating it in searing radiance.

Dave met my strike with a perfectly timed parry.

The clash of divine energy against his solid defense sent shockwaves through the clearing. I exhaled sharply, adjusting my stance, and repeated the sequence. Again and again.

I had learned how important movement and continuous skill application were for cultivators—accuracy, damage, and tempo mattered. If I was too passive, I'd be overwhelmed. If I lacked DPS, I'd be taken advantage of. That was what I learned from watching the duels in the Yellow Dragon Festival.

That's why I prioritized my training carefully:

Divine Possession– My strongest tool for adaptability.Summon: Holy Spirit– Versatile utility and reinforcement.Zealot's Stride– Mobility was king in combat.Divine Smite– Never underestimate the power of a clean, decisive hit.For now, I kept pushing forward, refining my control one step at a time.

Dave and I faced each other. His golden form stood unwavering, greatsword in hand, while I readied myself with Silver Steel.

A deep breath.

Then I lunged.

My feet burned with Zealot's Stride, mana interacting with divine energy was surging through my legs as I closed the distance in an instant. My sword clashed against Dave's greatsword, sending golden sparks flying. He didn't stagger—no, he countered immediately, swinging his blade in a brutal arc meant to cleave me in two.

I twisted my foot, momentum carrying me just past the swing.

Divine Smite.

A radiant glow enveloped my blade as I struck down with all my might. Boom! The impact split the ground beneath Dave's feet, but he had already stepped back, deflecting the brunt of the attack. His sword hummed with divine energy, mirroring my own technique.

He lunged next, his Zealot's Stride flaring as he vanished and reappeared right in front of me. My instincts screamed, and I barely managed to parry his downward slash. The sheer force sent a tremor through my arm.

I retaliated.

With my own Zealot's Stride, I sidestepped and repositioned behind him in a flash. He turned, but my blade was already descending. Divine Smite.

Clang! He blocked it—barely.

Golden energy crackled between us, illuminating the barren ground with each strike. We moved in a relentless cycle of attack and counter, alternating between Zealot's Stride for movement and Divine Smite for power. The way my sword met his felt like a conversation in steel, testing the limits of speed, precision, and endurance.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Dave wasn't tiring—he never would—but I wasn't planning on stopping either.

This was exactly the kind of training I needed.

"Zealot's Stride—burn bright, burn fast. A relentless charge that falters for no man, no god."

"Divine Smite—righteous judgment, the weight of the heavens in one stroke."

I repeated the flavor text in my head as Dave and I clashed once more, my blade flashing in the dim light. Understanding and internalizing these concepts was key to growing stronger, but damn if it wasn't frustrating. It wasn't enough to just know the words—I had to feel them, embody them.

Dave raised his greatsword, meeting my descending strike. A shockwave rippled through the ground, sending dust flying, but I barely paid attention. I leaped back with Zealot's Stride, then dashed forward again, my sword flaring with Divine Smite as I swung in a tight arc.

Boom!

The impact sent Dave skidding back. Another Divine Smite struck home—his body trembled, golden light crackling through his form—

Then he shattered into dust.

"Whooo~ that's tough..."

I exhaled, shaking my head.

It was an uneven fight. Even with the 15% debuff from my Lofty Jade Proposition, I was still completely wrecking Dave with just my raw stats alone. No fancy techniques, no overwhelming strategy—just pure brute force.

I flexed my fingers around my sword hilt, considering. If I wanted proper training, I needed a real challenge.

With a thought, I dismissed my Wandering Adjudicator Armor, tucking it into my Item Box and letting my cosmetic item remain. The stats provided by my armor vanished, and my movements felt a tad sluggish.

Dave's body reformed in golden light, his Ultimate Skill triggering as he resurrected. His hollow gaze locked onto me. No hesitation. No emotion. Hopefully, he wouldn't hold a grudge against me. He consented after all. Better yet, this was his idea.

I grinned.

"Again."

I darted forward with Zealot's Stride, blade flashing with Divine Smite as I rained down strike after strike, moving easier and hitting harder.

And Dave took it all.

067 Song of Sorrow

Two warps later, and we had yet to face any accidents. Almost sounded too good to be true.

I had my suspicions, but the answer was simple—Gu Jie.

She had been keeping an eye out, using her sensitivity to misfortune to help Ren Xun maneuver past potential accidents. A misaligned warp, a minor fluctuation in spatial stability, even an unexpected beast migration—she caught them before they could become problems. The result? Smooth sailing.

Now, night had fallen once more. The others had already finished setting up camp, and I stood outside, finishing my training.

I didn't really need sleep.

Lore aside about demi-gods and their endless stamina, I had plenty of rest while mid-travel. Over the past weeks, I had figured out an optimal schedule—five hours of sleep every week and a half. Any more, and I just felt sluggish. Any less, and my Divine Sense started glitching out for some reason. Of course, if a normal person tried my sleeping schedule, they'd probably drop dead from exhaustion.

I had just finished using Divine Possession on Ren Jingyi for tonight as part of my training regimen. Sometimes, I would alternate with Lu Gao, but tonight was fish night. "Ren Jingyi, you should grow fast, so that we don't have to heft your bowl anymore... Let's bring you to the others..." As quietly as I could, I tucked her inside the tent, making sure she was safe.

I took a moment to glance inside.

The tent was spacious—easily large enough to fit four people with room to spare. A few formation-engraved lanterns hung from the ceiling, giving off a faint, comforting glow. The air inside was warmer than outside, thanks to the insulation talismans Ren Xun had placed around the fabric walls.

Lu Gao lay sprawled out on his sleeping mat, one arm resting over his face, his chest rising and falling steadily. Despite his arrogant nature, the guy looked surprisingly defenseless in his sleep. His brows twitched occasionally—maybe he was dreaming about getting revenge or something.

Ren Xun, on the other hand, was curled up neatly on his mat, his hands folded over his stomach, breathing slow and controlled. Even in sleep, he maintained a kind of meticulousness.

Then there was Gu Jie.

She slept differently from the others, half-curled on her side, her body barely shifting. Every now and then, her expression would flicker—like she was reacting to something unseen. Maybe it was the aftereffects of sensing misfortune, or maybe she just wasn't a deep sleeper.

I let out a breath and stepped away from the tent.

Tonight, like every night, I would stand watch.

As part of Lu Gao's and Ren Jingyi's training, I had been using Divine Possession alternately between them, testing who was more suited to becoming a Paladin.

It was an ongoing experiment.

Ren Jingyi, for one, had potential. Her instincts were sharp, her movements fluid, and her reactions quick. The downside? She was still, well… a fish. As a goldfish-turned-holy-beast, she lacked direct experience with humanoid combat. But she was learning. Fast.

Lu Gao, on the other hand, had combat experience in spades. He was aggressive, confident, and his raw talent was undeniable. The problem? He didn't have the temperament. He was too headstrong, too reckless. A Paladin had to wield both strength and faith in equal measure, and Lu Gao only had the former.

Of course, by strength… I meant strength of heart… Still, that could easily break if you lacked faith in yourself, your comrades, and just about everyone.

I was still undecided.

Personally, they were an even match. I'm tempted to bring the fish in a different direction though... I recalled a certain quest... meh... I could deliberate just a bit more on that part. I was still unsure if I wanted to raise the fish as a Paladin, Priestess, or something more. By more, I meant something equivalent to a Dragon from LLO. Ugh... I felt disgusted about the idea of experimenting on Ren Jingyi. 

The fish was too darn innocent for something like uncertain experimentation... I didn't know what I'd do if she suddenly croaked. Maybe, I'd suddenly become a vegan. 

With my experiments on hold, I cast Bless on myself and wandered around the camp. The skill was all-rounded like that—buffing my stats and even my luck. And it was luck I wanted to test tonight.

Lo and behold, as I walked, I spotted a few herbs growing near the base of a tree.

I crouched down and inspected them.

Some I recognized from Cloud Mist Sect's alchemy books, others from the texts I had taken from Golden Sun Pavilion. Small, unassuming plants—yet useful in concocting medicine and low-grade elixirs.

"…Interesting."

I plucked a few, tucking them into my Item Box. I wasn't an alchemist, but information was information. Knowledge had saved my life more than once.

As I straightened up, the Holy Spirit within me stirred.

"Will you be training tonight as usual?"

I thought about it for a moment before shaking my head.

"Nah. Let's take a break."

I could practically sense Dave's surprise, but he didn't question me. Instead of training, I wanted to hone something just as important—lore knowledge.

If I suddenly ran into something Lost Legends Online-related and didn't recognize it, I'd kick myself in the head.

I sat down by a tree, pulled out a book, and started reading.

My Linguist subclass was an absolute blessing.

With it, I could understand, absorb, and process information at an accelerated rate. The more I read, the more I realized just how much of an advantage it was giving me.

In LLO, subclasses were non-combat related. They were designed to enhance immersion, focusing on trade professions instead. But they also provided bonuses to hidden stats like speech and luck, making certain aspects of the game easier.

And damn, was I glad I picked Linguist.

If I had been stuck dealing with a language barrier on top of everything else, I'd be in deep trouble.

I flipped through the pages of the almanac, scanning the historical points from Lost Legends Online.

There were times when the game lore and this world's history overlapped in strange ways. That was why I made it a habit to alternate between reading LLO lore and local history books. Switching between them helped me adjust my perspective, especially when I read things that made me… uncomfortable.

Like the fact that some ancient sects in this world had eerily similar names to factions from LLO. Or that some mythical figures shared story beats with legendary NPCs.

Coincidence? Maybe.

But if Lost Legends Online was some kind of distorted reflection of this world, then knowing its historical events might just help me predict the future.

"Nah, that's too much a stretch, isn't it?"

Just as I was tucking the history book into my Item Box, I froze.

Somewhere in the distance…

I heard singing.

It was soft, melancholic, and sung in a non-imperial dialect.

The language wasn't completely unfamiliar. I had been studying different dialects. It was one of my pastimes. If I found myself in a region where Imperial Common wasn't dominant, I wanted to at least understand the locals.

I closed my books, placed them into my Item Box, and silently followed the sound.

I walked.

And walked.

And walked.

The song pulled me forward, like a thread winding around my thoughts, drawing me deeper into the night.

There was something magical about it. Not in the literal, spellcasting sense—at least, I didn't sense any Qi fluctuations—but it had that indescribable quality that latched onto something deep in the soul.

The lyrics drifted through the air, soft and steady.

"In the vale where the night wind lingers,

Footsteps fade like whispered sighs.

Ashes fall from embered fingers,

Scattered under silent skies."

"Shadows dance where no light follows,

Breath is lost in hollow tune.

Graves are deep, yet hearts lie shallow,

Singing to a weeping moon."

I understood the meaning of the lyrics clearly.

It was a lament. A song for those who had gone, those who had vanished like footprints washed away by the tide.

Before I knew it, my Divine Sense brushed against its outer limits. The camp was now at the very edge of my awareness.

I exhaled and summoned Dave.

A golden glow shimmered as Summon: Holy Spirit activated. In an instant, he appeared before me—a perfect mirror of myself.

His eyes immediately locked onto mine, his posture rigid.

"My Lord," he greeted solemnly.

"Stay at camp," I instructed. "Be alert."

At my words, wispy air gathered around his head, twisting into a ghostly helm that flickered with holy radiance.

Dave didn't hesitate. He bowed slightly and, without another word, turned back toward the camp, disappearing into the darkness.

I let out a slow breath.

Then, I continued forward.

The night stretched deep and cold, the sky blanketed in a heavy darkness. As I walked, the song guided my steps—haunting, yet strangely mesmerizing. It carried the weight of something old, something tragic, and as the words sank into my bones, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air.

"The flames rise high, they touch the sky,

Red like blood where children cry.

The walls collapse, the streets burn bright,

Ashes dance in endless night."

"The screams fade slow, the hands grow cold,

Mother's touch, now dust and old.

The world turns black, the stars fall dim,

A hollow song, a dying hymn."

I stopped mid-step.

A child.

That was a child's voice.

Something about that fact made it worse.

Singing such dreary lyrics with that small, clear voice… Yeah, if this were a normal D&D party, people would already be preparing their Turn Undead spells and getting ready to run the hell away.

Me? I just stood there, listening.

Some would argue I was too cavalier in my approach, but the truth was—I hadn't seen ghosts in this world yet. Sure, I'd fought undead before. Skeletons, zombies, corpses puppeteered by whatever foul necromancy ran through Evernight. But ghosts?

Those were different.

Curiosity aside, my Legacy demanded me to act. Paladin instinct, divine obligation—call it what you will, but I couldn't just walk away.

Maybe this was a soul that needed to move on.

Maybe I needed to do an exorcism.

I inched closer, silent, careful not to disrupt the song. The closer I got, the more the burnt smell of old charcoal filled my nose. The ground beneath my boots was scorched black.

Then, I saw it.

A charred house stood alone in the clearing, its skeletal frame barely standing, cinders long cooled but scars never healed.

And in front of it, a lone boy sat on the broken steps, legs swinging, head tilted up toward the starless sky—singing his heart out.

The boy stopped singing as soon as he saw me.

He stood up and stared at me, eerily still.

The ghost barely reached my knee. His translucent form flickered in and out, as if he wasn't fully there. His clothes were tattered, burnt at the edges, and his skin was a pale, bluish gray—too smooth, too doll-like to belong to the living. But what stood out the most was the gaping wound on his neck, a grotesque, jagged opening that ran deep enough to sever his throat entirely. And yet, he had been singing, clear as day.

There were only two ways this would go.

One, he'd attack me, and I'd cast Turn Undead to send him running to the next life.

Two, he'd talk to me, and I'd be roped into a side quest.

I took a slow step forward, keeping my tone casual.

"Hey there," I said, tilting my head, "where did you learn to sing like that? You have an amazing voice."

The boy blinked at me, his empty eyes reflecting the dim glow of the moon.

I waited.

Okay. Looked like I wouldn't be casting Turn Undead on him—yet.

Of course, Turn Undead would've been the easy way out, but… this was just a boy. A child.

And I wasn't heartless enough to smite a kid before hearing him out.

I hummed for a second, then started singing to the tune of Mmmbop.

"Mmmbop, ba duba dop… ba du bop…"

Still no reaction.

Tough crowd.

The ghostly boy just stared at me, expression blank. For a second, I thought maybe he wasn't capable of reacting. Then he tilted his head and said, "You're weird."

I grinned. "I get that a lot."

Stepping closer, I lowered myself onto a rock, making myself comfortable. I wasn't sure if ghosts felt things like intimidation, but keeping my distance might make me seem standoffish. And I wasn't about to startle the already-dead kid.

The bonuses in speech from Linguist made a real difference in forcing dialogue scenarios back in LLO. Players who had the class could wring out extra dialogue lines from NPCs, sometimes even entire side quests. My talking with him was probably the result of my subclass in action.

I watched him for a moment, then asked gently, "Do you know?"

The boy blinked. Then, slowly, his small hand lifted to touch his throat. He nodded, eyes downcast.

He had a sad look.

This world believed rather strongly in the idea of reincarnation. If people died, they moved on, simple as that. But he hadn't.

I rested my elbows on my knees. "So, what's holding you back?"

068 Little Ghost

"I just want my sister back," said the boy.

His voice was small, barely above a whisper, but it carried weight. A child's wish, so simple yet impossible.

I let his words settle between us before responding. "Your sister… she didn't—?"

"She's still alive," he interrupted. "But they took her."

I frowned. "Who's 'they'?"

The boy's form flickered, and his little hands clenched into trembling fists. "The people in black masks."

Black masks. That could mean a lot of things in this world. Cults, bandits, sects, assassins. Maybe even Abyssal Clans.

I rubbed my chin. "When did this happen?"

"Long ago." His voice was distant, and his cloudy eyes seemed to see something I couldn't. "I remember the fire. The screaming. My sister crying. Then nothing."

I glanced at the charred remains of the house behind him. That fire must have been the one that killed him.

My first instinct was to offer some kind of reassurance, but what could I even say? 'I'll bring her back?' I didn't know where she was. I didn't know when this happened.

"…Do you know where they took her?"

The boy hesitated. His translucent fingers curled into his tattered robes. "Deep. Below."

I frowned. That didn't sound good. "Below where?"

He shook his head. "I don't remember."

Of course. Because why would this be easy?

I exhaled and studied him for a moment. He barely reached my knee, his ghostly form flickering slightly as if he might fade at any moment. The gaping wound on his neck was a stark contrast to his otherwise innocent, childlike face.

"Alright," I said finally. "Let's start with this—what's your name?"

"Hei…" the boy started, voice soft and distant, like he was pulling his name from the depths of a fading memory. "Hei Mao."

Hei? As in the Black Clan?

I studied him more carefully. His clothes were old, tattered, and barely held together. They weren't fine robes, nor did they carry the usual insignia of the Black Clan. Still, the possibility lingered in my mind.

Then again, he spoke a different dialect. Maybe his surname was just a coincidence.

I let the thought pass and introduced myself. "Da Wei," I said with a small nod.

It wasn't my real name, but it was close enough. The transposed version was pretty convenient. More than that, it served as an extra layer of protection—one of the things I had picked up in my readings. Some spells and rituals needed a person's true name to take effect. I wasn't about to make things easier for any stray cultivator looking to curse me in my sleep.

"Hei Mao, huh?" I continued, offering a smile. "That's a cool name."

"It isn't really that cool… At most, it's cute," Hei Mao muttered, crouching down.

With deliberate motions, he picked up a stick and began writing on the dirt.

I watched as the strokes took form. The first character was Hei—Black. The second was Mao—Cat. Black Cat.

Huh. Fitting.

But what really caught my attention wasn't his name. It was the fact that he could pick up the stick at all. Most ghosts couldn't interact with the physical world so easily. The fact that he could meant he was either particularly strong… or particularly stubborn.

"I don't know," I said, tilting my head. "I find cats pretty cool. Though, they can be kinda psychopathic sometimes."

Hei Mao looked at me like I had just spoken absolute nonsense.

I crouched beside him and, using my finger, wrote my own name in the dirt. Da Wei. I thought about it and then gave a meaning to the name people had been mispronouncing to me. The first character, Da, meant Great. The second, Wei, meant Guard. Great Guard.

Hei Mao squinted at the writing, then at me. "Now you're just showing off."

"Does your sister have a name?" I asked.

Hei Mao hesitated, his small ghostly form still as he stared at the dirt. "...I don't remember," he admitted. "We're twins, though… and she should remember my name. If you find her, tell her that I miss her."

I nodded. "Why don't you come with me?"

Hei Mao shook his head. "I can't. I'm bound to this place. If I go any farther, I'll become weaker."

I took on a more serious tone. "I can protect you."

He became quiet.

"If you want," I continued, "you can come with me, and we can look for your sister together."

Hei Mao looked up at me, his translucent eyes filled with something unreadable. Then, he shook his head again.

"I can't," he said. "I have to mourn for them."

He lifted a small, ghostly hand and pointed inside the charred building.

I followed his gesture and peered into the ruins.

Inside, among the blackened remains of what had once been a home, lay the scorched bodies of a family of three—a mother, a father, and a child.

Hei Mao shared with me how he had been in this patch of land for a long time.

Long enough that the charred ruins of the house weren't the first home to stand here. But this family—the one whose remains now lay blackened and brittle—was the first to ever truly set roots. He watched them build their lives, their routines, their little traditions. The way the father hummed before speaking, how the mother always wiped the table twice, how the child—his name already slipping from Hei Mao's memory—liked to chase after butterflies before dinner.

He had watched them, and over time, he had grown accustomed to their company. Even if they never saw him, he had been there, a silent observer, an unseen neighbor.

I listened quietly, letting him speak at his own pace. There was something sad in the way he clung to them, as if keeping their memory alive was the only thing holding him together.

Still, I couldn't help but point out the obvious. "Hei Mao, if they were like you, if they were still here, wouldn't they have appeared by now?" I gestured toward the burned wreckage. "The dead don't just move on like that, right? If they had regrets, if they had things left undone, wouldn't they still be lingering?"

Hei Mao's small fingers curled into fists. He looked toward the ruins, his face unreadable. "They should be here," he murmured. "They should be here with me."

I crossed my arms. "But they're not."

He bit his lip. "I know."

"Then why are you still mourning them?"

Hei Mao's expression twisted, caught between anger and grief. "Because if I don't, who will?"

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "You really think they'd want you stuck here like this?"

Silence.

Hei Mao stared at the ruins, his small frame stiff. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

I studied Hei Mao carefully. The way his little ghostly fingers trembled, how his lips pressed together in something too stubborn to be just grief. There was more to this than just mourning.

"What are you so scared about?" I finally asked.

Hei Mao flinched. His gaze snapped to me, wide-eyed, like I had yanked some hidden truth out of him. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he gripped the hem of his tattered clothes, a reflexive motion that only made him look more like the lost child he was.

I exhaled through my nose. "You're not just mourning them. You're hoping—wishing—that they made it to the next life after this, right?"

He nodded slowly as if hesitant.

I tilted my head toward the burnt ruins. "For all I know, they already have. I mean, I don't see them around. Do you?"

Hei Mao's lips parted, but no words came. His eyes flickered to the charred remains inside the house, then back to me.

I sighed. "But that's not what you really wanted, is it?"

His little hands clenched tighter.

"You didn't want them to move on," I said, watching his expression closely. "You wanted them to stay."

Hei Mao sucked in a breath, an empty, ghostly sound. His shoulders shook as if I had spoken the one truth he had been trying to avoid.

For a long moment, he was silent. Then, in the smallest voice, he admitted, "…Yes."

If I compared Lost Legends Online's ghosts to the ghosts of this world, they had at least one thing in common: they were illogical creatures that often contradicted themselves.

Why mourn the dead when you were dead yourself?

Why cry for those who had moved on when you yourself were stuck?

And yet, another similarity between the ghosts of both worlds was how they lied—not just to others, but to themselves.

I could feel the lies. My Divine Sense flickered every time Hei Mao spoke half-truths. The way his voice wavered, the way he hesitated, it was all too telling. Not to mention, the powerful miasma that surrounded the ruined house didn't belong to the burnt corpses inside—it all came from him.

I sighed.

If a ghost was confronted with the truth, they would usually lash out. That was standard knowledge. Most of the time, they'd snap, go feral, or outright attack in denial. It was basically the equivalent of an existential crisis, but with more screaming and spectral claws.

But Hei Mao didn't.

That was what set him apart.

Or maybe it was because of me.

I remembered an old joke back in LLO—how my friends used to tease me about my ability to solve problems with talk-no-jutsu, even though my speech stat wasn't all that high. Apparently, it worked just as well in this world.

I knelt down to his level and asked one more time, "What are you so scared about?"

Hei Mao's lips trembled.

And then—black tears poured from his hollow eyes, ectoplasm dripping like ink down his pale cheeks. A choked sob escaped his throat as he suddenly lunged forward and hugged me, tiny arms gripping tightly around my waist.

"I… I am scared of being alone…" he whispered. His voice cracked with the weight of the words he had buried for so long.

I felt his cold, spectral form press against me, but there was warmth in the way he held on, like he was desperate not to disappear.

I exhaled softly and patted his back.

"I'm here," I told him. "You're not alone."

I inhaled deeply and reached within myself, calling forth the power of Divine Possession with Ephemeral Touch.

The moment I activated it, my soul trembled.

"To seize the body is to seize the self. To walk another's path is to know their truth. For a moment, the soul is unbound, freed from the chains of its own flesh, given wings to fly into another. But beware—the self is fragile. To linger too long is to forget the shape of one's own soul. To possess is to risk being possessed in turn."

The flavor text echoed in my mind like a warning bell.

I braced myself. This wasn't like LLO, where I could just use Divine Possession on an ally and call it a day. This was real. And I was about to possess a ghost.

It was unbelievable, but for a second time… I managed to evolve a skill.

I reached out and grasped Hei Mao's essence.

For a fleeting moment, the world twisted. The sensation was foreign, weightless, like my body had lost its form, my mind stretched thin across an eternity of memories. I wasn't just watching Hei Mao's past—I was living it.

The laughter of a mother, the calloused hands of a father. The warmth of a home built from love, now reduced to ash.

And then—pain. A burning, searing pain at his throat. A scream that never came. The feeling of slipping, falling, drowning in the abyss of death but never truly reaching the bottom.

I understood.

Hei Mao's grief. His anger. His loneliness.

And yet, despite all that suffering, despite the way the world had abandoned him, he stayed. Because he had a family once. Because he didn't want to let them go.

I returned to my body with a shuddering breath. The air around us felt lighter. The oppressive miasma had thinned, and Hei Mao… he was different now. His presence had softened. The lingering resentment that made his ghostly form twisted and jagged had faded.

Hei Mao looked at me with wide, watery eyes.

"…Can you help me send them away?"

His voice was small and fragile.

He turned toward the charred ruins of the house and pointed. "They deserve better."

I met his gaze and nodded.

I raised my hand and called forth holy power. The warmth of divinity surged through my veins as I cast—

Turn Undead.

Golden light flooded the burnt remains. The energy seeped into the broken foundation, purging the lingering hatred, unraveling the threads of regret that bound this place to sorrow.

Slowly, the air shimmered.

And then—they appeared.

A mirage of a family, standing together, bathed in soft, ethereal light.

The father and mother smiled gently, their forms whole and untouched by death. Between them stood a girl, identical to Hei Mao, except feminine—his sister.

The girl beamed. "I missed you too, brother!"

Hei Mao's breath hitched. His small hands clenched at his sides.

The truth had been in front of him all along. This wasn't just some family he had watched over.

It was his family.

Because of his resentment, because of his innate talent, he had cultivated and persisted even after death. His will had been too strong, his refusal to move on too powerful. He had forgotten who he was.

Hei Mao sobbed.

But unlike before, his tears were no longer black and inky.

They were clear. Pure.

"I… I am sorry…" His voice cracked. "And I love you all… Mom… Dad… Sis… I… Thank you…"

His family smiled. And as the light grew brighter, they opened their arms, welcoming him home.