Chapter 179 - 109-

Chapter 109

Ren Jingyi woke up in a daze. Her thoughts felt sluggish, like wading through a dream she hadn't quite escaped. The bed beneath her was soft—too soft. The sheets, embroidered with silver lotuses, were too luxurious. The air smelled of incense, calming yet unfamiliar.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw a ceiling of polished wood, adorned with intricate carvings of celestial beasts. This wasn't where she had last been. This wasn't the battlefield.

Her fingers twitched, then curled. She touched her arms, then her face—small, oval-shaped, delicate. There was something profoundly different. She sat up, feeling her legs dangle off the edge of the bed. Legs. Humanoid limbs.

She stared at her hands in wonder. Fingers, palms, nails—everything was there. The realization struck her fully now. She had taken a humanoid form.

A mirror stood at the far end of the room. Her bare feet padded against the floor as she rushed toward it. The girl reflected back at her was small, perhaps no more than nine or ten years of age. Messy dark hair framed her round face, and a robe—far too ornate for her taste—hung over her small frame.

Her height reminded her of Hei Mao.

A pang of pain surged through her chest.

She turned abruptly, her hands searching for something familiar. On the bedside table lay a bundle of cloth—Gu Jie's robes. The ones she had hastily thrown over herself after everything had gone wrong. The ones she had clung to in her grief.

She picked them up, pressed them to her nose, and inhaled. But the scent was faint, fading. It wasn't enough. It could never be enough.

Her grip tightened, the ache in her heart deepening, but she forced herself to calm down. With a shaky breath, she stashed them in her Storage Ring, securing the last remnants of her sister-figure.

It took effort, but she steadied herself.

She was alive. That meant Master was alive.

The thought struck her with urgency.

Her eyes widened. Had it all been a dream? Had she imagined their reunion?

Her bare feet hit the floor as she dashed for the door.

As she threw it open, she nearly collided with someone entering.

A woman stood there, dressed in flowing robes of pale lavender, her demeanor calm and composed. Ren Jingyi vaguely remembered Tao Long introducing her before—Yue Ruo, an important person.

Yue Ruo offered a gentle smile as she observed Ren Jingyi. "I am glad to see that my younger daughter's robes fit you well," she remarked, her voice warm yet refined.

But Ren Jingyi barely spared her a glance. Her mind was elsewhere.

She ran past her without hesitation.

"Master!"

She had to find him. Had to see him again. Had to make sure it was real.

The night sky stretched vast and empty above, barely any stars piercing through the darkness. Ren Jingyi wandered through the quiet halls, her mind still clouded with remnants of her exhaustion and grief. She remembered crying in her Master's arms, the warmth of his embrace making her feel safe for the first time in what felt like forever. At some point, she had drifted into slumber, the weight of her sorrow pulling her into unconsciousness. But now she was awake, and only one thought filled her mind.

She needed to find him.

In her haste, she bumped into a tall figure, firm as a mountain. Stumbling back, she looked up and found herself staring at Tao Long, the man her Master had tasked with escorting her. His sharp features were cast in the dim glow of the lanterns lining the corridor, his long dark hair tied in a loose tail, and his expression was unamused.

"Where are you running off to at this hour?" Tao Long asked, arms crossed.

Ren Jingyi clenched her fists. "Bring me to His Eminence."

Tao Long frowned. "…Your Master?"

She nodded furiously.

Tao Long let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. "I am a cultivator at the peak of the Ninth Realm. I have fought beasts that could sunder mountains, dueled warriors who command forces beyond your understanding, and stood unfazed before ancient sect leaders that could move the world… Yet here I am, playing babysitter."

Ren Jingyi glared.

Tao Long exhaled again, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. Come along. Let's find your Master before you bite my head off."

Without another word, he turned, gesturing for her to follow as they set off into the night.

Soon, they arrived at a room guarded by a lone woman, her presence quiet yet sharp, like a hidden blade waiting to be unsheathed. As Ren Jingyi and Tao Long approached, the woman straightened, eyes narrowing.

"Identify yourself," she demanded, her voice calm yet firm.

Tao Long scoffed, tilting his head arrogantly. "How dare a mere guard question my presence? I am a guest of the prince himself. Do you have the gall to stand in my way?"

"That's Governor to you," the woman spat back, her eyes sharp as a blade. "While here in Yellow Dragon City, the Governor only wishes to be addressed by his government post and nothing else!"

Tao Long raised a brow, amused by her fire. "Ah, so the Governor demands proper decorum even from his esteemed guests? How rigid."

Liang Na did not waver. "Governor Ren Jin upholds the dignity of this city. If Lord Tao Long cannot abide by simple customs, then perhaps he does not deserve to be here at all."

Ren Jingyi frowned. She could feel the pressure exuding from Tao Long—subtle but overwhelming, like a coiled dragon ready to strike. The air grew heavy, but before she could voice her irritation, the woman before them matched his aura. It was not as overwhelming, but precise and suffocating, like a fine dagger pressed against one's throat.

"This humble guard is Liang Na," the woman said, her tone respectful yet unwavering. "I believe this is our first meeting, Lord Tao Long."

Tao Long raised a brow, intrigued rather than offended. "Impressive. To think someone of your age has reached the Eighth Realm… and even refined your stealth arts to such a degree that you are nearly indistinguishable from the lesser. Perhaps, had I not been paying attention, I would have mistaken you for a mere shadow lurking in the night."

The two locked gazes, the tension between them sharp enough to cut through steel.

Ren Jingyi, growing increasingly impatient with the posturing, tugged at Tao Long's sleeve. He ignored her.

They continued to exchange subtle barbs, their words polite but laced with challenge.

"Flattery from a man who prides himself on his own talent? Funny you say that," Liang Na's expression did not change, but a sharp glint flickered in her eyes. "I should consider myself honored then."

Tao Long chuckled. "Not flattery, merely an observation. Of course, it is quite the achievement for a mere guard. One must wonder if such skill would not be better put to use elsewhere. Or perhaps you are simply comfortable standing at doors and barking at guests?"

Liang Na folded her arms, her presence unwavering. "A dog may bark, but a true guardian does not need to raise her voice—only her blade. I do not question my place, unlike some who wander with borrowed status."

Tao Long's grin widened. "Borrowed? Ah, I see. You assume my presence here is unwarranted. Perhaps you should ask your Governor why he sent for me, or why am I even here at all. Or are you too busy growling at shadows to listen?"

Liang Na's lips twitched, but she remained composed. "I merely guard that which is worth guarding. Whether you are among those things remains to be seen."

Tao Long gave a mocking bow. "Then I shall strive to prove my worth to the ever-watchful guardian of Yellow Dragon City. A most noble profession, truly."

At this point, Ren Jingyi had enough. She tugged at Tao Long's sleeve, frowning. "Enough with the posturing. Can we just go inside already?"

Tao Long ignored her, continuing to smirk at Liang Na.

Ren Jingyi scowled and kicked the back of his knee.

Thunk.

Tao Long did not even budge. In fact, Ren Jingyi might have broken her toe. She quickly healed it with divine energy coursing her meridians, while cursing Tao Long under her breath as he resumed his conversation.

"Governor Ren Jin truly fosters an interesting city," Tao Long mused. "His hospitality extends even to his guards, who seem to believe they hold power equal to their lord."

Liang Na scoffed. "The Governor has faith in his people, as he should. It is why this city stands strong while others crumble."

Ren Jingyi clenched her fists, thoroughly exasperated. Adults were the worst.

Liang Na turned away from Tao Long, her sharp demeanor softening as she looked at Ren Jingyi. "Little Goldfish, it has been some time since we last met."

Ren Jingyi blinked. Little Goldfish? She felt a pang in her heart, the nickname tugging at some distant warmth in her memories. Despite her earlier irritation, she found herself softening toward the woman. Swallowing her pride, she spoke with newfound politeness. "May I see my Master?"

Liang Na nodded and turned toward the door, knocking in a distinct rhythm. After a brief pause, she announced, "Ren Jingyi seeks an audience."

A few moments later, the door creaked open just enough for Liang Na to usher Ren Jingyi inside.

Tao Long stepped forward to follow, but Liang Na raised a hand, her fingers subtly curling in a silent command. "Not you," her meaning was clear without words.

Tao Long frowned. "Oh? And why not?"

Liang Na merely smiled, unyielding. "Because I said so."

Ren Jingyi didn't wait to hear whatever smart remark Tao Long had prepared. Her focus was ahead.

She stepped into the dimly lit chamber and immediately noticed the tension in the air.

Her Master sat casually, yet there was an unmistakable seriousness in his expression. Across from him, Governor Ren Jin—who had seemed so composed before—was biting his thumbnail, clearly deep in thought. Meanwhile, Jiang Zhen, the man who had once introduced himself as a kind uncle and a friend of her supposed-to-be mother, was scowling.

The topic of their argument was clear.

"…The demons are still a looming threat. Even if we cut off the immediate dangers, there's no telling what remnants still fester in the shadows," Jiang Zhen said grimly.

Ren Jingyi felt revulsion twist in her gut at the mere mention of demons, but she quickly composed herself. She wasn't here to dwell on old wounds.

The conversation abruptly halted as all three men turned their gazes toward her.

Feeling the weight of their attention, she hesitated only for a moment before speaking.

"Did I come in a bad time?"

Master Da Wei's gaze softened as he shook his head. "No." His voice was gentle.

Jiang Zhen exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's fine. We should adjourn for now anyway."

Ren Jin nodded in agreement, though he looked like he still had more to say. Even so, the discussion was over for now.

Before Ren Jingyi could process any of it, her Master was already by her side. His hand found hers, warm and steady, and without another word, he led her toward the door.

She glanced back as they stepped out. Liang Na and Tao Long were nowhere to be seen. That struck her as odd, but her curiosity quickly shifted to something more pressing.

Her Master's expression.

The night air was cool against her face as they walked in silence. The weight of unspoken thoughts lingered between them.

After a moment, Ren Jingyi hesitated, then softly uttered, "Master…"

Da Wei turned to her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You used to call me 'His Eminence.' Didn't you? What changed?"

Ren Jingyi's cheeks burned. "H-How did you know?"

His smile deepened. "Hei Mao would tell me stories of your conversations."

Ren Jingyi's steps faltered. "T-traitor… He's a traitor…"

Da Wei laughed.

Back then, when she was still just a fish, only Hei Mao could truly talk to her. Her Master had a method to communicate as well, but she had been too shy to respond. Learning the Common tongue had been difficult, and by the time she could finally use Qi Speech, so much had already changed.

With a weak mutter, she finally confessed, "After everything that happened… I thought I was being left behind. So, like the others… I wanted to call you Master too."

Da Wei's steps slowed. He didn't say anything right away, but the hand holding hers gave a reassuring squeeze.

The courtyard was quiet, save for the distant rustling of trees. The cool night breeze carried the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers, but Ren Jingyi hardly noticed. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

Her Master stood beside her, arms crossed, gazing up at the barely visible stars. Then, as if speaking more to the night than to her, he said, "I'll try to bring them back."

Ren Jingyi's breath hitched. "Really?" she asked, eyes wide with hope.

Da Wei blinked, then shook his head. "No," he corrected himself. "Rather than try, I'll definitely do it." He turned to her, his usual carefree smile forming. "I'll find a way."

For some reason, hearing him say that filled her with confidence.

"Big Sister Gu Jie?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Da Wei affirmed. "I'll definitely bring her back."

"…Even the annoying Ren Xun?"

He laughed. "Even him."

"What about Big Bro Lu Gao?"

"Still plenty alive," Da Wei remarked. "So don't go killing him off just yet."

Ren Jingyi let out a small chuckle, the first one in what felt like forever.

Then, after a moment of hesitation, she asked the one question she wasn't sure she wanted answered. "What about… Traitor Hei Mao?"

Da Wei's smile faded. His expression turned serious, the lightheartedness vanishing like mist in the morning sun. He met her gaze and said firmly, "Yes. Even Hei Mao."

Ren Jingyi bit her lip. She wanted to believe him.

Slowly, she fiddled with her Storage Ring, fingers grazing the cool surface.

Da Wei shifted beside her. "Can you bring them out?" he asked, voice quieter now. "Gu Jie and Ren Xun."

Ren Jingyi swallowed hard. Then, with a solemn nod, she reached into her Storage Ring and, with a thought, brought out their yet-to-rot cadavers.

The sight of them made her chest ache.

As she looked down at their lifeless forms, she wished—deep in her heart—that their small, dysfunctional family would be whole again.

Chapter 110

None of the items I had in my possession worked.

Phoenix Feather. Nothing. Not even a flicker of life.

Resurrection Stone. Dissolved into useless dust.

Elixir of Resurrection. A mere golden droplet sizzling away like water on hot iron.

Liquid of Revival. No reaction.

Starussertion. The rarest, most expensive revival catalyst I had ever owned… and still, nothing.

I refused to panic. I had one last measure—one that shouldn't fail.

I took a deep breath and invoked Divine Word: Raise.

Silence.

The world didn't shake. No golden light enveloped their bodies. No breath returned to their lungs.

Nothing.

It was a slap in the face.

But more than that, it was terrifying.

It told me just how out of my depth I truly was. How foolish I had been to think a few legendary artifacts and divine invocations were enough to defy death itself in this world. 

No wonder Shenyuan's moniker was the "One True Death," huh?

I closed my eyes for a moment, swallowing the bitter frustration rising in my throat. Then, I carefully recovered their cadavers and stored them in my Item Box.

When I turned to Ren Jingyi, I expected to see despair or anger—some reflection of what I felt. But she only looked a little more glum than when we started.

And then, to my surprise, she smiled.

"I believe in you, Master," she said softly.

I blinked.

A moment passed before I reached out and gently patted her head. "Thanks," I murmured.

Even with everything happening around us, even after seeing me fail so utterly… she still smiled.

And for some reason, that alone made me feel just a little stronger.

In my Divine Sense, I sensed someone approaching us.

Yue Ruo was looking mildly chafed as if she had been interrupted from something important—or perhaps something frustrating. Or maybe she was just pissed at me for being unable to protect her son.

"Honorable guest," she greeted me, her tone polite but lacking warmth. A stark contrast to the last time I was here, when she had addressed me as Young Master with a more accommodating demeanor.

Her gaze flickered toward Ren Jingyi, who shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

I decided to ease the tension. "Jingyi, Lady Ruo is a nice woman," I said, keeping my voice light. "Though she and her husband tend to act like rabbits."

Yue Ruo let out a perfectly timed cough, feigning innocence.

Ren Jingyi blinked, her eyes bouncing between me and Yue Ruo, utterly lost. "Rabbits…?" she echoed, her voice laced with confusion.

I smirked but said nothing more. No need to explain things that weren't meant for children's ears.

Yue Ruo, regaining her composure, clasped her hands together. "I have come to escort you to your resting chambers."

I glanced at her, then at Ren Jingyi, who still looked a little wary. This woman was technically the Lady of the City, but the true power rested with her husband, Governor Ren Jin. Still, the fact that she personally came to attend to us said a lot about Yellow Dragon City's stance—or perhaps even the Emperor's.

Whether it was a show of respect or a way to keep me under watch, I'd have to figure out.

Still, there was a more important matter at hand.

I sighed inwardly, steadying myself before speaking. "Lady Ruo, I apologize… for being unable to protect your son."

Yue Ruo's expression didn't waver. "Ren Xun made his choice," she said, her tone measured. "My husband and I… we encouraged it, but ultimately, it was his decision. The fact that he was able to be of service to you—" she inhaled softly, her voice steadying, "—was enough."

I maintained a neutral expression, but inside, I was too aware of the lie she was telling. Through my Divine Sense, I could tell. The truth lay beneath the surface, beneath her composure. Pain. Regret. The grief of a mother who had lost her child.

"I have his body," I offered, my voice even. In my mind, I hesitated. I'd rather keep it. Not out of selfishness, but because I believed—or maybe I was just being arrogant—that only I could bring him back. That only I had a real chance at undoing his death.

Before Yue Ruo could respond, Ren Jingyi suddenly raised her voice.

"Don't worry, miss! My Master can bring Ren Xun back to life, no worries! His Eminence is mighty and powerful! He can do everything! My Master's the greatest!"

I blinked. What.

Ren Jingyi's enthusiasm was infectious, her tiny face full of unshakable confidence. What made it even worse was how she kept switching between Master and His Eminence, as if she couldn't decide which title fit me best.

I messed with her hair, ruffling it playfully. "Easy there, little goldfish. You're making me sound like a god."

Ren Jingyi pouted, swatting at my hand. "But it's true! Master is almighty!" 

Adorable? Absolutely. Embarrassing? Even more so.

Then, Yue Ruo chuckled. A rare, harsh sound that quickly turned into a cough.

I sighed, stepping forward and instinctively rubbing her back. I considered using a spell to help, but she raised a hand, signaling for me to stop.

"Thank you," she rasped between coughs. "I've never had a laugh like that before."

Ren Jingyi frowned in confusion. "But… it wasn't a laughing matter?"

I sighed again. This girl…

Yue Ruo shook her head, her expression composed but her eyes betraying a deeper emotion. "You may keep Ren Xun by your side… as long as you do not cease in your efforts to bring him back."

I raised a brow, genuinely surprised. Did she hear this from Ren Jin? The last time I spoke with the Governor, I had told him the truth—well, half of it, at least. I left out the part about how the Emperor's invitation had been an elaborate ploy to maneuver me into a confrontation with Shenyuan. Some things were better left unsaid.

Still, I nodded. "I promise."

Yue Ruo led us through the dimly lit halls, her presence refined yet oddly comforting. Finally, we arrived at the resting chamber. The moment we stopped, I turned to her and Ren Jingyi. "I'll take my leave here."

Ren Jingyi blinked. "Where are you going, Master?"

"Business," I smirked.

Yue Ruo clapped her hands lightly. "Then leave Ren Jingyi to me. I shall keep her company."

I inclined my head slightly. "Thanks for playing babysitter."

At the word babysitter, Ren Jingyi huffed, her small face scrunching up in protest. "I am not a baby!"

"Meh… you're still a baby," I teased, reaching out to flick her forehead.

She pouted, rubbing the spot. "I am not! And I know what babysitter means, too!"

That made me pause. I tilted my head, genuinely impressed. "Huh. Not bad for a goldfish."

Ren Jingyi huffed again but didn't argue. I chuckled, giving her one last ruffle of her hair before turning on my heel and stepping away.

Time to take care of business.

I channeled my Egress spell, and in the next instant, the world blurred. The pull of space warped around me, and when it settled, I found myself before the towering Imperial Capital Gates.

Huh. It looked like the game mechanic of only being able to teleport to gates with the Egress spell remained true in this world.

I hadn't thought much about it before, but now that I did, it made sense. The spell never let me appear inside cities—only at their designated entry points. Security measure? Rule of the world? Whatever the case, I didn't have many opportunities to use this spell anyway. Spatial travel was convenient, but with so many unknowns in this world, I couldn't rely on it too much.

"Hello? I can sense you by the way… Can I come in?"

Massive walls stretched into the night sky, their stone surfaces etched with ancient runes that shimmered faintly under the silver moonlight. The Imperial Seal was embedded in the center of the colossal gate, golden inscriptions glowing softly, exuding an oppressive, majestic aura. Just like in Yellow Dragon City, it was night here as well—though the Imperial Capital never truly slept. Through my Divine Sense, I could see what it was like in the inside… Lanterns bathed the streets in flickering light, and the distant hum of life echoed from beyond the walls.

A voice called out, sharp and commanding. "Who goes there?"

I turned to see a guard stepping forward. His Seventh Realm cultivation didn't intimidate me one bit. He wore imperial armor, its gleaming metal adorned with intricate engravings of dragons. His aura flared slightly, a silent warning.

Before I could speak, a breeze stirred beside me. A figure descended gracefully from the sky, her white robes billowing like clouds under the moonlight.

Xin Yune.

Her presence was serene yet authoritative. The faint medicinal fragrance that clung to her was unmistakable. I had only known her as a skilled physician, but from Ren Jin, I had learned her true title—the Divine Physician.

She turned to the guard, her voice calm yet firm. "Stand down. The one beside me is a guest of His Majesty."

The guard stiffened at her words, his gaze shifting between us. Finally, he bowed, stepping aside.

"Welcome to the Imperial Capital, honored guest of His Majesty. May the heavens shine favorably upon your stay."

Then, turning to Xin Yune, he lowered his head even further, almost to a bow.

"Divine Physician, this humble one is honored to witness your grace once more. If there is anything you require, simply command it, and it shall be done."

Xin Yune waved a dismissive hand. "No need for the formalities, just do your job properly."

"Of course, my lady!" The guard stepped aside, making way for us.

The gates creaked open, revealing the grand streets of the Imperial Capital bathed in the dim glow of lanterns. The city was just as alive at night as Yellow Dragon City, though the atmosphere here was different—orderly, disciplined, and unnervingly perfect.

As we stepped inside, our pace slowed to a leisurely walk. I turned to Xin Yune. "Sorry for suddenly leaving like that. Hope the Emperor doesn't mind."

Xin Yune glanced at me, her expression unreadable. "He probably doesn't."

I raised a brow. "Why the 'probably'?"

She smirked. "You tell me. Since when did you care about politeness?"

I shrugged. "You healed me. That's enough to show you a bit of respect."

"What about the Emperor then?" she asked, amusement flickering in her eyes.

I let out a dry chuckle. "Respect is earned."

Xin Yune hummed, then remarked, "If it weren't for the Emperor, you'd probably still be trapped in Hell, with no way of returning."

I gave her a sideways glance, lips curling in a half-smile. "I'm fairly certain it was the Emperor who put me in that situation in the first place."

Xin Yune outright laughed. "Your insight is sharp. That was indeed the case."

I frowned. "You'd just admit it so openly? Won't you be in trouble?"

She shrugged. "If I was going to get in trouble for saying that, I'd already be in trouble. Since I just said it now and nothing happened, that means he doesn't care."

I clicked my tongue. "What a casual way of admitting to scheming."

As we walked deeper into the city, Xin Yune began listing off the rules of the Imperial Capital.

"No flying unless you're part of the High Imperial Guard or have a permit."

Reasonable.

"No killing."

Also reasonable.

"No using of spells."

Alright. Restrictive, but fine.

Then she added, "And absolutely no littering, public indecency, or, most importantly—no shitting on the road."

I stopped walking.

"…What?"

Xin Yune kept a straight face. "No shitting on the road. That's an offense punishable by public flogging."

I stared at her, waiting for her to say she was joking.

She didn't.

"…What kind of city needs a law like that?"

She sighed. "You'd be surprised."

Okay. I had long stopped thinking this world was some barbaric backwater. In fact, I'd grown to appreciate the little things it had to offer—the intricate craftsmanship, the cuisine, the martial arts, and yes, even its strange laws.

But still…

Hearing the word "shitting" come out of Xin Yune's mouth had been both a shock and a strangely humbling experience. A beauty like her, one of the highest-ranking healers in the world, casually talking about public defecation? It was almost surreal.

But more than that, something about the way she said it rubbed me the wrong way.

I frowned. "Hold on."

Xin Yune tilted her head. "What?"

I squinted at her. "Why did you feel the need to specifically tell me not to shit on the road?"

She blinked. Then, a smirk tugged at her lips. "No reason."

No reason my ass.

I suddenly felt a deep, unsettling sense of self-awareness. Was this how I had been treating other people? Looking down on them, assuming they were incapable of understanding things just because they weren't from my world?

Maybe this was karma.

I sighed. "For the record, I'm not that kind of person."

"Good to know." Xin Yune chuckled.

I clicked my tongue. "Anyways, before we see the Emperor, can you take me somewhere to pick up my armor?"

Xin Yune's playful expression faded into something softer. She stared at me for a moment, then gave a quiet nod.

"Sure."

Chapter 111

Lu Gao opened his eyes.

Sand. Everywhere.

The golden dunes stretched endlessly before him, the wind sweeping grains into the air like a fine mist. Heat radiated from the ground beneath him, and his skin burned under the merciless sun. His last memory flickered like a cruel dream—pain, searing pain. Blue flames licking at his flesh. A woman with pink hair. Another with blonde. And then—

That monster.

Twin moons, each with grotesque, unblinking eyes. Arms sprouting from maws too horrific to describe. A nightmare given form, a horror that refused to fade from his mind. And then, it had shifted—warped—until it took on a humanoid form, its many faces merging, twisting, staring.

A sharp pang shot through Lu Gao's skull. He groaned, gripping his forehead as he forced himself upright. His limbs felt like lead. Half of his clothes had been torn away, leaving his chest exposed to the elements. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, his ribs protesting with every movement. He coughed, his throat raw, and then—

Blood. Thick and dark, it splattered onto the sand beneath him.

"Cure."

The word was spoken softly, but with clarity. A spell. A familiar one.

Lu Gao's gaze snapped toward the source of the voice. A woman stood before him, her pristine white robes barely disturbed by the wind. Blonde hair framed her serene face, and her emerald eyes gleamed with quiet focus. The warmth of healing magic spread through him, soothing his battered body, knitting wounds that he hadn't even realized he had.

But Lu Gao did not relax. His instincts screamed at him—Enemy! Enemy!

He tried to move, to push himself away, but a firm grip landed on his shoulder.

His vision spun as he turned his head. Another woman, this one with striking pink hair and deep crimson eyes, gazed down at him. There was no hostility in her expression, but there was something unreadable—something that kept him frozen.

His breaths came shallow. His mind reeled. Where was he? Who were they? His body refused to obey his frantic will, leaving him vulnerable beneath their scrutiny.

Then, they spoke.

Not to him. To each other.

Their words were fluid, unfamiliar. A language he had never heard before.

He could only watch, caught in a daze, his heart hammering in his chest as the two women conversed in hushed tones, their gazes occasionally drifting toward him.

Slowly, the memories seeped into Lu Gao's mind, filling the gaps left by pain and exhaustion.

The battle—he had fought alongside his Master. Himself, under the effects of Divine Possession, had stood beside these two women. There was familiarity in their movements, an ease in their coordination that suggested they weren't just allies by chance.

They knew his Master.

The realization brought little comfort. His Master had many secrets—too many for Lu Gao to unravel. And right now, that knowledge did nothing to explain where he was or why he was still alive.

Before he could dwell further, a voice cut through his thoughts.

A deep, rasping cackle.

"Do you want power?"

Lu Gao blinked. The voice hadn't come from the women. It had come from—

His gaze dropped, and there it was. A skull, strapped to the pink-haired woman's waist, yellowed by sand and cracked with age. Its hollow sockets flickered with eerie blue flames.

"Riches? Bitches?"

Lu Gao felt his headache worsen.

The flames within the skull's eyes flared as it continued, its words flowing in a Qi-infused cadence that vibrated through his bones.

"Tell me, mortal—what is your deepest desire? Strength beyond measure? Wealth untold? Love eternal? I can grant it all. You need only do one thing—"

The temperature around Lu Gao seemed to drop. A weight pressed upon him, unseen but suffocating.

"Accept me as your Master!"

A long silence stretched between them. The skull waited. The women said nothing. The wind howled across the dunes.

Lu Gao, however, could only think of one thing.

If I could talk right now, I'd tell this damn skull to fuck off.

His expression remained blank, unenthused, unimpressed.

The skull was undeterred.

"Ah, I see. You are a man of refined taste. Mere words are not enough to sway you," it mused, the blue flames in its sockets flickering with amusement. "Then let me show you!"

The temperature around Lu Gao shifted again. This time, it wasn't a chill but a creeping sensation, like invisible fingers crawling up his spine. His mind buzzed as an image was forced into his thoughts—visions of a throne carved from the bones of his enemies, treasures beyond imagination piled at his feet, and beauties draped around him, their gazes filled with adoration.

"You can have it all. Wealth. Power. Women. A life free of hardship. Accept me, and I will carve your destiny into the stars themselves!"

Lu Gao would have groaned if he had the strength. Instead, he shut his eyes, doing his best to ignore the damn skull.

Meanwhile, the two women were caught in a heated discussion, their voices rising in a language he couldn't understand. The pink-haired woman's expression darkened, her crimson eyes narrowing as she gestured sharply toward him. The blonde-haired woman's response was calm but firm, her emerald gaze unyielding as she countered.

From their tones alone, it was clear—they were arguing.

Lu Gao's headache worsened. He was stuck between a tempting, scheming skull and two women locked in an intense debate, neither of whom seemed aware of the spiritual artifact trying to manipulate him.

"Still hesitant? Ah, you are truly wise! But you see, I am not just offering power. No, no, no. I am offering freedom. You will never bow again, never suffer indignity. You will be the one others kneel to!"

Lu Gao's patience, thin as it already was, was now nonexistent.

If I could move, he thought, I'd punt this damn skull into the desert.

"Ah… Such hesitation. Such doubt!" the skull drawled, its eerie blue flames flickering with mockery. "You are wise indeed, but let me illuminate your path, my future king."

Lu Gao's jaw clenched.

"Look upon them," the skull continued, its tone shifting into something archaic, almost regal. "These women—you see them arguing, don't you? Do you know why? Because they are my slaves. Yes, mine. And they bicker because they are unworthy, unable to comprehend the true grandeur of my will. But you… you, Lu Gao, are different. You can have them too—if only you accept me."

Lu Gao inhaled slowly, his eyes drifting toward the two women.

They were still engaged in their heated discussion, their voices rising and falling in a language he didn't understand. The pink-haired woman looked especially agitated, her crimson eyes ablaze with frustration. The blonde-haired woman remained calm but resolute, her expression unyielding. They seemed completely unaware of the scheming skull.

Lu Gao then realized something.

He could hear the skull, yes. But now, he could reply.

A thin thread of Qi connected him to the skull, a link subtle enough that he hadn't noticed it earlier. His fingers twitched as he tested the connection, his mind whirling.

A choice lay before him.

Frankly, he was conflicted.

He trusted his Master. That much was absolute. But these two women? No. Trusting them was too soon, too risky. It didn't matter how familiar they seemed with his Master. For all he knew, they were acting. Feigning closeness.

After all, they had ambushed them.

Even if they were friends with his Master, such ties could shift like the wind. Cultivators were fickle. Alliances changed. Betrayal was common.

And yet…

Lu Gao was no fool.

The skull was suspicious—far too suspicious.

He was already at a disadvantage, trapped in an unknown land with two powerful women whose motives he couldn't fully discern. Adding a scheming, Qi-infused skull to the mix? That was just asking for trouble.

No. Between suspicious and overly suspicious, the choice was obvious.

So, he ignored the skull.

The ancient relic, however, refused to be ignored.

"Ah, but do you not see? You hesitate because you lack vision! Allow me to correct that."

Its flames flared once more, and its tone grew poetic, almost theatrical.

"Ballads shall be sung of your name, Lu Gao! The world will tremble beneath your might! You shall sit upon a throne forged from the bones of your enemies, draped in the silks of celestial maidens, your enemies weeping at your feet as they beg for mercy you will never grant!"

Lu Gao didn't even blink.

The skull's flames dimmed slightly, as if confused by his lack of reaction.

Still, it continued, its words now flowing like a grand prophecy.

"Oh, the future we could weave together! Kingdoms shall rise and fall at your whim! The heavens themselves shall bow before you! If only—if only, my dear Lu Gao—you would accept me as your Master!"

Lu Gao narrowed his eyes.

Really?

Really?

A talking skull was trying to seduce him with ballads?

Suspicious.

Really fucking suspicious.

Lu Gao remained as still as possible, his mind set on ignoring the skull's increasingly desperate attempts to lure him in. Unfortunately, the damn thing refused to give up.

"Ah, but my dear Lu Gao—surely you can feel it? The boundless potential within you? Accept me, and I shall unlock it! Unleash it! Mold you into a god among men! Come now, don't be shy! Take my ha—"

A sharp snap echoed through the air.

The skull screamed.

Lu Gao's head jerked toward the pink-haired woman. Her hand moved through the air in a deliberate motion, fingers curling like she was grasping something unseen. The skull convulsed at her waist, its eerie blue flames flickering wildly.

"Aghh! Mistress, please! I was only—AAAAH! Mistress, NO!—Wait! YES! More! Ahhh~!"

Lu Gao winced.

What the fuck?

The blonde-haired woman, seemingly realizing what was happening, shot the pink-haired woman a sharp look before raising her hand. Another gesture, another snap, and the skull shrieked again.

"Ohhh~! Yes! Yes, punish me, mistresses! I've been so bad! Ahhh~!"

Lu Gao's stomach turned.

He had seen many horrors in his life. The battlefield was ruthless, and cultivators had little regard for morality. But this? This was something different. Something vile.

Something disgusting.

His eye twitched as the skull continued moaning obscenely, its voice emoting in fluent Common, while the two women—clearly unable to understand the language—kept punishing it with deadpan expressions.

Lu Gao wanted to die.

He'd take the desert heat. The unknown landscape. The fact that he was bound by some unknown spell. Anything but this.

Then, cutting through the madness, a familiar voice echoed in his ears.

His Master's voice.

A sensation like warm Qi wrapped around his mind, a gentle yet firm presence anchoring him. Through the miracle of Qi Speech, his Master spoke.

"Lu Gao."

Lu Gao exhaled sharply, tension leaving his shoulders. His Master's Qi Speech had always felt miraculous—intimate in a way no spoken language could ever replicate.

"How are you faring?"

Lu Gao let out a dry laugh in his mind.

"Not so great, Master," he admitted. "I'm bound by some spell, stranded in a desert, and these women aren't particularly friendly."

There was silence. Lu Gao could feel his Master thinking—a quiet contemplation that hummed through the Qi thread between them.

Finally, his Master responded.

"Cooperate with them. They are friendly."

Lu Gao frowned.

"I don't know about that, Master."

His Master didn't answer immediately. Lu Gao could sense the weight of consideration before the next words came.

"Stay calm. I will converse with them."

Lu Gao sighed. His gut still twisted with unease, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that his Master rarely made mistakes.

Still…

His eyes flicked toward the two women, who continued their silent yet thorough punishment of the skull.

The artifact, meanwhile, was still moaning in bliss.

Lu Gao's doubt remained.

The women stopped.

Their argument died down, their gazes shifting as if listening to something unseen.

Lu Gao narrowed his eyes. His Master was speaking to them now.

That much was clear.

The pink-haired woman crossed her arms, her crimson eyes flickering with something unreadable, while the blonde-haired woman simply nodded, her expression calm but serious. They exchanged a few more words in their unknown tongue, their tones softer now, before turning their focus back to him.

Then—

"Ahem."

The skull cleared its nonexistent throat, its flames dimming as it spoke in that same language, the one Lu Gao couldn't quite place. The two women listened, their expressions neutral, before one of them—most likely the pink-haired one—let out a scoff.

A moment later, the skull turned to him.

"Well, well. It seems I shall be your translator, my dear Lu Gao, bridging the divide between you and my slaves."

Lu Gao blinked.

Then, with cautious movement, he flexed his fingers.

He could move again.

His jaw ached, stiff from disuse, and his arms felt as though they had been bound for hours. He rolled his shoulders, stretching out the lingering tension.

The skull, apparently taking this as an invitation to continue, spoke in a much more subdued tone than before.

"My slaves feel rather sorry for how they treated you, considering the circumstances."

Lu Gao scoffed.

He turned his head, fixing the skull with a flat, unimpressed stare.

"You know I know they aren't your slaves, right?"

The skull shrugged—or at least, it somehow felt like it shrugged.

"Do you have proof?" it asked, its hollow sockets gleaming with mischief. "Let me have my fun, you insufferable buffoon! Or do you want me to sunder your soul from where you stand?"

A chill ran down Lu Gao's spine.

He wouldn't admit it—not even under the threat of death—but he was intimidated.

There was something in the way the skull spoke now. The air around it seemed heavier, as if the weight of countless forgotten years pressed down upon it. It was a fleeting thing, a shift so brief that it was almost imperceptible.

Almost.

Lu Gao kept his expression blank, unwilling to let the damn thing know it had rattled him, but deep inside, a quiet, nagging thought took root.

Just what was this artifact?

Chapter 112

"So, where to now?" I asked, glancing at Xin Yune.

She smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Follow me."

Without another word, she strode forward, weaving her way into the depths of the city's backstreets. It didn't take long before I found myself trailing behind her through a maze of hidden alleys. The paths twisted and turned in ways that would have normally confused me, but with my Divine Sense combined with my Will Reinforcement cultivation, I quickly understood the function of the wards and hidden talismans surrounding us.

The pathways weren't just random—each turn followed a deliberate pattern, like a lock being undone. The spiritual energy of the formations shifted subtly as we moved, almost as if acknowledging Xin Yune's presence.

Eventually, we arrived at what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. Inside, the place reeked of dust and neglect. The wooden beams were cracked, and the faint scent of rust lingered in the air. But I had seen enough deceiving appearances to know better than to judge too quickly.

Xin Yune turned to me, a knowing smile on her face. She seemed to be waiting for something.

I frowned. "What is this supposed to be?"

She simply shrugged. "Wait for it."

A second passed.

"Wait for it," she repeated, her grin widening.

I opened my mouth to retort, "Is this some kind of elevator—"

Before I could finish my sentence, a burst of rainbow lights erupted beneath our feet. The brilliance swallowed us whole, the sensation eerily familiar. It reminded me of the warp function from the Floating Dragon. Damn, I missed that boat.

The next moment, the light faded, and we were somewhere completely different.

A hidden facility stretched before us, filled with people clad in black and white robes. Each figure wore a veil and a strange headcap, giving them an air of secrecy. The atmosphere buzzed with restrained energy, an undercurrent of purpose in every movement.

I exhaled slowly, taking it all in. This wasn't just some forgotten corner of the city. No, this place had a purpose. If I had to compare it to something, it felt like a weapons or technology research facility—the kind of place where breakthroughs happened in secret, away from prying eyes.

The people moving through the corridors carried themselves with quiet efficiency, their black-and-white robes contrasting against the metallic sheen of the walls. Strange devices flickered with ethereal energy, while subtle runic inscriptions pulsed beneath my feet, reinforcing the structure with layers of enchantments.

This wasn't just a hidden bunker—it was a nerve center, a place where the cutting edge of technology and cultivation met.

Xin Yune gestured forward with a flourish. "How about a little tour?"

I crossed my arms. "What's this place?" My voice was edged with impatience. "I just want my damn gear back."

My Wandering Adjudicator armor never really needed repairs in the first place. It had been crafted with self-repairing properties—one of the few things I could rely on. It wasn't something just anyone could tamper with.

Xin Yune sighed, as if indulging a stubborn child. "It's only been a few days since you fell unconscious, you know."

I blinked. "A few days?"

"With precision—sixty-eight hours and fifty minutes." Her voice was smooth, matter-of-fact, yet there was a certain satisfaction in her tone. "And before you ask, yes, I was here the whole time." A beat passed before she added, "I watched you sleep all the way."

I frowned.

There it was—that deliberate wording. She was doing this on purpose, trying to make me uncomfortable. And yet, for all her teasing, she had gone out of her way to accommodate me. That much was clear.

Shaking off the weirdness of the moment, I focused on the more pressing matter. "So, my armor?"

"The researchers found something interesting." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "The self-replicating durability of your armor—they estimated it would take about a week to fully repair itself. But, thanks to a little technological boost, they managed to accelerate the process. You can pick it up whenever you want."

I nodded slowly. That was good news.

But then she smirked. "Of course, you could just take your armor and go." She tilted her head, watching me. "Or you could take this once-in-a-lifetime chance to see something very few ever do."

I exhaled through my nose, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. She made it sound like she was doing me a grand favor. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious. The civilization here was vastly different from what I had grown up with, and even more advanced in certain ways than the world of LLO. Seeing how far their technology had come—how it compared to everything I knew—was tempting.

"…Fine," I muttered. "Show me."

Xin Yune grinned, eyes twinkling. "That's the spirit."

Should I be pissed that my gear had been touched by others? Absolutely.

But I bottled it up, saving it for when I finally confronted the Emperor.

I was so damn close to losing all of my patience and just storming his palace. But that would be biting off more than I could chew. As much as I wanted to, it wasn't the right time.

I had priorities.

The thought of wanting to go home had become more and more of an afterthought. The way I saw it, life in this world was going to be terrible for me, no matter how much power I held. What was the point of strength if the bonds I formed could be so easily severed by death?

It wasn't like I could just turn them into immortals and be done with it.

I exhaled through my nose and pushed the thought aside. For now, I needed my armor.

"Before you give me the grand tour," I said, crossing my arms, "I want to pick up my armor first."

Xin Yune nodded without hesitation. "Understood. I'll lead the way."

The rooms around us were divided by wooden and paper doors, each adorned with intricate paintings. Some depicted grand battlefields, others landscapes of serene beauty, and a few bore symbols I didn't recognize. The artistry was impressive, but it also felt like each door held a story, a meaning only the people here would understand.

Xin Yune explained as we walked. "The area we've been warped into is randomized. No two arrivals share the same location."

I raised a brow. "Why?"

"For security," she replied casually. "Every personnel here is keyed into a specific room meant for them. If someone unauthorized ended up here, well…" She trailed off with an amused glint in her eye. "Let's just say they wouldn't get very far."

Clever. If someone tried infiltrating, they'd be lost in a labyrinth before anyone even knew they were inside.

As we turned another corner, a question pressed at the back of my mind. "What's your position here?" I asked. "Or rather, what exactly are you to the Empire?"

She smiled. "A freelancer."

I scoffed. "So, what? You wouldn't die for the Emperor or anything?"

Xin Yune let out an actual scoff of her own. "I'm a physician, not a soldier." She flicked her sleeves, as if the idea was absurd. "Besides, like I said, I'm a freelancer. I work for the Emperor—not worship him."

Again, not a single lie.

We walked past another set of rooms before curiosity got the better of me. "How old are you?"

She grimaced, whipping her head toward me like I had just committed an atrocity.

"That," she said, her voice flat, "is overly rude."

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously?"

"You should be careful asking women their age," she chided, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

I sighed, letting the topic drop. By now, we had already made several turns. This place really was a maze.

"…Alright," I said, shifting the subject, "how old is the Emperor, then?"

Xin Yune didn't hesitate. "He should be 1,268 years old."

I frowned. "That's oddly specific."

She gave me a knowing look. "By the way, that information is Class 4 knowledge."

I grimaced. Beyond doubt, this woman was an eccentric.

As we walked, Xin Yune continued her rambling, as if enjoying the sound of her own voice.

"The Emperor is actually fairly young compared to the real powerhouses that move the world," she remarked. "You should be a bit nicer to him."

I scoffed. "Nicer?"

She nodded, an amused glint in her eyes. "He's basically an infant compared to you."

That made me pause. "Compared to me?" I frowned. "And just how old do you think I am?"

Xin Yune hummed, her gaze flicking over me as if she were analyzing my very essence. "Well," she said, tapping her chin, "based on your body's condition, its structure, and the residual traces of energy within your cells… I'd estimate you're somewhere between twelve thousand to thirteen thousand years old."

I almost laughed in her face. She was way off.

Or so I thought.

Then it hit me.

From David_69's perspective… that wasn't so much the case.

I had been playing LLO since its beta phase, back when the game was still in its infancy. Fun days. The devs and mods actually made an effort to communicate with the player base, so it was pretty engaging.

The problem?

They were a bunch of chunni.

It was fun, while it lasted.

However, at some point, the game devs, mods, and staff just stopped communicating with the player base. If not for there monthly update of the game, most of the players at that time would have suspected them either dead or just gone.

But still…

"Am I really that old?"

"Yes," remarked Xin Yune in a deadpan tone. "You are an old bastard."

I groaned inwardly. If I started taking game-time into account, Xin Yune's estimate wasn't as ridiculous as I first thought.

Before I could respond, we arrived at a room. A single six-by-six-meter space, plain and unassuming. At its center stood my Wandering Adjudicator armor, displayed on a wooden dummy. A researcher circled it, sketching something in a notebook.

I frowned. Had they been studying my armor?

Before I could say anything, the researcher finally noticed us.

His gaze snapped to me, then to Xin Yune.

And then he sneered.

"Do you mind?" he snapped, his voice dripping with irritation. "I was in the middle of actual research before you two came stomping in here like a pair of buffoons."

I raised an eyebrow.

He wasn't done.

"First, some glorified physician drags in some unconscious nobody, and now you're back? Again?" He scoffed. "I swear, people have no respect for academia these days."

I exhaled slowly. This guy was testing me.

With a quick sweep of my Divine Sense, I immediately understood what I was dealing with.

This guy was at the Seventh Realm. His cultivation was a notch higher than Hei Yuan, the elder of the Shadow Clan.

Speaking of the Shadow Clan, I needed to find a way to resurrect the ones in my Storage Ring. Their deaths still weighed on me, and while my priorities were stacked, I wouldn't just leave them behind. If there was a way to bring them back—or at the very least, help those who remained—I'd take it.

I had already tried reviving Ren Xun and Gu Jie when I was with Ren Jingyi—and I failed.

I hadn't even tried bringing out the Shadow Clan elders' cadavers at the time.

It wasn't the right moment. Not with Ren Jingyi watching.

If I were in her place, seeing strangers come back to life while the ones I cherished remained dead… I'd be heartbroken.

I clenched my jaw and pushed the thought aside. Priorities.

Xin Yune, either unaware or just ignoring my internal conflict, gestured lazily at the researcher.

"This is the Imperial Grand Scholar, Sikao Biaoji," she introduced with a smirk. "While his fighting ability is inferior even to someone at the Fifth Realm, he's got a really good head on his shoulders."

I scanned him properly with my Divine Sense, seeing past his veil. Middle-aged, at least in physical appearance, though that meant little in a world where cultivators could live for centuries.

I didn't care much about his credentials. I just wanted my armor.

Without another word, I stepped forward and reached out toward my Wandering Adjudicator—

Smack.

I stopped, staring at my now-reddening hand.

Sikao Biaoji had taken out a fan and slapped my hand away.

That was… frankly impressive.

There was probably something special with the fan.

I slowly turned to look at him.

He sniffed, completely unfazed.

Seriously, dude?

I narrowed my eyes. "I promise," I said slowly, "you don't want this beef."

Sikao Biaoji looked at me with ridicule, like he couldn't believe what he just heard.

"What beef?" he scoffed. "I don't even eat beef! Haven't touched it since I reached the Fourth Realm!"

I sighed. This guy…

He gave off the impression of a proud researcher—the type who would take offense when questioned, or someone who would throw a tantrum for interrupting his precious work. Or maybe both.

Too bad for him, I wasn't feeling polite.

I reached forward and grabbed my Wandering Adjudicator armor, ignoring the increasingly furious look on his face.

Before he could protest, I stuffed it into my Item Box in a single motion.

And then—before his very eyes—I equipped it directly from the Item Box.

The armor settled onto my body, seamlessly hidden under the cosmetic item I was already wearing.

Sikao Biaoji's face twisted in disbelief. Then fury.

Snap!

His fan lashed out again, aiming for my hand.

This time, I was ready.

I switched my TriDivine ability from Divine Might to Divine Flesh. With sheer willpower, I redirected the reflect damage back into his fan.

Crack.

His precious fan snapped in half.

Silence.

The scholar stared at his now-ruined fan. Then at me. Then back at his fan, like he was struggling to process what just happened.

I ignored his dumbfounded look and asked, "Did you tamper with my armor?"

His expression darkened. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he snapped. "I didn't even manage to disassemble it! You think I wouldn't if I could?! I was lucky the spell formations managed to accelerate its self-repair!"

I studied him.

No lies.

That was enough for me.

Since he hadn't messed with my armor, I'd be gentle with him.

I activated Divine Word: Rest.

The effect was instantaneous.

Sikao Biaoji collapsed, falling asleep without resistance.

The Sleep status ailment was absurdly powerful in its own right—few had complete resistance to it.

I turned to Xin Yune.

"I changed my mind," I said flatly. "I don't want that tour anymore."

Chapter 113

"Let's go see the Emperor," I said.

Xin Yune nodded and pulled out a talisman. A moment later, space twisted around us, and we warped out of the facility.

The world snapped back into place.

We were back at the abandoned warehouse.

"So, to the Emperor it is," Xin Yune remarked. Then, with a casual shrug, she added, "Please don't kill His Majesty. A lot of people are gonna suffer if you do."

I glanced at her, frowning.

What?

Was she taking hostage of the common folk or something? Why the playful tone?

I could tell… this wasn't her seducing me or anything like that. She was being too carefree.

Just what was her angle?

"I'm just a Will Reinforcement cultivator," I told her.

She snorted. "We both know you're more than that, Defeater of Hell's Gate, God of War, Great Protector."

I stopped walking.

I narrowed my eyes. "What was that about?"

I vaguely remembered the Emperor calling me God of War before I lost consciousness, but I hadn't paid much attention at the time.

Xin Yune tilted her head. "The Emperor wields the Heavenly Eye. He can see into the past, present, and future. Within the Empire, the Emperor is omniscient."

I studied her carefully.

Again, not a lie.

It was getting suspicious how genuinely honest Xin Yune had been.

I exhaled sharply and turned to Xin Yune. "Are you gonna lead me to the Emperor or what?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, I changed my mind.

"You know what?" I said. "Let's put off the meeting. Find an eatery first."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh? The Defeater of Hell's Gate needs a meal break?"

I ignored the jab. There was just too much to consider after the big reveal she had thrown at me.

Omniscient? The Emperor?

That had to be an exaggeration.

…Right?

"I know a place," Xin Yune said, suddenly tugging at my sleeve and pulling me forward.

Fifteen minutes later, I was staring at an incredible spread.

Lobster. Turkey. Roasted duck. Exotic fruits and vegetables. Plates upon plates of steaming, fragrant dishes. All arranged neatly in a private room with a large window overlooking the nightlife of the Empire.

The streets outside were alive, glowing lanterns and bustling people making it feel like the city never slept.

I sat down, still processing everything.

Xin Yune smirked. "So. Eat first, existential crisis later?"

I picked up my chopsticks, tasted a bit of everything, and then slowly set them down.

I had no appetite.

Meanwhile, Xin Yune was eating without holding back, savoring every bite. She looked completely at ease, enjoying her time. Every bit of an eccentric, huh?

If we had met under different circumstances, I could imagine us becoming friends rather quickly.

I leaned back slightly, watching the city lights flicker outside the window. Hopefully, I wasn't overthinking it, but something about what she had said earlier—

"Omniscient within the Empire."

—made me uneasy.

She hadn't said it as praise. She meant it literally.

And if that were true… then the Emperor probably had the answers to my predicament.

I might not be able to see the future, but I could deduce one thing. If he was so omniscient, then he'd be able to put me under his thumb one way or another. And if not outright control, then at least ensure he could manipulate me to some extent.

He'd already proven his competence by orchestrating my collision with Shenyuan.

It was highly likely that the Emperor had also given orders to his son, Ren Jin, to make sure that Ren Xun would accommodate my every whim, giving me the illusion of free choice while steering me exactly where he wanted me to be.

Simply put, the Emperor was the kind of person who always knew which buttons to push.

…But why?

Maybe I was exaggerating things at this point, but couldn't he have just… befriended me?

Just asked me sincerely for help?

I couldn't see myself refusing if he had simply appealed to my emotions and rewarded me fairly. That was what had been baffling me ever since I realized the Emperor's scheme.

Across the table, Xin Yune paused mid-bite, watching me.

"What's the problem?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said.

Xin Yune didn't look convinced.

"You're ruining the mood," she replied, pointing at me with her chopsticks.

I exhaled through my nose, leaning back slightly.

"And," she added, tilting her head, "you're cracking your knuckles every breath you take."

I blinked and looked down at my hands.

I cracked my thumb, then my index finger.

…Huh.

I hadn't even noticed.

I glanced back at her, thinking the world was really ironic.

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

This must be karma.

For all the food trips I had gone on while someone else was stuck brooding.

For that one time, I shooed Gu Jie away when I was too busy playing with goldfish to listen to her. Well, I should have been more tactful at that time.

Ah… memories.

Xin Yune cracked the lobster shell with a casual flick of her fingers, using her cultivation as if it were second nature.

"There is no 'nothing' nothing," she insisted, pointing the lobster claw at me. "Talk."

I ignored her and changed the topic instead.

"I thought cultivators in the higher realms despised eating mortal food," I said, gesturing to the table.

A lot of the spread was just that, mortal. There was nothing special about it. No rare spirit ingredients. No divine beast meat.

Xin Yune took a bite of her lobster and shrugged.

"There's only so much in life I can enjoy," she said simply.

Then, after a brief pause, she added, "And I'm homesick."

"Me too," I admitted.

Xin Yune glanced at me but didn't say anything.

I sighed, resting my elbows on the table. If you had thousands of years' worth of memories crammed in your head, you'd feel homesick too.

It was strange—how I still identified more with the old me from Earth rather than the me from LLO, despite the latter having lived through multiple lifetimes of experience.

Made me think…

Was it the eldritch thing-y in my head messing with me?

Or was I just overthinking it?

Was it the Emperor's fault that my friends were dead?

Or was it all on Shenyuan's hands?

…Or maybe…

It was my fault all along.

I exhaled sharply.

Ah. I shouldn't go there.

The blame game was an unwinnable game.

Across the table, Xin Yune studied me carefully.

"What is it, really?" she asked. "What's troubling your mind?"

I didn't answer.

She set down her chopsticks. "You were so eager to meet His Majesty just a moment ago. What made you change your mind?"

I met her gaze.

"You should know," I said. "For all I care, your presence here is just another scheme of the Emperor. Another script, tailored to appeal to me."

Xin Yune's eyes widened slightly, then she smirked.

"You're being paranoid," she teased. "There's no such thing."

I leaned forward, fingers tapping against the table.

"How could I believe that?" I asked.

For the first time since I met her, Xin Yune's expression faltered.

Then she smiled, but it was a painful smile.

"Then ask me," she said softly.

She held my gaze, unwavering.

"You have a special power that lets you tell if it's the truth or a lie," she added. "Don't you?"

I narrowed my eyes. "How would I even know if you have an ability that lets you lie so cleverly that I wouldn't notice?"

Xin Yune shrugged. "Then ask me and determine it for yourself."

She set her hands on the table, leaning forward slightly. "What pains you greatly?"

I exhaled slowly, cracking my knuckles. This time, I was more conscious of it.

I guess this was the best I could get to therapy, huh?

Sarcasm aside… there was no real harm in telling her what I felt. In a way, she represented the Emperor, didn't she?

"I've thought about it," I admitted.

"If I stood face to face with the Emperor… would I be able to hold myself back? To not kill him, I mean? To not pop his head off?"

Xin Yune nodded. "Go on."

I scoffed inwardly.

If it were another person, they'd have lost their mind already, screaming about treason or conspiracy, as if I was even a citizen of this damn Empire.

I couldn't even confide in Jiang Zhen about this. Not because he wasn't trustworthy, but because he was simply weak. If the Emperor so much as fancied it, he could crush Jiang Zhen in an instant.

But me?

I'd be fine.

Confiding in what could pass as an uncertain ally—or even a probable enemy—was dangerous.

But at this point? I had nothing to lose.

It wasn't like I was scared of the Empire.

I survived a Hell's Gate alone. Yeah, leaving Lu Gao hanging was terrible, but the gals should be able to take care of him. That was besides the point.

What could the Empire possibly throw at me that would be worse than a Hell's Gate? Frankly speaking, they could probably do a lot worse, considering they have the power of an entire super civilization backing them and they were on home ground.

Still, I spoke.

I told Xin Yune about my experiences in the Hell's Gate, about Shenyuan, about my time in the Black Forest.

I told her about the bonds I lost that day.

I told her that while I had vented a lot of my frustration on smashing demons, a lot of my bloodlust remained—hidden, suppressed.

Xin Yune tilted her head, her gaze unreadable. "Do you want vengeance?"

I scoffed. "Not so much vengeance."

I leaned back, rubbing my temples. "I'm just… angry."

And I knew why.

Killing the Emperor—no, even considering it—wasn't just about me. It wouldn't stop at me.

Even if I could handle the backlash, the common folk wouldn't.

I could argue all day that I was raising a revolution, that I was freeing the world from a tyrant.

But the Emperor wasn't exactly a tyrant.

Oh, he was plenty tyrannical in how he handled cultivators, sure.

But what about the rest of the world?

My knowledge was limited. The things I knew could have been propaganda, either altered or twisted.

But still.

I had seen Yellow Dragon City, Ironmoor City, and the Imperial Capital.

The Imperial Capital, not so much, but enough.

Too few examples to truly judge him, but…

I had seen how Ren Jin, his son, worked.

And that…

That was complicated.

I rubbed my chin, finally realizing the truth.

I didn't really want the Emperor dead.

But I was pissed at him. So much.

Xin Yune watched me, then smirked. "Then just hit him once."

I stared at her. "What?"

She shrugged, taking a sip of her tea. "It should be fine. Maybe just a slap in the face to make it more humiliating?"

The quiet hum of the restaurant around us only amplified the absurdity of the conversation we were having. I narrowed my eyes, my voice low but firm.

"I have to ask, just to be sure… Was it the Emperor who put this in your head? Were you reading from a predetermined script? Is this all part of his manipulation?"

Xin Yune shrugged. "I wouldn't really know if His Majesty was manipulating me," she admitted, "but I stand by what I said. If you can't kill him, then hitting him should be fine."

I activated my Divine Sense, scanning for any trace of deception. Nothing. She was telling the truth. But still, I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You're serious?" I asked, incredulous. "Wouldn't you be in trouble for suggesting something so… crass?"

She didn't even look up. She simply picked up her chopsticks and continued eating, as if we were discussing the weather.

"If you kill His Majesty, the Empire would be in deep trouble," she said casually. "As the Empire's benefactor, you shouldn't do that."

She had a point. A frustratingly valid point.

Xin Yune picked her chopsticks up and returned to eating. "I can bring people back to life, sure. But I'm not so sure I could bring back an Empire. If the Emperor, who promised to live forever, were to die—even once—there would be chaos. Civil war would break out. And the Empire you saved from the imminent demon invasion via Hell's Gate would be prey to other nations."

Yeah. That had been one of my concerns too. The Seven Imperial Houses had a history drenched in blood. If the Emperor fell, they would definitely tear the Empire apart.

Xin Yune suddenly tilted her head, as if remembering something. "Oh, if you're thinking of hitting him, maybe do it in a private place."

I let out a long, exhausted sigh. "That's not really the issue here."

"I think if you ask him to let you hit him as compensation for all the trouble he caused you, he'd agree."

I scoffed. "I'm starting to think hitting him just once is too light."

Xin Yune didn't even flinch. "Then do it twice."

I gave her a look. "What exactly is your job again?"

"A freelancer."

"A freelancer physician," I corrected.

She smiled. "A freelancer Divine Physician, actually. So yeah, I think I could patch His Majesty up just fine, even if you beat him within an inch of his life."

I stared at her, stunned into silence.

Xin Yune blinked, then quickly corrected herself. "I didn't tell you to beat him within an inch of his life."

I shook my head. This woman was impossible.

"Hear me out, I didn't mean to boast, but I could bring people back to life too," I said, leaning back against the chair.

Xin Yune raised an eyebrow. "Or so I've heard," she replied, setting down her chopsticks.

I gestured across my neck with a slicing motion. "Maybe I could just… you know… in closed doors." I paused for effect. "And then revive him? Do you think he'd agree?"

This time, it was her turn to stare at me like I was the ridiculous one. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but instead of immediately shooting me down, she actually looked thoughtful. A rare sight.

Then she sighed, letting her shoulders slump as she finally put down her chopsticks for good. "I need a drink," she muttered.

I nodded in agreement. "I think I'd want some too."

Xin Yune raised a hand and waved over a waiter, her tone casual but firm. "Bring us your most expensive liquor."

The waiter hesitated for only a moment before bowing deeply and hurrying off.

I watched him leave before glancing at Xin Yune. "Didn't take you for a heavy drinker."

"I'm not," she admitted, resting her chin on one hand. "But you're making me reconsider that stance."

I smirked. "So you're saying I drive people to drink?"

"Among other things." She exhaled through her nose. "Honestly, do you really think that's a good idea? Killing the Emperor just to revive him?"

I shrugged. "Depends. I mean, if he agreed, then technically it wouldn't be murder."

Xin Yune pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's the worst justification I've ever heard."

"Well, you were the one who told me to hit him. I'm just escalating."

She gave me a deadpan look. "There's a difference between slapping a man and outright executing him, Da Wei."

I chuckled, but even as I did, I felt the weight of my own words settling in. The truth was, I didn't really know what I wanted. Did I want revenge? Did I want closure? Did I just want to punch something—someone—until this gnawing frustration inside me went away?

The waiter returned with a beautifully crafted bottle, pouring two glasses of what smelled like potent alcohol.

Xin Yune picked up her glass and held it up. "To bad ideas."

I grabbed mine and clinked it against hers. "To bad ideas."

And then we drank.

Could we even get drunk? Maybe there was a trick to it? Nah... we'd find a way... Maybe...

Chapter 115

"Walk with me," Xin Yune said.

I obliged.

Like a gentleman, I offered her my hand. She took it without hesitation, linking her arm with mine as we stepped out onto the quiet streets.

It was dawn. The sky was painted in soft hues of orange and lavender, the air still crisp with the lingering chill of night. The streets were mostly empty, save for a few early risers preparing for the day—vendors setting up stalls, street sweepers brushing away the remnants of the night before.

As we walked, she talked.

She told me about her childhood, about a time before the Grand Ascension Empire bore its current name. Back then, it was simply the Grand Empire.

"There were nine daughters," she said, her voice light but nostalgic. "And never a son."

I glanced at her. "Nine princesses, huh? That must've been… eventful."

Xin Yune chuckled. "Oh, you have no idea."

She went on, speaking about the old days, the power struggles, the traditions, the expectations placed upon them. But as she spoke, there was one thing she seemed particularly passionate about.

She scoffed. "You know, my ancestors weren't really that good with names."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's what bothers you?"

"Of course it does!" she said dramatically. "Grand Empire? How unimaginative. And then later, Nongmin just slapped Ascension onto it, like that suddenly made it grander. And don't even get me started on the city names. Imperial Capital? Really? That wasn't even a name!"

I chuckled. "I take it you would've named things differently?"

She gave me a look. "Oh, absolutely. I had an entire list when I was younger."

I smirked. "Do I even want to know?"

"You do," she assured me. "But I'm saving that for another time. If I get another time."

That last part made my smirk falter, just a little.

But she just kept walking, smiling up at the morning sky like she hadn't just reminded me that this was her final day.

"I could bring you back to life, you know?" I offered, watching her carefully.

Xin Yune shook her head. "No need," she said simply. "I've already made peace with it. And besides, you'd probably fail."

I frowned. "You sound awfully sure about that."

She smiled, but there was something knowing behind it. "Lifespan is different from life force," she remarked.

I raised an eyebrow. "And that means…?"

She sighed, clearly expecting me to not get it.

"Lifespan is the distance between life and death," she explained. "Life force is the fundamental power that gives motion and existence to all things. Even if you restore life force, it doesn't extend the distance. Once that distance reaches zero… that's it."

I opened my mouth to respond, still trying to make sense of it, but before I could, she reached over and pinched my side.

"Ow…" I stopped. Actually, I didn't feel a thing.

More importantly, she didn't get hurt either.

My Reflect ability should've rebounded the force back at her, but I had instinctively forced my willpower to suppress it. Huh. Maybe I was getting better at controlling it.

"Don't interrupt," she scolded, pulling her hand back with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes but stayed quiet.

She continued, "Even your healing spells wouldn't be able to bring me back."

"How are you so sure?" I challenged.

"Because my son already foresaw it."

That made me pause.

Before I could press further, she suddenly pointed ahead. "Oh, look! That food stall's open too early."

I followed her gaze. The scent of something deep-fried filled the air. The vendor had just finished setting up, stirring a wok filled with oil. A sign on the side read something about… fried crickets.

Xin Yune's eyes lit up. "I love fried crickets."

I stared at her. "...You what?"

I paid for her fried crickets, watching as Xin Yune took them with an almost childlike glee. She popped one into her mouth, crunching down with a satisfied hum, then sighed wistfully.

"You know, I miss the simpler days," she murmured between bites.

She leaned against the food stall, gazing at the warming sky. "Back then, my son wasn't even called Nongmin," she said absentmindedly.

I paused. "Wait… what?"

She let out a rueful chuckle. "I can't even remember his true name anymore."

That caught me off guard. I frowned. "What do you mean you don't remember?"

Xin Yune exhaled, idly shaking the paper bag of crickets as if searching for the best one. "The day my son ascended as Emperor, he cast away his true name into the void," she said. "A form of defense."

I narrowed my eyes. "Defense against what?"

She shrugged. "Divine Scrying, fate manipulation, soul bindings—things that could be used against him. Without a name, such things lose their hold."

I absorbed that for a moment. "...And the name Nongmin?"

"It means farmer or peasant, I think. He never really explained himself when he picked the name." She smiled, popping another cricket into her mouth. "Quite the irony, isn't it?"

I wasn't sure whether to scoff or nod in admiration. That was the kind of poetic nonsense an Emperor might pull.

Xin Yune continued, speaking as though recalling a story that had only happened yesterday. "In my youth, I got involved with a commoner," she said, her voice dipping into something softer, almost nostalgic.

"It was a time of strife," she went on. "The Empire was deteriorating, and no one knew what the future held. But despite that, I fell in love."

Her gaze flickered toward me with a knowing look, as if daring me to say something. I didn't.

She huffed. "The Empire was so stupidly patriarchal back then. None of my sisters were even considered eligible for the throne. But of course, our children? That was a different story."

She rolled her eyes. "Ridiculous, really."

Then, as if flipping a switch, she suddenly lit up. "Oh, but my son… oh, you should've seen him! Even as a child, he was brilliant."

And just like that, she was a proud mother bragging about her child's achievements.

"He could read by the time he was two," she said, gesturing grandly with a fried cricket in hand. "He wrote his first political treatise at five! The ministers thought he was some reincarnated sage! Ha!"

I listened, arms crossed, as Xin Yune launched into a full recounting of her son's greatest exploits, all while happily munching on fried crickets like they were the greatest delicacy in the world.

Eventually, Xin Yune finished her fried crickets, brushing off the crumbs with a satisfied sigh.

"Alright," she said, looking up at me expectantly. "Tanghulu."

I stared at her. "What?"

She gestured vaguely toward a street vendor a few stalls down. "I want tanghulu."

I sighed but walked over to buy some. Naturally, she made me pay. Again. I grabbed one for myself too. By then, the sun had risen higher, and the streets were beginning to bustle. The heat was already creeping in, so I led us toward a shaded alleyway where the air was cooler.

She took a bite of her candied hawthorn and hummed. "Mmm… I haven't had this in ages."

As she chewed, she continued reminiscing.

"When I first pushed my cultivation," she said, twirling the stick between her fingers, "I never really intended to be the Divine Physician."

I listened quietly, watching as she reveled in her memories.

"I was just desperate at first. I had a child. I had to survive." She licked the sugar glaze off her lips. "But then… the more I studied, the more I understood. And before I knew it, people started calling me the Divine Physician. Of course, after healing just enough… people."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Ridiculous title. I just didn't like seeing people die if I could help it."

As she spoke, I noticed something.

She was aging.

It wasn't sudden, nor was it drastic. But it was there. Moment to moment, her features were subtly shifting. The smoothness of her skin gave way to faint lines. The vitality in her eyes dimmed just a little. If not for her make-up, it would have been more obvious.

When we first stepped onto the streets, she could have passed for someone in her twenties, maybe early thirties. Now? Now she looked… older. Middle-aged.

Even knowing what she told me earlier, actually seeing it happen made my stomach feel oddly heavy.

Xin Yune either didn't notice or simply didn't care. She kept eating her tanghulu, eyes soft with nostalgia.

By the time noon arrived, we found ourselves in a small eatery, seated at a modest wooden table by an open window. The scent of sizzling oil and fragrant broths filled the air, mingling with the lively chatter of other patrons.

Xin Yune leaned back, stretching slightly before resting her chin on one hand. "You had a question earlier," she said. "Something about lifespans and life force?"

I nodded. "Yeah. What exactly is the difference?"

She exhaled, tapping a finger on the table. "Lifespan is the distance between life and death. It's the length of time a person is supposed to exist before the world naturally reclaims them. Life force, on the other hand, is the power that fuels a living being, the energy that lets them move, think, breathe."

I frowned. "So if someone runs out of life force, do they die?"

"Not necessarily." She shook her head. "If you run out of life force, you'll weaken, maybe fall into a coma, but you can recover. Lifespan, though… once that's gone, that's it. You don't recover lifespan."

I clenched my jaw. "That makes things difficult."

Xin Yune glanced at me. "You're thinking about someone specific, aren't you?"

I sighed. "I've lost people. Precious ones."

She said nothing, waiting for me to continue.

"I tried to bring them back," I admitted. "But it didn't work. I don't know why."

Xin Yune studied me carefully before leaning back with a soft hum. "If it was natural death, I could tell you why. But… you said they didn't die naturally, right?"

I shook my head. "They were killed. By Shenyuan."

At that, her expression darkened. "Ah… him."

There was a weight in her voice, something more than just knowledge.

I narrowed my eyes. "You know something."

Xin Yune drummed her fingers against the table. "There's a reason why Shenyuan was called the One True Death," she said. "People feared him, not just because he could kill, but because when he killed someone, they stayed dead."

A chill ran down my spine.

She continued, her voice quieter. "It's not just power or skill. There's something else at work. I've heard rumors… theories. Some say he developed a secret technique that allowed him to access an afterlife—or some form of it."

I frowned. "An afterlife?"

She nodded. "Or something close to one. If true, then it's possible he could cut off the remaining distance of a person's natural lifespan, even if they hadn't reached it yet."

I felt my fingers tighten into fists.

"So what you're saying is," I muttered, "he didn't just kill them, he erased their remaining lifespan?"

Xin Yune sighed. "That's the theory, anyway. But if it's true… well, it would explain why you couldn't bring them back."

A heavy silence settled between us.

Just then, the waitress finally arrived at our table. She gave us a polite smile. "What will you two be having?"

Xin Yune didn't miss a beat. "Noodles. Something spicy."

I exhaled slowly, loosening my fists. "Same for me."

As the waitress left, I turned back to Xin Yune.

I pressed Xin Yune with a few more questions until I was satisfied. It seemed there was a different form of afterlife in this world, something beyond reincarnation, being stuck as a ghost, or any of the folklore I'd heard. That complicated things.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "So what you're saying is, there's an entire other realm where the dead might go, and Shenyuan somehow had access to it?"

Xin Yune nodded, sipping on her tea. "If anyone knows more, it'd be Nongmin."

Of course, it'd be him.

She continued, a little too cheerfully, "So you should talk to him soon. And don't kill him."

I scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, copy that," I smirked. "I'll still touch him, though."

Xin Yune's lips curled into an amused smile. "Oh, absolutely. That boy needs disciplining."

A thought crossed my mind, and I couldn't resist. "Should I make him call me daddy?"

Xin Yune nearly choked on her tea. Then she threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, I would pay to see that!"

We kept laughing as our food arrived, spicy noodles in large steaming bowls.

Lunch was filled with ridiculous banter and dirty jokes, some so foul that even the old men at the next table gave us side-eyes. Xin Yune, despite her graceful bearing, was an absolute menace when it came to raunchy humor. I wasn't sure whether to be impressed or concerned.

By the time we finished eating, the sun had climbed higher, and the heat made the streets shimmer. With nothing better to do, we resumed our walk, wandering through the bustling city like we had all the time in the world.

Xin Yune waved her hand, and an ornate umbrella appeared from her Storage Ring. She opened it with a practiced flick, casting a cool shadow over both of us. Before I could say anything, she wordlessly passed it to me.

I took the umbrella, holding it over us as we walked.

After a few moments of silence, I asked, "Why are you spending your last day with me and not your son?"

She smiled wistfully. "Because my son said I'd have more fun with you."

I scoffed. "See? He's clearly just using you to get to me." I gave her a side-eye. "While you're still alive, why don't you kick his ass and teach him a lesson yourself?"

Xin Yune suddenly turned to me, her expression unusually serious. "Never in my life have I ever laid a hand on him. And I won't do so now."

I blinked. I hadn't expected such a firm response. "…That was a poorly worded joke. Sorry."

She waved it off. "It's fine." Then, after a moment, she spoke again. "Can I confess something to you?"

I raised a brow. "If you're about to confess your love, I should warn you, you're this close to walking past my strike zone." I held up two fingers, barely an inch apart.

Xin Yune burst into laughter, shaking her head. "That was an awful joke."

"I know," I admitted. "But go ahead. Whatever it is, I won't tell anyone."

She exhaled, glancing up at the sky. "My son will probably see this conversation anyway, sooner or later," she mused. "His Heavenly Eye makes sure of that."

I frowned. "That thing lets him spy on people?"

"Not exactly," she replied. "But he sees more than most. Still, it should be fine."

I tilted my head. "Then what's this confession about?"

Xin Yune looked down at her feet for a moment, then at me. Her voice was softer this time.

"I'm scared for my son," she admitted. "It's just so scary…"

Xin Yune's voice softened as she continued, her steps slow and measured.

"Do you know what it feels like to know a person… and then, suddenly, not recognize them anymore?" she asked.

I shook my head.

She exhaled. "The Heavenly Eye granted Nongmin wisdom and intelligence beyond his years. When he was young, he was just like any other child, he'd laugh at stupid jokes, play games meant for his age. But as the years passed, and the Heavenly Eye grew stronger, his personality started changing."

I frowned.

To some extent, I could sympathize. My absurdly high charisma stat made me act more mischievous and cranky than I normally would have been back on Earth. It wasn't mind control, exactly, but stats did influence behavior. I was confident that the current me was vastly different from who I used to be.

But the Emperor's case… it was more extreme.

Xin Yune sighed. "I'm scared for him," she confessed. "Not of him—for him. I fear he might lose himself entirely."

I glanced at her. She was changing again. Aging. The once youthful woman from this morning now looked old enough to pass for my mother.

She suddenly stopped walking and turned to face me. Her expression was serious, more than it had been all morning.

"Can I make a request?"

"Sure," I said.

She took a breath. "Can you save my son from himself?"

I hummed, rubbing my chin. "Okidoki. I'll adopt him, have him call me daddy, we'll play catch…"

"I am not joking," she interrupted, her voice sharp.

I let out a small chuckle and firmly grabbed her palm. "For a one-night stand, you sure are making things tough for me."