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Ever since Xue Zhongyu returned to Taixu Sect, he had been extremely active.

Unlike Mu Xing, who spent all his time on Medicine Peak and was rarely seen, he loved traveling between the peaks, often teaming up with other disciples to take on trial missions.

He was young, good-looking, sweet-tongued, and generous. Among the disciples who interacted with him, there wasn’t a single one who disliked him.

Rumors about him in the sect grew more and more widespread.

And once enough people were talking, someone was bound to bring it up:

“Junior Brother Mu from Medicine Peak—I’ve heard he looks very similar to Junior Brother Xue.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I saw Junior Brother Mu once before. They really do look alike. If you didn’t know, you’d think they were brothers born of the same mother.”

“But we hardly ever hear any news about Junior Brother Mu.”

When Xue Zhongyu occasionally heard such remarks, not only did he not deny it, he would happily say, “Yes, I’ve seen Junior Brother Mu, we really do look alike. It’s a pity. If only I had such a big brother.”

If Medicine Peak disciples heard such rumors, they would always seriously insist that the two didn’t look alike at all.

But unfortunately, Medicine Peak disciples were homebodies, busy with farming and alchemy, with little social contact. Their clarifications were not enough to stop the spread of rumors.

That day.

Xue Zhongyu followed a few sect disciples on a mission to find the high-grade spiritual herb “Chiyun Zhi.” Guided by clues, they found where it grew, but a demon beast had also set its eyes on the herb.

After a fierce battle, several disciples were left injured.

Standing among them, Xue Zhongyu spoke in a low, apologetic voice: “It was my mistake. I only detected one Beauty Spider here—I didn’t expect there to be two.”

Now they were hiding inside a barrier that concealed their forms and auras, while the spiders prowled outside, searching for prey.

The barrier had a time limit. Once half a stick of incense passed, it would shatter.

And none of them were a match for two Beauty Spiders.

The other disciples comforted him: “It’s not your fault. None of us would have guessed it. Beauty Spiders are solitary spiritual beasts—it’s unheard of for two to appear together.”

Xue Zhongyu looked at them pitifully, his eyes reddening: “I’m so scared. We won’t die, will we?”

At that, the disciples’ faces grew grim.

But they still comforted their youngest companion. The sword cultivator whose left hand was poisoned and paralyzed on one side said, “Junior Brother, it’s our fault we didn’t protect you. When the barrier breaks, Senior Brother Cheng and I will charge forward. You must run in the opposite direction. We will never let these venomous spiders hurt you.”

Xue Zhongyu looked deeply moved: “Thank you, Senior Brothers.”

They took some qi-restoring pills. As the sword cultivator meditated, he suddenly said, “This pill restores me faster than usual. Where did it come from?”

The female cultivator who had given out the pills replied, “I bought it from a Medicine Peak disciple. They said it came from the personal disciple of the Medicine Peak master.”

“Personal disciple? Could it be that Mu, the one who looks so much like Junior Brother Xue?”

Xue Zhongyu smiled faintly: “Yes, the two of us are practically carved from the same mold.”

The group exchanged a few more words, quickly trying to recover. Soon, the barrier’s time would be up.

The sword cultivator stood, gripping his blade tightly, and whispered, “When the barrier opens, Cheng and I will rush out… Three, two, one!”

The barrier suddenly shattered. Smelling the blood, the two Beauty Spiders locked onto their position immediately.

Just as the disciples raised their swords to charge, another figure moved faster than all of them.

It was a graceful silhouette dressed in purple.

She leapt lightly from the trees like a bird, raised her hand, and purple spiritual power enveloped the spiders before they could strike.

Before the disciples’ shocked eyes, the two Beauty Spiders disintegrated under the purple energy, turning into nothing but dust.

As she turned, they finally saw her clearly: a strikingly beautiful female cultivator, clad in purple robes, long hair braided and draped across her chest, a small silver gourd hanging from her waist.

Looking at the remains—not even corpses—of the spiders, the disciples swallowed hard, their scalps tingling as they stepped forward to thank her.

She said nothing, but studied Xue Zhongyu intently for several moments. Then she nodded to the group, turned, and vanished swiftly into the dense forest.

“Wh-who was that? Which kindhearted senior just saved us?” The sword cultivator looked shaken, relief written all over his face.

The female cultivator who had given out the pills frowned in thought, staring after the purple-robed woman. After a long pause, realization dawned: “A hibiscus face, fond of purple robes, a gourd at her waist, skilled in poisons—that was Senior Sister Yu Hongyao of Medicine Peak!”

*

Senior Sister Yu Hongyao had returned!

At the news, countless Medicine Peak disciples were struck with shock. Many of them, upon hearing it, immediately abandoned the peak and rushed to the trial office to accept missions.

They didn’t care which missions—so long as they could leave right away.

When Mu Xing heard the news, he was in the alchemy room, refining a pill slightly more difficult than the Foundation Establishment Pill: the Barrier-Breaking Pill.

This pill was considered top-grade among low-level pills. Taken, it could dispel delusions and inner demons from the spirit platform, and also resist illusion and mental attacks.

As soon as he stepped out, he received a message from Yao Wushi: Come see your Second Senior Sister.

Mu Xing, curious about this senior sister he had never met, changed his clothes obediently and went to pay his respects.

As soon as he stepped inside, he saw a beautiful woman in purple standing at Medicine Master Yao’s side, strikingly attractive, with a silver gourd hanging at her waist, chatting with him:

“…That secret realm was full of dangers. There were thirteen rogue cultivators who entered with us, and in the end only three came out.”

When she saw Mu Xing arrive, Yu Hongyao broke off, smiling as she asked, “This is little junior brother, isn’t it?”

Mu Xing cupped his hands, bowing formally: “I have met Second Senior Sister.”

“So obedient.” Yu Hongyao seemed to recall something. “On my way back, I ran into a group of Crescent Moon Peak disciples. One of them said that Junior Brother Mu looks very much like him. From what I see, they don’t look alike at all.”

“Our little junior brother is much cuter!” she declared.

Mu Xing immediately knew which disciple she meant.

Who else could it be but Xue Zhongyu?

It puzzled him—clearly in the original plot, Xue Zhongyu didn’t like the original Mu Xing, and Crescent Moon Peak’s whole attitude was that they wished he would disappear and not be an eyesore.

But now, Xue Zhongyu seemed eager for everyone to know how much the two of them looked alike.

Could it be that he actually enjoyed being constantly compared to someone else?

Meanwhile, Yu Hongyao was already taking out a meeting gift.

She lifted her hand, and a silver chest about a foot wide and nearly a foot tall appeared. When opened, it shone with dazzling light—Mu Xing instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes.

Inside was a box crammed full of luminous pearls and gemstones, glowing softly even under daylight.

Yu Hongyao handed it over generously: “Take it and play!”

Mu Xing: “…”

He blurted out, “This is far too valuable.”

He had thought Senior Brother’s jade wind chimes were extravagant enough, but this was even more outrageous—jewels given by the chestful.

Yu Hongyao waved it off: “It’s nothing valuable. In that undersea secret realm I went to, these things piled up like mountains. I just picked a few with better luster for you to have fun with.”

She even added, “If you use them up, come find me. Your senior sister has more.”

Glancing at Medicine Master Yao, she smiled sweetly: “Master and Senior Brother also have shares.”

Mu Xing: “…”

He reached out and accepted the heavy chest.

Yu Hongyao didn’t stop there. After rummaging in her storage ring, she produced a delicate blue embroidered pouch.

“This is for you, a proper meeting gift from your senior sister.”

Mu Xing took it. When he opened the pouch, he saw two eggs glowing with faint white mist.

Each was so large they had to be held with both hands, and within, he could faintly sense weak life.

“This…” Mu Xing looked up at her.

Yu Hongyao said, “I don’t know what kind of eggs they are, but I found them deep in the secret realm. They should be rare spirit beast eggs.”

High-grade spirit beast eggs were no trivial thing. Mu Xing quickly tried to return them.

Yu Hongyao stepped back: “No. Everything I raise ends up dead. If they fall into my hands, it’ll be a death sentence for them. But I just heard Master say that spirit beasts adore you—even Lingbao, that little ancestor, clings to you. Isn’t that destiny?”

Before he could argue further, she cut him off decisively: “Settled!”

After meeting her little junior brother, Medicine Peak’s quick and domineering Second Senior Sister strode straight into the pill room. “It’s been so long since I refined anything. I wonder if I’ve gone rusty. This time, which junior brother should I use to test my new pill?”

Mu Xing: “…”

Alright, now he understood why Medicine Peak disciples fled like they’d seen a ghost when they heard Second Senior Sister had returned.

Medicine Peak’s two great alchemy fanatics: Medicine Master Yao and Yu Hongyao.

The difference was, Medicine Master Yao tested every strange pill on himself, so he never harmed others.

Yu Hongyao, on the other hand, tested them on her juniors.

She had her limits and wouldn’t cause real disasters, but even small accidents were miserable enough.

*

When Xue Zhongyu returned to Crescent Moon Peak and to his own quarters, he ran into Qi Xiubai head-on.

“Second Senior Brother, I haven’t seen you much these days. Where have you been?” Xue Zhongyu tilted his head and asked.

Qi Xiubai lowered his gaze. His little junior brother looked up at him, sweet and well-behaved, a vermilion mark between his brows accentuating his delicate features with a touch of brilliance.

His expression softened. Smiling, he said, “Senior Brother has many duties. I must cultivate, organize the disciples’ morning classes, and lately also attend Crescent Moon Peak’s annual recruitment of new disciples.”

Xue Zhongyu pouted unhappily: “But that means Senior Brother has no time to keep me company. Xiao Yu is so bored.”

Qi Xiubai froze. Looking at the ten-year-old junior brother with his innocent, lazy face, another face suddenly surfaced in his mind.

For once, he spoke sternly: “Junior Brother, you are no longer that young. Beyond play, you must set your mind to cultivation. With your excellent talent, diligent cultivation will surely bring achievements. In the cultivation world, strength rules. Strive to improve yourself—that is the proper path.”

“Look at Junior Brother Mu from Medicine Peak. He’s a month younger than you, yet he’s already formed his Foundation.”

Xue Zhongyu: ???

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

When Mu Xing successfully formed his foundation and walked out from seclusion, he received dreadful news:

Xue Zhongyu had returned.

It was said his father carried him back, covered in blood. No one knew what had happened.

Mu Xing’s first reaction was to frown. Because of the body’s past experiences, it was very difficult for him to feel any fondness for Xue Zhongyu.

But he quickly reflected on himself: at least for now, Xue Zhongyu was only a pitiful, innocent child who had been kidnapped by enemies at a young age.

He might not like him, but he could not harbor such dark thoughts as wishing he would never return.

In any case, now he was already a disciple of Medicine Peak.

No matter how much Crescent Moon Peak treasured their true little junior brother, it no longer had anything to do with him.

He deliberately avoided listening to news from Crescent Moon Peak, focusing only on cultivating at Medicine Peak, planting herbs in his spare time, playing with spirit pets, and refining pills. His days were fulfilling and leisurely.

But sometimes, even if you wish for peace, it does not come.

A little more than a month later, Xue Zhongyu came looking for Mu Xing.

When he heard the news, Mu Xing paused in silence.

He wasn’t very eager to go, but he had heard that during Xue Zhongyu’s recovery, out of boredom he wove many little trinkets from grass leaves. He had given them out as small gifts to his fellow disciples, seniors and juniors alike.

Someone must have told him that the Medicine Peak’s Mu shidi looked somewhat like him, and he was curious to see for himself.

There was no reason to refuse.

Mu Xing invited Xue Zhongyu into his small building.

This was Mu Xing’s first time seeing Xue Zhongyu.

He was very good-looking, his features exquisitely balanced. Perhaps because his injuries had not yet healed, his complexion was pale, giving him the fragile, glass-like impression of something that could easily break, stirring pity and protectiveness.

It was winter outside, and he wore a spotless pure white cloak. His skin seemed to blend into the cloak, and the cinnabar mole at the center of his brow stood out all the more.

Mu Xing glanced at him quietly, helplessly realizing that his own features really did resemble Xue Zhongyu’s by seven or eight parts.

But now, no one should mistake them for each other.

After staying on Medicine Peak, Mu Xing spent all his time cultivating, planting herbs, and refining pills. By nature he was unhurried and serene, and his whole being carried a detached aura as if he stood outside worldly dust.

It was hard to imagine that such transcendence could come from a child not even ten years old. Because of this, Master Yao had even been scolded by his fellow brothers, told not to push his disciple too hard.

Master Yao: “…” with grievances unspoken.

Xue Zhongyu, in contrast, was the opposite. His entire being proclaimed wealth, pride, affection, and the attention of all—like the most beloved little prince in the world.

Mu Xing let his gaze linger a moment on that cinnabar mole, feeling an inexplicable discomfort.

It wasn’t just the mole. Xue Zhongyu’s whole presence gave him a sense of discord.

He didn’t like him.

It was rare for Mu Xing to have such a blunt first impression of someone.

Sensing Mu Xing’s gaze, Xue Zhongyu smiled kindly. “Are you looking at my cinnabar mole? Isn’t it pretty? Senior Brother Qi said that when you were on Crescent Moon Peak, they once dotted one on you too, but you didn’t like it. Why not?”

His manner was innocent and childlike, and asking such a question didn’t feel rude.

He smiled brightly at Mu Xing, his large round catlike eyes full of joy. “You really do look a lot like me. Someone who didn’t know better might think you were my father’s other child.”

“Awuu~” Before Mu Xing could reply, a white figure came bounding in—it was Lingbao.

It had trotted in, but upon noticing another person inside, its pace slowed at once. Its stubby little legs stepped more deliberately. Yet when it passed Xue Zhongyu, its fur bristled, and it turned its head sharply to glare at him, unfriendly.

“Lingbao.” Mu Xing beckoned. “Come here. This is a guest, don’t be rude.”

He turned to Xue Zhongyu. “He’s a little shy with strangers.”

Then he asked, “Aren’t you hot?”

Xue Zhongyu blinked, momentarily lost at the shift in topic.

Mu Xing pointed at his clothes. “Medicine Peak has formations. In that outfit, sitting here, aren’t you hot?”

Xue Zhongyu: “…”

When he lowered his head to unfasten the cloak, Mu Xing said, “I came from the mortal world. My parents, though ordinary, still did their utmost to protect me through life and death. Everyone knows this. Uncle Xue’s love for you is equally well-known. No one would harbor such ridiculous misunderstandings.”

He was answering Xue Zhongyu’s earlier words.

As for the cinnabar mole…

Mu Xing stroked the fat ball on his lap. “Lingbao is close to me, but wary of you. You see, even spirit beasts have their own likes and dislikes, let alone people.”

“Wow, you speak so reasonably.” Xue Zhongyu’s eyes widened in wonder. “Not like me. My father says I’m this old already and still don’t understand things.”

“I really like you. Can I come visit you often from now on?” His gaze was full of hopeful anticipation.

Mu Xing: “…”

He replied, “I have to cultivate with my master every day, plant spirit herbs, and refine pills…”

He concluded, “Even twelve hours a day isn’t enough.”

“These things are so boring.” Xue Zhongyu pouted. “I can take you down the mountain to play something fun, way more interesting than cultivating.”

Mu Xing refused him with complete seriousness. “That won’t do. In my heart, nothing is more fun than cultivating.”

Xue Zhongyu: “…”

He pursed his lips. “You’re no fun at all. Not as fun as the senior brothers from the other peaks. Will you really have friends like this?”

“Of course.” Mu Xing was firm. “The brothers and sisters of every peak who’ve met me all like me.”

Xue Zhongyu: “…”

Mu Xing directly issued an order to leave. “Today, a batch of Dan Zhu immortal grass is maturing. I need to go harvest them. Brother Xue, I’m sorry, I don’t have time to chat with you.”

Xue Zhongyu forced a smile. “Alright then. When you have time, you can come find me to play.”

Mu Xing replied perfunctorily. “We’ll see. I shouldn’t have any time soon.”

The youth in green robes left cheerfully, holding his round, plump spirit beast.

Xue Zhongyu watched his departing figure, both puzzled and unwilling.

“He doesn’t like me.” He said with certainty. “Why doesn’t he like me?”

“Youhuo, why would he not like me?”

It shouldn’t be this way. His current appearance was the one most pleasing to humans—the looks, the temperament, the behavior.

What’s more, he was born able to sense fluctuations in emotions, adjusting himself at any time, ensuring that everything he said and did perfectly matched the other person’s desires.

But just now, from beginning to end, the boy in green robes only showed disinterest and perfunctory replies, clearly wanting to send him away as soon as possible.

He didn’t even bother to pretend!

A cold, sharp voice rang in his ear. “Did you sense any strong emotional fluctuation from him just now?”

Xue Zhongyu froze. “No.”

From start to finish, the boy’s tone was calm. In his other “pair of eyes,” this person was like a blank sheet of paper.

No intense desires could be sensed.

No flaws could be found.

But how could a human have no flaws?

“Wasn’t his whole family killed, and wasn’t he brought back by Xue Wuya? Wasn’t he used as my substitute on Crescent Moon Peak, living unhappily? Why doesn’t he have resentment, hatred, jealousy, or unwillingness?”

Is he really human?

Youhuo didn’t understand either.

It said heavily, “You’re truly lucky, Young Master. The very first ‘vessel’ you picked in the human world turned out to be so unusual.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Xue Zhongyu frowned. “This is troublesome. Things are developing completely outside of what we expected.”

His time on Crescent Moon Peak was no longer going so smoothly.

Those senior brothers of his could no longer be so easily controlled, no longer giving in to his every demand.

Of course, the biggest problem was Mu Xing.

He could no longer draw power from him, and his cultivation speed was slowing.

*

Mu Xing had no idea there was such a conversation after he left.

He returned to his medicine field, holding the jade box meant for storing herbs, carefully digging out the mature Dan Zhu immortal grass one by one and placing them inside.

He nodded in satisfaction. “It’s so much more comfortable here. That Xue Zhongyu fellow… looking at him always feels strange.”

But thinking further, if he weren’t strange, the entire Crescent Moon Peak wouldn’t have gone mad for him.

If not for the fact that when he disappeared he was only a six-year-old child—far too young for any complicated entanglements—Mu Xing would have suspected he was some kind of breathtaking calamity in the form of a beautiful boy.

The light orb crouched silently within his sea of consciousness.

Its gaze pierced across the distance, toward the direction of Mu Xing’s small building.

Just now, at such close range, it could not possibly have misread that aura.

Like Mu Xing, it had followed through countless lifetimes, knowing only what had been written into the original storyline.

And in that story, once the original body died, their part ended. What happened afterward had nothing to do with them—they had no way of knowing.

At first it thought the boy only carried a common protagonist’s aura.

But it turned out there was something far more unusual hidden within.

If that was the case, then the odd behavior of Crescent Moon Peak’s disciples could be explained.

Still…

After some thought, the light orb turned gloating. “Of all the targets you could have chosen, you had to cross Mu Xing. Let’s see how hard you crash into that wall.”

Completely forgetting how it had once struggled—then lost strength, fell into despair, and finally gave up resisting, becoming as detached as it was now.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Xue Zhongyu’s face was gloomy, his beautiful features filled with sinister malice. Looking at him now, no one would ever connect him with Mu Xing.

After all, in name he was Xue Wuya’s son. Although he had gained the favor of many in the Demon Palace, the Demon Lord still harbored suspicion toward him. Youhuo had long warned him that there were always people secretly watching him.

He absolutely could not reveal that he was the incarnation of a “demon seed.”

The demon seed had nothing to do with the demon clan itself. He was the embodiment of all the world’s evil desires. If he wanted to grow stronger, he could only do so by controlling more hearts and desires.

As long as there were living beings, there would be desire. And none would willingly leave such a weakness unguarded.

By nature, he stood in opposition to all races.

If his identity were exposed before he had fully grown, the righteous path would not tolerate him, and even the demon clan would consider killing him first.

“We can’t let the situation in Taixu Sect keep developing this way,” Xue Zhongyu said in a low voice. “I need to find a way to spread word that I’m being held in the Demon Palace.”

He had to personally go to Crescent Moon Peak to see.

*

“Little junior brother, little junior brother, someone from Crescent Moon Peak has come looking for you.” Mu Xing was in the middle of trying to use his spiritual power to form spirit rain to water his medicine field when a disciple from Medicine Peak came looking for him.

“A senior from Crescent Moon Peak?” Mu Xing pursed his lips, not particularly eager to meet.

He had no desire whatsoever to get entangled with Crescent Moon Peak again.

Lingbao was sprawled beside Mu Xing’s medicine field, his fluffy tail swaying lazily from side to side. Whenever another Medicine Peak disciple’s spirit pet came too close, he would leap up, bare his teeth, and act like he was guarding the field.

The spirit pets on Medicine Peak were all intelligent. They knew Lingbao was the local tyrant and the Peak Lord’s treasured darling, so none dared provoke him.

The messenger disciple cast Lingbao a glance, then looked at Mu Xing with envy.

Mu shidi had some strange constitution—other spirit pets aside, even the ancestor Lingbao behaved obediently in his presence.

Before Mu Xing arrived, Lingbao had been the biggest headache for Medicine Peak disciples. Whenever he was hungry and wandered down from the back mountain, whatever caught his eye, he would simply grab with his claws. There wasn’t a single medicine field on the entire peak that had escaped his havoc.

Who would have thought he could be so docile?

Mu Xing still decided to go have a look. After all, last month, Uncle Master Xue Wuya had sent him a great gift. Now that he was officially a Medicine Peak disciple, he wasn’t afraid of them causing trouble again.

Thinking this, he followed the messenger disciple outside.

Not far away, under a big tree, he saw three figures.

Qi Xiubai and Shi Zhizhu, along with an inner disciple from Medicine Peak.

The three were chatting.

Qi Xiubai asked, “How is Mu Xing shidi doing at Medicine Peak? Has he been adjusting well?”

Realizing his words were a bit off, he added awkwardly, “I mean, he’s just a child, and this is an unfamiliar place for him.”

The Medicine Peak disciple didn’t mind, smiling cheerfully. “Of course. Did you know, Mu shidi has already succeeded in drawing qi into his body? He’s officially begun cultivating, and his progress is astonishing. I’d say he was born to be one of our Medicine Peak disciples.”

“Every Medicine Peak disciple has their own medicine field. At first, we all struggled to grow quality spirit herbs. But Xingxing shidi is different—he can raise even the most ordinary low-level spirit herbs to the highest quality.”

Right now, all of Medicine Peak treasured Mu Xing.

What the disciple didn’t mention was that if Mu Xing could cultivate high-level spirit herbs to such quality, it would be extraordinary.

High-level pills were worth their weight in gold. And at the same grade, the higher the pill’s quality, the less pill poison it carried, and the higher its value.

Aside from testing the skill of the alchemist, the quality of the herbs was a crucial factor. But there was no need to explain further.

The disciple grinned. “Even the spirit beasts of our entire Medicine Peak love to cluster around Mu shidi. Even the most mischievous ones become obedient before him. It’s even become a trend—when spirit herbs are about to mature, people invite Mu shidi to sit by the fields.”

As he spoke, he pointed. “There’s Mu shidi now!”

Qi Xiubai and Shi Zhizhu looked over, and saw Mu Xing’s small figure approaching. He was holding a large, furry bundle with a fluffy tail swaying as it nearly touched the ground.

Behind him, a beautiful white crane taller than Mu Xing followed at a wary distance, stepping carefully as if hesitant.

Closer now, Qi Xiubai recognized the beast.

The Medicine Spirit Beast!

Everyone knew Medicine Peak had a centuries-old Medicine Spirit Beast that was the treasure of the peak, pampered by both Peak Lord and disciples alike.

Yet the spirit beast was notoriously proud and aloof, never fond of close contact with humans.

And yet, here it was, allowing Mu shidi to hold it—clingy, even. Where was the icy cold temperament of the rumors?

Qi Xiubai and Shi Zhizhu exchanged a look, both realizing anew how beloved Mu Xing was on Medicine Peak.

The Medicine Peak disciple chuckled. “I’ll leave you three to talk. I have other matters to attend to.”

In an instant, only the three former fellow disciples remained.

Mu Xing patted the heavy bundle in his arms and coaxed, “Lingbao, go down and play for a while, alright?”

Lingbao let out a reluctant whine, clearly unwilling.

Mu Xing whispered, “You’re too heavy, I can’t hold you anymore.”

If not for already entering the Qi Refining stage and strengthening his body in all aspects, he really wouldn’t have had the strength to carry this round ball so far.

Lingbao blinked its ruby-like eyes. This time it didn’t act spoiled, and obediently jumped out of Mu Xing’s arms.

Though its body was round like a ball, its movements were light and swift. In just a few leaps it was up in the tree above, crouching on a branch with its long fluffy tail hanging down.

Only then did Mu Xing look toward the two, his face showing no joy, politely yet distant as he asked, “Senior brothers from Crescent Moon Peak, what business do you have with me?”

Qi Xiubai and Shi Zhizhu’s expressions were complicated, knowing that because of past events, Mu Xing bore resentment against them.

But these past days while recovering from their injuries, they thought back on their behavior and didn’t feel Mu Xing was being rude—rather, they felt as if they had been possessed back then.

If not possessed, how else could they have done such absurd things?

Their expressions turned solemn. They bowed with hands clasped and saluted Mu Xing.

“We two brothers have come to apologize to Junior Brother Mu.”

Qi Xiubai said apologetically, “Back then during that month on Crescent Moon Peak, we fell into delusion and acted disrespectfully toward you. I and my junior brother came specially to apologize.”

Mu Xing was a little surprised, warily watching them.

What’s going on—are these two cured now?

Qi Xiubai took out a gift box from his storage ring. “Inside is a token of apology from me and Junior Brother Shi.”

Mu Xing stepped back, shook his head. “I accept the apology—you indeed owed me one. But the gift is unnecessary. Uncle Xue saved my life, and Crescent Moon Peak took me in; I owe you a debt of gratitude as well.”

His words were courteous, but the meaning was clear: he was drawing a line, making things plain.

Qi Xiubai and Shi Zhizhu looked at the child before them—polite in manner but firm in tone—and felt more than ever that they had truly been blind before.

Aside from appearance, Mu Xing was nothing like Xiao Yu.

Sensing Mu Xing’s attitude, they had no grounds to persist. Qi Xiubai insisted, “No matter what, I feel ashamed. If ever you need something, you may come find me.”

Shi Zhizhu echoed the same.

“Thank you, senior brothers,” Mu Xing said calmly. “I will remember it.”

*

After they left, the calm on his face faded, replaced by confusion.

Strange. Their words just now really did carry sincerity—he could sense it.

But he didn’t understand. What had happened?

Back when he was on Crescent Moon Peak, these two were utterly unreasonable.

How did they suddenly start talking sense?

He shook his head in puzzlement.

Suddenly, a voice came from his sea of consciousness: “I think I sensed a familiar aura.”

It was that ball of light.

Since two cycles ago, its presence in Mu Xing’s sea of consciousness had been minimal—each time they entered a world, it would knock, wait for him to let it in, then promptly curl up and sleep.

Seeing it behave so quietly, no longer secretly inciting trouble, Mu Xing hadn’t bothered with it.

Mu Xing was curious. “You’re awake? What familiar aura?”

The light orb realized it had misspoken, shrank back, and went silent.

Mu Xing asked again. No reply. Clearly, it didn’t want to say.

He didn’t press, but silently kept the words in mind.

Could it be that Qi Xiubai and Shi Zhizhu carried some secret?

*

In cultivation, time passes unnoticed. In the blink of an eye, Mu Xing had already been on Medicine Peak for three years.

He was now the great treasure of Medicine Peak, Master Yao’s beloved, and a famed disciple of Taixu Sect.

As Medicine Peak’s cherished child, he advanced quickly in cultivation. Any herb in his hands grew into top quality. The entire mountain’s spirit beasts followed him around; even Lingbao’s intimidation wasn’t enough to control them anymore.

A year ago, he began learning alchemy. After two failed furnaces, his first success produced twenty-eight superior Foundation Establishment pills.

It was then Mu Xing finally understood why Medicine Peak was so wealthy.

The ingredients for Foundation Establishment pills were not especially rare, especially on Medicine Peak where disciples could grow them themselves.

Yet even the lowest quality pill sold for several hundred lower-grade spirit stones—enough to buy a decent low-level magic artifact.

And superior ones? Their price multiplied tenfold or more.

It was practically a profiteering trade.

—Of course, true alchemists were exceedingly rare.

At least within Taixu Sect, Mu Xing’s fame as an eight-year-old who could refine Foundation Establishment pills far surpassed his reputation as a nine-year-old already at Qi Refining Great Perfection, on the verge of breaking through.

What gratified Mu Xing even more—these three years, people from Crescent Moon Peak seemed to have regained normalcy.

Not just Qi Xiubai; other direct disciples from Crescent Moon Peak came one after another to apologize. No one ever mentioned again how much he resembled Xue Zhongyu.

That day, sensing his dantian’s spiritual power had reached completion, Mu Xing went to a secret chamber on Medicine Peak, swallowed a Foundation Establishment pill, and prepared to break through.

Meanwhile, on Crescent Moon Peak, Xue Wuya, who never gave up hope that his beloved son had died, received a message.

Xue Zhongyu might not be dead. He had been taken by the demon clan and kept in the Demon Palace these years.

And now, he had appeared together with the Demon Princess in a human city.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Mu Xing stepped into the grand hall, lifted his head, and froze for a moment.

Sitting in the main seat was Yao Wushi—yet no longer in the childlike form Mu Xing had seen before. Instead, he was a handsome young man in plain blue robes, hair loose over his shoulders. His figure was lean, his demeanor gentle, a jade flute hanging at his waist. At first glance, he looked more like a frail scholar from the mortal world than an immortal master.

“Master?” Mu Xing called out uncertainly.

The peak masters who knew the truth chuckled.

Xue Wuya retracted his gaze from Mu Xing and remarked, “Senior brother, see what you’ve done—your little disciple almost didn’t recognize you.”

Yao Wushi’s face darkened as he glared at Xue Wuya, silencing him.

He turned to Mu Xing. “Let’s begin.”

The formal initiation ceremony was ordinarily an intricate affair. Yao Wushi skimmed the ritual sequence handed to him, drew a casual line through most of it, and left only the essentials—witnessing by the other peak masters.

After that, he led Mu Xing to the sacred place where past Medicine Peak patriarchs had once gone into seclusion. They were to offer respect to the lineage. In the cultivation world, kneeling rites were rare, and Yao Wushi disdained pointless formalities. Seeing that Mu Xing was still a child, he spared him the heavy kowtows, asking only that he present a cup of tea.

Yao Wushi accepted it and drained it in one gulp. With a smiling glance around the hall, he reached into his sleeve and produced a pearl wreathed in drifting white mist.

The moment it appeared, several peak masters stiffened.

With a flick of his fingers, Yao Wushi drew a thread of spiritual power, strung the pearl, and gestured for Mu Xing to come closer.

The boy obeyed. Yao Wushi rose to his feet and personally hung it around Mu Xing’s neck.

“I have only three personal disciples. It has been over thirty years since I accepted your second senior sister. I thought I would never take another… yet fate brought me to you.”

“This is an upper-grade spiritual vein. When you return, have your senior brother set up a gathering array with it—it will greatly aid your cultivation.”

The words sent ripples through the hall. The peak masters remained composed, but the disciples behind them were visibly shaken.

A spiritual vein?
An upper-grade one?

Such a treasure was the very foundation of a sect’s prosperity, determining whether spiritual energy flowed abundantly enough for cultivation. Many mid-tier sects couldn’t even dream of owning one. Yet Yao Shishu had just handed one to a six-year-old child?

The looks directed at Mu Xing were filled with envy, awe, and complexity. Many disciples sneaked glances at Li Xuanyao, wondering if their master’s blatant favoritism wouldn’t stir resentment.

But then Mu Xing, after thanking his master, scampered over to Li Xuanyao and said sweetly, “Senior brother, let’s cultivate together! And all the other brothers and sisters too!”

Li Xuanyao’s chest warmed. He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Thank you, Xingxing. But your senior brother already has one.”

The disciples from other peaks: “…”
Sorry to bother.

As expected, once Yao Wushi gave something as momentous as an upper-grade vein, the other peak masters could not present anything mundane. By the end of the circuit of greetings, little Mu Xing’s storage pouch bulged with treasures, making him one of the wealthiest children in the entire cultivation world.

The seasoned peak masters only sighed at Medicine Peak’s extravagance and Yao Wushi’s indulgence. Their disciples, however, could hardly suppress their envy. Some itched to be reborn as children just to bow under Medicine Peak’s gate.

No one was struck harder than the two senior brothers of Crescent Moon Peak.

They watched as Mu Xing was doted on by Yao Wushi, cherished by Li Xuanyao, and warmly praised by all the peak masters. Never before had they felt so sharply:

Mu Xing was not Xiao Yu.
He was not a substitute.

At Medicine Peak, he was his own person, the little junior loved by everyone.

Their past insistence—that his resemblance to Xiao Yu was some kind of honor—now felt utterly ridiculous.

When Mu Xing had said he was unhappy on Crescent Moon Peak, he had spoken the truth.

The realization hit like a thunderclap. Though they restrained themselves in the main hall, once outside, both coughed up mouthfuls of blood, half-kneeling to the ground.

Startled, Xue Wuya rushed to support them. “What happened?”

Qi Xiubai’s face was pale, but his eyes seemed lighter, almost relieved. “Disciple was long lost in the fog of grief, blinded by obsession over our junior’s death. At last, the haze has lifted.”

He straightened, ignoring the pain in his mind, and bowed solemnly. “I was deluded before. Once I recover, I will go to Medicine Peak and apologize to Junior Brother Xiao Yu.”

Xue Wuya froze. “You mean… you’ve seen through it? How? Have you forgotten your junior?”

Qi Xiubai shook his head. A glint of killing intent flashed across his face. “No. I will cultivate diligently. One day, I will storm the demon realm and avenge Junior Brother Xiao Yu.”

Beside him, Shi Zhizhu stayed silent, but his expression betrayed the same resolve.

Xue Wuya let out a long sigh. “If you two can truly let go, I am relieved. Now, return and rest well.”

*

In the Demon Realm—

Xue Zhongyu’s face suddenly turned pale, a sharp pain stabbing between his brows, and he couldn’t help but cry out.

Beside him, a beautifully dressed little girl looked at him in worry. “Brother Xiao Yu, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t notice that the cinnabar mark between his brows was glowing red, as if it were about to ignite.

Xue Zhongyu, face white, endured the burning pain and said softly, “It’s nothing, I just bit my tongue while speaking.”

The little girl burst into laughter, teasing him. “Then you’d better be more careful.”

At the moment, Xue Zhongyu had no time to coax her. He said gently, “Ah Ling, I’m a bit tired, I want to rest for a while. I’ll play with you again tomorrow, alright?”

This little girl was none other than the Demon Clan’s princess, Jiang Ling. Hearing this, she was reluctant, but seeing that his expression was truly not good, her heart softened.

“Then I’ll go back. You rest well.”

“Mm.”

*

Only after Jiang Ling left did Xue Zhongyu finally let the ferocity show on his face.

“Youhuo, what is going on?”

From the cinnabar mark between his brows, a cluster of blood-red flames emerged and floated in the air.

“There seems to be some trouble over at Tai Xu Sect,” the flame spoke, its voice eerie and unsettling.

“What trouble?” With the flame outside, Xue Zhongyu seemed to feel much better.

Coldly, he said, “Didn’t you say Xue Wuya found a child who looks like me and kept him at Crescent Moon Peak? I already used that karmic tie to steal his fortune, forcing the backlash onto Crescent Moon Peak. But lately, my cultivation hasn’t advanced as quickly as before.”

When he mentioned Xue Wuya, he not only called him by name but spoke with lofty indifference and disdain—nothing like how a son should address his father.

The blood-red flame flickered, voice chilling. “The problem lies there. I heard that Tai Xu Sect’s Medicine Peak just accepted a new personal disciple. Six years old, rescued from the mortal realm and brought back by Xue Wuya.”

“He actually sent that child away?” Xue Zhongyu was both shocked and enraged. “Impossible! I planted the heart-demon in them already. I left so tragically, they couldn’t possibly let go. How could they bear to let a child who looks so much like Xue Zhongyu leave?”

Youhuo hissed, “Who knows? I told you long ago, my dear little master, don’t be so eager to come to the Demon Realm. Lay the foundation in Tai Xu Sect first. But you craved this meager demonic energy here. Something went wrong with that child, and now it seems Crescent Moon Peak has people slowly waking up.”

The truth was, Xue Zhongyu was not truly Xue Zhongyu.

He was the reincarnation of an innate demon seed.

Back then, Xue Wuya’s dao-companion exhausted her vitality giving birth to him and perished. Xue Wuya pitied the child, motherless at birth, and doted on him endlessly.

But it was precisely because this, demon seed had greedily consumed too much of the mother’s essence in the womb that she died.

He was born with memory, already aware of human emotions, adept at sensing desire, and could effortlessly take on whatever guise others liked most.

He controlled the seven emotions and six desires, playing with people in the palm of his hand.

Everyone on Crescent Moon Peak had been his first whetstone.

Yet he was a demon. Tai Xu Sect’s abundant spiritual energy could never satisfy him. Only the filth and chaos of the Demon Realm’s desires could feed him.

When the Demon Clan attacked Crescent Moon Peak, he went along with it, allowing himself to be “captured.”

He easily gained audience with the Demon Lord and even won the fondness of the Demon Princess, Jiang Ling.

Within just over a month in the Demon Palace, he had charmed everyone. Even the lowest servants greeted him warmly as Young Master Xiao Yu.

Xue Zhongyu was intoxicated with this control over people’s hearts.

He had never imagined he would one day falter.

In disbelief, he muttered, “Could human affection be so fleeting? I’ve only been gone a month, and they’ve forgotten me?”

“No,” his tone sank, “that’s impossible.”

“That child Xue Wuya rescued, the one who looks so much like me—there must be something wrong with him.”

Youhuo flickered darkly. “And what do you plan to do, my little master? You are still just a child, not yet fully grown. And right now, you remain imprisoned in the Demon Realm.”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

The next day, Mu Xing, as usual, went with the Medicine Peak juniors to Mingyu Hall for lessons.

Perhaps they had all been warned when they returned, because the little ones were obedient this day. Still, the glances exchanged between Medicine Peak and Crescent Moon Peak disciples were far from friendly.

Hmph, children hold grudges the most! Who would want to bother with that bunch of annoying brats!

After finishing their cultural lessons and resting for a stick of incense, they moved on to cultivation class.

Those who studied at Mingyu Hall were children of the sect between the ages of five and ten.

At that age, most had not truly stepped onto the cultivation path. Those so-called prodigies who could draw qi into their bodies at three years old and establish their foundation by ten were extremely rare. The vast majority of children at this age were only just beginning.

Today’s cultivation instructor was Elder Wen Yu of Tai Xu Peak.

This Elder Wen Yu was precisely one of those rare prodigies. He had entered the sect master Jing Wuying’s tutelage at age three, drawn qi into his body three months later, established his foundation by eleven, and formed a golden core at twenty-nine. He was one of the youngest elders in Tai Xu Sect.

Other elders, when teaching basic cultivation, would spend long lectures telling stories and explaining theoretical principles. They would carefully guide the juniors on how to sit, meditate, and why it was done this way.

Elder Wen Yu did not.

Geniuses are always different from others.

“Close your eyes, quiet your mind, and sense the flow of spiritual qi in the air. Once you perceive it, seize it.”

“If you seize it, you succeed.” Elder Wen Yu said with complete seriousness. That was exactly how he had drawn qi into his body back then.

Mu Xing: “…”

This was no different than those top students in the modern world pointing at the hardest problem on an exam and saying they could tell the answer at a glance.

He swept his eyes around, and sure enough, all the little ones looked completely confused.

But they still obediently closed their eyes as told.

Mu Xing also closed his eyes.

He was not like these children.

He had once lived in a world of ancient cultivation. Though the basic methods were different, the essence was the same: to draw spiritual energy from heaven and earth to fill oneself.

He stilled his heart and calmed his breath. Soon, the faint noises around him faded away. In the darkness appeared tiny dots of pale blue and light green light. They were the water and wood spirits drifting between heaven and earth.

Sensing his call, those dots slowly drifted toward him and merged into his body.

He could feel that when the water and wood spirits—so different in nature—entered his body, they did not reject each other. Instead, they fused swiftly and transformed into a stronger spiritual force.

No wonder. With twin spiritual roots, his cultivation speed would not fall behind even the fastest of single-root cultivators.

…

Elder Wen Yu sat at the instructor’s seat, chin propped in boredom, watching the children.

He had no interest in coming. For a cultivation-obsessed person like him, teaching a group of kids to breathe qi was nowhere near as enjoyable as shutting himself in seclusion.

Most importantly, he really didn’t know how to teach.

It wasn’t his fault. Since childhood, he had been a genius. The bottlenecks that plagued ordinary cultivators had always been as easy to him as eating or drinking.

He simply didn’t know how to teach. Wasn’t this just something one was born knowing?

For more than thirty years, since entering Taixu Sect, he had done nothing but cultivate, cultivate, and cultivate.

He didn’t care for social dealings, didn’t enjoy food or pleasures, and would disappear into seclusion for three or five years at a time.

Finally, his master couldn’t stand it anymore, deciding this was not a healthy way to live. With a wave of the hand, he assigned him to Mingyu Hall to instruct the youngest disciples.

“Hmm?” Wen Yu sensed something and turned his gaze toward Mu Xing.

There he was, sitting cross-legged on his mat, posture straight, expression calm, looking rather impressive.

But that wasn’t what caught Wen Yu’s eye. In his perception, this child’s body was already radiating a clear wave of spiritual energy.

That meant, barring accident, he was about to succeed in drawing qi into his body and officially step onto the path of cultivation.

And judging from Mu Xing’s appearance, he was only five or six years old.

Wen Yu immediately straightened up, excitement flashing through him. He couldn’t help feeling proud: just days ago, Senior Sister Yun had scolded him for sloppy teaching. But look—his method clearly worked.

Hadn’t he just taught this child successfully?

Mu Xing suddenly opened his eyes.

At the same time, a refreshing wave of spiritual energy burst out from him, rippling outward.

The other children, startled, hurried to open their eyes.

What they saw was a tiny black dot forming in the air before Mu Xing.

The dot grew to the size of a thumb—pop.

A sprout broke forth, growing quickly into a small, vibrant stalk of spirit grass.

Drip.

A drop of spiritual dew fell onto its leaf. Then another, and another.

Bathed in dew, the grass grew ever more lush, until a small bud bloomed at its tip.

Mu Xing stared wide-eyed at this miracle and reached out curiously.

His fingertip brushed the petal, and he felt only a cool sensation.

Then all at once, the vision shattered. The dew, the leaves, the flower—everything dissolved into a swirl of blue-green mist that sank into the space between his brows.

“Wow!” the children gasped in awe.

“To manifest water and wood spirits into form just by drawing qi into the body…” Wen Yu was astonished, his eyes burning as he fixed on Mu Xing. “Who are you? Which peak are you from? Have you taken a master yet?”

Mu Xing replied, “Disciple Mu Xing of Medicine Peak, under Elder Yao Wushi, the peak master of Medicine Peak.”

“Oh.” Disappointment showed clearly on Elder Wen Yu’s face. “So you’ve already acknowledged a master. I was thinking if I could take you in first. But even if I tried, I couldn’t win against Uncle Yao.”

Mu Xing found himself liking this young elder very much. His thoughts were so transparent, and when dealing with a group of little children, he had none of the aloofness of a Golden Core elder—he was more like an easygoing big brother from next door.

Ling Xiuxiu blinked curiously and asked, “Elder Wen Yu, is Mu Xing really amazing?”

Without hesitation, Wen Yu nodded. “Of course! To manifest spiritual power at the very moment of drawing it in—this level of talent is one in ten thousand.”

Ling Xiuxiu’s eyes sparkled as she turned happily to Mu Xing. “Junior Brother Xingxing, you’re incredible!”

Medicine Peak’s honor had been raised high!

But as soon as she thought of that, she remembered earlier events.

Turning her head, she looked toward Crescent Moon Peak. Sure enough, their disciples were all staring this way—at this moment, who wouldn’t be jealous of Mu Xing?

Ling Xiuxiu immediately shivered with delight, smugly pulled a face, and stuck her tongue out at the Crescent Moon Peak disciples.

The Crescent Moon Peak disciples: “…”

So infuriating.

But they were jealous too—and they couldn’t say anything back. None of them had managed to succeed in drawing qi into their bodies yet.

*

At the same time, in the Demon Realm.

Under a broad silver-leafed tree stood a beautiful boy in ornate robes, a cinnabar mark between his brows. Suddenly, he frowned.

That feeling again.

He had felt it once not long ago. And just now, it had returned.

As if… something that belonged to him had been taken away.

“Young Master Yu, Young Master Yu, are you here?” A voice called from afar.

This boy was none other than the missing young master of Crescent Moon Peak, Xue Zhongyu.

Hearing the voice, Xue Zhongyu showed a flicker of annoyance far beyond his age, but quickly smoothed it over.

A sweet, obedient smile spread across his face as he rose from beneath the tree. “Sister Jinling, I’m here!”

The maid, seeing him, let out a sigh of relief. Her eyes softened with affection. “So here you are. The princess is waking soon—if she doesn’t see you, she’ll be upset again.”

Xue Zhongyu’s voice was gentle. “Alright, I’ll go now.”

He followed the maid forward. No one noticed that at the cinnabar mark between his brows, a red flame-like sigil flickered briefly and vanished.

*

Back in the sect, news of Mu Xing’s success at drawing qi into his body in Mingyu Hall—along with the phenomenon of manifesting spiritual energy—spread rapidly throughout the entire Tai Xu Sect.

Even more shocking was the background that soon followed: he had just turned six, had been brought back from the mortal realm by Crescent Moon Peak’s master, and had only formally started training less than a month ago.

In less than a month, he had succeeded in drawing qi into his body.

Such speed—he was undoubtedly a genius.

When Crescent Moon Peak received this news, the disciples’ feelings were complicated. Water–wood dual spiritual roots were rare and highly valued in Tai Xu Sect.

But when Junior Brother Mu Xing had first arrived at Crescent Moon Peak, they had clearly tested his aptitude, yet somehow overlooked it, never giving it much thought.

What were they thinking back then?

They had only thought of dressing him up like Junior Brother Yu, turning him into a second version of Xue Zhongyu.

Never had they considered that Mu Xing himself possessed such remarkable potential. If he were properly cultivated, another powerhouse might rise within Tai Xu Sect.

From that day, Medicine Peak’s Mu Xing—the six-year-old prodigy who had succeeded in drawing qi and even triggered a phenomenon—became a name known by all.

Even Crescent Moon Peak no longer called him by the old name Xiao Yu.

Medicine Peak’s reaction, however, was far more straightforward.

The very day Mu Xing returned, he was showered with unabashed praise from his senior brother and stuffed full of spirit fruit.

Then he went to meet Yao Wushi.

Yao Wushi was overjoyed. He gave Mu Xing a jade slip and two spirit fields.

The jade slip contained Medicine Peak’s cultivation methods.

The spirit fields were something every Medicine Peak disciple had. After all, what kind of Medicine Peak disciple wouldn’t know how to farm?

Li Xuanyao whispered to him, “Junior Brother, don’t think Master didn’t give you any rewards this time. He’s saving it for the disciple ceremony. When Master gives a gift, it’s bound to be something big.”

In fact, Yao Wushi’s own words had been more blunt: “When all the other peaks gather for the disciple ceremony, I won’t have my first personal disciple treated lightly. If I, as his master, give a generous gift first, how could the others dare bring out paltry offerings to shame my little disciple?”

Soon, the month passed.

One day, after his lessons at Mingyu Hall, Mu Xing was met outside by Li Xuanyao, who escorted him back.

At Medicine Peak, he changed into his disciple’s robes again. Li Xuanyao held his hand and led him into the grand hall of the main peak.

There sat Xue Wuya, with his second disciple Qi Xiubai and third disciple Shi Zhizhu standing behind him.

They stared blankly as Mu Xing, led in by Li Xuanyao, entered the hall.

A little boy in white robes embroidered with blue patterns, hair tied into a topknot with a blue ribbon.

Though only six years old, facing a hall full of senior experts, he remained calm and composed, showing no sign of fear or nervousness.

Like a young bamboo shoot—tender yet unyielding.

Qi Xiubai suddenly realized: their little junior brother, so sweet and obedient since the beginning, somehow didn’t seem so much like Xue Zhongyu anymore.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

The little girl clearly couldn’t understand him and asked, “Why?”

“Hmph!” A haughty snort came from the direction of Crescent Moon Peak.

Everyone turned to look, and saw a little boy with his hair tied up in a lavish jade crown, jade beads dangling from the tips. His features were very fine, but his small face was tight and stiff, eyes full of pride and disdain. “I know why. It must be because he was too useless, that’s why he couldn’t stay at Crescent Moon Peak any longer.”

The little girl thought that sounded unpleasant and quickly retorted, “Cheng Yin, don’t talk nonsense.”

“I’m not talking nonsense,” Cheng Yin said loudly. “I heard it from my uncle. He only got taken back to Crescent Moon Peak because he looks like the Peak Master’s missing son. Look at him—every day he has a personal disciple escorting him back and forth, and he never gets close to us. Even though the Peak Master taught him personally for so long, he never made any progress.”

He said it all in one breath, finally letting out what he’d been holding inside. “Why should he be accepted as the Peak Master’s personal disciple? Obviously, because he’s nothing like the real little junior brother, he got driven out.”

Cheng Yin was fuming. His uncle was a Golden Core elder at Crescent Moon Peak—a true second-generation immortal.

Because his nephew had good talent, his uncle had always wanted him to become the Peak Master’s disciple. Who would have thought that Mu Xing would appear out of nowhere?

Cheng Yin happened to overhear his uncle mention Mu Xing, and he never forgot it.

At home he was spoiled rotten, so in his heart he believed Mu Xing had stolen the spot that should have been his, and had disliked him ever since.

Before, when Mu Xing always had a senior brother escorting him, he didn’t dare speak up. But now—Mu Xing wasn’t even at Crescent Moon Peak anymore. How could he not dare?

Mu Xing listened to him rattle on endlessly. He hadn’t even spoken yet when the table beside him was suddenly slammed, startling him so much he flinched.

It was his seatmate, the gentle little girl named Ling Xiuxiu—the same one who had just given him a bunny candy.

That one slam didn’t just shock Mu Xing, it stunned the Crescent Moon Peak disciples too.

Ling Xiuxiu stood up and pointed at Cheng Yin. “What rumors are you making up? Junior Brother Xingxing is our Medicine Peak’s personal disciple. You’ve taken classes—you should know what kind of crime it is to slander your fellow sect members. Let me tell you, slandering your fellow disciples means you’ll…”

She faltered—she hadn’t paid much attention in class and forgot the rest.

But she didn’t panic in the slightest. She just rolled up her sleeves. “Slandering fellow disciples—especially slandering our Medicine Peak’s little junior brother—means you’re going to get beaten up!”

Cheng Yin, only seven or eight years old, couldn’t stand this kind of provocation—especially from a girl a whole head shorter than him pointing at his nose and scolding him.

He shot to his feet. “What, the truth is too hard to hear? You want to hit me? Come on then, let’s see who’s afraid!”

The Medicine Peak children all stood up, and the Crescent Moon Peak children gathered around Cheng Yin.

Seeing this, Ling Xiuxiu tugged at Mu Xing. “Junior Brother Xingxing, later you hide behind us.”

Senior Brother had told them to take care of Junior Brother Xingxing. And since he was the youngest, of course as a senior sister she had to protect him.

Mu Xing hadn’t expected things to escalate in the blink of an eye. Both sides were squaring off, fists itching, while other little disciples from the nearby peaks stared wide-eyed at the unfolding drama.

How could he bear to let a bunch of seven-year-old brats fight on his behalf?

He said quickly, “No, no need, everyone doesn’t have to…” He wanted to say—what could six- or seven-year-old children possibly understand?

Smack.

A book slammed down on his head.

With a child’s tender skin, the corner of the book struck his forehead. Even before Mu Xing felt anything, reflex tears sprang to his eyes.

Ling Xiuxiu: !

Medicine Peak disciples: !

They dared to hit our little junior brother—right in front of us!

And even made him cry!

Crescent Moon Peak had gone too far!

The scene spiraled out of control. Inside the wide Mingyu Hall, books and toys flew in every direction. Ling Xiuxiu even took the chance to rush over and kick Cheng Yin twice.

The whole hall descended into chaos.

…

By the time Li Xuanyao received word, the brawl was already over.

The culprits—over twenty little disciples of Crescent Moon Peak and Medicine Peak—were lined up against the wall, small palms swollen from punishment by the hall’s elder.

This time Li Xuanyao had come to collect his own children.

As luck would have it, Crescent Moon Peak sent Qi Xiubai.

The two ran into each other at the doorway. Qi Xiubai greeted him politely, but Li Xuanyao was preoccupied with his juniors, so he only nodded before striding inside.

The Medicine Peak disciples stood to the left.

The little ones hung their heads, pitiful and wronged, huddled together in a way that was both sad and funny.

Li Xuanyao’s heart softened instantly. He didn’t yet know the details—only that his Medicine Peak juniors had fought with Crescent Moon Peak.

Keeping his face stern, he scolded, “What happened? You’re supposed to be here to learn. Who told you to fight? And with your own sect brothers, no less. Is this what your senior brother taught you?”

Mu Xing raised a hand helplessly. “Senior Brother, it’s my fault. They only stood up for me.”

When he lifted his head, the bruise on his forehead was revealed—ugly and purple.

Li Xuanyao forgot all about scolding. He hurried forward. “What happened to you?”

Ling Xiuxiu blurted quickly, “It was Cheng Yin from Crescent Moon Peak! They’re the ones with problems. As soon as they came, they insisted Junior Brother Xingxing was theirs. Then Cheng Yin went too far—he said Junior Brother Xingxing only became a disciple because he looked like their missing junior. He even said he was driven out of Crescent Moon Peak!”

At last, Ling Xiuxiu said angrily, “He even hit Little Xing with a book! They were the ones who struck first!”

Children seemed to care very much about who made the first move. When the teaching elder struck their palms, Ling Xiuxiu’s eyes brimmed with tears, yet she kept insisting it was Crescent Moon Peak who acted first, demanding that the elder give Crescent Moon Peak a few extra strikes with the ruler for fairness.

Li Xuanyao’s expression darkened.

He turned to look at Qi Xiubai, whose face was also unpleasant: “Junior Brother Qi, I think there are some things your Crescent Moon Peak should explain clearly to its disciples. Xingxing was personally sent to Medicine Peak by Uncle-Master Xue, he is Medicine Peak’s personal disciple. Your Crescent Moon Peak spreading such rumors is an insult to our entire Medicine Peak. I will report this matter to Master, and have him personally come to Crescent Moon Peak to demand an explanation!”

He patted Ling Xiuxiu’s head. “Come back with your senior brother first.”

But Qi Xiubai did not look at the pitiful junior disciples beside him. His gaze stayed fixed on the bruise on Mu Xing’s forehead, his eyes full of distress. “Does it hurt?”

Mu Xing gave him a puzzled glance and asked, “Senior Brother Qi, who are you asking?”

Qi Xiubai froze.

Mu Xing leaned against Li Xuanyao, his large black-and-white eyes calm as he looked straight at him. “I am Mu Xing, not your Xiao Yu. Senior Brother Qi, don’t mistake me for someone else.”

Too lazy to look at him further, he tugged Li Xuanyao’s sleeve. “With my senior brothers and sisters protecting me, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

Outside, Li Xuanyao could not openly show his heartache. He led his junior disciples back to Medicine Peak.

He applied medicinal salve to their wounds, then brought out several plates of spirit fruit and little snacks for the children, before asking, “What exactly happened today?”

Ling Xiuxiu, always lively-mouthed, immediately rattled off the entire incident.

In the end she emphasized, “I kicked Cheng Yin several times. If the teaching elder hadn’t come, we definitely would have won!”

Li Xuanyao clapped his hands, pulled out many little trinkets from his pouch, and gave them to the children. “Well done! Crescent Moon Peak deserves a beating. Next time, if they say such things again, just fight them. Just make sure you don’t suffer losses yourselves.”

The little ones all responded together, “Yes, Senior Brother!”

Mu Xing: “…”

Seeing his little junior brother’s round eyes staring at him, Li Xuanyao couldn’t help rubbing his head and said, “Don’t listen to what that Crescent Moon Peak disciple said. You are not someone thrown out. It’s that Crescent Moon Peak isn’t good enough, not worthy of having a little junior brother like our Xingxing.”

Then he earnestly advised, “Next time, don’t be so straightforward. If someone throws something, you have to dodge.”

Mu Xing was touched one moment, then amused the next.

Compared to Crescent Moon Peak, Medicine Peak’s disciples, environment, and atmosphere were all far better.

The best thing Xue Wuya ever did was to send him to Medicine Peak.

The corners of his lips curled up. “Mm! This time was an accident, there definitely won’t be a next time.”

*

Not long after, the Medicine Peak Master personally visited Crescent Moon Peak.

Yao Wushi had originally planned to wait until the strange effect of his shrinking medicine wore off before going to speak with Xue Wuya.

But these endless troubles had made him too irritated.

He stormed to Crescent Moon Peak and, pointing at Xue Wuya’s nose, scolded him harshly:

“Look at yourself, what kind of state is this? I know you feel miserable because of Xiao Yu’s accident. But you are not alone. As long as you are Crescent Moon Peak’s master, all of Crescent Moon Peak’s disciples are your responsibility! Look at what a mess you’ve made of your peak!”

“If you feel grief, if you cannot let go of Xiao Yu, then go search for him! Turn heaven and earth upside down. If he still lives, you’ll surely find him. If he’s truly gone, then train hard, and one day sweep clean the Demon Realm. I’ll praise you as a real man with true responsibility. But what skill is there in bullying a six-year-old child with an entire peak?”

“I don’t care what happened before. Now, Mu Xing is my disciple. You know what kind of temper I have. If I hear any more of those messy rumors, I won’t bother with those little brats, I’ll hold you directly responsible. From now on, don’t even think of getting a single pill from Medicine Peak.”

“You’d better reflect on yourself. And your disciples too—after all these years of cultivation, if they still can’t endure even a little bit of life and death, falling into demons in their hearts, then when they face tribulation, they might as well wait for the lightning to strike them into dust!”

“…”

The Medicine Peak Master came like the wind, didn’t even drink a sip of tea, and left like the wind.

The next day, every peak of Taixu Sect received invitations: one month later, Medicine Peak Master Yao Wushi would host a disciple-acceptance ceremony to celebrate taking in his beloved disciple.

Normally, personal disciples did not have such ceremonies, unless the master truly valued them.

Yao Wushi had always disliked such tedious formalities. But Mu Xing’s situation was special. After that fight, rumors had spread outside.

After thinking it over, Medicine Peak decided to be high-profile, to let everyone see that Mu Xing was a cherished disciple of Medicine Peak.

This was the best way to shut people’s mouths.

As for why they had to wait another month…

Yao Wushi looked deeply at the little child in the mercury mirror. For such a solemn occasion as accepting a disciple, he couldn’t possibly appear in such a shrunken shell, could he?

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Previous

Zhou Li originally wanted to wish An Yixiao success with her plan—but then realized that sounded like setting up a death flag, so she wisely shut her mouth.

An Yixiao assumed Zhou Li wasn’t particularly interested in dungeon affairs, so she didn’t go into detail.

After An Yixiao left, night fell.

The streetlights that should have turned on stayed dark. It was as though someone had poured ink across the sky; blackness swallowed every trace of light.

Even the supermarket’s brightest lamp could only barely illuminate the small clearing within the range of its protective field.

From outside came faint, rustling whispers—soft, chaotic, like the murmur of something breathing just beyond sight—adding an eerie edge to the already perilous night.

Zhou Li watched for only a moment before a chill crawled up her spine.

Then, a scream ripped through the darkness from the floor above.

Zhou Li’s heart lurched painfully.

She bolted upstairs and arrived just in time to stop Zhang Xiaozhi from smashing the television.

“What are you doing?”

“The principal—!” Zhang Xiaozhi pointed at the black screen.

Zhou Li: …

“You mean you saw the principal of Mingde Academy in the TV?”

Zhang Xiaozhi nodded.

Zhou Li’s face twisted.

Seriously? Why did her house suddenly turn into a ghost movie set?

“System?” she called immediately.

“She’s an anomaly,” the system said. “Her sensory perception differs from a human’s.”

“So,” Zhou Li asked, “you mean I might not see what she sees?”

“Exactly.”

Zhou Li thought for a moment, then asked, “If the protective field harms anomalies, do you have a workaround?”

“Maybe…” the system said. “You could open the Study and Strengthen the Nation app for her.”

Zhou Li: ???

“You’re sure that won’t kill her?” she asked.

Like how Zhou Li sometimes used the 24-Character Socialist Core Values mantra to banish fear—

“Between two evils, choose the lesser one,” the system replied. “Oh, and if she tries to run, use the medical pod. It can restrain patients.”

Zhou Li wasn’t sure whether that would work on an anomaly, but it was the only idea she had.

So she coaxed the terrified Zhang Xiaozhi—who was on the verge of fleeing back to school—up to the third floor and locked her inside the medical pod.

The pod automatically scanned her body and displayed multiple injuries on the monitor.

Zhou Li stared at the results, silent.

When Zhang Xiaozhi realized she’d been tricked, she started thrashing violently.

Zhou Li snapped out of it, pulled out her phone, and played the pre-downloaded educational videos for her.

Zhang Xiaozhi: …

*

The next day.

An Yixiao arrived to pick up the anomaly.

At the sight of the now haggard, half-mad Zhang Xiaozhi, the latter flung herself at her, sobbing. “I don’t want to be an anomaly anymore! Just send me to the Reeducation Hall!”

An Yixiao: ?

She glanced at Zhou Li in confusion.

Did the boss torture her or something?

Zhou Li looked at the ceiling, the floor, her phone—anything except them.

“What happened?” An Yixiao asked Zhang Xiaozhi.

Zhang Xiaozhi wailed, “She made me watch Study and Strengthen the Nation! And for every video, she made me write at least 150 words of reflection! She’s inhuman!”

An Yixiao: ???

Zhou Li protested, “I am human—and humane! I only made you write 150 words! I have to write at least 300 myself!”

“But I’m an anomaly!” Zhang Xiaozhi cried.

“So what? Anomalies don’t need education? You’d be studying anyway when you go back to school! Besides, after watching those videos, did the principal come to find you again? No, right? You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

Zhang Xiaozhi: …

At that point, she couldn’t decide who was scarier—the principal or the boss.

An Yixiao, having pieced it together, nearly burst out laughing but held it in for fear of offending Zhang Xiaozhi.

“I do actually need to take you to the Reeducation Hall,” she said.

Zhang Xiaozhi hesitated. “On second thought… the Study and Strengthen the Nation app isn’t that bad.”

An Yixiao continued, “Everything’s ready. The Reeducation Hall is the only place that can avoid school surveillance and still contact the outside world.”

Why not use the supermarket?

Because the supermarket existed in a separate space—completely sealed off from external connections.

“The director isn’t here today,” she added. “It has to be today. Once we’re done, you can return to the supermarket. After that, whether you study or not is up to you.”

Zhang Xiaozhi wavered.

Part of her—the anomaly—wanted to resist, to betray them.

But another part remembered the torment Mingde Academy had brought her. She desperately wanted out. This might be her only chance to escape with outside help.

Finally, she nodded.

Zhou Li said cheerfully, “I’ll keep your study videos ready. Come back anytime for more learning.”

Zhang Xiaozhi: …

*

The ordinary students of Mingde Academy had no idea about the players’ plans.

All they knew was that the small supermarket had somehow appeared inside the school.

Between classes, they would find every excuse to sneak over and buy things.

At first, they were too afraid to buy snacks—after all, phrases like “Eating junk food makes a girl immoral” had long been drilled into them.

But once they caught the scent of warm, delicious food and saw the brightly colored packaging, old memories of sneaking snacks resurfaced one by one.

In the end, the craving for snacks won out over the brainwashing of so-called “female virtue” education.

When teachers forbade them from eating snacks, the girls simply ate them inside the small supermarket before returning to class.

If classmates tried to report them, they denied everything—and soon ganged up to drag that tattletale along to the supermarket too.

Once students realized snitches got ostracized, the urge to inform vanished completely.

Those suffocating doctrines of “virtue” that had bound them for so long began to loosen, one trip to the supermarket at a time.

“I ate the snacks in the supermarket, not in the school. That doesn’t count as breaking the rules.”

“You can’t know how harmful snacks are until you eat them. I’m sacrificing myself for the greater good!”

“Yeah right, you just want chips.”

“Hey, why hasn’t the instructor come to catch us yet?”

“You didn’t hear? He bought a bunch of alcohol while the director’s away—probably hiding somewhere getting drunk.”

“If even the instructors are drinking, why can’t we eat snacks? Come on, everyone, eat!”

“……”

The once lifeless school suddenly became animated every recess.

Ironically, the snacks that sold the least in other worlds became bestsellers here.

Listening to the anomaly students complain about the cafeteria, Zhou Li thought, If I remember right, Duan Jing said the cafeteria food increases pollution. So if they fill up on snacks instead, maybe that’s why they’re less affected?

If Zhou Li could guess that, the teachers of Mingde Academy certainly could too.

They soon noticed many students weren’t finishing their cafeteria meals, causing large amounts of waste.

Lately, the staff and instructors had been too busy dealing with the troublesome players to care about such details. The anomaly students—long since docile from pollution—hadn’t needed close supervision.

But when they saw groups of students flocking to the supermarket at lunch and dinner, suspicion finally arose.

That discovery enraged them.

Several students caught dumping cafeteria food were immediately detained.

What awaited them was punishment so terrifying even the anomaly trembled at the thought.

Just then, darkness fell across the campus—a shadow blanketing everything.

Beyond the cafeteria, the world went silent.

Even inside, every teacher and student froze mid-motion, as if someone had pressed “pause.”

The vision of every anomaly and player began to twist. A soft, crawling whisper filled their ears, raising goosebumps all over.

Invisible pressure and distorted pollution flooded the space. Anomaly teachers and students could no longer hold human form and reverted to their grotesque originals.

Players who had been too corrupted began to change as well.

Their eyeballs bulged. Their lips thickened. Their teeth became jagged like saws.

Their facial features slid out of place, their skulls warped grotesquely, and when they opened their mouths, the corners stretched almost to the back of their heads.

They screamed—high, piercing shrieks that shattered the stillness.

Meanwhile—

Zhang Xiaozhi came tumbling back into the supermarket, thrown in by An Yixiao.

Zhou Li had already sensed something wrong with the school; even she felt a deep unease now.

“Did your plan work?” she asked.

An Yixiao said, “It worked.”

One of the players who’d come with her to rescue Duan Jing snapped angrily, “You mean it worked to piss off the principal! The principal’s coming back—we’re all going to die!”

An Yixiao shot her a frigid glare.

Duan Jing barked, “Shut up! If you’re that scared of dying, I’ll kill you first.”

The player fell silent, though resentment still burned in her face.

Zhou Li, perfectly composed, said, “You talk like not having the principal return would’ve guaranteed your survival. Once you chose to enter, you should’ve accepted death as a possibility. What, did you think this dungeon was just for farming achievements?”

The player’s face flushed red—because Zhou Li had hit the mark exactly.

“Enough,” said Song Ganlan, who had been terrified before but now stood firm. “If you’re scared, stay here. Don’t drag us down.”

When Zhou Li asked her why, Song Ganlan explained that she’d regained full clarity—so she knew what needed to be done to have any chance of clearing the dungeon.

“Boss,” An Yixiao called.

“What, leaving your last words already?” Zhou Li asked.

An Yixiao paused, then shook her head. “No, just wanted to confirm—if I die, my debts are canceled, right?”

“That depends,” Zhou Li said calmly. “If your sister inherits your estate, the debt goes to her too.”

The players: …

Boss, you’re so practical.

An Yixiao smiled faintly. “Good. Then I’m relieved.”

The players: ? Relieved about what exactly?

Duan Jing exposed her immediately. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking—if you die, An Fengxuan can’t repay the debt and will have to work it off here instead?”

Working for the supermarket was basically a get-out-of-death-free card.

If not for the goal of clearing the dungeon, An Yixiao wouldn’t have risked her life at all.

Zhou Li: …

Tsk. Outsmarted again.

[Author’s Note]

Next chapter—the dungeon will probably wrap up.

☢️☢️☢️

Sandy: You’re already halfway through and still reading… I’m guessing you’re enjoying the story 😊

If that’s the case, please consider leaving a ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ on NU, it really helps support faster updates! 😘

Next

The Good Life Supermarket didn’t sell cigarettes—but it did sell alcohol, and even a few restricted blades.

An Yixiao immediately began helping Zhou Li stash those items away.

Zhou Li asked the system, “What happens if we break a rule?”

“You’ll be fined. In severe cases, your license to operate on campus may be revoked.”

Zhou Li’s expression turned odd. “Then let them revoke it. After that, we’ll just reopen the supermarket outside the school.”

System: …

You really are a genius.

“But,” Zhou Li added, “let’s not risk it. What if we can’t even re-enter the dungeon afterward?”

The incident made her realize she’d grown too complacent behind the supermarket’s protection field.

She told An Yixiao to move the alcohol and weapons upstairs.

Everything from the second floor up counted as private residence and wasn’t bound by campus regulations.

Using an item, An Yixiao easily transferred everything to the second floor.

Then Zhou Li had the system remove alcohol and blades from the vending machines.

Just as they finished, the director of discipline arrived.

He strode in energetically, but his face darkened when he found no violations to punish.

Zhou Li greeted him pleasantly. “Teacher Long Zhatian, your order of school supplies has arrived. Please have someone check the inventory.”

The players: Pfft.

The director’s name was Long Zhatian?

His expression twisted. He pointed at the few who laughed the loudest. “You three—go count the supplies. You have five minutes. If anything’s missing or damaged, you’ll be punished.”

The named players instantly sobered up, trembling.

“Countdown begins,” came the director’s cold voice.

They didn’t dare delay and hurried toward the storage area.

Song Ganlan, also chosen, muttered in despair, “Five minutes? That’s impossible!”

Zhou Li said, “Just use the vending machines—everything’s listed there. You only need to swipe Long Zhatian’s membership card.”

The dean smiled thinly. “If you want the card, convince me.”

The players felt the air drop several degrees.

Duan Jing and An Yixiao had already warned them—no fighting inside the supermarket, or its protection would vanish.

But if the director refused to leave, how could they grab his card?

Sweat beaded on their foreheads as they debated risking everything. Then An Yixiao reminded them, “If the mountain won’t come to me, I’ll go to it.”

Duan Jing’s eyes lit up. She dashed outside to the vending machines, entered the director’s supply order, and when the prompt asked for a card swipe, she pulled out an item. “Swap Positions!”

In a blink, she and the director switched places.

“Beep—Card recognized. Dispensing now,” the machine announced.

Players: ?

Dean: …

A wave of black mist—actually countless gnats—swarmed over his face. Even though his features were obscured, the pressure and dread radiating from him only grew stronger.

“What are you waiting for? Four minutes left!” Duan Jing shouted.

Song Ganlan snapped into action, and the others followed.

Zhou Li clapped for Duan Jing’s quick thinking.

An Yixiao shot her a sidelong look. “Pretty rich, aren’t you?”

Duan Jing laughed awkwardly. “That was my last trump card. I’ve definitely made him furious now—your turn to handle it, President An.”

Zhou Li sighed inwardly. Both of them were clearly loaded, yet they’d pretended to be broke right up until the brink of death.

An Yixiao faced the director. “Teacher, my family’s poor. I’d like to apply for a work-study position here at the supermarket.”

Dean: …

Of all the players here, you’re the last one qualified to say that.

Zhou Li wisely kept quiet instead of confirming An Yixiao’s “employment.” If she admitted to hiring a student, the director might claim it violated regulations and use it as an excuse to punish her.

Better to let An Yixiao handle it herself.

Naturally, the director refused to let her use this as a loophole to hide inside the supermarket. With its protection, she’d become even harder to control.

So he denied the work-study request outright.

An Yixiao said lightly, “Looks like I’ll have to take a few days off then, boss.”

Zhou Li replied, “Fine, since you boosted my sales numbers, I’ll approve some leave.”

The director, with no rules to exploit, had to leave empty-handed.

As soon as he was gone, the students—who’d been too frightened to come near—rushed in to shop.

Then the bell rang. Lunch break was over, and everyone’s faces turned ashen.

Some students, unaware of the supermarket’s rules, stayed inside after class began as they used to.

The director appeared like a ghost, bringing an instructor to catch them. He accused Zhou Li of violating school regulations.

“I know,” Zhou Li said calmly. “Fine’s twenty per loitering student, right?”

She slapped the counter and glared at the student. “Well? Pay up!”

The student: ?

“Wait, aren’t you the one being fined?”

“The school fines me,” Zhou Li said, “so I fine you. Any complaints? Keep talking and I’ll blacklist you.”

The student looked helplessly at the director. His twisted face darkened. “How can it just be a fine?”

“Can you show me a rule that says otherwise?” Zhou Li shot back.

The director: …

Normally, procurement and penalties weren’t his job—that fell to administration or logistics.

But Mingde wasn’t a real school, so it had no logistics office.

That meant such matters fell under the principal—and with the principal absent, the director had no authority to amend penalties.

He’d planned to exploit the vague punishment clause to scare Zhou Li into thinking the consequences were dire.

Who could’ve guessed she’d know that the penalty for loitering students was only a fine?

Seeing him speechless, Zhou Li exhaled in relief.

Good thing she’d guessed right!

She’d only assumed it based on her own middle-school memories—when the punishment for that rule had also been a fine.

Even if she’d guessed wrong, it wouldn’t have mattered; the dungeon didn’t punish you just for guessing incorrectly.

The student reluctantly handed over twenty game coins.

Zhou Li turned to the director. “Here’s the fine.”

The dean: …

He said nothing, but even Zhou Li, a non-player outsider, felt the air grow foul—like stepping from a mountain breeze into a chemical plant’s exhaust.

Pollution?

If that was what it felt like, then she was only safe thanks to being an outsider shielded by the supermarket.

She reached under the counter and produced an air freshener.

The director left in silence, bringing the buzz cut instructor and the punished student with him.

The instructor whispered, “Sir, I told you—this boss is no fool. She saw right through our setup!”

Indeed, the student had been a plant meant to trick the supermarket into breaking the rules.

But they hadn’t expected Zhou Li to know the fine clause—and to make the student pay it instead.

The director glanced coldly at the anomaly student. “Useless.”

The creature trembled violently before letting out a wail—then its body disintegrated into a swarm of gnats.

The instructor shuddered in terror.

*

Inside the supermarket, the system asked, “Why did you make the student pay the fine?”

Zhou Li replied without a hint of guilt, “The supermarket was fined because of them. Isn’t it logical that they pay it?”

System: …

Zhou Li peeked outside. “What was that noise just now?”

“The most common kind in this dungeon,” said the system.

Hearing that, she stopped worrying about it.

By evening, classes had ended. An Yixiao returned with Zhang Xiaozhi—bandaged and blood-spattered again.

“Half a day gone, and you’re injured already?” Zhou Li asked.

Wrapping her arm with gauze from the med-kit, An Yixiao said, “Boss, please hide Zhang Xiaozhi here for a while.”

Zhou Li told her about the fine situation.

An Yixiao paused, then pulled out over a hundred game coins. “This should cover a few days’ worth of fines.”

Zhou Li happily accepted them and sent Zhang Xiaozhi upstairs to hide.

Once the frightened girl was out of earshot, Zhou Li asked, “So—you and Duan Jing have started that clearance plan you discussed?”

An Yixiao nodded.

Their theory was this: if each dungeon mirrored a real-world event, then the story of Dawn Village must have truly happened.

If so, clearing the dungeon would make the event known to the outside world—maybe even cause an uproar.

Could they then use the time difference between Dawn Village and Mingde Academy to draw that outside attention here?

Since Wang Hui had died from bullying, public interest in school violence and juvenile crime would be intense.

If Zhang Xiaozhi, a survivor from Dawn Village, reported bullying at Mingde Academy, the place would become a media storm.

Once under scrutiny, the school’s staff—from the principal to the dean—would be forced to restrain themselves.

That would give the players room to rise as “excellent students.”

And if the principal and dean were absent, such recognition from teachers alone might count as victory.

Zhou Li, unfamiliar with the dungeon’s structure, frowned. “But time in a dungeon freezes. When it’s cleared, does time start again?”

An Yixiao shook her head. “No one knows. Cleared dungeons can’t be re-entered. Until Dawn Village and Mingde Academy, no one realized dungeons could even be connected.”

Zhou Li said, “That makes sense. If dungeons are snapshots of real places at specific times, it’s rare for two connected events to happen in the same location. If Zhang Xiaozhi weren’t from Dawn Village, the two would just be unrelated worlds.”

An Yixiao smiled faintly. “Which is why I’m grateful you exist, boss.”

Without the supermarket’s anomaly linking the two instances—and giving Zhang Xiaozhi shared memories—no one would’ve discovered this truth.

“This plan might have been impossible before,” An Yixiao said. “But now… it’s worth a try.”

☢️☢️☢️

“Crrrkkk—”

It was the sound of sharp nails scraping across glass—shrill, grating, and unpleasant.

An Yixiao opened her eyes and turned around.

The heavy iron doors groaned as their rusted wheels creaked, dragging them shut. Bit by bit, they sealed off all view of the outside world.

“Welcome to Mingde Academy.”

The director of discipline stood with a false smile frozen on his face. His eyes swept over the group of players, but when they landed on An Yixiao, they paused for half a second.

An Yixiao lowered her gaze as if meek, though in truth she was quietly observing both the school and the dean himself.

His brief hesitation hadn’t escaped her notice.

So, he did remember her.

That meant the dungeon hadn’t reset since her last visit.

And since she had entered this time with a normal student identity, the dean had no legitimate reason to attack her—at least, not yet.

Then, the director’s eerie voice sliced through the tense air. “…Did you hear me?”

An Yixiao snapped back to the moment and, along with the other players, replied in unison, “Yes, sir.”

A smile crept across the dean’s face, cold and triumphant. “Then recite the Student Code—now!”

The players’ hearts clenched.

A life-or-death challenge, right from the start?

Fortunately, the director’s target was only An Yixiao. His long, knotted finger—like a dried-up tree branch—pointed straight at her.

An Yixiao remained calm.

She had entered this dungeon before. She knew nearly every rule that applied to both students and staff.

And for someone with her memory, the Student Code was something she could recite backward.

But she also knew the trick hidden in this test: with every rule she recited, her “pollution value” would increase.

That, of course, was the director’s true intent.

He knew she was dangerous—so he struck first.

Luckily, An Yixiao had come prepared this time.

Once she passed the director’s trial, several players were led away by instructors to their assigned classes.

As if on purpose, An Yixiao was sent to Spring-Autumn Class—the one with the highest pollution level.

There, a student named Kong Ru was assigned to explain classroom conduct to her.

When she saw his face—its features already warped and misplaced—An Yixiao quietly pulled out an item she’d prepared in advance.

The “Eye of the Anomaly.”

Though in truth, she thought a better name would be the “Right Eye of the Anomaly,” since it had once belonged to an S-class anomaly named Wang Hui.

After clearing the Dawn Village dungeon perfectly, Wang Hui had even given her his left eye as a reward.

Here, however, she dared not use that left eye—the one that could pierce all illusions—because the pollution in Mingde Academy was too strong. If she saw something she wasn’t meant to see, she could be corrupted instantly, reduced to madness, and become one of the monsters herself.

So she used only the right eye—to quietly monitor the entire school.

When a giant eye appeared, floating high above the campus, the director noticed immediately.

He felt his authority being challenged.

But by the time he rushed to Spring-Autumn Class, An Yixiao had already dismissed the eye and was quietly “attending class.”

With no evidence to prove the eye belonged to her, the director could only shoot her a cold “I’m watching you” look before leaving without a word.

When the bell rang for the end of class, Duan Jing appeared at the classroom door almost instantly.

She looked one step away from hugging An Yixiao’s leg and sobbing. “You’re finally here! You don’t know what kind of days I’ve been living without you!”

An Yixiao: …

Where was the pride of the great Miss Duan now?

But Duan Jing’s real concern was, “Is the boss back?”

An Yixiao said, “At the field, beside the playground.”

“Huh?” Duan Jing blinked, confused.

They barely had time to exchange greetings before the bell for the next class rang, forcing them back to their respective rooms.

It wasn’t until the lunch break that the surviving players finally gathered.

Only half a day had passed, yet one of their number was already gone—one of the Dali Guild players who’d come to rescue Duan Jing.

A pang of guilt rippled through her chest.

As she led the group toward the playground, she gave them a brief but firm warning.

“I’m grateful you came to help me. But this dungeon is too dangerous—even I can’t clear it alone. Don’t be reckless. If it comes to it, you must leave, no matter the cost. Only by staying alive can there be hope for tomorrow!”

When they finally saw the familiar sight of the small supermarket, she didn’t hesitate—she ran straight inside.

Only once she stepped through those doors did her heart finally settle.

The other players, however, stood dumbfounded, unable to understand why she was acting that way.

“This little supermarket… wait, how did the owner get in here too?”

“And the whole supermarket came with her?”

Duan Jing turned to An Yixiao. “You didn’t give them a briefing?”

“No time,” An Yixiao said simply.

Besides, she’d already done her part by selling Dali Guild the information that Duan Jing was still alive. Writing them a full dungeon guide was out of the question.

Duan Jing didn’t push it further. “Makes sense. They must’ve insisted on tagging along.”

The Dali Guild members bristled—risking their lives to save her, only to hear her taking An Yixiao’s side.

But Duan Jing had no time to soothe their pride.

She asked Zhou Li, “Boss, how did your supermarket get inside the school?”

Zhou Li didn’t know either.

In her home world, schools weren’t even allowed to run convenience stores on campus, so she was just as surprised to see her shop appear here.

Still, the system was always law-abiding—so maybe this spot technically was zoned for business.

The system spoke up. “No. This is The Game’s doing.”

“Huh?” Zhou Li could hear a rare note of seriousness in its synthetic voice.

“When the supermarket operates outside school grounds,” the system said, “the school can’t touch it. But now that it’s inside, it must obey the school’s rules… This was deliberate. You’re the target.”

Zhou Li asked, “If the supermarket still has its protection protocols, shouldn’t it be fine?”

The system’s tone turned grim. “Think of the protection as one set of governing rules. When rules collide, one must weaken for the other to strengthen.”

Zhou Li understood immediately. “You mean—since the supermarket now falls under school jurisdiction, if it breaks the school’s rules, it’ll be corrupted by those same rules?”

“Then we’re leaving,” she said without hesitation.

The system hesitated. “…No need to panic. A dungeon’s rules can’t overpower the will of a plane itself.”

“But look around,” Zhou Li said. “This entire plane’s already been overrun by The Game. Can its will still even function?”

At that, the lights flickered ominously.

Zhou Li: …

“Great. The plane’s will still has some fight left. Maybe try showing that to The Game instead of me?”

The system said dryly, “Even a dying camel is bigger than a horse.”

The lights flickered again—this time even more violently.

Strangely, that made Zhou Li feel reassured. She even found herself smiling.

The players, on the other hand, were tense, unnerved by the sudden anomaly.

An Yixiao, who had been watching Zhou Li’s distracted expression, asked, “Boss… was that you joking with us?”

Zhou Li looked up at the lights, now steady again. “No. But it is related to me.”

Then she turned to Duan Jing and explained, “I didn’t mean to open the supermarket here. The Game probably didn’t like me helping you cheat and decided to punish me.”

Though Zhou Li said it lightly, An Yixiao sensed the gravity behind those words.

Sure enough, Zhou Li continued, describing how the supermarket, now located within the school, had to follow campus regulations.

An Yixiao frowned, Duan Jing went rigid, and Song Ganlan looked utterly stunned.

Even those who didn’t understand the details could see from the S-class players’ faces that the situation was dire.

“What rules does the supermarket have to follow?” An Yixiao asked. She was already planning countermeasures.

Zhou Li glanced at the list projected by her system. It contained five regulations:

1. All business permits and licenses must be valid.
2. Sale of alcohol and tobacco is strictly prohibited.
3. Operating hours are limited to breakfast, lunch, and dinner periods; students may not loiter during class time.
4. Selling unverified, expired, or spoiled products is strictly forbidden.
5. Trash must be disposed of promptly; pests like mice or cockroaches are not allowed.

Rules 1, 4, and 5 were easy enough.

But The Game’s traps lay in Rules 2 and 3.

[Author’s Note]

These five are, in fact, the real standard regulations for most school campus stores.

☢️☢️☢️

Once every member of the Blue Owl Guild had their own membership card, the little supermarket turned lively as a morning marketplace.

“Fresh fruits and vegetables? Am I dreaming?”

“Wait—don’t tell me these are genetically modified again? The tomatoes don’t taste like tomatoes, and the corn’s neither sweet nor sticky…”

“Who cares? Fresh is fresh. Just grab some.”

“Hey! I saw that watermelon knife first!”

“There’s so much alcohol here!”

“Hey, go check the vending machines outside—they’re actually easier to shop from. There’s a ton of stuff not even on the shelves inside.”

At that, many players dashed out to explore the vending machines.

An Yixiao noticed one of the new items appearing behind Zhou Li and blinked. “Is that an electric baton?”

“This is called a self-defense tool,” Zhou Li said calmly.

An Yixiao: …

“Changing the name doesn’t make it not an electric baton.”

“‘Electric baton’ sounds dangerous,” Zhou Li said. “But ‘self-defense tool’ gives people a warm sense of safety.”

The thing could certainly make humans scream, but it wasn’t guaranteed to work against the aberrations. Zhou Li hadn’t planned to market it for this world anyway.

Still, An Yixiao bought one.

“When fighting aberrations, the key is surprise. Even if it only buys you two seconds, that’s enough time to use another item.”

After that statement, the electric batons sold out within minutes to the Blue Owl members.

Watching her daily revenue shoot upward, Zhou Li beamed. “Ah, the public hall really is the best!”

There weren’t any massive single purchases, but with so many customers, the total sales easily made up for it.

An Yixiao asked, “Have you prepared the supplies the director wanted?”

“Yes. I made five hundred sets. Any extras can be sold elsewhere.”

“Then I’ll trouble you to wait half a day,” said An Yixiao. “I’ll rest and heal tonight and head for Mingde Academy in the morning.”

The Blue Owl members all stopped shopping the moment they heard that. They crowded around.

Vice president Chen Linhuan spoke first. “Guild leader, your injuries aren’t even healed. Why rush into another S-class dungeon?”

Zhou Li watched silently from the side.

Clearly, An Yixiao hadn’t told anyone about her plan to go to Mingde Academy.

She hadn’t even had time to compile her Dawn Village clearance report for the guild’s archives—a standard Blue Owl practice after every dungeon run, meant to find patterns or possible links between instances.

An Yixiao simply said, “We’ll talk about it in the 17:00 meeting. Until then, focus on shopping.”

The members looked at each other.

Their decisive, no-nonsense leader putting off dungeon strategy—to tell them to shop?

Still, the supermarket’s stock really was irresistible.

“I’m so sick of instant noodles without seasoning packets—these ones actually have them!”

Buy, buy, buy!

“These snacks even have artificial additives—thank goodness, authentic flavor at last!”

Buy, buy, buy!

Zhou Li: “?”

Seeing Zhou Li’s baffled expression, An Yixiao couldn’t help laughing. She sent someone out to fetch a sample of the local food for her.

Before long, the player returned with a hamburger.

An Yixiao said, “Boss, here—this one’s on me.”

“Thanks, but I already had breakfast.”

“Just try it—it’s our top-selling beef burger.”

Since An Yixiao was recommending it in earnest, Zhou Li figured her employee wouldn’t be trying to poison her, so she accepted it.

She tore open the wrapper, looked at the words “Beef Burger” printed on the package, then at the contents.

To say it looked nothing like the picture would be an understatement.

“This is a beef burger?”

An Yixiao nodded seriously. “Yep. Beef burger.”

“Made of air beef, maybe?”

“The vendor said it has beef sauce in it.”

Zhou Li: “…”

She took one bite—and instantly spat it back out.

“Sorry, I just—ugh, no.”

It might have contained beef sauce, but there wasn’t a trace of real beef—just something overwhelmingly fishy.

The system couldn’t help commenting, “First time I’ve ever seen you lose composure like that.”

Zhou Li grimaced. “You don’t understand. It tastes like fresh ox meat boiled in plain water—no salt, no MSG, no soy sauce—just boiled, then skim off the scum and can it. Then let it ferment a few days before smearing it back on the food.”

“The ‘scum,’” the system said evenly, “is coagulated hemoglobin and protein—technically, the essence of the meat.”

“Stop. Just stop. I’m gonna be sick.”

An Yixiao handed her a napkin.

“You people actually eat this stuff?” Zhou Li asked.

“Most of the time, yes.”

“Don’t you have basic seasonings—salt, soy sauce, cooking wine?”

“Those things are rare now.”

After The Game descended, the old social order had collapsed.

Everyone’s energy went into studying dungeon mechanics and survival strategies.

Scientists found their research meaningless and lost motivation.

Factory workers stopped showing up, and production lines all shut down.

After The Game descended, all agriculture was taken over by it and by a few players who controlled the related channels. With no one left to farm, the once-cultivated land turned into wilderness.

Before long, players discovered that the public hall now sold perfectly balanced, nutrition-standard “healthy food.” Whether something actually tasted good no longer mattered—survival did.

Zhou Li frowned. “That can’t be right. If people stop eating salt altogether, they’ll get sick.”

An Yixiao replied, “The food still contains salt and additives—it’s just that individual seasoning packets aren’t sold anymore.”

She picked up a leaf of lettuce that Zhou Li hadn’t touched and took a bite. “This is organic. Everyone eats organic produce now. You’re not used to the taste yet, but you’ll adapt eventually.”

Zhou Li said, “The Game sure cares about your health.”

Vice president Chen Linhuan muttered, “What kind of dark humor is that?”

An Yixiao said, “It’s like how humans feed livestock. They only provide what helps the chickens and pigs grow faster—never what actually tastes good.”

The analogy hit home. Zhou Li nodded in agreement.

She popped a few mints into her mouth and took a few gulps of cola until the awful “beef sauce” flavor finally faded.

Then she had the mood to chat. “Don’t you people ever cook?”

Chen Linhuan shrugged. “If we’ve got free time, it’s better spent studying dungeon guides or running missions. And if we do feel like cooking, good luck finding ingredients or seasonings for sale.”

Zhou Li now understood why processed food was so popular.

“Still,” she said, “The Game went too far. Instant noodles without seasoning packets—how are they even instant noodles?”

“Exactly!” several players shopping nearby called out indignantly.

An Yixiao explained, “The noodle dough already has salt mixed in during production. Extra additives are labeled unhealthy and non-nutritious.”

Zhou Li raised an eyebrow. “So The Game is basically every overbearing Chinese parent ever?”

She recalled many parents who’d shopped at her own supermarket back home—treating snacks as ‘junk food’ and instant noodles as the worst kind of junk.

When Mu Kun had first opened her snail-noodle shop, she used to overhear parents gossiping while picking up their kids: fast food was all gutter oil, and only home-cooked meals with just salt and nothing else were truly healthy.

A player scoffed, “What kind of parent drives their kids to death like that?”

The words had barely left his mouth before the mood turned strange.

Chen Linhuan muttered quietly, “After so many dungeons, haven’t we met plenty of parents like that?”

That silenced everyone. The comment clearly struck a chord.

Zhou Li, who had been fortunate enough to have a more open-minded mother, decided not to join that conversation. Just then, a few unfamiliar faces appeared outside. She waved and said, “Welcome to the Good Life Supermarket.”

An Yixiao and the others turned to look.

The few people who had been sneakily observing the store froze, then immediately bolted.

But in Blue Owl Guild territory, they were like birds in a cage—escape was impossible.

“Guild leader, they’re from the Carefree Guild,” Chen Linhuan reported after interrogating them.

“Bring them back to headquarters,” An Yixiao said. “Don’t disturb the boss’s business.”

Most of the guild members, except those still waiting to shop, escorted the Carefree Guild players away.

Zhou Li didn’t bother paying attention to guild rivalries.

…

The next day, An Yixiao departed for Mingde Academy.

When the supermarket opened, Chen Linhuan arrived to deliver her message.

“Just her alone?” Zhou Li asked.

“Her, and a few players from Dali. The guild leader sold them information—told them Duan Jing is still alive. They paid her a finder’s fee. Once they learned she was heading to Mingde Academy, they sent people to assist her.”

“Oh.” Zhou Li stepped outside and hung up the “Closed for Business” sign again.

Players who’d come to shop stared in confusion. “Why’s it closed again? It just opened!”

“I’m going to find my employee,” Zhou Li said. “We agreed on it.”

“Employee? The supermarket has employees?”

“Of course. An Yixiao. Didn’t she tell you?”

The Blue Owl members looked utterly dumbfounded, as if struck by lightning.

Chen Linhuan, however, remained calm—clearly, she’d been briefed by An Yixiao beforehand.

Not only that, but An Yixiao had already transferred most of her authority as guild leader to Chen Linhuan, fully prepared for the possibility that she might not return.

And Chen Linhuan knew the little supermarket was the only entity capable of bringing their leader back alive, so she didn’t stop Zhou Li from leaving.

She kept the guild members from interfering, and as for outsiders trying to dig into the supermarket’s secrets—none could stop Zhou Li once she’d made up her mind.

After locking up, Zhou Li said to the system, “Locate my employee, An Yixiao.”

“Location acquired. Beginning dimensional transfer.”

Before the eyes of countless players, the small supermarket vanished in an instant.

The surrounding players gaped in disbelief, while Blue Owl members sighed in relief. “Good thing the guild leader told us to grab our membership cards and stock up while we could!”

Other guilds that heard the news too late could only stare blankly, not even catching a whiff of the supermarket’s exhaust.

☢️☢️☢️