Chapter 38 Part 1

“Are people from the Zhao family trustworthy?” Jiang Yiguang asked.

In the original book, the female lead Fu Juan was the daughter of Xuanzhen Dao Court high-level members, and her mother was the young mistress who had separated from the Zhang family; the male lead Wang Xuanming had similarly split from his clan, joining the Xuanzhen Dao Court and becoming a pillar of it… Such a setup destined the Xuanzhen Dao Court to be the mainstream of this Spiritual Energy Revival world. As for the noble clans—most likely they were the “old guard” destined to be eliminated. They clung solely to past principles, were inflexible, and lacked the spirit of “chivalry”—they were clearly set up to be the major villains nailed to the pillar of shame.

Come to think of it, she herself was also of noble clan origin.

“At the very least, at this moment, they haven’t shown their cloven hoof,” Fu Juan glanced at Jiang Yiguang as she spoke blandly. “However, he’s not someone you can entrust your back to.”

“Then who is?” Jiang Yiguang reflexively followed up.

Fu Juan didn’t answer. Her eyes were deep, cold, and severe, as if allowing not the slightest trace of superfluous emotion. Jiang Yiguang suddenly felt the matter was utterly dull; her interest in hearing the answer evaporated completely.

Once Yan Zhenghe regained her clarity, she naturally disclosed the cave where the evil Daoist was hiding. After Wang Xuanming reported the news to the Xuanzhen Dao Court, the only reply he received was “Apologies.” Incidents occurred everywhere, and the Dao Court was perpetually shorthanded. Although matters had their order of urgency, it wouldn’t be easy for personnel to rush to the wilderness cave outside Jiang City. However, the Xuanzhen Dao Court was not entirely without support; at the very least, Wang Xuanming successfully requested an “Ancient Thunder Talisman.” This talisman had been crafted by a senior of the past when spiritual energy was far denser than it is now; the talisman’s Five Thunder might was immensely grand.

If Jiang Yiguang was going to take part in this matter, she had no choice but to go with Fu Juan. Compared to Fu Juan’s unchanging, frost-and-snow cold expression, Jiang Yiguang, facing “imminent catastrophe,” still managed to remain in good spirits, even having the leisure to buy a lollipop from a roadside stall and pop it into her mouth. Her lazy, laid-back air made her look like she was out for a spring stroll and window-shopping.

Fu Juan turned her head to glance at Jiang Yiguang several times, each time only seeing her puffed-out cheek and the lollipop stick occasionally wobbling. A warm spring breeze brushed her face, carrying a faint fragrance—like the scent of flowers, and also like something emanating from Jiang Yiguang herself. She didn’t mind Jiang Yiguang’s laziness; she even regarded it as a kind of “unshakable composure.” She didn’t know why Jiang Yiguang had undergone such a drastic change, but this perfectly calibrated indifference let her breathe a little easier, even stirring a sense that this was exactly how things should have always been.

“You want one too?” Jiang Yiguang didn’t turn her head.

It took Fu Juan a long moment to realize Jiang Yiguang was talking to her, and as for the “thing to eat”—that meant the lollipop. But if she wasn’t mistaken, Jiang Yiguang had only bought one, right? Her gaze inevitably drifted toward those slightly moving, full, red lips.

“You’d have to buy your own, then.” Jiang Yiguang raised an eyebrow in a smile, crunched the lollipop to pieces in a few bites, and turned toward Fu Juan with a grin tinged with provocation.

Fu Juan, caught between laughter and tears, withdrew her gaze.

Jiang Yiguang didn’t notice the faint smile on Fu Juan’s face. She was currently chatting with the system, her tone carrying a hint of self-satisfaction.

“I didn’t fawn all over Fu Juan just now. Does that mean I can control myself now?”

The system’s reply was very flat, its unchanging electronic voice devoid of the slightest emotional fluctuation.

【Once the host completes this task and obtains ‘Follow One’s Heart,’ self-control ability will be even stronger.】

Jiang Yiguang tried to fish for information from the system, hoping to at least pry out some crucial clues, but even after exhausting her lips and tongue, she still obtained nothing. Tired of asking, she frowned and couldn’t be bothered with the system, which always chose the critical moment to play dead. With her Physical Strength Points boosted, her physical fitness now exceeded that of ordinary people. She carried several talismans, had learned Daoist techniques like Scatter Beans to Form Soldiers and Mastery of Five Thunders, and most importantly, she’d successfully entered the Sword Dao within the Eternal Space and learned a bit of the Dark Lady Sword Art… She was more than a little stronger than the “original self” destined to be cannon fodder. Moreover, she possessed the “cannon fodder’s predetermined destiny”—a debuff she could exploit in reverse! No matter how you looked at it, nothing would go wrong, right?

After sorting out her thoughts, Jiang Yiguang turned to the perpetually silent Fu Juan and suddenly asked, “Fu Juan, why do you voluntarily take these missions?” Fate wanted her to constantly get close to Fu Juan, becoming a burden and a source of hatred. A bold notion suddenly arose within her: what if she routinely did “little things” that went against Fate in her daily life? Would these daily accumulated little actions chip away at her Compatibility Value with this world? Was completing system-issued missions truly the only way?

Before Fu Juan could answer, Jiang Yiguang blinked and added, “Even if you don’t take missions, the ‘pension’ your parents left behind, plus the things my mother prepared, that’s enough for your daily needs, right?”

Fu Juan lowered her lashes and said blandly, “But that’s nothing I earned myself.”

Jiang Yiguang paused, then asked, “You actually care about that?” She felt Fu Juan’s thoughts were truly difficult to guess. Sometimes Fu Juan seemed “righteously indignant,” but more often, Jiang Yiguang sensed a kind of “cold, heavy apathy,” as if she were already tired of all existence, merely pushed forward by some kind of force. And that force—was it Fate’s doing?

Fu Juan looked up at Jiang Yiguang. “Then what do you think I care about?”

Jiang Yiguang: “…” How would she know what Fu Juan cared about? Her past “obsession” hadn’t entered Fu Juan’s heart; it was a pursuit centered on “self,” a kind of extreme selfishness. “You want those people to regret, you want others to look up to you,” Jiang Yiguang said, clapping her hands together. “That’s how all those dragon-pride-heaven’s-chosen revenge stories in novels go.” The current Fu Juan perfectly fit the dragon-pride mold: first, a heaven’s favored prodigy, then fallen into the dust, looked down upon and pitied, and after that—after countless hardships and tribulations—finally standing at the peak, living out “mock not the poor youth” to the fullest.

Fu Juan chuckled softly. She asked, “Then what do you want?”

Jiang Yiguang raised her eyebrows, facing Fu Juan’s gaze with earnest sincerity: “Freedom.”

Either eternal, complete muddled ignorance, or freedom like a soaring roc-spread-eagle bird. She didn’t want any in-between value; she only wanted one extreme. Having awakened from the great dream, the only path left for her was this one.

Fu Juan fixed her gaze on Jiang Yiguang steadily.

She had always thought Jiang Yiguang was free. In her youth, Jiang Yiguang had been forced to pore over Daoist texts, but once her elders discovered her spiritual apertures hadn’t opened, she was relieved of that burden. She didn’t have to worry about inheriting the Jiang legacy, nor fret about future livelihood; she only had to be her carefree, happy-go-lucky Young Miss Jiang. Yet now she was saying she wanted freedom. What was binding her? Was that the cause of her drastic personality change?

“You—”

“Don’t ask.” Jiang Yiguang had no idea what Fu Juan was about to say, but that didn’t stop her from interrupting. Her eyes held a hint of laughter; her tone was light and airy, like a breeze of spring. “I won’t tell you.”

Fu Juan nodded.

She understood now: Jiang Yiguang didn’t want to talk to her.

This silence persisted all the way to the desolate wilderness.

Wang Xuanming and Zhao Zhi were already waiting there.

“These are the helpers you mentioned?” The moment he saw Fu Juan and Jiang Yiguang’s figures clearly, Zhao Zhi’s expression changed abruptly. He’d assumed Wang Xuanming had arranged companions from the Xuanzhen Dao Court; he hadn’t expected these two. Fu Juan indeed had some skill, but her Dao Body was damaged; surely many of her methods couldn’t be used? As for Jiang Yiguang… she was a famous joke among the Four Great Families, a fact known to everyone. Let her tag along to push Fu Juan’s wheelchair? Wasn’t that just a complete farce? “I’m starting to regret teaming up with you,” Zhao Zhi said, without the slightest courtesy.

Jiang Yiguang snapped back without any hesitation, “Then scram. Nobody’s stopping you.” Although she herself came from a noble family, she and the younger generation of the other clans had always been mutually antagonistic. She was notorious as a useless waste who couldn’t open her spiritual apertures, unable to step into the world of the Mystic Sect. She’d been humiliated by their words plenty of times. With years of accumulated hatred, she had absolutely zero sense of the Four Great Mystic Arts Clans “standing together through thick and thin.”

Zhao Zhi sneered. “You should be the one to scram. What, the alley’s too rough to hire a dedicated wheelchair pusher?”

Hearing Zhao Zhi insult even Fu Juan, Wang Xuanming’s face darkened. He barked, “Zhao Zhi!”

Zhao Zhi glanced lazily at Wang Xuanming but, out of regard for their past camaraderie, he shut his mouth in the end. His gaze swept past Jiang Yiguang and landed on the perfectly composed Fu Juan. Back in his youth, the name “Fu Juan” was the dark cloud hanging over everyone’s heads. But so what? In the end, you still couldn’t resist fate’s cruel joke, could you?

Jiang Yiguang truly couldn’t stand Zhao Zhi’s smug, self-satisfied face. Without a word, she subtly positioned herself in front of Fu Juan, blocking Zhao Zhi’s line of sight toward her. In story developments, someone like Zhao Zhi was eighty percent destined to be cannon fodder too.

Inside the cave.

Not seeing Yan Zhenghe return, the evil Daoist immediately guessed her situation wasn’t good. But he was currently cultivating with the aid of demon blood, attempting to recover his cultivation level, and had absolutely no time to worry about Yan Zhenghe. The only thing bothering him was the prepared Army Hex Battle Formation meant to deal with the Dragon Vein Essence, now destroyed. Filled with regret and fury, the more he brooded, the more his blood and qi churned uncontrollably. The old injuries latent within his body erupted. His body shuddered, and he violently spat out a mouthful of blood.

“With your cultivation, you can’t possibly sever this dragon vein completely,” Tushan Yi said coolly from within her cage, watching the evil Daoist. Her laughter, rich with allure, echoed in the cavern. “But you could sever a portion of the Dragon Vein Quintessence for your own cultivation. Are you truly unwilling?”

“Sever the dragon vein? Ha! Are you trying to sever this old Daoist’s life?” What calamities had his Liu Clan of Qingtian suffered because his ancestors severed dragon veins? If not for the Heavenly Punishment, he wouldn’t have been born with innate deficiencies, falling behind others at every step in his cultivation. He had indeed studied the family’s inherited Dragon-Slaying Art, but he always remembered the ancestral warning and would not recklessly use this technique.

Tushan Yi smiled cheerfully. “What if someone else could bear the Heavenly Punishment on your behalf? You should know, it’s not just you who covets the dragon vein, right?”

Hearing this, the evil Daoist’s heart sank. He lowered his drooping eyelids, a pair of shrewd, glinting eyes fixed on Tushan Yi. He asked, “What do you know?”