What exactly counted as “humiliation”? If she chose this path, was she restricted to doing only one thing? Jiang Yiguang’s mind became more active. She didn’t make a choice immediately but asked the System cautiously.
“As long as I manage to ‘humiliate,’ it counts as completing the quest, right? Whatever I do afterward, the System won’t interfere, right?”
After a moment of silence, the System’s voice rang out.
[Yes.]
Seeing Jiang Yiguang looking as if she might nod off at any moment, Fu San kept yapping: “Are you even human, Jiang Yiguang? Have you not a shred of compassion?”
Jiang Yiguang snapped back to attention. She flicked Fu San gently aside and responded with a beaming smile, “I am.” Before Fu San could erupt in rage and curse her, she suddenly added, “If we’re going, shouldn’t we hurry? Any later and what if we run into a ghost in the dead of night?”
Fu San’s reproaches came to an abrupt halt.
After moving out of the Jiang house, Fu Juan hadn’t returned to the Fu family’s old residence but had bought a small apartment halfway across the city. When Fu Juan had moved, Jiang Yiguang had tagged along with her mother under some pretext. Therefore, even without Fu San’s guidance, she could easily find Fu Juan’s place.
The city at night was still brilliantly lit. Cars shuttled back and forth incessantly, horns blaring, creating a clamor no less than the day’s. Jiang Yiguang stared straight ahead, not looking at Fu San, who was plastered to the car seat. She asked lazily, “You’re saying, after she got home, she didn’t call a doctor?”
Fu San: “Yes.” Its tone held undisguised urgency. Fu Yi and Fu Er still hadn’t returned; alone, it was hard to persuade Fu Juan. “She refused my suggestion and didn’t call a doctor. Little Juan has learned some medicine over the years, but her condition isn’t good.”
Jiang Yiguang gave a noncommittal “Oh” and said expressionlessly, “Then you should be looking for a doctor, not me.”
Fu San: “…” Its dislike for Jiang Yiguang shot up another significant notch.
Jiang Yiguang couldn’t care less about Fu San’s feelings. The paper dolls’ cut-out faces showed no expressions anyway. While waiting at a red light, she found the doctor’s number in her contacts and called her. She had no idea why Fu Juan was being so difficult. It had already come to this; why be so hard on her own body?
From the moment Jiang Yiguang ended the call to when she entered the residential complex where Fu Juan lived, Fu San didn’t make another sound. It didn’t know exactly what state Fu Juan was in, but it understood her character well enough. Expecting Fu Juan to open the door for Jiang Yiguang was near impossible. It slipped into the apartment through a crack under the door, secretly glanced at Fu Juan, who was slumped in her wheelchair, and then stealthily let Jiang Yiguang in.
“Such a practiced move—you’ve done this quite a bit, haven’t you?” Jiang Yiguang folded her arms and drawled.
The moment she stepped into the foyer, her gaze landed on Fu Juan, who was cloaked in chilling ghostly Miasma and pallor. Back in the cave during the day, Fu Juan had still managed to maintain a facade, but now, she could no longer hide her disheveled state. Her collar was stained with blood, dotting the fabric like winter plum blossoms. Her eyes were tightly shut, lacking the usual coldness and aloofness, unnervingly still.
Fu San hung its head in dejection, making no effort to hide its low spirits. “The Yin Miasma is very strong. The Ghost King’s aura awakened it this afternoon. She’s been forcibly suppressing it ever since.”
Jiang Yiguang pursed her lips, her feelings complicated. Since arriving in the room and fixing her gaze on Fu Juan, she hadn’t been able to look away. At this stage, Fu Juan would still give her life-saving Golden Body Talisman. So, in the original plot, how much harm must she have caused for Fu Juan to choose to “stand by indifferently”? Was Fu Juan… also subject to the irresistible force of the plot?
She walked slowly toward Fu Juan. Unlike Fu San, she didn’t fear the ghostly Miasma; the magical artifacts she wore warded off Yin entities, preventing the Yin aura from affecting her. She traced Fu Juan’s features with her eyes inch by inch, trying to find something she herself didn’t even understand. A sudden, hollow emptiness struck Jiang Yiguang. Her heart felt suspended by a thin thread, sinking endlessly. “Fu Juan—” Her voice was very soft, quickly dispersing in the quiet living room. She raised her hand, but her fingertips had yet to touch Fu Juan’s brow when she abruptly met a pair of deep, dark eyes, cold and piercing, yet hiding pain.
A sudden, sharp pain seized her wrist, as if caught in an iron clamp.
Jiang Yiguang’s gaze shifted to Fu Juan’s pale, bony hand, and her brow twitched.
Fu Juan had awakened at this moment.
Her gaze was dark and brooding, like a wild beast about to burst from its cage. But very quickly, that oppressive menace receded.
She released Jiang Yiguang’s hand and pressed it against her leg, which was in constant, soul-rending agony. She controlled her tone, striving with all her might to maintain her composure.
She asked, “How did you get here?”
Jiang Yiguang detected a note of weakness in her tone. She stepped back, crossing her arms in front of her chest, and retorted, “What do you think?”
Fu Juan bit her lower lip. Her sharp gaze shot toward Fu San like a blade.
Sensing that gaze, Fu San didn’t dare approach; it cautiously hid behind Jiang Yiguang.
Fu Juan averted her eyes. The pain wracking her body tortured her nerves, trying to drag her down into hell. But she had long since stopped showing vulnerability in front of others. She said coldly, “You can go back now.”
“Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘It’s easy to invite Buddha but hard to send him away’?” Jiang Yiguang deliberately swept a critical gaze over Fu Juan’s legs. As the most “trouble-making” cannon fodder in the plot, she could pierce Fu Juan’s deepest “wounds” at any moment. And the task of “humiliating” her could naturally be completed the very moment Fu Juan felt “disgraced.” Perhaps because her Chivalry Points had dropped so low, the flickers of moral sense Jiang Yiguang occasionally felt had also vanished in the face of the quest reward.
Fu Juan’s eyelid twitched. She didn’t have the energy to argue with Jiang Yiguang. Fighting the pain consumed too much of her spirit and energy; right now, she didn’t even have the strength to lift her hand. “Fu San.” Fu Juan’s voice was like ice shards.
Fu San shivered. Ultimately, its concern for Fu Juan won out. It remained silent, showing absolutely no intention of “seeing the guest off.”
“You think I wanted to come? If not for—” Jiang Yiguang stared fixedly at Fu Juan’s legs, her words trailing off meaningfully. But it was enough for Fu Juan to grasp the hidden implication.
Fu Juan’s expression turned icy. She raised her hand and brushed aside a lock of hair damp with sweat, then looked at Jiang Yiguang calmly.
She wouldn’t get angry. She was a sword that had never been sheathed.
For a split second, Jiang Yiguang wanted to retreat. But the three Daoist Skill Points had yet to arrive, so she had to force herself to continue the fight. She swallowed the blunt and hurtful word “cripple” and continued her earlier train of thought, deliberately saying, “If my mom hadn’t been worried about you, would you think I’d even want to come? You made me hit my head last time and still haven’t apologized.”
Fu Juan looked up at Jiang Yiguang and quickly looked away. She didn’t dwell on that past, unpleasant matter but seized on the key point. “Aunt Jiang contacted you?”
“Yes,” Jiang Yiguang lied without changing expression. She said rudely, “And don’t you start thinking just because my mom’s back that you have someone to back you up. You—”
The sudden ring of the doorbell interrupted Jiang Yiguang’s words.
The momentum she had just mustered deflated instantly. Jiang Yiguang pursed her lips and turned to open the door.
Fu Juan asked, “Who is it?”
Guilty, Fu San replied, “The doctor.”
The conversation wasn’t quiet. Before opening the door, Jiang Yiguang glanced back at Fu Juan and dealt her a final blow: “You can’t even take care of yourself. I suggest you move back to the Jiang household. At least when you’re injured, someone can look after you.”
The word “look after,” coming from Jiang Yiguang, struck Fu Juan as absurd.
Jiang Yiguang’s relentless pressure over the years also made her feel nauseous.
What did she have that was worth Jiang Yiguang scheming for? Did watching her like this bring Jiang Yiguang joy?
The moment the door opened, the first thing Jiang Yiguang noticed was the crediting of her “Daoist Skill Points.” Yet she felt no sense of accomplishment from completing the side quest. Instead, she frowned and glanced back at Fu Juan. Her nerves were being tugged by invisible strings, her heart aching and swelling with sourness. She was still being influenced by the plot’s emotions. This was far too undignified for her. When she finally pulled herself from her emotions, she saw that Fu Juan’s face showed no trace of sadness. Jiang Yiguang’s heart relaxed, but then, that hollow feeling grew even more acute.
“Little Jiang?” A familiar voice entered her ears.
Jiang Yiguang’s tumultuous emotions came to an abrupt halt, instantly returning to nothingness. She politely acknowledged the speaker and stepped aside, allowing the doctor to see Fu Juan inside.
“The situation isn’t good at all.”
“What happened?”
“Didn’t you follow the previous instructions?”
A series of questions filled the room.
Fu Juan probably wouldn’t answer, Jiang Yiguang thought.
Just as she’d predicted, Fu Juan, tight-lipped, acted like a mute. She neither responded to the doctor’s questions nor let out any cry from the pain. Her brows were tightly furrowed, forehead beaded with sweat that traced down her pale cheeks, slowly soaking into her collar.
Jiang Yiguang didn’t look any longer.
She sat on the sofa, eyes on her nose, nose on her mouth, mouth on her heart, and focused her consciousness into the Eternal Space.
Perhaps the System had finally realized how terrible it was and, for once, was somewhat generous. The screen no longer displayed various spell arts but the actual Thirty-Six Heavenly Stars Divine Abilities. These were the great divine powers of the Mystic Sect. For an ordinary Mystic Sect cultivator, mastering techniques like “Mastery of Five Thunders,” “Scatter Beans to Form Soldiers,” or “Flying Sand and Rolling Boulders” was already considered talented. As for “Revolving Creation” or “Shifting Stars and Swapping Constellations,” there was no need to even dream.
Would the future Fu Juan, possessing a Dao Bone and a perfected Dao Body, be able to reach that realm?
The thought flashed through Jiang Yiguang’s mind, but without lingering, she threw herself wholeheartedly into studying the divine power “Scatter Beans to Form Soldiers.”
