Chapter 42

In the past, Jiang Yiguang had perpetually existed in a state of “slack.” Her understanding of “balancing tension and relaxation” was not profound. But after a period of high-intensity training under Tushan Yi, she finally grasped the importance of “tempering work with rest.” Though the words “makeup workdays” sounded unpleasant, she nodded without hesitation. As for the wicked “holiday makeup,” she’d let her future self deal with it.

Jiang Yiguang wasn’t popular. Her only true friend was Lu Yaotiao. With a debuff like “despised by all,” having even one confidante was a win. She thought about inviting Lu Yaotiao out for tea, only to discover her friend had already planned a trip with others, completely forgetting about her. Lu Yaotiao left behind a cryptic, “I’ve introduced someone to you, they’ll contact you later,” leaving Jiang Yiguang utterly baffled.

Small, incomprehensible matters were easy to ignore. Lu Yaotiao’s absence wouldn’t ruin her shopping trip. But just as she was about to leave, she saw Fu Juan, wearing a thin white hoodie, also preparing to go out, propelling her wheelchair. Jiang Yiguang raised a surprised eyebrow. In the past, Fu Juan was practically a recluse. Her leaving the house always meant trouble. Had the Dao Court assigned another task? Had Wang Xuanming contacted her again? If so, it meant fate was pushing them toward the “main plot,” and the System should be issuing side quests soon.

“Just taking a walk,” Fu Juan said, noticing Jiang Yiguang’s gaze and offering a simple explanation.

Jiang Yiguang didn’t dwell on it. With an “Mm,” she stepped aside to let Fu Juan pass. While she was training hard, Fu Juan wasn’t idle either. Wanting some rest was only human. She watched Fu Juan until her figure disappeared, then averted her gaze and muttered, “Still can’t help noticing Fu Juan. Is it the plot’s influence?”

She honestly couldn’t imagine how she’d interact with Fu Juan once she’d broken free from fate’s path. Strangers? But the memories remained. Given their families’ ties, they could barely be called “childhood companions.” Jiang Yiguang frowned in thought, then, true to her slacker nature, gave up. Future matters could be dealt with in the future.

Jiang Yiguang had no particular destination. Her urge to shop wasn’t strong. The city’s famous spots were likely packed with crowds, and she had no desire to sweat profusely in a long queue just to get in. After some thought, she decided on the library. Although plenty of information was online, many mythological research works from one or even two decades ago hadn’t been digitized. To access them, borrowing books was the only way.

Not long after recovering her Inner Core, Tushan Yi had upheld her promise. After meeting with the Dao Court, she’d candidly revealed the reason for Azure Hill’s entry into the world. In the Mountains and Seas Realm, the exiled Four Evils were the first to awaken. Taking advantage of the Queen Mother of the West, Luwu, and the other Gods of Kunlun’s slumber, they’d seized Western Kunlun and were even attempting to encroach upon Azure Hill. The entire Mountains and Seas divine system was split into two factions, with undercurrents flowing for a thousand years. No one knew what it had become now.

Tushan Yi’s wistful sigh still echoed in Jiang Yiguang’s ears.

“My Azure Hill suppresses Chiyou’s corpse, and the Four Evils intend to turn him into a Puppet. If they succeed, can you guess the result? Chiyou, in life, was the Yellow Emperor’s equal!

“The Revival of Mountains and Seas Realm is unstoppable. My Azure Hill must enter the Human Realm first, to guard that portal. Make your preparations. Oh, right. If you want better odds, I strongly advise you find the lost Nine Cauldrons. The human emperors of later ages… couldn’t even protect the Nine Cauldrons?”

…

If chaos erupted in the Human Realm, though the powerful would shoulder the burden, ordinary mortals like ants would be the most easily swept away. Jiang Yiguang hoped her departure from the plot would accelerate, reaching her goal before the Mountains and Seas truly descended. The System’s description had her dying in a Ghost Cave, revealing no trace of the Mountains and Seas. Perhaps her tragic life was merely the “prologue” to someone else’s story? Jiang Yiguang frowned. Even though she’d known her Predetermined Fate for a while, recalling it still filled her with immense displeasure.

The library was sparsely populated, especially the folklore and mythology section. Though Spiritual Energy was reviving and supernatural events were seeping into public awareness, most people still considered the Classic of Mountains and Seas as mere tales of the strange, refusing to believe in the emergence of its gods. After all, their everyday encounters were more often ghosts and spirits, or cats and dogs gaining sentience—close to life, not shrouded in the mists of millennia.

Jiang Yiguang’s steps were light. As she rounded a bookshelf, she suddenly glimpsed a dark shadow on the wall. Turning her head, she saw Fu Juan holding several books. At that moment, Fu Juan was tilting her head slightly upward, looking at a book on a high shelf. Her long, curled eyelashes fluttered gently, and a delicate, fragile beauty, like porcelain, graced her pale features. If this were a stranger, an appreciation for beauty might have made Jiang Yiguang steal a few more glances. But it was Fu Juan.

A stone seemed to drop into the lake of her heart, sending ripples outward. Suppressing an inexplicable flutter, Jiang Yiguang stepped back. She quickly realized her movement was overly deliberate, and under Fu Juan’s probing gaze, she forced a smile. Reaching up, she pulled the book Fu Juan had been eying from the shelf—not too gently—and dropped it onto the pile in Fu Juan’s arms.

Fu Juan looked at Jiang Yiguang, not expecting to meet her here.

But she hid her surprise well. Her placid face showed no shift in emotion.

“Thank you,” she said, then freed a hand, pulled a lollipop from her pocket, and offered it to Jiang Yiguang.

Jiang Yiguang froze.

For a moment, she didn’t know whether Fu Juan had been cursed, or the lollipop itself was. Why would Fu Juan think she needed candy? She wasn’t a child! But Fu Juan’s hand remained outstretched. From nearby came the sound of approaching footsteps; this neglected corner was about to have new visitors. Jiang Yiguang’s mood grew increasingly odd, a nervousness rising as if they were doing something illicit. She glanced around, snatched the lollipop from Fu Juan’s hand, and fled in hurried, flustered strides.

Behind her back, Fu Juan watched her retreating figure and chuckled softly.

Jiang Yiguang rounded the bookshelf, not stopping until Fu Juan was out of sight through the gaps. Reflecting on her actions, she frowned deeply, a hint of regret surfacing. She’d clearly followed her plan to distance herself from Fu Juan, yet she felt she’d lost. Vexed, she peeled off the wrapper and bit the lollipop.

It was quite sweet.

Jiang Yiguang made a mental judgment.

After three hours in the library, Jiang Yiguang finally stretched and prepared to leave.

But as she descended the steps outside, she encountered Fu Juan again. She was taking the wheelchair-accessible ramp, but someone had parked a bicycle across it, blocking the way. The culprit was someone Jiang Yiguang also recognized—one of the Zhang family’s young masters, Fu Juan’s cousin. In the past, the Zhangs had coveted Fu Juan’s Dao Bone, initially treating her with feigned warmth. But once they realized they couldn’t bring her back into the Zhang family, their attitude soured. After Fu Juan’s injury, with no sense of kinship, they’d only escalated their bullying—a textbook villain.

Jiang Yiguang pressed her lips together. She knew not only Fu Juan, but also that Zhang scion, had seen her.

Under fate’s arrangement, all “coincidences” were deliberate—a “predestined encounter” pushing her into the abyss. But it also meant her golden finger was about to arrive.

A surge of impulse to stand beside the Zhang youth and “add insult to injury” rose within her. “Fate” was a merciless machine, its breakdown logic now gone, yet stubbornly manufacturing such scenes, trying to make them manifest like coldly written words. This time, Jiang Yiguang clearly perceived fate’s binding on her had lessened. Indeed, with a Compatibility Value past halfway, if she were still lashed to the ship of “fate,” she’d loudly curse the System for fraud.

Jiang Yiguang watched the confrontation, expressionless.

The Zhang scion, eyes scornful, swept his arrogant gaze over Fu Juan but didn’t speak to her. Instead, he turned to Jiang Yiguang with a mocking grin. “Yo! Jiang heiress, still so persistent, following Fu Juan around like a dog wherever she goes?”

The cannon fire had hit her. Jiang Yiguang’s anger flared instantly.

The Zhang scion prattled on: “You’re really a joke. It’s obvious Fu Juan has no interest. Plenty of men in the world, why not—” Before he could finish, both he and the deliberately-placed bicycle flew backward, crashing heavily to the ground and drawing stares from passersby.

At the same moment, Jiang Yiguang heard the long-silent System chime. A side quest had begun.

【A. Join in mocking Fu Juan. (Daoist Skill Points +5)

B. Stand by and do nothing. (Chivalry Points -2)

C. Help Fu Juan out of the predicament. (Charisma Points +1)】

Judging by the rewards, the first option was clearly optimal and would also distance her from Fu Juan. But wasn’t that just being a complete jerk? Jiang Yiguang simply couldn’t fathom the System’s reward logic. She swallowed countless curses. Granted, Fu Juan didn’t need her help, but that brat had insulted her—she couldn’t swallow that! She might lack strong morals, but lowering her standards just for System rewards? She couldn’t do it.

After the Zhang scion scrambled up, the crowd had grown. A public brawl was unsuitable, and a fine from the Dao Court for using arts in public even worse. Jiang Yiguang’s mind raced. She stepped forward, blocking Fu Juan, and faced the dusty, limping Zhang youth with a raised eyebrow. “Blocking an accessible ramp, and now you want to fake an injury? Do you have any civic decency? You’re not going to claim someone hit you, are you? Looks more like divine punishment to me.”

The Zhang scion was seething. Fu Juan’s strike hadn’t been light; it felt like his internal organs had shifted. The growing crowd was pointing and whispering, some even talking about calling the police. He wasn’t afraid of that, but if word of this embarrassing the Zhang family reached the old patriarch’s ears, he’d be in deep trouble. Spitting out a venomous “Just you wait!”, the scion fled in a textbook villain exit amidst the criticism.

Jiang Yiguang’s expression didn’t relax.

Under fate’s manipulation, who wasn’t a puppet?

“Fu Juan? Are you alright?” A slightly anxious male voice entered her ear. Wang Xuanming, under fate’s control, arrived “fashionably late.” Seeing the fleeing Zhang youth’s back, he sighed. “Next time you see a Zhang, keep your distance.”

Jiang Yiguang’s pent-up frustration hadn’t fully dissipated. She glanced at Wang Xuanming and retorted bluntly: “Why avoid them if you’ve done nothing wrong? If there’s malice everywhere, should you just never leave the house?” The protagonists’ romantic thread hadn’t progressed at all, yet Wang Xuanming’s concern for Fu Juan kept crossing the line. Jiang Yiguang was immensely annoyed, unsure if it was for herself or Fu Juan. Her holiday good mood evaporated. She shot Fu Juan a cold look, then strode away.

“Look at her—” Wang Xuanming began, agitation coloring his voice. He’d heard from the Alchemist that Fu Juan had refused Court assignments. He wanted to ask, but couldn’t find the right words. He kept trying to get closer to her, but instead of progress, the distance grew. His heart could no longer stay calm.

“Does it concern you?” Fu Juan’s voice was cold as ice as she stared at Wang Xuanming. While he was still in shock, she gave a scornful laugh and repeated, “My affairs. Do they concern you?” If her past had been the cold snow of azure mountains, in this moment, Fu Juan was a keenly unsheathed sword, its chilling radiance wounding all but its wielder.

Wang Xuanming froze, watching in bewilderment as Fu Juan wheeled herself away. His heart plunged into an icy abyss. He wanted to chase after her, but his legs felt filled with lead, unable to lift.

–

Jiang Yiguang had no idea about the dispute behind her. She kept walking until she bought a cotton candy from a street vendor, which restored her cheer. Envious children along the road would glance at her, tugging their parents’ hands and begging for some. Jiang Yiguang walked on nonchalantly, but the children’s laughter stirred long-sealed memories, drifting back like wisps of cloud.

Her father had died young, and Jiang Li was constantly busy. Her childhood was profoundly lonely. Their family had good relations with the Fus. Often, Jiang Li would leave her at the Fu house. Even when absorbed in cultivation, at her parents’ request, Fu Juan would cold-facedly take her out. Back then, she was shorter than Fu Juan, struggling to keep up on her short legs. Whenever her temper flared and she was about to explode, Fu Juan would turn and hand her a fresh, cloud-like cotton candy, and all her anger would vanish.

She actually liked sweets.

Just as Jiang Yiguang was lost in wistful reminiscence, a surprised, somewhat haggard voice reached her.

“Eh? Are you Teacher Jiang?”

The title “Teacher” hardly made Jiang Yiguang think it was meant for her. She walked on without pause, only for a figure to dash from the side, arms outstretched, blocking her path. Jiang Yiguang frowned, scrutinizing the thin, pale woman before her, whose face was etched with exhaustion. She detected a faint wisp of Negative Energy and Demonic Qi on her.

“I’m sorry to disturb you.” The woman bowed deeply, her face flushing as she stammered an introduction, “My name is Lin Baicao. I’m good friends with Xie Qingdu. She and Miss Lu Yaotiao recommended you to me.”

Jiang Yiguang: “…” She suddenly recalled Lu Yaotiao’s cryptic words about introducing someone. She eyed Lin Baicao warily and took a subtle step back, smiling. “What did Lu Yaotiao say?”

Lin Baicao answered earnestly: “She said you’re an enlightened master, capable of solving my problem.”

Jiang Yiguang: “…” She never imagined her best friend would promote her like this.

Lin Baicao continued, “I went to the Jiang residence looking for you earlier, but no one was home. I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

Lin Baicao’s repeated honorifics made Jiang Yiguang’s scalp prickle. She wasn’t the meddling type. Frowning, she met Lin Baicao’s eyes and smiled slightly. “You should take this matter to the Xuanzhen Dao Court. They’re more appropriate.”

“No, that won’t work.” Shaking her head like a rattle-drum, Lin Baicao clutched her chest and stepped back, as if in great pain. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at Jiang Yiguang imploringly, like someone grasping at a lifeline. “Only you can help me!”

Jiang Yiguang could only guess: “Something that can’t be known by the Dao Court? Don’t tell me you’re forcibly detaining a spirit?”

“It’s not that.” Lin Baicao wiped her eyes, head bowed, dejected. “Dreams. I want to keep my dreams! It’s been so long since I dreamt of my mother. This shouldn’t be. Before, I saw her every night in my dreams.”

Jiang Yiguang furrowed her brows, interrupting. “Wait. You said you dreamt of her constantly before?” Was it the influence of a ghost’s obsession? Was that the source of the Negative Energy clinging to her?

“Mm.” Lin Baicao nodded, looking at Jiang Yiguang with earnest steadfastness. “Whether good or bad, I want to keep dreaming of my mother.

“Apart from in dreams, I’ll never see her again.”

Jiang Yiguang was about to refuse again when the System chimed once more.

Her third main quest in this fate line had activated.

From the quest name “Bo Qi Devours Dreams,” Jiang Yiguang gained a crucial clue.

Lin Baicao’s “dreamlessness” was likely caused by Bo Qi.

The Bestiary of Bai Ze recorded: “When one has a bad dream at night, rise at dawn, and, facing northeast in the house, with disheveled hair, pray, saying: ‘Bo Qi, Bo Qi, who drinks no wine nor eats meat, but ever feasts on joyous lands. Let my bad dreams return to Bo Qi. Suppress the nightmare’s breath, and great fortune shall arise.’ Repeat this incantation seven times, and no misfortune will befall.”

Bo Qi was a legendary spirit that fed on nightmares.

It had devoured Lin Baicao’s nightmares, but she wanted to reclaim her old dreams.