◎It Swallowed the Little Green Snake Whole!◎
The next day, the Great Elder hosted an extravagant banquet.
The feast was a lively affair, filled with clinking cups and a bustling crowd of guests.
Not only did every member of the Turtle Clan—regardless of age or gender—attend, but many neighboring demonic clans from the Yun Ningze area, such as the partridges, giant salamanders, red-crowned cranes, and other longtime allies, also received invitations.
Even Shen Jingxuan, who had accidentally stumbled into the Turtle Clan’s territory, along with visiting merchants and cultivators who had stayed with the clan before entering the mountains, were all invited to join the celebration.
Of course, this wasn’t just because the Great Elder had extensive connections and a prestigious reputation.
It was also because the Turtle Clan hadn’t hosted such a grand event in years, and everyone was eager to seize the opportunity for revelry.
After all, the Turtle Clan had long lifespans. A mere decade or two meant nothing to them.
Humans had traditions like celebrating milestone birthdays every five or ten years.
But for the Turtle Clan, unless it was a major anniversary like every twenty or fifty years, birthdays were usually just a simple family meal.
As for weddings and the like…
According to Yan Yu’s research in the clan’s records, the last large-scale wedding banquet held by the Turtle Clan had been over three hundred years ago.
So this feast was particularly extravagant. Any friend or relative of the Turtle Clan was welcomed as an honored guest.
Take Sang Ji, for example.
Though the Black-Snouted Crocodile Clan and the Turtle Clan had no particular ties, Sang Ji was close friends with Yan Gan and Yan Luoyue, so he naturally attended the banquet.
Having visited the siblings often, Sang Ji was so familiar with the Turtle Clan’s territory that he knew which gates led where.
Because of this, he was also well-informed about certain clan matters.
Sang Ji stroked his chin as he eyed the red banner stretched across the banquet stage, posing his first question of the evening.
“According to the banner, this is the Great Elder’s 1,801st birthday celebration?”
But as far as Sang Ji recalled, the Great Elder was already at least 1,900 years old.
Had he misremembered, or was this the secret to the Turtle Clan’s eternal youth—after reaching a certain age, they could reverse their age by at least a century?
Faced with Sang Ji’s confusion, Yan Luoyue and Yan Gan exchanged knowing smiles.
Yan Gan patted Sang Ji’s shoulder, motioning for him to lean in, and whispered an explanation of the situation.
Sang Ji finally understood: “Ah, I see. So the ‘birthday banquet’ is just a pretext.”
But he still couldn’t quite grasp one detail: “Even so, why 1,801? Wouldn’t 1,800 be better? It’s a nice, round number!”
Yan Luoyue solemnly chimed in: “That’s because the Great Elder’s lifelong rival only lived to be 1,800 years old.”
Thus, the Great Elder’s celebration of his 1,801st birthday served two purposes:
First, to keep things low-key and avoid appearing too gleeful.
Second, to declare—HAHAHAHA, I OUTLIVED YOU ALL!
Sang Ji: “…Truly, only the Turtle Clan would do this.”
This revelation left Sang Ji utterly enlightened, his worldview expanded in ways he’d never imagined.
The Turtle Clan’s territory sat at the crossroads of the Yun Ning Mountains and the demonic realm’s seal.
Over the years, they had hosted countless traveling cultivators, mastering the art of feasts.
Every dish served at this banquet was exquisite.
Soon, guests were raising their chopsticks with gusto, ensuring both hosts and attendees had a splendid time.
Only after three rounds of drinks and five courses did the trio—Yan Luoyue and her friends—finally push their plates away, their bellies round with satisfaction.
It was then that the guest of honor for this “birthday celebration” finally made his appearance.
Sang Ji waited patiently as the Great Elder took what felt like half a cup of tea’s time to ascend the mere three steps of the red-carpeted stage.
Leaning toward Yan Luoyue and Yan Gan, he whispered,
“Wait a minute—I just realized something. Isn’t the order of this banquet all wrong?”
Usually, whether for weddings, funerals, or New Year toasts, didn’t the host give their speech before the feast began?
What kind of arrangement was this, where everyone finished eating before the host spoke?
At this question, Yan Gan and Yan Luoyue shared a knowing glance.
In the next moment, the siblings sighed in unison: “You… you’ll understand soon.”
Sang Ji: “???”
What did that mean?
Soon, Sang Ji discovered exactly why things had been arranged this way.
Because the Great Elder began speaking—uttering the first sentence of the day.
He said: “Thaaaaank——youuuuuu——tooooooo——aaallllll——our——gueeeeesssstttsss——”
Sang Ji: “……”
To convey solemnity, the Great Elder enunciated each word with great care.
This meant his speech was even slower than usual.
As Sang Ji watched in disbelief, by the time the Great Elder finished his first sentence, some guests had already picked up their chopsticks again out of sheer boredom.
By the time the Great Elder finished his second sentence, one of the overindulged guests had already drunkenly slumped under the table, snoring thunderously.
As for what happened after the Great Elder uttered his third sentence…
Well, Sang Ji didn’t get to witness the completion of that third sentence.
Because by then, he, along with Yan Gan and Yan Luoyue beside him, had already tilted their heads and dozed off right in their chairs!
Before drifting into sleep, Sang Ji murmured drowsily and incoherently: "Truly… truly worthy… of the… Turtle Clan."
When Yan Luoyue woke up the next morning, a rustling stir rose around her.
Rubbing their still-groggy eyes, everyone exchanged knowing smiles—apparently, they had all just woken up.
This was expected, so Yan Luoyue wasn’t surprised.
What did surprise her, however, was that half the guests present were covered with little floral-patterned quilts, each clutching a small pillow in their arms.
The quilts and pillows were, unmistakably, the same style Yan Luoyue had received during her lectures.
This alone was enough to prove that the Great Elder was both experienced and well-prepared.
It’s worth noting that while only half the guests were tucked in, it wasn’t due to a shortage of quilts.
Rather, it was because the Great Elder had leisurely taken his time, tucking everyone in one by one. By the time he was halfway done, the night had passed, and everyone had already woken up!
Yan Luoyue: "…"
Sang Ji also awoke around this time. Clutching a floral quilt in his hand, he stared at the scene before him, his expression utterly stunned.
"Truly worthy of the Turtle Clan!"
Judging by his expression, this meal had left a profound (and absurd) impression that would likely remain etched in the young man’s memory for a long time…
The night before, everyone had been lulled to sleep by the Great Elder’s speech.
Though the Great Elder had kindly covered them with quilts, spending the night in chairs hardly made for quality rest.
Considering Yan Luoyue was still a young turtle in a crucial growth phase, Yan Yu specially wrote her a sick note and asked Yan Gan and Sang Ji to deliver it to the academy.
Upon hearing this arrangement, Yan Gan didn’t hesitate to voice his envy.
"I’m exhausted too, Sister Yu. Can’t I take the day off?"
Yan Yu fixed him with a cool stare.
Not long ago, when Yan Gan had first enrolled in the academy, he’d proudly declared, "The academy is great—so different from the clan! A big kid like me belongs in school. If you’re not in school, you’re not a big kid!"
Now, with those words still fresh in memory, where was his enthusiasm for learning? Had the Great Elder eaten it?
Yan Yu chuckled dryly, thinking she’d seen this coming.
"It’s not hibernation season. What kind of excuse would I be writing for you? If you want a sick note, ask your parents."
With that, she dismissed Yan Gan effortlessly.
Turning to Sang Ji, her expression softened considerably.
"Before these two invited you over, they probably didn’t expect things to turn out like this. Would you like a sick note too? I can explain the situation and have Gan deliver it along with Luoyue’s."
Yan Gan’s eyes widened in outrage. "Sister Yu, come on!"
Sang Ji glanced at his friend, smirked, and deliberately provoked him:
"Nah, it’s not hibernation season. What kind of excuse would you be writing for me, Sister Yu? If I want a sick note, I’ll ask my own parents."
Yan Gan’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull at this betrayal. "Bro, seriously?!"
Amid their bickering, the two brothers set off for school, leaving Yan Luoyue at home with some free time.
She promptly curled up for another hour of sleep. By the time she woke up, the sun was high in the sky.
It was a beautiful, leisurely day—perfect for some meaningful activities. Like, for instance, crafting a guiding compass.
Lately, Yan Luoyue had gathered plenty of useful materials from the Elite Gathering, Moonlit Market, and even Fortune’s Abode. Just the day before, she’d also obtained the Heaven-Earth Strange Fire, "Falling Petals in Profusion."
With all preparations complete and the "east wind" finally blowing her way, she was brimming with confidence for her next crafting endeavor.
Summoning the peach-blossom-pink flames, she let them dance playfully on her fingertip.
Then, she laid out all the necessary materials before her, introducing each one to the little fire spirit.
In the game *Unity of Myriad Realms*, there were two main ways to wield a Strange Fire.
The first approach treated the fire as a combat asset. Practitioners would use specialized cultivation techniques to erase the fire’s sentience, turning it into an extension of their will—a unique weapon that could be wielded effortlessly.
However, once this was done, the fire would forever remain in its initial captured state, its power and abilities never evolving.
The second method nurtured the Strange Fire as a companion, assistant, or even a partner.
This allowed the fire to absorb experience and energy through crafting or alchemy, gradually growing stronger.
Depending on how players viewed their Strange Fire, their methods of raising it varied accordingly.
There are those like Yan Luoyue, who, as long as their temperaments align, are willing to dig through all kinds of worn-out baskets for their strange fires, patiently teaching them one material at a time during forging.
And then there are those who simply buy a spirit orb, toss their strange fire inside, and never take it out unless they have a use for it.
Back in the game, Yan Luoyue had once encountered a tycoon.
Though this person couldn’t forge, couldn’t refine pills, and never used his strange fire in combat, he still went out of his way to commission dozens of outfits for it from various forgers.
—Custom-made clothes, specifically designed for strange fires!
As one of the forgers who received the tycoon’s order, Yan Luoyue couldn’t help but ask what he considered his strange fire to be.
Was it a daughter or a son?
If so, that would make some logical sense.
But the tycoon, true to his nature, answered with unshakable confidence: "Love Nikki! Of course, I’m treating it like Love Nikki!"
Yan Luoyue: "……"
Now, as she reflected on the past, Yan Luoyue admitted that she probably couldn’t bring herself to treat a strange fire like a dress-up doll.
But whether it was helping the fire improve in forging or explaining material properties to it, she was more than willing to do so.
After giving Pinky a general rundown of the materials they would be using, Yan Luoyue guided the strange fire through the forging incantation, rehearsing their coordination.
Once everything was prepared, she steadied her breath, her expression turning focused.
She sat cross-legged, hand-seals forming at her fingertips as she lifted the pink flame into the air with a flick of her wrist. Pointing at the forge, she commanded softly, "Go!"
In the next second, the entire furnace chamber lit up, the flames reflecting brightly in Yan Luoyue’s gleaming eyes.
Methodically, she fed the materials into the furnace, one after another.
The crafting of the compass had begun.
……
A full two and a half hours later, the flames in the furnace finally dimmed.
While tempering the materials, the little pink flame had also absorbed nourishment from them, gaining a significant amount of experience.
Though this was its first time forging, thanks to Yan Luoyue’s skilled guidance and the high quality of the finished product, "Falling Petals in Profusion" had visibly grown larger than before.
The little flame was ecstatic. The moment it shot out of the furnace, it swayed and danced wildly in front of Yan Luoyue like it was at a rave.
Honestly, its sense of rhythm wasn’t half bad. Yan Luoyue instinctively clapped along for a few beats—
Until she nearly started humming the tune of "The Horse-Taming Song," snapping herself out of it with a light cough. She turned her attention to inspecting the finished product inside the furnace.
There, lying quietly at the bottom, was a crimson compass.
The compass was fitted with a needle and several grooves. By placing the corresponding item into a groove, the needle would automatically point toward similar auras.
Under the sunlight, the crimson compass glowed with a subdued radiance, its triple-layered patterns marking it as a Spiritual-grade artifact.
The grade of an artifact was deeply tied to the quality of materials, the flame, the forge, the forger’s cultivation level, and their technique.
If anyone outside were to claim that a Qi Refining cultivator could craft a Spiritual-grade artifact, they’d surely be met with uproarious laughter.
Even the Young Master of the Lu Family—a widely acknowledged forging prodigy—only managed to produce Spiritual-grade artifacts after reaching Foundation Establishment, and even then, not every attempt was successful.
If a mere Qi Refining cultivator could casually craft a Spiritual-grade artifact—just how refined must her technique be to make up for such a glaring gap in cultivation?!
Without blinking, Yan Luoyue picked up the compass and examined it, finding it up to her expectations.
After a brief moment of thought, she decided on a name for it.
"Hmm, let me think… The strange fire that forged you is a little cutie, the snake we need you to find is also a little cutie, and if I’m shameless enough, I can count as a little cutie too."
"Alright then, this compass shall be called—‘The Little Cuties’!"
Don’t ask why Yan Luoyue insisted on naming every new piece of equipment she crafted.
The answer was simple: the whims of a gamer.
Yan Luoyue unwrapped a carefully folded handkerchief, revealing a tiny, jade-green snake scale tucked inside.
Despite having been separated from its owner for so long, the scale remained pristine, its surface shimmering with a refreshing emerald hue that inspired affection at a glance.
Gently, she placed the scale into the compass’s groove. The next second, the needle spun wildly.
Within a breath, its rotations steadied, decisively pointing in one direction.
"Red…"
When crafting "The Little Cuties," Yan Luoyue had designed the needle to display different colors based on the target’s proximity.
From closest to farthest: red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and violet.
And red meant—right under one’s nose.
Seeing the needle’s color, Yan Luoyue felt both delighted and surprised.
Could it be that after sneaking away, the little snake hadn’t gone far at all, instead lingering nearby all this time?
If that were the case, then Yan Luoyue would have one less reason to investigate the Lu Family.
Yet if the little snake could live safely and freely, Yan Luoyue would genuinely be happy for it.
Following the compass's direction, Yan Luoyue soon arrived at her destination—a courtyard on the outskirts of the Turtle Clan.
As she lifted her gaze to the courtyard gate, long-buried memories gradually surfaced in her mind.
Wasn’t this the very courtyard where she had first encountered the little green snake? The one used to accommodate passing cultivators?
Yan Luoyue recalled that the little green snake had originally escaped from this place, hadn’t it?
A sense of foreboding slowly rose in her heart, yet her expression remained composed.
Guided by the compass, she approached a corner of the yard, dug into the earth, and soon uncovered a single snake scale buried beneath the soil.
It was a jade-green, delicate fragment, small and finely shaped—identical to the one the snake had left for Yan Luoyue.
But there was no sign of the little snake here.
"So that’s how it is," Yan Luoyue murmured softly, finally piecing together the mystery. "This scale must have been left behind when the little snake escaped."
She remembered that the day after the snake fled, the first winter snow had fallen.
This scale had likely been buried beneath the snow, then washed to the corner by melting spring waters, gradually covered by dust.
Until today, when Yan Luoyue unearthed it once more—as if retrieving a forgotten story lost in the cracks of time.
Shaking her head slightly, Yan Luoyue joked to herself: *First, the little green snake left a scale in this courtyard, then another on my desk… This is the second time. Do scales just fall off so easily?*
She had heard of house cats shedding fur, but never of wild snakes shedding scales.
Still, this wasn’t quite the same as the fluff-shedding of furry creatures.
Imagining a floor scattered with shimmering scales, Yan Luoyue decided she wouldn’t mind the sight at all.
Placing the second scale into the compass’s groove, she adjusted the needle once more.
"Alright, looks like we’re heading to Ruyi City after all… Hmm, I should stop by the academy first and bring Mr. Jiang along."
That way, if her suspicions were confirmed, they could skip the formalities and—well, *deal with the problem on the spot*… Ahem, what she meant was, they could nip the evil in the bud before it had a chance to spread.
*The bright moon shines over all beneath the heavens—some homes brim with joy, while others drown in sorrow.*
At the very moment Yan Luoyue forged her spirit-grade artifact and followed the compass’s guidance, deep beneath the Lu Family’s estate in Ruyi City, a far grimmer scene unfolded.
The walls of the underground chamber were embedded with over a dozen lanterns fueled by spirit pearls, their glow dimmed to the faintest flicker.
This was because the demon realm was perpetually starved of light—days were short, and most hours saw only the moon hanging in the sky.
Thus, the pale radiance resembling moonlight was the preferred illumination for most demonic creatures.
In such gloom, every shadow took on a sinister hue.
Even the elongated silhouette cast upon the wall seemed to sharpen into the shape of a butcher’s blade.
Or perhaps, it *was* the shadow of a blade.
The Matriarch Demon, once luxuriously nestled in silken comfort, had long abandoned its lavish nest.
Its elongated body, still slick with amniotic fluid, coiled in a full circle around a cage in the corner.
The demon’s sickle-like forelimbs rose intermittently, toying with the cage’s lock—sometimes jabbing into the keyhole, eliciting metallic clicks from the mechanism.
This was utterly unnecessary, but such was the nature of a demon’s amusement.
Much like how a squirrel would mark its pinecones before burying them, this Matriarch Demon took pleasure in periodically retrieving its "food" from the cage—inspecting it, prodding it, ensuring its freshness—before stuffing it back inside.
Such was the instinct of its kind.
The current lock had been replaced just three days prior, yet its inner mechanisms were already rusted and broken from the demon’s relentless fiddling. Every lock before it had met the same fate.
The last time, it was this very weakness that had granted the little green snake a fleeting chance to escape.
But having learned its lesson, the Matriarch Demon would no longer allow the snake to slip away—not even if the cage door swung wide open.
As for the demon’s routine "inspection," the little green snake was long past patience.
With a cold flick of its nictitating membrane, its obsidian-dark pupils reflected the Matriarch Demon’s sickly purple form—and the grotesque thing slowly sliding from between its legs.
The stench of decay thickened the air—a nauseating mix of amniotic fluid and rancid blood as the demon birthed yet another useless spawn.
With a swift motion, the Matriarch Demon speared the newborn on its scythe-like limb, brought it to its jaws, and swallowed it whole without chewing.
Only after completing this ritual did the demon seem to realize something. Its ghastly, fanged face twisted into a ravenous grin.
"Wait a minute, just now... did you... fail to...?"
From the moment of childbirth to swallowing its meal, it hadn’t felt that faint tingling numbness!
Did this mean it had finally met the conditions to fully digest this prey, that it could now gulp it down without consequence?
The next moment, a long, viscous strand of saliva dripped from the protruding fangs of the Yimu Demon, hanging all the way to the top of the cage.
The small, jade-green snake noticed the drool and recoiled in disgust, shifting its body slightly.
It lifted its nictitating membrane and cast a deep, piercing glance at the Yimu Demon.
But all that look earned was the demon’s triumphant, raucous laughter.
"Indeed, it’s finally edible... That glance of yours didn’t hurt at all, not one bit!"
Almost impatiently, the Yimu Demon used its sickle-like claw to flick open the cage lock.
It dragged the little green snake out forcefully, hooking its blood-stained body and placing it on the broader part of its forelimb.
One had to understand—this little snake demon’s scales and flesh carried an inherent, stubborn toxicity.
This was why the Yimu Demon, which fed exclusively on poisonous creatures, was so obsessed with it.
Normally, the demon wouldn’t dare to bare its claws and handle the snake so recklessly.
Because in a very short time, the little green snake’s venom would corrode a large patch of the Yimu Demon’s flesh.
But today, whether because the snake was too weak or because the demon’s accumulated toxins had finally reached a tipping point,
even after being kneaded and squeezed in the Yimu Demon’s grasp for a while, the little snake only caused a mild itch on its skin.
The Yimu Demon erupted into a frenzy of joy, muttering to itself.
"Seems the meal is finally ripe, ready to be devoured... *slurp slurp*... Such a fine tonic..."
"Hey." It suddenly brought its golden-yellow eyes close to the little snake’s head. "I’ll ask one last time—are you really refusing to be my livestock?"
The green snake let out a faint hiss, its pink tongue flicking out briefly, like an unsubtle mockery.
For the countless time, it answered with the same response.
"Damn it all, screw your ancestors."
"...Fine." The Yimu Demon nodded, drool now pooling heavily on its chitinous chest. "Well then, thanks for the meal."
The next second, its jaw stretched open like the infamous "Slit-Mouthed Woman" from ghost stories, gaping at an almost impossible 360-degree angle.
Using the sharp tip of its sickle limb, the Yimu Demon skewered the emerald-green snake and swallowed it whole—as casually as one might sip soup or swallow a grain of rice!
---
On her way to the academy, Yan Luoyue happened to run into Shen Jingxuan.
Since being expelled from the Shui Lian Nunnery, Shen Jingxuan hadn’t found a place she particularly wanted to go.
Coincidentally, the Turtle Clan had historical ties with the Buddhist sect, and she had wandered here by fate.
At Yan Yu’s invitation, Shen Jingxuan decided to stay with the Turtle Clan for a while.
Seeing Yan Luoyue heading out alone, Shen Jingxuan naturally asked where she was going.
Upon hearing she was bound for the academy, Shen Jingxuan thought it over and decided a child shouldn’t travel such a distance unaccompanied.
"I’ve asked around—the academy is quite far. Let me escort you?"
Yan Luoyue: "..."
After several failed attempts to decline, Yan Luoyue had no choice but to let Shen Jingxuan accompany her.
But honestly, given Shen Jingxuan’s infamous sense of direction, it was debatable who was escorting whom.
At the very least, Yan Luoyue was already considering where she could "deposit" Shen Jingxuan later.
Otherwise, she’d be deeply worried that after stepping out with Mr. Jiang, she’d return to the academy only to hear Shen Jingxuan had gone missing...
Soon enough, the wisdom of this decision became apparent.
Not long after leaving the clan’s territory, a grim-faced, shrewd middle-aged man silently blocked their path.
Shen Jingxuan didn’t recognize the Chief Cultivator, but Yan Luoyue’s brow twitched.
She averted her gaze casually, trying to sidestep him without drawing attention.
Yet in the next moment, the Chief Cultivator shifted position, firmly cutting them off again.
Shen Jingxuan asked, "May I ask what the honored guest seeks?"
The Chief Cultivator ignored her, staring straight at Yan Luoyue before breaking into a smug grin.
"So it’s you... Little girl, I remember you now."
The moment he saw Yan Luoyue, the Chief Cultivator finally recalled where he’d seen that wooden hairpin before.
Back at the Moonlit Market, he’d actually been fooled by this girl’s act of playing dumb—a veteran hunter outsmarted by his own prey.
Seeing Yan Luoyue still feigning ignorance, the Chief Cultivator sneered and, right in front of her, slid a hairpin into his own topknot.
Yan Luoyue: "!!!"
That was... Xiao Ming’s reservoir!
And damn, this guy had the nerve to wear Xiao Ming’s reservoir on his head?!
Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because a flicker of unease crossed her expression.
Although that fleeting hint of emotion disappeared in an instant, the Chief Cultivator, being at the Foundation Establishment stage, had already keenly detected it.
With a hoarse chuckle, he muttered, "So you *do* recognize this hairpin. I wasn’t mistaken—it was you who wore it at the Moonlit Market."
At last, he had found someone connected to the person he sought. All his efforts in tracking down leads hadn’t been in vain!
After narrowing his search to the demonic races, the Chief Cultivator stumbled upon another clue: not long ago, during the Gathering of Talents, the Canglang Sect had distributed a thousand storage pouches as registration gifts.
Such a massive quantity—yet no one had heard where the Canglang Sect had procured them.
Could the seller who supplied the Canglang Sect be the same one who sold storage pouches to the Yijian Sect?
Following this thread, the Chief Cultivator soon learned that before the storage pouches, the Canglang Sect had acquired a miraculous medicine called "Little Turtle Paste."
Hmm? *Turtle*?
To be frank, at this point, any scrap of information related to the demonic races set off alarm bells in the Chief Cultivator’s mind.
And so, it wasn’t long before he discovered that the damn name *"Er Zha"* was actually a common lowly moniker among many demonic races—including the Turtle Clan.
Chief Cultivator: "..."
*Your mother! What the hell!*
At first, he had assumed *"Er Zha"* was just the demonic equivalent of human names like *"Er Wa"* or *"Er Lang."*
Who could’ve guessed that *"Er Zha"* would also correspond to the human term *"Second Dog"*?!
This twisted, obstacle-ridden search had truly been a nightmare to endure.
Even now, just thinking about it made his heart ache.
Tracing the keyword *"turtle,"* the Chief Cultivator eventually learned that there was indeed a turtle demon attending the school run by the Guiyuan Sect.
Rumors said this turtle demon was on good terms with the sect’s Swordmaster Jiang and had even received private instruction from him—a technique called the *"Earth Accumulation Art."*
And so, at last, the truth was revealed.
That mysterious artificer—cloaked in black, young and talented, utterly ruthless in his dealings, and the one who had lent his sister a wooden hairpin—was none other than the youth he’d once glimpsed at the Moonlit Market: *Yan Gan!*
Having confirmed this, the Chief Cultivator’s mood could be summed up in two words—
*Gan a!* (Damn it!)
When the Chief Cultivator mentioned the *"hairpin,"* Shen Jingxuan instinctively glanced at his head, recognizing the wooden hairpin that should have been embedded in the corpse of a demonic beast.
"..."
The next moment, Shen Jingxuan pressed a palm together in front of her chest and uttered a Buddhist invocation.
*"Amitabha. No need for explanations, benefactor. This humble nun understands—you’re here to pick a fight, aren’t you?"*
The Chief Cultivator was momentarily stunned by this bizarrely mixed Buddhist phrasing.
But in that split second of distraction, Shen Jingxuan’s fist shot out like a descending tiger, already inches from his face.
She lunged forward with a thunderous roar, golden light shimmering faintly across her skin:
*"A nun speaks plainly—that demon was slain by me. Why are you harassing a little girl?!"*
"...You killed it?" The Chief Cultivator sneered, his gaze deliberately lingering on Shen Jingxuan’s shaved head.
*"No offense, little nun, but since when do bald women wear hairpins?"*
Yan Luoyue: "..."
They say one should never mock a monk to his face about being bald.
Yet here was the Chief Cultivator, asking a *nun* about hairpins. Truly, Yan Luoyue was witnessing peak social ineptitude.
*Couldn’t he at least have been indirect? Maybe asked how long she'd been ordained?*
While Shen Jingxuan and the Chief Cultivator clashed, Yan Luoyue seized the chance to pull out her communication stone.
After the last one had *"broken,"* she’d acquired a new one—and had immediately added Jiang Tingbai’s contact.
*There were many paths in life, but safety came first. And when danger struck, calling for backup was key.*
The moment the stone activated, Yan Luoyue shrieked into it: *"Mr. Jiang, help! Someone’s trying to kill me—!!!"*
Her enemy had uncovered her secret identity and was now hunting her down!
As a Foundation Establishment expert, the Chief Cultivator had little trouble handling Shen Jingxuan.
Though the young nun’s punches were fierce, they only left him with minor scratches.
It was Yan Luoyue’s cry for help that truly distracted him.
Honestly, that shameless, desperate tone instantly reminded him of certain... *memorable* moments.
Like that time a certain black-robed artificer, freshly rescued, had immediately hiked up his robes and bolted—looking like nothing so much as a fleeing ostrich...
Was this a *family trait* or—?
Before the Chief Cultivator could ponder further, Shen Jingxuan launched another punch.
His eyes flashed coldly as he shoved the little nun aside.
*Just because he’d been lost in thought didn’t mean this brat could mistake his restraint for weakness.*
With Yan Luoyue already calling for reinforcements, time was short. The Chief Cultivator’s strikes grew ruthless.
Blades of ice erupted around him, slicing through Shen Jingxuan’s golden protective aura and forcing her back two steps.
In the next moment, the Chief Cultivator stretched out his arm, intending to seize Yan Luoyue.
Regardless of who the black-robed artificer truly was, this little girl was undoubtedly connected to them in some way—there was no escaping that!
Buddhist disciples were known for their compassion.
Once he took this child hostage, the young nun would be nothing more than a slab of helpless flesh on a chopping block, entirely at his mercy.
And if he made his escape before reinforcements arrived, all would be well.
In the blink of an eye, the Chief Cultivator’s plan took shape in his mind.
His scheme was nothing if not cunning, ruthless, and highly executable.
If there was any miscalculation, it lay in two critical oversights.
First, because Shen Jingxuan had acted too swiftly, the hairpin embedded in the Chief Cultivator’s head had never been removed.
And now, the "reservoir" effect triggered by Xiao Ming had begun draining his vitality.
Only when a torrent of blood gushed from his nose did he realize something was wrong.
*Wait… wasn’t the damage supposed to start only after wearing the hairpin for a full quarter-hour?*
*Why has the effect accelerated so drastically this time?*
Yan Luoyue scoffed internally: *Fool. It’s because you entered combat mode.*
The second miscalculation? That seemingly naive little girl didn’t just stand there waiting to be captured.
In a flash, she whipped out a beautiful beaded necklace—identical to the one around her own neck—that stretched with elastic suddenness, expanding to the size of a hula hoop and ensnaring the Chief Cultivator in its loop!
Yan Luoyue issued her final warning: “I’d advise against struggling, unless you *want* me to take a tumble!”
“*Don’t say you weren’t warned!*”
