She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar

◎Yan Luoyue was taken aback. "What? Mr. Jiang used to have money?"◎

The emotions swirling in Yan Luoyue's heart hadn't entirely dissipated when a flash of sword light swept past her eyes.

The next moment, a figure clad in a light-colored sword robe put away his flying sword and stood firmly in front of her.

Yan Luoyue lifted her head and saw Jiang Tingbai's face, which looked as though a weight had been lifted from him.

Jiang Tingbai's expression was composed, with an air of mystery Yan Luoyue couldn't quite understand.

His gaze swept across Yan Luoyue and Shen Jingxuan before he asked abruptly, "Do you still have the sword talismans I gave the two of you?"

Hmm? Sword talismans? What sword talismans?

Yan Luoyue’s mind whirled with confusion as her small hand instinctively reached into a storage pouch. Pulling out a rather shabby, grass-woven trinket, she hesitantly asked, "This thing? Didn't you say it was just something you wove for fun, sir?"

Truth be told, her little fire spirit, Powder, was quite fond of this grass woven piece and often hid inside it to play.

When Yan Luoyue reached for the storage pouch, Jiang Tingbai's expression subtly shifted before returning to normal.

Only once she finished speaking did Jiang Tingbai exhale imperceptibly and regain his calm demeanor.

As for Shen Jingxuan, she brought her palms together with a serene expression and slightly bowed toward Jiang Tingbai:

"Amitabha. A person of faith does not speak falsehoods. I truly have never seen the Sword Lord's sword talisman."

Jiang Tingbai smiled faintly, then smoothly changed the subject. "Ah, my mistake. There were no sword talismans."

Without offering an explanation for the brief intrigue, Jiang Tingbai turned his attention back to Yan Luoyue, softening his tone slightly.

"You’ve been missing for two days. Your clansmen and the teachers at the sect have all been searching for you. I've patrolled this area repeatedly, and only half an hour ago did I suddenly sense your presence again, allowing me to find you in time."

As he spoke, he noticed Yan Luoyue covered with storage pouches, clearly indicating she'd encountered some sort of adventure. As if afraid to alarm her, Jiang Tingbai lowered his voice even further.

"Did something happen earlier? In these past two days, where have you been?"

Yan Luoyue had already planned to report the matter to the teachers of Guiyuan Sect, and now the scene of the crime was right before them—how convenient!

Even though she'd gone a day without sleep, the moment this topic arose, all traces of fatigue vanished.

She immediately parted the grass and pointed at the demonic array nearby, launching into an animated explanation directed at Mr. Jiang.

Then, she undid the straps of her storage pouches and opened one to display the identity token of a deceased cultivator. She offered numerous suggestions, elaborating on small but extraordinary details of her adventure.

Her dramatic recounting made Jiang Tingbai’s pupils contract, his hand reflexively rest on the hilt of his sword, and his lips tighten slightly.

After patiently listening to Yan Luoyue’s complete narrative, Jiang Tingbai turned toward Shen Jingxuan for confirmation.

"I have nothing to add," Shen Jingxuan admitted after a moment's recollection, ultimately conceding Yan Luoyue's storytelling prowess. "She covered everything without missing a single detail."

Feeling parched after her passionate account, Yan Luoyue quickly unscrewed her bamboo cup and drank some water.

Well, of course she would have storytelling talent!

You should know that the text for all the magic cards was almost entirely designed by Yan Luoyue herself!

Jiang Tingbai brought his fingers together to form a sword and traced a line in the air around the perimeter of the formation, leaving a sword mark that was an inch deep.

Even those standing a dozen yards away could feel the sharp sword aura emanating from the area—a clear warning not to approach recklessly.

The previously hidden and obscure dwelling was now explicitly and starkly exposed.

After finishing this task, Jiang Tingbai summoned his flying sword once more and widened and lengthened it.

He waited for Yan Luoyue and Shen Jingxuan to board the flying sword one after another, before leaping onto its tail himself.

“I'll take you both back first. Don’t worry, the master and the others will handle this matter.”

Casually, Jiang Tingbai patted Yan Luoyue on her small head and sighed.

“Your sister has been looking for you these past few days. Though she isn’t your full-blooded sibling, the bond of shared blood runs deep—deeper than even that of biological parents. If she becomes overly emotional… ahem… try not to provoke her.”

Yan Luoyue gasped upon hearing this.

In her mind, the image of the rolling pin phantom she saw in the Illusory Woodland resurfaced vividly.

A wail escaped her, and without hesitation, Yan Luoyue squatted down and clung to Jiang Tingbai’s leg. “Save me, sir!”

—So spineless! How was she any different from Liu Chan, who would cry “Father!” the moment trouble arose?

Well, being Liu Chan wasn’t so bad; at least he died a natural death.

Yan Luoyue was just a tiny turtle. She didn’t want to be pounded into handmade turtle dumplings by Sister Rain!

Jiang Tingbai shook his head.

For one brief moment, Yan Luoyue thought she might truly be doomed.

But in the next instant, Jiang Tingbai said, “This matter isn’t your fault. I’ll do my best to mediate on your behalf.”

In that moment, it felt like celestial music had cleared her ears.

Jiang Tingbai’s flying sword was exceedingly fast, reaching the destination as though in the blink of an eye.

As soon as Yan Luoyue jumped off the flying sword, she saw Yan Yu running her like a madwoman, her eyes red and brimming with tears.

The always composed and gentle Sister Rain now had even her temple hair in a disheveled mess.

The turtle tribe was always known for their unwavering calm, even in the face of catastrophe, yet Yan Yu opened her mouth several times to say something but choked on her words every time.

“…Sister Rain.”

Before Yan Luoyue knew it, she was already pulled into her arms, held with an overwhelming tenderness.

Feeling the trembling body beside her, accompanied by sobs that pierced her heart, Yan Luoyue’s chest tightened painfully. Unable to bear it, she gently stroked Yan Yu’s back over and over.

“Sister Rain, please don’t cry,” whispered Yan Luoyue faintly. “If it helps, why don’t you beat me up instead? You can pound me into turtle dumplings if you’d like.”

Yan Yu lifted her tear-streaked face from Yan Luoyue’s shoulder.

Instead of hitting her, she carefully tucked a stray lock of Yan Luoyue’s hair behind her ear.

“I named you Luoyue because I wanted you to live long, like the Luoyue tree. And yet, I feared that the name might demand too much from fate, stealing luck from your life.”

“I named you ‘Second Bug’ because I wished for you to resonate with the vitality and endurance of insect-kind. Yet I worried that the name might make you as insignificant as a blade of grass, destined to fade into nothingness.”

As Yan Yu spoke, she gently and affectionately traced her fingers over the face, shoulders, and back of the child she thought she had lost.

"You may be my younger sister, but you're also a child I raised single-handedly. I've been in charge of hatching duties within the clan for years, yet I've never seen a hatchling as intelligent, agile, lovable, and yet as difficult to nurture as you."

As she spoke, Yan Yu let out a sigh that felt like introspective lamentation.

"Luoyue, what must your sister do to ensure you grow up safe and sound—what must I do?"

True to her word, Yan Yu stopped crying.

But the salty tears seemed to trade places, overflowing from Yan Luoyue's eyes and falling like broken strings of pearls.

"Don't worry, Sister Yu, I'm fine now. Really, I'm fine… from now on, I promise I won't let anything happen."

The next morning, while heading to school, Yan Luoyue stopped at Jiang Tingbai’s office to report her arrival, only to discover why Yan Yu had been so worried last night.

"Word has come through. A Thousand-Faced Demon has infiltrated Yunning Great Marsh."

Jiang Tingbai lowered his gaze, studying Yan Luoyue for a moment. He caught a flicker of comprehension in her expression. "Ah, you probably already know what a Thousand-Faced Demon is."

After all, the foundational bestiary card game, *Magic Creature Slayer*, had been crafted entirely by Yan Luoyue.

Indeed, Yan Luoyue understood.

The moment she heard the name "Thousand-Faced Demon," everything clicked into place.

It was a type of magical creature highly adept at shape-shifting—tall or short, fat or slim, beautiful or ugly, endlessly protean, and nearly impossible to guard against.

Its favorite method of killing involved morphing into the likeness of someone's close friend or relative to lure them away.

Then it would strike when the person least expected it, digging out their heart with a single claw to devour.

As a result, cultivators who fell victim to a Thousand-Faced Demon often perished two at a time.

If Yan Luoyue had gone missing alone over the last two days, Yan Yu might not have been as panicked.

But the fact that Yan Luoyue had vanished alongside Shen Jingxuan inevitably raised suspicions that they might have fallen prey to the demon.

Thankfully, it turned out that the elusive Thousand-Faced Demon hadn’t managed to harm the two of them.

Though during this time, they encountered another peculiar magical ecosystem—and it wasn’t much better, truth be told.

After briefing Yan Luoyue on the latest rumors, Jiang Tingbai subtly urged her to return to class.

Of course, before she left, Jiang Tingbai, truly embodying the role of her mentor, bestowed upon Yan Luoyue a charm of his finest intentions—a grass-woven Pixiu hung upon her lapel to ward off evil spirits.

Yan Luoyue: "..."

She hesitated to speak.

If Jiang Tingbai hadn’t explicitly identified the charm as a Pixiu, she might have believed he’d woven a Zhong Kui instead.

At that moment, Yan Luoyue genuinely wanted to tell him: "Teacher, please, be realistic."

One must understand—Jiang Tingbai spent an entire year mastering the technique to weave a dog. Then he took another two years just to learn how to craft a cat.

Now, here he was, skipping all intermediary steps straight to tackling the complexity of a Pixiu. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to question whether he was being slightly too ambitious?

For the first time, Yan Luoyue profoundly related to Wu Manshuang.

Her thoughts transcended dimensions of both time and space, converging astonishingly with Snake-Snake on one issue.

That issue being—biting your tongue is such a civilized solution.

At least for now, Yan Luoyue bit down on her tongue, forcibly swallowing back her unspoken critique poised on the tip of her throat.

——She was on the verge of asking Jiang Tingbai: Sir, what grave crime did you commit in your past life that, in this one, you must wait for a dog to finish licking the bowl, for chickens to peck at the grains, for fire to melt the lock*, before your straw-weaving skills improve even a tiny bit?

...

Back in the classroom, the first lesson was Feng Xiaoyuan’s.

Ever since the scandal of the Young Master of the Lu Family secretly harboring an aberrant demon came to light, the school had regularly introduced demonology classes.

Feng Xiaoyuan happened to be the lead instructor for this course, and the lessons were often tailored to current events.

For instance, this time, she was explaining the art of the Thousand-Faced Demon.

According to Feng Xiaoyuan's account, what made the Thousand-Faced Demon so terrifying was its extremely faint demonic aura.

Once a Thousand-Faced Demon took on a human form, only cultivators at the Nascent Soul stage or above, using their spiritual sense, could discern them. Otherwise, the average person stood little chance of distinguishing between the demon and the person it imitated.

Thankfully, the Thousand-Faced Demons were inherently impatient by nature. Their disguises served merely as tools for hunting, and once they succeeded, they generally departed immediately.

Otherwise, with their ability to integrate seamlessly into crowds and impersonate close friends or relatives, who knows what chaos they could unleash?

Even so, the thought of a creature capable of transforming into you, your schoolmate, or even your most cherished family member or lover was enough to leave people deeply uneasy.

It was like a blade suspended overhead, its descent uncertain but inevitable.

“But as for how to defend against the Thousand-Faced Demons, cultivators below the Nascent Soul stage are not entirely without solutions.”

Feng Xiaoyuan shifted the tone of her lecture, tapping her knuckles lightly against the stone slate behind her.

Having just listened to a chilling account of the Thousand-Faced Demons, the students were steeped in apprehension.

The sudden hint of something useful from Feng Xiaoyuan immediately piqued their interest. Brimming with anticipation, they gazed at her intently.

Feng Xiaoyuan spoke earnestly: “In terms of individual abilities, the Thousand-Faced Demons are not particularly formidable. Their strength lies in exploiting people’s natural trust in familiar faces to launch unexpected assaults.”

“So, if you can see through the deceit and recognize that the other person isn’t truly your friend or relative, you won’t fall prey to them.”

A classmate quickly chimed in, “But how do we recognize them?”

Feng Xiaoyuan smiled gently. “That depends on you. Surely, you and your loved ones share memories only you both know. During a conversation, you can nonchalantly toss out a question and carefully analyze how they respond.”

As she spoke, the smile on her face remained unchanging. However, a sly glint appeared at the corners of her eyes.

Yan Luoyue pondered over this instruction and immediately grasped the nuance behind that slyness.

Indeed, Feng Xiaoyuan had mischievously left a vital clue for the students to figure out on their own.

—Note that what Feng Xiaoyuan said wasn’t, “Listen to see if they can answer,” but rather, “Listen to how they answer.”

Because, in such situations, the most critical detail isn’t the correctness of the reply but how a familiar person would instinctively react to the question.

For example, if Yan Gan were to tell Sang Ji, “Luoyue is my sister, clever and adorable.”

And Sang Ji replied, “Yes, she is your sister. She is absolutely clever and adorable.”

The response would, of course, appear correct.

But the Yan siblings would instantly sense something was off and realize Sang Ji had been replaced by a Thousand-Faced Demon.

After all, a "Brother Ji" who doesn’t reflexively exclaim, “Yeah, she's amazing, my little sister’s the best!” would undoubtedly be a fraudulent Brother Ji!

Feng Xiaoyuan spoke leisurely, "The Thousand-Faced Demon can only imitate appearances and voices, but it cannot replicate a person's true essence and memories. That's why some Thousand-Faced Demons are exposed as soon as they show—because they can only mimic the surface but can't replicate the real spirit of a person."

As the class was about to end, Feng Xiaoyuan assigned everyone a practical exercise.

She instructed everyone to use the methods discussed in class to verify the identities of people around them two or three times.

Before the Thousand-Faced Demon was captured, everyone needed to quickly master these self-preservation techniques.

...

Yan Luoyue had already predicted that this hands-on assignment would turn into an inventive new game for Yan Gan and Sang Ji.

Sure enough, by the time lunch rolled around, the two had already started acting it out.

Sang Ji picked up his chopsticks, purposefully putting on a serious face as he launched into his interrogation.

"Buddy, you absolutely need to answer my question seriously. The answer to this question will determine whether you're human—or a demon."

"Listen carefully and answer: how many grains of rice did you eat in your lunch yesterday?"

Yan Gan "..."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Who could possibly remember the number of grains of rice they ate in one meal?

Why didn't Sang Ji simply ask Yan Gan how many dumplings he'd eaten in his entire life?

Yan Gan clenched his fists, his eyes filled with indignation, gritting his teeth. "This is venomous, absolutely venomous. How could I possibly remember—wait, hang on!"

Suddenly, Yan Gan snapped out of it. "Yesterday, the two of us spent the whole day looking for my sister and just grabbed a couple of cornbread buns for lunch. We didn’t even eat any rice!"

"Alright, buddy, trying to trick me, huh?"

Unexpectedly, Yan Luoyue, the supposed subject of their search yesterday, felt a twinge of guilt and rubbed her nose.

Sang Ji slapped his chopsticks down, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over. "Nice try! Setting the trap just to in yourself—you’ve just given the most solid proof of your identity."

Yan Gan cracked his knuckles, eyes blazing. "Watch me!"

Sang Ji taunted him with a casual wave of his hand. "Come on then, bring it."

Yan Gan thought for a moment and quickly clapped. "Alright, here’s one! Go stand in the middle of the classroom and recite aloud the iconic line from Monster Slayer where the Club Demon defeated the Brain-Eating Demon."

Sang Ji: "..."

Sang Ji was stunned. "That’s downright wicked—absolutely wicked!"

Knowing exactly what that line entailed, Yan Luoyue couldn’t help but cover her face with her hands.

Honestly, the scene unfolding before her was so familiar it was almost uncanny.

Sang Ji and Yan Gan had completely turned Feng Xiaoyuan’s assignment into a full-blown game of truth or dare.

Yan Luoyue’s lips twitched. She couldn’t help but think that once the Thousand-Faced Demon was captured, maybe she could create a truth-or-dare-themed game set.

It might even surpass traditional drinking games and become the reigning champ at parties.

Unaware that his sister was already crafting new business ideas in her head, Sang Ji found himself stuck in a deadlock.

Meanwhile, Yan Gan stood off to the side, "helpfully" egging him on with sarcastic remarks.

"Buddy, you’re probably not a Thousand-Faced Demon, right? If you were, there’s no way you’d have played Monster Slayer before. But my pal Sang Ji—he’s a total pro at playing the Club Demon!"

With a crocodile-like glare capable of tearing opponents apart, Sang Ji cast a furious look at Yan Gan. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the center of the classroom.

He mimicked the special voice line that played when the "Big Stick Demon" card defeated the "Mind-Eater Demon" card, letting out a gruff and exaggerated laugh.

Sang Ji spoke each word slowly and deliberately, enunciating in a flat, over-the-top manner: "Hahaha, to you, I will always be unbeatable. Because I don't have a brain!"

Yan Luoyue thought to herself: "..."

Yan Gan burst into applause, thoroughly amused. "Hahaha, brilliant! Spot on! Brother, I swear on my own head, there's no way you're the Thousand-Faces Demon in disguise!"

Sang Ji let out a sinister chuckle, grabbed a steamed bun from the table, and, with the air of silencing a witness, shoved it unceremoniously into Yan Gan's mouth.

Their antics inspired an unexpected domino effect among their classmates.

Before lunch was even over, the classroom was alive with voices imitating lines from various monster characters, an unending cacophony bursting forth.

For reasons unbeknownst to anyone—perhaps collective mischief—the two voice lines of the Thousand-Faces Demon garnered particular popularity:

—"I can be male, female, young, or old—as your most trusted embrace comes with claws plunged into your chest."

—"Spare me talk of beauty or ugliness. Outward appearances are the most insignificant things in this world."

Yan Luoyue, the writer behind these lines and the creator of the cards, couldn't help but fall into a moment of introspection.

A premonition came over her: this new method of testing authenticity was about to spread like dandelion seeds from the Wisdom Class as its epicenter, reaching far and wide.

It was highly likely that, in no time, the real Thousand-Faces Demon would find itself caught in an absurd ordeal—because if it lacked the ability to play "Monster Clash," it might not even survive in the Yunning Great Marsh.

Worse still, it might even be accosted and forced to perform the Thousand-Faces Demon's lines from "Monster Clash" on demand.

In truth, though, to avoid being sued for royalties by real monsters roaming the streets, every single voice line in "Monster Clash" was something Yan Luoyue had made up on a whim.

The fake Thousand-Faces Demon card: cultured, poetic, with an artistic flair.

The real Thousand-Faces Demon: What? Voice lines? What are you talking about? Why don’t I know anything about this?

As she briefly imagined such a scene, Yan Luoyue found that even the fishball in her mouth tasted better.

While munching away, a faint sense of foreboding crept up on her.

Looking up, she saw—to no one’s surprise—her two ridiculous brothers staring at her with sparkling, expectant eyes!

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Feeling as if she were walking to her doom, Yan Luoyue reluctantly broke the silence. "Are you planning to test me now?"

What kind of challenge could they be concocting?

Surely it wouldn’t be anything too embarrassing, right?

In the next moment, Sang Ji flicked his wrist and dropped a bamboo dragonfly toy onto the desk with a nonchalant snap.

"Alright, little sister, give this thing a name for us."

This was such a trivial request.

Yan Luoyue glanced at it briefly and responded offhandedly, “How about calling it Armstrong Spiral Accelerating Sky Device?”

Yan Gan was speechless: “…”

Sang Ji joined in: “…”

Yan Gan nodded thoughtfully, an odd sense of admiration lighting his face. “I don’t understand a single word of that, but that’s exactly the kind of answer I’d expect from my sister.”

Sang Ji gave him a lazy slap on the back. “Oh!”

—Yes, clearly drawing on the spirit of Yan Luoyue’s knack for nonsensical naming, Sang Ji extracted character components from the word “we.”

He compressed "I I we" again, and this time it was condensed into a single "Oh!"

Yan Luoyue: "..."

That’s it, I’ll smack you all with an “oh.”

…

That evening, when Yan Luoyue got home from school, she found Shen Jingxuan sitting cross-legged on a meditation mat in the courtyard, quietly reciting the *Surangama Sutra*.

When Shen Jingxuan saw Yan Luoyue return, he slowly opened his eyes and solemnly uttered a Buddhist greeting.

"Amitabha. Luoyue, what follows the line ‘This impermanent and ever-decaying body of mine’?"

Yan Luoyue: "..."

She had a faint idea why Shen Jingxuan was asking her this question.

However, Yan Luoyue hadn’t expected that in just a single day, the little trick to identifying the Thousand-Faced Demon had already spread like wildfire throughout the Yunning Great Marsh.

Swallowing nervously, Yan Luoyue took a quiet step back. "I have no idea."

The young nun should know she barely knew a thing about Buddhist scriptures, right? She wouldn't just chant her way into striking her down, would she?

To Yan Luoyue’s surprise, Shen Jingxuan simply nodded calmly with a look of peaceful satisfaction. "That's exactly how it should be."

Yan Luoyue: "?"

Sure, she had dodged a bullet and should’ve been relieved, but somehow something about this didn’t sit right.

Thinking it over carefully, Yan Luoyue raised her arm and resolutely pointed in the direction where the setting sun was disappearing.

"Jingxuan, look, which direction is that?"

Shen Jingxuan opened his eyes and studied for a moment before nodding with absolute certainty. "That’s north."

Of course. Wouldn't expect any less of you.

A mysterious smile spread across Yan Luoyue's face.

At least now she felt that things were a bit more even between them.

…

Yan Luoyue originally thought that after encountering situations with Yan Gan, Sang Ji, and Shen Jingxuan, there wouldn’t be anyone else around her who’d suddenly employ crafty and unexpected methods to test whether she was real.

Even if someone did, at most, maybe Sister Yu would pick up on this method of identification and drag her aside to quiz her on one or two of her daily habits.

But reality proved Yan Luoyue dead wrong.

The next day during class, as soon as Mr. Dong walked into the room, he surveyed the class with a stern gaze.

His expression was serious, and his tone even more so. "You should all be aware by now that a Thousand-Faced Demon has infiltrated Yunning Great Marsh. And yesterday, Mr. Feng should have already taught you the methods to identify the demon."

During Mr. Dong's classes, no student dared to sleep or even let their minds wander.

So as soon as he finished speaking, the entire class nodded vigorously.

"Good." Mr. Dong paused for a moment, his eyes gleaming. "Now, did you all listen carefully to the lesson yesterday?"

"…Yes," the students answered hesitantly.

But for some reason, as they gave their response, a deep sense of foreboding began creeping up their spines like an icy chill.

Mr. Dong nodded thoughtfully. "If that’s the case, then if you aren't actually the Thousand-Faced Demon, you should be able to answer questions about yesterday's lesson."

The whole class: "!!!"

Wait a second, that logic doesn’t track!

There’s this thing called being a terrible student! Even if someone diligently listens to the whole lecture, they can still end up completely clueless!

Unbothered by the horrified, twisting expressions of the students before him, Mr. Dong pronounced each word with crushing finality: "All right, I’ll start calling names now."

The entire class: "!!!"

—No, sir, please don’t do this, sir!

Although it was later proven that Mr. Dong was merely joking, since all the students he randomly called upon were able to answer the questions correctly, the impact of a stern teacher cracking a joke was undeniably terrifying.

According to Yan Luoyue’s calculations, the students’ attentiveness during this lesson increased by at least 300% compared to usual, all due to the fear of being randomly called upon again tomorrow.

One particularly well-known-yet-unnamed student even sneaked into Jiang Tingbai’s office after class.

“Sir, Mr. Dong hasn’t been swapped with someone else, has he? I mean, he’s actually learned how to joke now—how surprising!”

Jiang Tingbai gave a strong affirmation of Mr. Dong's identity, reassuring the student.

On top of that, Jiang Tingbai gifted the unnamed student a grass-woven “Zhong Kui’s Sister” charm, which perfectly matched the one he had gifted her the day before.

Faced with Jiang Tingbai’s unique artistic craftsmanship, the student hesitated before asking, “Sir, is this still a Pixiu?”

“It is.”

For reasons unknown, the student’s voice became somewhat heavy with emotion, though, overwhelmingly, there was an eerie sense of calm. It was the kind of tranquility born out of years of accumulated resignation.

“…Alright, I understand. Sir, take care and keep it up.”

Speaking of Yan Luoyue and Shen Jingxuan, the reason they accidentally ended up in a secluded mountain residence was because they were searching for foundational herbs.

Perhaps there truly is a universal law balancing luck, for not long after escaping their predicament, Shen Jingxuan discovered a locally-grown foundational herb while out in the wilderness.

Carrying the herb, Shen Jingxuan set out to find the alchemist who could refine it into pills, with Yan Luoyue tagging along.

Currently, Yan Luoyue has only reached the late stage of Qi Refinement, still far from advancing to Foundation Building.

However, Yan Gan and Sang Ji are already at the half-step stage toward Foundation Building, only missing a single customized Foundation Building Pill to make the leap.

If the opportunity arose, Yan Luoyue wished to book two customized Foundation Building Pills for her two elder brothers.

It wasn’t until they met the alchemist in person that Yan Luoyue realized that despite Yunning Great Marsh’s remote location, it harbored many hidden gems.

The alchemist capable of customizing Foundation Building Pills turned out to be someone she already knew.

It was none other than Yin Wangyou.

Yes, the very same Yin Wangyou who, along with her brother, once sold their quirky “Small King Turtle Ointment” and nearly got annoyed by Sang Ji’s cheeky remark, “This one’s my sister too.”

Upon meeting again, both parties were surprised by the unexpected encounter.

Yan Luoyue had already figured last time that Yin Wangyou’s alchemy skills were above average.

Now, learning that Yin Wangyou could take commissions for customized Foundation Building Pills meant her craft wasn’t merely good, but truly extraordinary.

Yin Wangyou, likewise, was pleased to see Yan Luoyue. Her typically silent and reserved face even lit up with rare traces of a smile.

“It’s you? So, fellow Daoist and the master are acquaintances. What a pleasant surprise!” Yin Wangyou said cheerfully.

“As for the recipe for Sweet and Savory Miracle Elixir, I am still conducting trials, but one day I will certainly concoct a more affordable and effective ointment.”

Hearing ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‍someone finally speak the correct name of this medicine after four years made Yan Luoyue feel unexpectedly touched.

“I had no idea you possessed such refined skills,” she remarked, curiosity piqued. “If you had the ability to create customized pills, why did you choose to sell ointments at the Silver Light Arena back then?”

“Fellow Yin, there are two reasons behind my stall setup.”

Yin Wangyou shook her head and earnestly started counting with her fingers.

“First, I want to meet the master who crafted the delectable and sweet-tasting pills. Second, the Hundred Refinements Assembly is about to begin… It’s said that a rare mystical flame will appear during this event. I want to save up some money and try my luck there.”

Hmm… the Hundred Refinements Assembly.

By rough estimate, the new session of the Hundred Refinements Assembly is indeed nearing.

After hearing Yin Wangyou’s explanation, Yan Luoyue suddenly remembered the invitation to the assembly in her possession.

However, Yan Luoyue had a small question.

“By the way, Fellow Yin, what did you just call me?”

Yin Wangyou looked at Yan Luoyue, confused. “I called you Fellow Kou… — Wait, aren’t you called ‘Kou Kou Kou’?”

Yan Luoyue: “…No, you’ve misunderstood things on too many levels. Ahem, just like Jingxuan, you can simply call me ‘Luoyue,’ alright?”

……

After reserving customized foundation-building pills for her two eccentric elder brothers, Yan Luoyue paid the deposit and suddenly remembered something else.

“By the way, Wangyou, you’re an alchemist and therefore likely more knowledgeable about botanical materials. I’d like to ask you for advice on how to plant this seed.”

While speaking, Yan Luoyue carefully held out a mirror tree seed, no bigger than a date stone, and handed it over to Yin Wangyou with care.

Indeed, Yin Wangyou’s discerning eyes instantly recognized the identity of the mirror tree seed and did not confuse it with similar-looking seeds like pearlflower or windbell vine.

However, when it came to the method for cultivating such seeds, Yin Wangyou was out of her depth.

“Mirror tree seeds are notoriously difficult to grow, as the rumors suggest. Comparatively, simply finding a mirror fruit in the wild is much easier.”

“Luoyue, if you need, it might be worth consulting cultivators specializing in planted techniques or buying mirror fruits at high prices from the market to have alternatives.”

Yan Luoyue nodded. She had already intended to do something along those lines.

Yin Wangyou returned the seed to Yan Luoyue, remarking, “Mirror tree seeds are exceedingly rare. The fact that you could acquire it must have been a stroke of immense fortune.”

She wasn’t envious—just akin to seeing a friend win against the odds and feeling compelled to express admiration.

Yan Luoyue smiled at this and exchanged a glance with Shen Jingxuan. “To delve into the story behind this seed we’d have to mention the recent residence information posted on the announcement wall…”

Yan Luoyue narrated the tale with highs and lows, her storytelling captivating Yin Wangyou effortlessly.

By the time she reached the death of Wu Chunhui, Yin Wangyou slapped her thigh, lamenting with such vigor she forgot she was supposed to be listening attentively.

“A cultivator parasitized by demonic flora would’ve been an exceptional model specimen—and yet he just burned away… Ah, what a tragic waste.”

Noticing Yin Wangyou’s choice of words, Yan Luoyue echoed her statement, tentative: “Model specimen?”

“Indeed.”

From within her sleeve, Yin Wangyou slid out a slender silver needle, deftly holding it between her fingers as if ready to pierce through the air.

“From the perspective of post-parasitism meridian structure, the dynamic interaction between demonic flora and demonic puppets, and whether demonic puppets lean more toward plant characteristics or humanoid ones… all of this could have been extensively researched.”

Yin Wangyou’s tone was flat and unremarkable, as if what she was saying was the most natural thing in the world.

But as Yan Luoyue listened, she couldn’t help but feel that Yin Wangyou should be wearing a white lab coat—only then would it feel completely fitting.

“Hold on, Wangyou, are you a pill refiner or a healer?”

Yin Wangyou didn’t seem the least bit bothered. “I practice both pill refinement and healing.”

Drawing from the best of both disciplines, she felt confident enough to take on custom orders for Foundation Pills. Otherwise, it would just be reckless disregard for human life.

Generally speaking, dual cultivation—whether combining pill refinement with healing, physical cultivation with swordsmanship, or pill refinement with artifact forging—was fairly common.

Of these three dual-cultivation paths, though, only the second one, combining swordsmanship and body cultivation, came with a certain reputation. It practically screamed *poverty*, as if the practitioners’ financial hardships were perpetually reflected on their shiny, sweat-glossed foreheads.

As for the other two dual-cultivation paths, they offered a more comfortable way of life.

But before long, Yan Luoyue found herself listening to a juicy, long-forgotten piece of gossip from Yin Wangyou.

“Wait, Jiang Jianjun? Is that the same Jiang Jianjun I’m thinking of?” When Yin Wangyou heard the name Jiang Tingbai, she instinctively jumped into the conversation. “He used to be one of us, you know.”

“What?” Yan Luoyue was stunned. “Mr. Jiang used to have money?”

So Jiang Tingbai knew how to refine pills?

Then why didn’t he use that skill to supplement his income—even if just to maintain his beloved sword, like other sword cultivators who fuss over their blades as if applying skincare products?

Seeing that Yan Luoyue had completely misunderstood, Yin Wangyou hurriedly corrected her.

“No, no. Jiang Jianjun isn’t a pill refiner. He used to be a healer.”

Yan Luoyue’s ears perked up, and soon she caught wind of a piece of gossip widely circulated among healers.

Allegedly, as a young man just starting out, Jiang Tingbai had been a healer of some local renown, deeply devoted to the art of saving lives.

But one day, in front of his very eyes, a patient he had treated was brutally killed by the patient’s enemies.

This incident clearly left a profound impact on Jiang Tingbai. From that moment on, he abandoned his needles for a sword, choosing another path to bring justice and make his mark on the world...

What came after that, Yan Luoyue didn’t hear, because her mind was already overrun with a single thought, like a bullet screen flashing across her consciousness.

—*Is this what they mean by “becoming a healer won’t save those in the cultivation world”?!*

As her focus began to wander, Yan Luoyue suddenly noticed the gleaming silver needle between Yin Wangyou’s fingers, sparking an idea.

“Wait a second, Wangyou. When healers first learn their craft, don’t they have to practice identifying meridians and acupuncture points on little figures?”

“Yes.” Yin Wangyou nodded. “Generally, we start with softwood mannequins. Once we’re skilled, we move on to life-sized wooden dummies. Of course, some of the poorer ones can’t even afford the softwood figures—they’ll weave a straw figure themselves and practice on that.”

“Why? Why do you ask?”

Yan Luoyue closed her eyes with an air of mock solemnity.

Mystery solved.

No wonder Mr. Jiang is so obsessed with straw weaving. The wicked origin of this obsession clearly lies here.

—And seriously, Mr. Jiang, you’ve been poor since childhood, haven’t you?!