Lin Jing stood up, and a sharp pain shot through his lower back.
“Hiss—” Getting old really does take a toll on the body.
He grimaced for a moment before grabbing his battered bowl and limping toward the temple entrance.
After the rain, the ground was full of pits and puddles, the stench of blood mingling with the faint mist in the air.
Lin Jing had just stepped outside when he saw a woman. She had collapsed on the temple’s threshold, her hair in disarray, her clothes soaked in blood. A deep, crimson-black wound marred her abdomen, and she struggled to crawl forward, arms tightly wrapped around something, protecting it with her life.
Lin Jing couldn’t immediately make sense of the situation, so he asked, “Madam, are you alright?”
The woman curled into a twisted posture, her fingers convulsing as she clutched at her belly.
Lin Jing leaned in again and cautiously called out, “Madam?”
Could she already be dead?
Setting down his bowl, he bent over, reaching out to check if she was still breathing.
Suddenly, a hand shot out from the pool of blood and clamped tightly onto his wrist.
“!” What the h*ll? Was he seeing ghosts in broad daylight?
Startled, Lin Jing stumbled back.
The hand was deathly pale, smeared with blood.
Lin Jing’s eyes widened in shock, and the next moment, he witnessed an utterly eerie and terrifying sight.
The woman’s body began to swell like a balloon, her skin stretching until it turned translucent. Beneath the surface, countless thin black tendrils wriggled frantically. Then, her corpse exploded in a mix of blood and rain. In an instant, foul black liquid splattered everywhere, filling the air with a nauseating stench. Her discarded clothes, now resembling a snake’s shed skin, laid in a heap on the ground.
From within her ruptured body, a blood-soaked, filth-covered boy crawled out.
He was frightfully thin, his frail frame resembling brittle bamboo joints. His jet-black hair was matted with clotted blood and grime.
The boy’s movements were stiff, his pale, bony fingers clutching Lin Jing’s wrist with desperate strength—like a drowning man seizing his last lifeline.
His voice was hoarse and fragmented, barely more than a whisper.
“Save me… please.”
The reek from the black sludge was unbearable, a putrid mix of rotting flesh and fermented waste. The stench was so strong that Lin Jing’s eyes watered, making it impossible to hear the boy’s plea clearly.
Before he could react, a sudden hissing sound filled the air from all directions.
Sssss—serpents slithered through the overgrown grass, their bodies rustling ominously.
Then, a chilling, androgynous voice pierced the air, carrying a sinister edge.
“That wretched woman was far too kind to you, willing to use such forbidden sorcery for your escape. But did she really think she could keep you from me?”
A gaunt old man, wrapped in a tattered gray robe, emerged from the darkness. His skeletal frame was draped in loose fabric, and half his face was covered in reptilian scales. His gaze was filled with venom as it landed on Lin Jing.
“What’s this? Another fool throwing his life away?”
“No, no, I was just passing through, just passing through.” Lin Jing hurriedly clarified, trying to shake himself free. But no matter how hard he struggled, the boy refused to let go, clinging onto him with a death grip.
No matter how much Lin Jing twisted his face in frustration and strained his muscles, he couldn’t break free.
For heaven’s sake, I’m just an old beggar with a limp and missing teeth! Brother, let me go!
“I can’t save you,” Lin Jing muttered, wanting no part in this mess.
But the gray-robed elder had no patience for such distinctions. Bloodthirsty by nature, he had no interest in determining guilt or innocence.
“Attack!” At his command, the venomous snakes coiled upright, their slit pupils narrowing as they lunged at Lin Jing with gaping jaws.
Lin Jing: “…”
Why was a seventy-eight-year-old beggar suffering through this nonsense?
Realizing there was no escaping this mess, Lin Jing sighed inwardly and stopped resisting fate. He bent down, scooped up the frail boy, and nimbly rolled aside, narrowly dodging a serpent’s deadly strike.
Though his assigned role in this game was that of an old man, his double-S-ranked mental power was still formidable in this world governed by spiritual force. Moving swiftly, he shattered his begging bowl against the ground, grabbing a jagged shard and snapping it in two with practiced ease.
The venomous snakes lunged wildly, only to convulse violently on the ground the next second.
“I underestimated you.” The gray-robed elder was momentarily stunned, but his eyes soon gleamed with malice. His robe billowed ominously.
Just then, a streak of icy blue sword energy slashed down from the sky, instantly slaying the remaining serpents.
Lin Jing, still cradling the grimy child, was taken aback—
Another one?!
A celestial figure in azure robes descended from the heavens, his voice cold and commanding.
“Chu Feihuan’s life is not yours to take.”
The gray-robed elder lifted his gaze, his expression quickly shifting from shock to a sinister grin.
“Fu Qingfeng? Since when did the Immortal Alliance interfere in worldly affairs?”
Fu Qingfeng’s eyes remained frosty. “That is none of your concern.”
The elder narrowed his snake-like pupils. “The Immortal Alliance is meant to remain detached from mortal conflicts. I was merely carrying out a vendetta, settling a score. Will you truly break your sacred oath for this child?”
Fu Qingfeng’s expression didn’t waver. “That is none of your concern.”
The elder let out a cold laugh. “Oh? None of my concern?” His fury ignited, and with a flick of his wrist, a venomous whip lashed toward Fu Qingfeng.
Yet, the immortal’s azure robe barely fluttered as his sword moved with ruthless precision. Despite the elder’s cunning tricks, Fu Qingfeng’s superior cultivation put him at an advantage. The battle raged within the temple ruins, locked in a fierce deadlock.
It was quite the spectacle.
Lin Jing, now sitting cross-legged on the ground, watched the fight unfold with interest—until his fingers were suddenly tugged.
Turning his head, he met the unsettlingly calm gaze of the boy.
Despite being drenched in blood, the boy’s pupils remained eerily clear, his voice hoarse yet firm.
“We have to leave. Take me with you.”
Lin Jing hesitated before chuckling. “We can’t escape. Don’t worry, that Fu Qingfeng guy will win in the end and take you to his Immortal Sect. You’ll be well-fed and well-protected.”
The boy pressed his lips together. “We can escape. Take me.”
Lin Jing sighed. “Kid, you really don’t listen, do you?” Avoiding the gray-robed elder was just the beginning—there were countless more waiting to harm him.
The boy closed his eyes briefly, his face deathly pale. Then he whispered, “Take me.”
He looked as if he might collapse at any moment.
Lin Jing, despite his cynicism, was still technically on the “help him become a god” faction.
He stared at the boy for a long moment before finally relenting. Tossing aside the broken bowl shard, he let out a helpless sigh.
“Fine.”
Though locked in battle, both combatants were no fools. The instant Lin Jing tried to sneak away with the boy, they immediately reacted.
“Leave him!” Fu Qingfeng’s voice was ice-cold.
The elder, unwilling to let Lin Jing snatch his prize, cracked his whip toward them.
At that precise moment, the vile sludge from the exploded corpse ignited, bursting into towering blue flames. The fire spiraled upward like phantom hands, trapping both fighters within its grasp.
“Soul Fusion Ritual?!” The Poison Elder’s eyes widened as he gritted his teeth, spitting out each word.
Seizing the moment of chaos, Lin Jing grabbed the child and hurriedly fled the temple.
The green-eyed child was pitifully thin, as light as paper, but Lin Jing’s current body wasn’t strong either. The two of them—one old, one young—really did resemble a pair of fugitive grandfather and grandson.
They ran for who knows how many kilometers, dragging the child along, until night fell and the rain stopped. Only then did Lin Jing finally stop to rest.
Lin Jing had absorbed the memories of Beggar Old Three, so he was intimately familiar with the terrain of Xishui Village. After confirming that no one was pursuing them, he found a cave, dragging the unconscious boy inside.
The cave was pitch-dark, damp, and cold, with gusts of eerie wind howling through. Lin Jing gathered some firewood, started a fire for warmth and light, then set the unconscious boy to the side. He sat cross-legged and pulled out a cold, hard steamed bun, chewing on it absentmindedly.
As the fire crackled, Lin Jing gnawed on the bun while cursing himself internally—why did he have to be nosy? Why did he have to be soft-hearted? Did the protagonist need saving from the likes of him?
In this game’s setting, there was no shortage of people willing to die just to ensure the protagonist’s happiness and smooth growth. He had no business interfering!
Lin Jing still didn’t understand why those few seconds of eye contact had made him change his mind.
“Ugh…” The boy let out a hoarse groan, curling up and clutching his stomach, his face pale as if trapped in a nightmare.
Lin Jing continued eating, more concerned about his lost begging bowl—that had been Beggar Old Three’s lifeline! Without it, how was he supposed to survive?!
Meanwhile, Chu Feihuan remained trapped in his nightmare. In his dream, blades clashed, rivers of blood flowed. Three hundred disciples of the Sword Manor laid dead, their heads severed, their screams echoing through the night. Torrential rain poured down as his wet nurse held him tightly, covering his mouth and eyes as they stumbled through a hidden passage.
“I won’t go… I won’t go…” He trembled in the muddy waters, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. His broken, pain-stricken voice echoed in the empty cave.
Lin Jing got up, looking for some clay to make himself a new bowl.
“This will do.” The rain-soaked red clay had just the right consistency. Lin Jing rolled up his sleeves and carefully began shaping a new bowl from the mud.
By midnight, the rain started falling again.
The firelight flickered, casting shifting shadows on two figures from vastly different worlds.
Chu Feihuan’s fevered mutterings didn’t affect Lin Jing. But Lin Jing’s soft scraping of the clay, shaping the bowl, slowly calmed the boy trapped in his painful memories.
Outside, raindrops splattered against leaves, forming crisp, melodious sounds. Inside, the firewood crackled, sending glowing embers into the warm air. The old man’s fingers worked gently, sculpting the clay—soft, rustling sounds filling the silence, carrying an almost otherworldly tranquility.
Lin Jing focused on shaping the bowl’s edges, moving slowly and carefully due to his inexperience. The repetitive, rhythmic movements felt like waves washing over Chu Feihuan’s mind, cleansing him of his nightmares, guiding him into a new dream.
A dream where snow sealed the roads, an endless mountain stood under a starless sky, and a lone wooden house stood in the cold wilderness. No worldly matters, no distractions—only him and his sword.
“All done.”
Lin Jing placed the misshapen clay bowl near the fire to dry. When he turned back, he noticed that the protagonist had finally fallen into a deep sleep, his once furrowed brow gradually relaxing.
Lin Jing stared at him for a moment before sighing, murmuring, “Kid, it’s not that I don’t want to help you—I just can’t.” He lowered his gaze. “Don’t worry. Soon, you’ll meet someone who will go to any lengths to treat you well.”
To treat you well.
As he spoke those words, Lin Jing’s lips curled into a mocking smirk.
After all, in this game, kindness was both dangerous and cheap.
By the time Chu Feihuan groggily woke up the next day, it was already afternoon. His wounds remained untreated, but years of martial training had made him accustomed to pain. As soon as he opened his eyes, his vision was hazy with confusion, uncertain of his surroundings.
Just then, Lin Jing walked in carrying a bowl of water, and their gazes met—dull, cloudy eyes locking onto piercing green irises.
“You’re awake? Want some water?”
Lin Jing extended the bowl toward him.
Chu Feihuan quietly observed the old man in front of him.
The old man was thin, his back hunched. His hair was disheveled, his clothes tattered, and his movements slightly lopsided. When he smiled, he revealed several missing teeth, making him look unkempt and shabby.
Chu Feihuan pressed his lips together.
So… he’s the one who saved me?
He lowered his gaze, reached out his long, pale fingers, and took the bowl, murmuring, “Thank you.”
Lin Jing sat cross-legged, his small eyes flickering with calculation. “No need to be so polite. Judging by your clothes, you must be some rich young master. If you really want to thank me, buy me a new set of clothes and a proper bowl.”
Chu Feihuan’s hand stiffened slightly, but he remained composed, responding in a quiet voice, “Alright.”
Lin Jing continued, “What’s your name?”
“Chu Feihuan.”
“Oh, nice name. I’m Beggar Old Three.”
Silence stretched between them.
Lin Jing was the first to break it. “Kid, where are you planning to go once you leave the cave?”
Chu Feihuan hesitated briefly before replying, “To Jiuyang Sword Sect.”
Jiuyang Sword Sect—one of the four great sects in the cultivation world.
Lin Jing chuckled. “Jiuyang Sword Sect, huh? That place isn’t easy to get into. You’re just a kid who hasn’t even reached Foundation Establishment. You think they’ll take you?”
Chu Feihuan pursed his lips, then slowly retrieved a jade token from his sleeve.
The jade was blood-red, exquisitely crafted, with the character “Feng” engraved on it.
“My father gave me this before he died. He told me to take it to Jiuyang Sword Sect and find Xuan Yin Zunren to take me as his disciple.”
Lin Jing raised an eyebrow in surprise, then chuckled. “Well, well, you’ve got a bright future ahead of you. Guess I saved a future prodigy.” He then smirked and gave Chu Feihuan a knowing look. “But tell me something—why are you so sure I’m a good person? Aren’t you afraid I’ll steal that jade token and sell it for money?”
Chu Feihuan was momentarily stunned. After a pause, he quietly said, “You wouldn’t.”
Lin Jing narrowed his eyes. “Oh? Just because I saved you? What if I only saved you because you look rich, and I wanted to squeeze some silver out of you? That jade token looks valuable—maybe I could get even more for it if I just killed you and sold it.”
He spoke with a playful smile, yet there was an unmistakable edge of mockery in his cloudy eyes.
Chu Feihuan’s face instantly paled, his breath quickening. He clutched the jade token tightly, his blue eyes full of wariness.
Lin Jing reached out a hand.
Chu Feihuan’s eyes widened, instinctively gripping the hilt of his black sword.
Lin Jing scoffed, hooked his fingers, and simply took back his bowl, lazily remarking, “Relax. I couldn’t care less about your broken jade. Just giving you a reminder.”
Chu Feihuan remained silent.
When his cyan eyes gazed quietly at someone, there was an eerie chill and beauty to them.
Lin Jing advised him, “Remember this next time—don’t trust people so easily. Keep your valuables safe. Even I know not to flaunt wealth—how come you don’t?”
Chu Feihuan replied, “I do.”
Lin Jing thought about what had happened at the temple and started cursing. “You know nothing! The moment you saw me, you latched on and begged me to take you away. Where did you think I’d take you? A delicate little kid like you—I could’ve sold you to a brothel and made a fortune! You’re just lucky I’ve got one foot in the grave and don’t want to commit sins that’ll send me straight to h*ll. If this were my younger years, you’d already be sold.”
Chu Feihuan stiffened. He found that in front of this old beggar, he couldn’t say a single word.
Lin Jing sighed inwardly. He could foresee the turbulent, chaotic life this boy would have in the future. Looking into those innocent, worldly-ignorant cyan eyes, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity.
“You brat, just treat it as an old man rambling.”
Lin Jing tapped his fingernail against the clay bowl and said, “When you roam the world, be more careful. The ones who save you aren’t necessarily good people, and the ones who harm you aren’t necessarily bad. In the end, does it even matter whether someone is good or bad? When you walk the path of cultivation, the only thing that remains is you and your sword.”
Half-lowering his eyelids, he ran his fingers over the bowl. “Chu Feihuan—your name is a good one. But the joys and sorrows of this world are unpredictable. Do you really understand what happiness and suffering mean?”
For a moment, Lin Jing got carried away, imagining himself as some reclusive master from a cultivation novel. He even felt like he had a certain air of wisdom about him. If only this beggar persona had a beard, he would’ve stroked it for effect.
But then he remembered the game’s setting. His smile faded. He looked at the blood-stained boy in white sitting across from him and sighed. Almost whispering, he said, “Chu Feihuan, before you become a god or a demon, become yourself first.”
He didn’t believe people were inherently good or evil. A single thought could make one a demon or a god, and every fleeting moment was filled with countless shifts in morality. He continued playing this game, curious to see how the system would eventually conclude it all.
Chu Feihuan was momentarily stunned, gripping his sword tightly. His thoughts drifted back to last night’s dream—an endless snowy wasteland, a wooden hut, a world where only he remained.
Outside the cave, dusk blanketed the forest, the setting sun staining the sky blood-red, deep banana leaves swaying in the wind. Dust particles floated in the air, visible in the fading light. On the ground, a pile of burned-out ashes laid still.
The orange sunset cast its glow upon the old man sitting opposite him, elongating his hunched shadow.
This was an afternoon filled with the chirping of insects, long before Chu Feihuan had ever stepped into the world of martial arts. He had barely survived a calamity, his mind hazy. It would take him a long, long time to truly understand the meaning behind the old man’s final words.
![The No. 1 Hunfen King in the Entire Server [Interstellar]](https://i1.wp.com/lazygirltranslations.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/unnamed-5.jpg?resize=151,215 "The No. 1 Hunfen King in the Entire Server [Interstellar]")
