Lin Jing learned about his background through their conversation.
“Chu” was the royal surname of the Chu Kingdom. Chu Feihuan was the child of Princess Deyang and an immortal whom she had a fleeting romance with. He was exceptionally gifted and had been sent to Shui Tian Yi Xie for cultivation since childhood. Shui Tian Yi Xie was an academy established by the immortal sects for mortal disciples. With Chu Feihuan’s talent, he could have joined one of the Four Great Immortal Sects after reaching the Foundation Establishment stage.
Yet disaster struck overnight. His entire clan was slaughtered by demonic cultivators, leaving him as the only survivor, forced to flee.
“Why did those demonic cultivators massacre your household of over three hundred people?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know who your father was?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you ever met your father?”
“No.”
A complete lack of knowledge.
Lin Jing was shocked. “So the first time you ever saw your dad, he was dying in front of you—and he handed you that jade pendant?”
Chu Feihuan kept walking forward, unwilling to talk to the strange old man any further.
Lin Jing caught up again. “That sword of yours—your dad left it to you too, right? What’s its name?”
“Spring Water.”
“Spring Water Sword?” Lin Jing mulled it over, then chuckled. “That’s a nice name.”
The journey from Xishui Village to Jiuyang Sword Sect was long and arduous. Lin Jing figured that begging for food was the same no matter where he was, so he simply followed Chu Feihuan.
He rattled his battered bowl, treating the journey like a sightseeing trip. Every time he spotted some peculiar-looking plant or animal, he’d tilt his head for a closer look. Occasionally, he couldn’t resist poking at them. To maintain his beggar persona, he even whistled at pretty girls on the street like a lecherous old man. The noble ladies rolled their eyes, while their maids outright threw stones at him, making him hop around in frustration.
Chu Feihuan pressed his lips into a thin line, walking silently ahead, unwilling to speak.
It was the first time in his life he had met someone like this.
Unlike the arrogance of royalty who looked down on all, and unlike the detached indifference of immortals, this old man was sharp-tongued, cowardly, greedy, and lecherous. His words were frivolous, his entire being filthy and covered in dust—both of the earth and of the mortal world.
“Why are you taking a side road instead of the main path?” Lin Jing was fully immersed in his act, enjoying teasing the quiet, pure-hearted young boy.
Chu Feihuan muttered, “I don’t know the way.”
Lin Jing was dumbfounded. Then he screamed, “What the h*ll! You don’t know the way, yet you’ve been walking ahead this whole time?! I only followed you because I thought you did! Look around—do you even know where we are?”
Chu Feihuan’s cyan eyes clouded over with confusion as he looked forward in a daze.
They stood in the middle of a barren wilderness. The sparse trees cast eerie shadows. A murder of crows cawed in the distance. The moon tonight was a murky yellow, casting an ominous glow over the crimson earth ahead.
Lin Jing grabbed him by the head and shouted in despair, “Look! This is a mass grave, you little brat!”
Atop the red earth laid scattered, unmarked graves. Beside them, countless corpses, wrapped only in straw mats, had been tossed carelessly aside. Their flesh had long since rotted, filling the air with a nauseating stench. Swarms of flies buzzed above them.
Chu Feihuan immediately turned around—only to realize they had already traveled far. The mountain path behind them was narrow, the forest dense and dark. There was no way back.
Lin Jing grumbled, “Don’t bother looking. There’s no way out. We’re sleeping here tonight.”
Chu Feihuan frowned. “I don’t need sleep.”
The old man exploded, “Well, I do!”
For the sake of his benefactor’s unreasonable tantrum, Chu Feihuan chose to endure.
After a brief silence, he bent down, placed his sword aside, and said, “Alright.”
Lin Jing yanked him up. “What do you mean ‘okay’? Do you really expect an old man like me to sleep out here? Don’t you know my body can’t handle the cold?”
Chu Feihuan was stunned for a moment. “Then where do you want to sleep?”
Lin Jing: “Inside someone else’s coffin.”
Chu Feihuan: “…”
He took a deep breath, his long eyelashes quivering slightly, and told the shameless old man, “The dead should rest in peace. Doing this would disturb them.”
Lin Jing let out a sneer. “Even if we don’t disturb them, do you think they’re actually at peace?”
With his bowl in hand, he hobbled forward on his bad leg, making his way toward a freshly dug grave. The burial mound had already been looted, leaving behind an open coffin and a pile of dirt. “Look at this.”
Chu Feihuan followed and stood there in silence, taking in the scene.
There was no peace in chaotic times.
After a brief moment of silence, he sat cross-legged with his sword in his arms and said, “Forget it. Go ahead and sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
Lin Jing frowned. “You sure? You haven’t had a proper night’s rest in two days. Young people should take better care of their bodies—otherwise, you’ll end up like me when you’re old.”
Chu Feihuan hugged his sword tightly and thought: I will never be like this when I’m old.
Lin Jing glanced at his pale, indifferent expression and smirked. This kid was so stubborn—barely able to walk and still refusing to rest. In his current state, any random thug on the road could give him another round of torment. “You’re not scared, are you? Afraid to sleep?”
Chu Feihuan sat upright, thin but firm. “I’m not sleepy.”
By now, the old man had already settled himself inside the coffin. He shot back, “You are sleepy! You just don’t dare to sleep because you’ll have nightmares.”
“…”
Chu Feihuan had been raised to be polite and courteous. It was hard for him to argue against this unreasonable old man.
Lin Jing’s voice took on a rare, meaningful tone. “I’d advise you to get some proper sleep now, or you won’t be able to in the future.”
Chu Feihuan lowered his head slightly, his voice carrying an unusual hint of dejection. “I can’t sleep.”
Lin Jing found a comfortable position in the coffin. “Why?”
“I keep thinking about where my mother is now.”
Lin Jing replied, “Since the maid managed to get you out, she must have had a plan for herself. Don’t worry about it.”
Chu Feihuan gazed up at the moon, his voice heavy. “I also don’t know what will happen to me once I reach Jiuyang Sword Sect.”
Lin Jing thought: Your life will be extremely eventful, that’s for sure.
But outwardly, he played the role of an old sage. “What’s the point of thinking so much? At worst, you die. Look at me, I don’t even know how many days I have left. Just cherish each day while you’re alive.”
Completely immersed in his character, Lin Jing tapped his bowl with a wooden stick, eyes suddenly lighting up. “I’ll sing you a lullaby.”
Chu Feihuan was puzzled. “A lullaby?”
“Yeah.” Lin Jing fiddled with his battered bowl and tapped it lightly—the sound was surprisingly pleasant. Growing more enthusiastic, he explained, “It helps people fall asleep faster. I’ll sing you something.”
He had read plenty of wuxia novels growing up, and in them, beggars were often hidden masters. As a player who knew part of the game’s fate, he figured he could pass as a half-prophet. Getting into character, he used his scruffy, half-toothless mouth to start a beggar’s folk tune.
“I’ll sing you a Lianhua Luo.”
With a knock of his wooden stick against the bowl, he hummed:
“Tokyo has a man named Huang Biaosan,
He eats well and dresses grand.
Loves lending money, making men owe,
In just half a year, debts triple and grow.
He holds the purse while others pay,
For he’s the master of tricks and play.”
Chu Feihuan: “…”
What kind of nonsense was this about corrupt officials and shady dealings?
After pausing for a breath, Lin Jing continued humming:
“Lianhua Luo, Lianhua Luo,
Parents aren’t your true kin,
If you’re rich, go serve someone else.
Three years of nursing, what’s it worth?
Marry a wife, and off you go.
Fine wine and meat for the spouse,
But parents starve, bones growing cold…”
Chu Feihuan: “…” This was getting worse.
But despite himself, he listened, sword in his arms, letting his thoughts drift far away.
“Lianhua Luo, Lianhua Luo,
Brothers aren’t your true kin,
Fight for inheritance, splitting thin.
Blood ties mean little when wealth’s at stake,
Quarreling over a scrap on the plate.
Drink fine wine with strangers instead,
Turning family into foes instead.”
The old man, with his missing teeth, hummed the tune, words slurred.
The lyrics were crude, the singer even cruder. But Chu Feihuan found himself staring at the moon, quietly listening, every word sinking deep into his heart.
His mind was filled with thoughts of his missing family and the uncertain future ahead.
The steady tapping of the bowl, combined with the old man’s humming, made the night feel especially long. The cool breeze and bright moonlight softened everything, turning the moment strangely peaceful.
The old beggar kept singing.
“Lianhua Luo, Lianhua Luo,
Wives aren’t true kin either,
Matchmaker and papers make the deal.
Rich or poor, love’s a fickle fate,
Ask Zhu Maichen, thrown away.
West of the wall, a widow waits,
At fifty, remarries, finds her way.
Husbands and wives speak in half-truths,
Never laying bare their hearts to stay.”
“Lianhua Luo, Lianhua Luo,
Friends aren’t true kin,
Drinking and feasting in a joyful din.
Words sweet as honey when money is near,
Gone in a blink when fortune is bare.
One day without wealth or might,
Watch them vanish out of sight…”
Thud.
The final tap of the wooden stick against the bowl echoed in the night.
Lin Jing swayed his head dramatically and opened his eyes, looking at his sole audience. But the boy only sat there, deep in thought, lost in his own world.
“Hey, brat, still can’t sleep?” Lin Jing called out.
Chu Feihuan snapped back to reality, his youthful face faintly clouded. He muttered, “What kind of songs are these?”
Lin Jing grinned. “How would I know? I can’t even read.”
Chu Feihuan: “…”
From the way this man had fought while saving him, it was obvious his identity wasn’t simple. But since the old man was happy pretending to be a beggar, he figured it wasn’t his place to say anything.
Lin Jing added, “Beggars roam everywhere. Of course, we only sing crude street tunes.”
Then, crossing his legs, he waggled his eyebrows like a rogue. “I even know the brothel ballads. Want to hear one?”
Chu Feihuan’s face instantly heated up. He forced himself to remain calm. “No need.”
Lin Jing grinned wickedly.
His performance as a shameless, lecherous old beggar was truly flawless.
The moon hung high in the sky. Looking at the faint bluish shadows under Chu Feihuan’s eyes, Lin Jing decided to stop teasing him.
“Lie down and sleep. I’ll play you a different tune.”
Chu Feihuan replied, “No need. I can sleep on my own.”
Lin Jing rolled his eyes. “It’s not some vulgar tune.”
Plucking a leaf at random, he said, “I came up with it myself when I had nothing better to do.”
That was true. Back in middle school, his mother had a passion for growing plants, and Lin Jing, being the restless type, loved plucking leaves and putting them in his mouth to blow on them, testing how different types of leaves produced different sounds. He got beaten a few times for it before he finally stopped.
His mother had always been both exasperated and amused by his fleeting interests.
Lin Jing never stuck to anything for long—except for one thing: joining the Mecha Academy. He wasn’t even sure when that dream took root, but by now, it had become a habit. In pursuit of piloting mechas, he had even joined Survivor to train his mental power.
He wiped the moisture off the leaf, pressed it against his lips, and lowered his lashes as he blew a soft melody. Played by a young man or woman, it would have been an elegant scene. But here was a scruffy old man sitting in a coffin, playing a tune—amusing and eerie at the same time. The melody, light and delicate, intertwined with the moonlight and the cool night breeze, fading in and out yet strangely calming.
Chu Feihuan’s robe fluttered gently. In his bluish eyes, the distant silhouette of the mountains reflected faintly. His pale lips lacked any trace of blood, giving him an otherworldly coldness.
The night was bright with sparse stars. A bird took flight, startled from its perch.
The leaf’s melody blended into the rolling waves of the forest, dissolving into the sky like drifting clouds.
Sleepiness finally crept into Chu Feihuan’s eyes, and he slowly closed them.
Lin Jing leaned against a mound of dirt, still sitting in the coffin, blowing intermittently on the leaf. The longer he played, the deeper his frown became. D*mn it, that beggar’s rotten teeth were seriously limiting his performance—whenever he hit a high note, he just couldn’t exert enough force. His playing wasn’t even as good as a street performer’s.
Tearing the leaf apart in frustration, he looked up and saw that Chu Feihuan had already sat cross-legged, eyes closed. The wind ruffled his hair and robes, and the jade-like sword by his side gleamed with unmatched elegance. The boy carried an air of mystery—like wind, like moonlight—elusive and distant.
Lin Jing was staring when, unexpectedly, Chu Feihuan opened his eyes again.
Lin Jing shrank his neck back and laughed awkwardly. “You’re not asleep?”
Chu Feihuan asked, “What’s the name of that tune?”
Lin Jing was momentarily stunned. “A name?” Did this lousy performance even deserve one? But Chu Feihuan’s clear gaze somehow filled him with inexplicable confidence—
Of course, it did! How could such a heavenly melody go nameless?
Lin Jing cleared his throat, twirled the leaf between his fingers, and after a moment of inspiration, smirked mysteriously. “This tune… is called Wind and Moon’s Kiss*.”
*aka Feng Yue Kiss; the feng and yue from Xu Wanzhi’s game name
Chu Feihuan was taken aback. “Wind… and Moon’s Kiss?”
Lin Jing had just made it up on the spot, but surprisingly, it actually sounded quite poetic.
His confidence soared. Sitting up straight, he declared, “That’s right! It’s called Wind and Moon’s Kiss.”
Chu Feihuan, raised in the royal family, had heard countless pieces of music. He lowered his gaze. “That’s… unexpected.” Unexpected that such a tune would have such an elegant name.
Lin Jing’s eyes gleamed with mischief. Plucking another leaf from the tree, he handed it to Chu Feihuan. “What’s so surprising? Try blowing it yourself.”
Chu Feihuan hesitantly reached out.
Lin Jing instructed, “Hold the leaf at the edge with your lips.”
Chu Feihuan followed the instructions.
Lin Jing grinned excitedly. “How does it feel?”
Chu Feihuan let go of the leaf and answered honestly, “It still has water on it. It’s a bit cold.”
Lin Jing smacked his forehead. “Who asked you about that?! You brat, have you ever kissed a girl before? Heh, just hold the leaf and imagine you’re kissing someone you like.”
Chu Feihuan: “……”
Lin Jing continued, “It’s not just water on the leaf. Close your eyes—there’s wind, and there’s moonlight. The wind and the moon… are kissing you.”
Chu Feihuan sighed and tossed the leaf away.
Lin Jing scowled and plucked another. “What? Am I wrong?”
Just as he was about to play again, a chilling wolf howl echoed through the night.
“Awwooo—”
The entire forest seemed to shudder. Not far from the mass grave, wild dogs with bloodshot eyes began snarling and tearing at each other, their frenzied barks filling the air.
Lin Jing’s fingers froze on the leaf. “What’s going on?”
Chu Feihuan, despite being a renowned prodigy, was still just a wounded teenager. Against a pack of wolves, an old beggar and an injured boy were hardly a match.
His face paled. “Wolves.”
Lin Jing snapped, “No kidding! I know they’re wolves! I need to know where they are and why they’re howling.”
Chu Feihuan’s eerie blue eyes focused on the space behind Lin Jing. “Right behind you.”
Lin Jing: “???”
Chu Feihuan added, “But it’s not a wolf.”
Lin Jing exhaled in relief.
Then Chu Feihuan murmured, “It’s a corpse.”
Lin Jing: “……”
He turned around—
Behind him stood a half-decayed corpse, its face bloated and rotting, swaying unsteadily.
From the mass grave, skeletal hands covered in corpse spots emerged from beneath woven mats and dead branches.
“—Can you finish your sentences in one go next time?!”
Exceeding his physical limits, Lin Jing flung away the leaf and bolted upright in the coffin. His waist didn’t hurt anymore, his legs weren’t lame—grabbing Chu Feihuan, he sprinted down the mountain.
One by one, the corpses awakened. Their mouths made grotesque chewing noises, empty eye sockets sluggishly rolling as they staggered toward them.
Poor Lin Jing, an old man of seventy-eight, was having the worst luck of his life. He didn’t even know why he had saved this walking disaster in the temple!
Running downhill was harder than going up, especially at night. Lin Jing misstepped, and both he and Chu Feihuan tumbled down the slope.
Luckily, the incline wasn’t steep, and they only ended up with scratches from thorns and rocks. But Lin Jing had twisted his back during the fall, the pain making him see stars.
No matter how impressive the old beggar act was, it couldn’t change the fact that he was, indeed, an old and broke beggar.
The two of them tumbled down the hillside and landed right in front of a cave.
“You go ahead, leave me here. D*mn, my old back is done for,” Lin Jing groaned.
A gash on Chu Feihuan’s face trickled fresh blood, and his hair was a mess. Holding his Spring Water Sword, he stepped forward to help Lin Jing. “I’ll take you with me.”
Lin Jing snapped impatiently, “Take me where? What you should be doing is helping this old man into the cave to rest!”
Chu Feihuan: “……”
He complied without argument.
As soon as they settled in the cave, the sound of bells jingling rang out from outside. Chu Feihuan moved to take a look, but Lin Jing held him back. Keeping low, the two watched as a group of young people approached. They were clad in pure black robes, with white crane feathers embroidered on their cuffs and collars—standard attire for righteous sect disciples from the cultivation world.
The jingling bells came from a young woman.
She was dressed in a flowing light blue gown, stunningly beautiful, with snow-white skin and dark hair coiled elegantly. She carried herself with an aloof grace, like a celestial maiden from the highest heavens. In her hand, she held a white jade bell as a weapon, its sound crisp and ethereal.
A young man beside her asked, “Xiangsi, did you find anything?”
Gu Xiangsi lifted her gaze and spoke softly, “No. The Chaos Demon Bell’s echo fades here—those from the Devouring Shadow Sect must have escaped.”
The young man clenched his jaw. “They actually managed to flee? It’s a pity… The entire Deyang Princess’s estate—more than three hundred lives—was slaughtered, and now, Chu Feihuan’s fate is unknown.”
Gu Xiangsi’s delicate brows furrowed slightly. “The most urgent task is still to find him. We can’t just stand by and do nothing.”
Suddenly, another young disciple called out, “Senior Sister Gu! There was movement up on the mountain!”
Gu Xiangsi’s eyes sharpened. “Let’s go.”
The group swiftly departed.
Lin Jing watched with irritation and elbowed Chu Feihuan, whose gaze had been locked on the blue-clad girl since she appeared.
“Stop staring! She’s here looking for you. Now get out there and reunite with them.”
Chu Feihuan lowered his eyes. “Forget it.”
Lin Jing rolled his eyes. “Your eyeballs are practically glued to the girl, and now you’re playing coy?”
Chu Feihuan didn’t bother explaining that what he was watching was the bell in the girl’s hand. Instead, he simply murmured, “We don’t know yet if they’re truly good or bad.”
Lin Jing was stunned. “You can tell good from bad now?” He scoffed. “Don’t kid yourself. You’re just embarrassed. I get it. Young people.”
Chu Feihuan turned his back, exhaled in frustration, and closed his eyes to ignore the old man’s nonsense.
Lin Jing, however, had immediately pegged the girl as a high-ranking player character. Her persona was that of an aloof, ethereal beauty—she was a perfect match for the current Chu Feihuan. Maybe they’d even end up as a couple.
Chu Feihuan wanted to sleep, but Lin Jing was suddenly in the mood to annoy him.
Clearing his throat, he let out a couple of deliberately exaggerated coughs. Then, tossing a stone at the youth, he drawled, “My back is killing me, and you can still sleep? Get me some water.”
Chu Feihuan, a light sleeper, opened his eyes, suppressed a sigh, and handed over the water pouch.
After tumbling down the mountain, then chatting with the old man for so long, his thoughts had quieted. He was on the verge of falling into a deep sleep.
But the person next to him wouldn’t let him.
“You’re not lighting a fire? What if a snake slithers in?”
“Ow, my back! Go fetch me some grass to lie on!”
“A rock! Bring me a rock! How am I supposed to sleep without a pillow?”
“Chu Feihuan, did you hear that rat squeak? What if it steals my bowl? Go kill it.”
“This isn’t working—I still don’t feel at ease. Go outside and check if the wolves or the dead are following us.”
“Chu Feihuan…”
“Chu Feihuan…”
Chu Feihuan was the type to quietly endure even when being pushed around. The more exhausted he became, the more intense his drowsiness grew. By the end, Lin Jing’s voice blurred into background noise, his eyelids grew heavier, and eventually, he succumbed to sleep.
Lin Jing, only after confirming the boy was deeply asleep, finally sat up from the grass pile. Under the dim moonlight, he studied the youth’s peaceful features.
For a moment, his heart was filled with emotion.
But in the end, he simply shook his head, grabbed his bowl, and limped out of the cave.
After the ordeal at the mass grave and the escape into the cave, dawn was already breaking outside. The sky was tinged with pale light, and the cool, reddish glow of the rising sun slowly spread across the land.
Lin Jing knew that group would return soon. Leaning on his wooden cane, he hobbled away, step by step, disappearing beyond the horizon.
He had played the role of a lecherous, petty, infuriating old man—he wondered if his actions would ultimately add to his “righteousness” or “evil” score.
But either way, it probably didn’t matter.
Chu Feihuan’s story was only just beginning. In a world of cultivation where decades passed in a blink, what were a mere couple of days?
Just as Lin Jing had expected, Gu Xiangsi and her companions returned after dealing with the dead bodies and wild wolves. In the cave, they found the deeply asleep Chu Feihuan.
A cool fragrance seemed to follow the girl’s every movement. She bent down, her light blue gown brushing against the ground like a blooming ice lotus.
“Chu Feihuan.”
“Where have you gone this time?”
Chu Feihuan stirred groggily, his voice barely audible. In the shifting light and shadow, his pale green eyes gleamed like flawless jade. But as soon as he recognized the person before him, his expression turned cold.
Gu Xiangsi smiled softly, her eyes warm and gentle as a painting. “Where to? I’ve come… to take you home.”
Take you home.
Meanwhile, as Lin Jing walked away, a notification suddenly chimed in his mind.
A panel appeared before him.
【Chu Feihuan’s Righteousness Value: +5】
Lin Jing was mid-bite into a wild fruit when he saw this.
The fruit pulp instantly sprayed from his mouth.
“+5 Righteousness Value?”
So this thing actually had notifications?
Lin Jing was stunned. A moment later, it hit him like a bolt of lightning.
So all his assumptions about having “a negligible impact” were just his own wishful thinking?
Everything he did actually had an effect on Chu Feihuan?!!
“So, the old man risked half his life to save and take care of you, and it still doesn’t compare to a single sentence from that woman?”
Lin Jing: “……”
After thinking it through, he tugged at the corner of his mouth, his expression slightly twisted. In the end, he couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. Chu Feihuan, oh Chu Feihuan, who would’ve thought that at such a young age, you’d be such a deep-level face-con?
But, well, if it had been that woman who risked half her life to save Chu Feihuan, they’d probably already be bound by life and death, sharing hardships, longing to make a lifelong vow together. Heh.
Lin Jing turned back and walked for a whole day, returning to his little temple. The place was still in complete disarray. Holding his bowl, he stepped over bloodstains and dead snakes on the ground, entered the temple, and started a fire.
“If I want to see the ending, do I have to sit through his love-hate entanglements with multiple beauties? Forget it, I’m busy, not in the mood for drama.”
Lin Jing had already warned and advised him enough; he had a clear conscience.
But really, did an NPC deserve this much genuine emotion? Forget it… If he truly understood that, he wouldn’t have saved Chu Feihuan in the first place.
He pulled out the three wooden identity plaques from his chest: Beggar Old Three, Cripple Li, Hua Xuniang, and Shangguan Wan.
Lin Jing muttered to himself, “Just playing an old man nearly exhausted me. I don’t even want to try the others. This is it. Goodbye.”
With a flick of his hand, he tossed all four plaques into the fire pit, ready to die naturally in the body of Beggar Old Three.
Crackle! The flames eagerly consumed the wooden plaques. Just as Lin Jing lazily prepared to sleep until death, an explosion suddenly burst from the fire pit.
Then, something scorching hot shot out from the flames and landed straight on his body.
“Sh*t!” Startled, he sat upright, only to see that the thing that had fallen before him was none other than the Shangguan Wan identity plaque.
At the same time, the system’s cold voice rang out:
“Shangguan Wan is a special role and must exist. Players are not allowed to abandon the game.”
Lin Jing was taken aback. “Wait… are you forcing me to play?”
System: “Please do not abandon the game.”
Lin Jing: “…… How am I abandoning the game? Did I violate any rules? Didn’t you say the plaques don’t have to be used?”
The system hesitated for a moment before replying, “However, a gold-tier character must remain in play.”
Lin Jing: “Fine, it can exist. I won’t burn it.”
System: “Shangguan Wan must be played by the player.”
Lin Jing: “…….?”
Lin Jing: “?????? Are you guys out of your minds?”
Today, the system seemed a bit off. After another pause, it said, “Only players with S-rank mental power are assigned gold-tier roles. You have actively engaged with Chu Feihuan’s main storyline. If an NPC takes over this role, it could lead to unpredictable consequences.”
Lin Jing chuckled. “Chu Feihuan is just an NPC. Aren’t all NPC-to-NPC interactions scripted by you? What ‘unpredictable consequences’ are you talking about? Go ahead, explain it to me.”
The system lagged for a long time before simply repeating, “Please do not abandon the game.”
Lin Jing had played this game long enough to be used to the system’s quirks. But since his father had once been a researcher in this very institute, he still held some sentiment toward Survivor. He wasn’t about to throw a tantrum just to be difficult.
Lin Jing had a good temper. He sighed, being understanding. “Fine, I won’t abandon the game. But I really don’t want to play anymore. Shangguan Wan won’t appear for a long time—are you expecting me to just sit here, banging a bowl and singing to kill time?”
The game’s timeline depended entirely on major plot events, with Chu Feihuan as the reference point. The Xishui Village massacre of the Imperial Princess Duyang’s household had left a window of at least ten days for various players to interact with the protagonist. The remaining three plaques also likely had their own corresponding plots. In short, it was impossible to predict how long it would take to reach Jinghong Year 220.
Lin Jing suddenly realized, “This game instance really has a long timeline. There are so many participants. It feels… different from before.”
The system sounded troubled. “I will request further instructions.”
This AI, not even a year old yet, probably never expected to run into an SS-rank mental power player who was outright refusing to cooperate.
Lin Jing leaned against the Buddha statue, twirling the Shangguan Wan plaque between his fingers. The more he looked at it, the more something felt off—but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.
Soon, the system returned.
Although it spoke in a cold, mechanical tone, its thought processes were almost like a human child’s.
The final decision from above was: “We can allow you to immediately enter Shangguan Wan’s body.”
Lin Jing laughed. “You guys still don’t get it. What difference does it make whether I’m in Beggar Old Three’s body or Shangguan Wan’s? I’m just bored.”
System: “……We can allow you to go anywhere during this period.”
Lin Jing: “Hm?”
System: “But only as a spirit. You will be unable to interfere with anything. You will be stripped of your player status and observe the entire game purely as an outsider. Would that be acceptable to you?”
Lin Jing, who had been idly spinning the Shangguan Wan plaque between his fingers, instantly sat up straight and grinned.
“Deal.”
![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]")
