“Drip your blood onto it.”
Lin Jing sat cross-legged before the Buddha statue. Under the system’s instruction, he bit his fingertip and let a drop of crimson blood fall onto the top of the wooden plaque—
The top had a small carved indentation. As the blood seeped in, it rapidly spread along the intricate engravings, filling the three words Shangguan Wan completely.
In the next instant, a golden light flared up, illuminating the dilapidated old temple. Lin Jing felt his body become light, his soul pulling away from Beggar Old Three’s form. Then, an invisible force yanked him backward. Under the watchful gaze of the weathered temple, all that was left of him was a wisp of golden stardust.
When the light faded, all that remained on the ground was the corpse of an old beggar—disheveled, wretched, and defeated by life.
Lingxiao Sect.
Lin Jing, still dazed, slowly regained consciousness.
The system was still there.
It had probably been standing by his side the whole time, fearing that this key character might pull another stunt.
The system chattered nervously, “Wake up! Your father is coming soon!”
What the h*ll.
Lin Jing rubbed his temples with his hand. The moment he raised his arm, the silk sleeve slid across his smooth skin.
Then—rustle, rustle—a pile of lightweight objects tumbled to the ground.
Lin Jing opened his eyes.
This was a very large room, and he was sitting in a heap of paper cranes.
In front of him was a magnificent, enormous colored-glass furnace, swirling with mist. Above it, a white crane spun continuously, its long tail trailing behind like shifting stardust.
Beneath the furnace was a pool of clear water, dotted with pure white lotus flowers.
Lin Jing lifted his head, eyes widening in shock.
Suspended in midair, countless paper cranes filled his vision—densely packed, overwhelming, strung together by thousands of red threads.
Mist curled in the air, and the light from above was pure and holy.
As he stood up, he realized he had already taken on the role of Shangguan Wan.
So weak.
That was Lin Jing’s first impression of this body—it was even weaker than Beggar Old Three.
No spiritual energy. No cultivation. Frail and sickly.
The white dress he wore was adorned with strings of beads. As Lin Jing stood barefoot in the pile of paper cranes, he raised his hand—only to notice that Shangguan Wan’s pinky finger had been severed at the tip. The rest of the fingers were smooth and fair, making the missing portion stand out even more.
Just then, the door was pushed open.
A silver-haired cultivator in a snow-white robe walked in, smiling.
“Ah Qing, you’re awake?”
“Ah Qing” was Shangguan Wan’s childhood name.
This immortal-looking man was none other than the current Sect Leader of Lingxiao Sect—the supreme master of the cultivation world—Shangguan Wuya.
Lin Jing hesitated for a moment before adapting quickly and calling out, “Father.”
Shangguan Wuya looked at his quiet, well-behaved daughter and smiled. “How is the paper crane folding I taught you coming along?”
Lin Jing glanced around. “Uh… just about done.” So this was your idea, huh.
Shangguan Wuya lifted his head to gaze at the thousands of paper cranes above. He chuckled softly. “Good. You’ve been diligent. Come, follow me.”
He extended his hand toward Lin Jing.
Lin Jing hesitated briefly before placing his hand in his father’s.
Shangguan Wuya led him to the pool of clear water and coaxed him gently, “This Liuli Nine-Turn Furnace was a gift from the Grand Preceptor of Chu to your mother when she was still in this world. The spirit of the crane within it rivals a heaven-grade artifact. Ah Qing, now step onto the lotus flowers and pluck a tail feather from the crane atop the furnace.”
Lin Jing was stunned for a few seconds before nodding. He lifted his foot and stepped onto one of the small lotus flowers.
The flower was icy cold. The chill seeped through the soles of his feet, spreading through his entire body. But with his father watching closely behind him, Lin Jing had no choice but to close his eyes and do as instructed.
The beads on his dress jingled softly.
With each step, lotuses bloomed beneath his feet.
At last, he reached the center of the lake, standing before the furnace. He stretched out his hand and, following Shangguan Wuya’s guidance, plucked the tail feather of the circling celestial crane.
The moment he pulled the feather free, the lotus flower beneath his foot withered.
But he didn’t fall into the water.
As the petals scattered and touched the surface, an intense chill spread, instantly freezing the entire lake.
Lin Jing stood atop the ice, watching as the pristine tail feather dissolved into a brilliant stream of golden light.
Then, bit by bit, it reattached itself to his severed pinky finger.
First, it was a liquid mass. Then it solidified, forming bone, growing flesh, and finally, sprouting a fingernail—restoring his pinky to perfection.
Lin Jing’s eyes widened. “What is this?”
Shangguan Wuya smiled. “The power of the spirit crane.”
Lin Jing touched his pinky finger. A faint scar was still visible where the severed part had been. He asked, puzzled, “Spirit crane?”
Shangguan Wuya chuckled. “Yes. The spirit crane transcends life and death—it can relay messages through any barrier.”
He walked over to a wooden table and flicked his fingers. Instantly, a paper crane detached from the countless ones hanging from above.
“Come to Father’s side.”
Shangguan Wuya unfolded the paper crane, revealing a square sheet of white paper. He handed Lin Jing a brush. “I worry that if you ever leave the sect, you might find yourself trapped again in an illusion like the one at Shui Tian Yi Xie, unable to escape. From now on, always carry these paper cranes with you. If you ever find yourself in danger, write a message on one, fold it into a crane, and as long as you think of Lingxiao Sect, it will reach me no matter what.”
“That amazing?” Lin Jing was stunned. Wasn’t this basically a distress signal?
He picked up a brush, drew a circle, and refolded the paper crane. The moment he finished, the crane suddenly flapped its wings and took flight, as if it had come to life. It circled around his head before soaring forward. Though it had form, it was intangible, existing beyond the constraints of the world. It could pass through anything—even the isolation barrier set up by the ascended elders of the Lingxiao Sect.
No wonder even the sect leader of Lingxiao, the foremost sect of the immortal world, praised this artifact… For someone like Shangguan Wan, who had no cultivation, it truly couldn’t be more fitting.
After completing a loop, the paper crane gently returned to Lin Jing’s hand.
Shangguan Wuya chuckled and shook his head. He reached up and took down a string of paper cranes hanging in the air, then tied them to Lin Jing’s waist. The cranes hung quietly, blending into the ornate beads and jewelry on his robes. Then, he wrapped a red string around the scar on Lin Jing’s pinky finger.
“Ah Qing, get some rest. Once you’re healed, you’ll be able to go anywhere you wish.”
Lin Jing touched his pinky and gave him a bright, happy smile. “Thank you, Father.”
Shangguan Wuya looked at his daughter’s innocent smile and sighed. “I really don’t know what your mother was thinking when she arranged that engagement before she passed. How could a mere mortal be worthy of my Ah Qing?”
Lin Jing’s smile froze. “??? What engagement?”
His eyes filled with confusion.
However, Shangguan Wuya didn’t seem inclined to explain further. He gently ruffled Lin Jing’s hair. “Forget it. Messing with predetermined fate might invite karmic backlash. Ah Qing, just focus on resting. Don’t worry about the outside world.”
Lin Jing: “???!”
Before he could even respond, Shangguan Wuya had already walked away, leaving him sitting at the table with a completely bewildered expression.
“What the h*ll was he talking about?”
Only then did the system’s voice chime in: “He was talking about your engagement to Chu Feihuan.”
Lin Jing nearly choked, his head snapping up in shock. His voice rose sharply.
“Engagement? Me and Chu Feihuan?!”
The system was also helpless: “Yeah, otherwise, how would Shangguan Wan be a Gold-tier character?”
Lin Jing actually laughed in exasperation.
“I get it now. Every protagonist has to have a delicate, noble, and sickly fiancée. And right now, I’m that character, huh?”
System: “…You could put it that way.”
Lin Jing: “Heh.”
Thinking about how Chu Feihuan’s gaze had been glued to that woman back in the cave, Lin Jing rolled his eyes.
Forget it. He wasn’t a player now anyway.
Lin Jing: “I just want to watch the show. Didn’t you say I could have an out-of-body experience?”
System: “…You can’t just disappear for no reason. Only when you’re asleep can you trigger the omniscient spectator mode and watch the entire game.”
Lin Jing clapped his hands: “Alright, I’ll just tell my dad I’m going into seclusion for ten years.”
System scoffed: “You don’t even have cultivation, what are you shutting yourself away for?”
Lin Jing glanced at the pile of paper cranes on the ground: “Secluding myself to study origami—problem?”
System, exasperated: “…Fine, do whatever you want.”
Lin Jing used a paper crane to inform his father that he’d be staying home for a long time, then shut the door and sat down to meditate.
“I don’t feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.”
“Hold your breath.”
“Alright, holding it. Oh, oh, I feel it! I’m ready! Hahaha, liftoff!”
The moment Lin Jing separated from Shangguan Wan’s body, he let out a carefree laugh, feeling utterly refreshed.
Now in his soul form, he wandered around Yingluo Hall. On a whim, he floated up to the ceiling, looking at the countless intricate paper cranes strung together with red threads. He reached out to touch one, but his ghostly fingers simply passed through it.
Lin Jing muttered, “So I can go anywhere now?”
System threw a bucket of cold water on him: “Mm-hmm. But you can’t do anything.”
“No problem, just let me go check out this world’s Immortal Alliance.”
He had no interest in how Chu Feihuan, that face-obsessed guy, bonded with a beauty over shared hardships and returned home together.
What he really wanted to see was the world’s setup and the scheming between different players.
System sighed in resignation: “Go ahead.”
Lin Jing could travel anywhere by thought.
The “Immortal Alliance” was located in the Celestial Palace, which stood atop a sheer cliff, adjacent to the Jiuyang Sword Sect. Even in his intangible soul state, Lin Jing could feel the cold as he floated over.
Mist swirled, and the snow-covered peaks remained eternally untouched. The main hall of the Immortal Alliance stood atop the snowy summit. The first thing in sight was a towering white jade gate, and past it, a plum blossom grove. Though it was a plum forest, it carried a chilling, ominous aura.
As he walked through, the cold wind cut sharply. Lin Jing wandered around and found the main hall empty. At the end of the peach blossom grove, he saw a shrine-like building.
“This place is kinda hidden,” Lin Jing murmured, stepping forward.
Passing through the snowy grove, he spotted a familiar figure.
However, the shrine’s doors were closed tightly, with only the right window left slightly open, allowing a sliver of light to filter in.
He was about to waltz right up in the man’s face when the system stopped him.
It warned him with suppressed irritation, “I suggest you keep your distance in soul form.”
Lin Jing was an obedient kid: “Alright, alright.”
Inside the shrine, he floated up to the rafters and sat far away from the person. Well, he wasn’t exactly sitting on the beam—there was some space between his body and it, as he was hovering in the air. Since sitting in midair looked too weird, he opted to perch here instead.
Lin Jing murmured, “As I thought, it’s him.”
The man standing in the shrine was none other than Fu Qingfeng, whom Lin Jing had briefly met at the temple.
Dressed in a blue daoist robe, with a black jade crown and wide sleeves, Fu Qingfeng held three sticks of incense in his hand and placed them into the incense burner before him.
The fragrant smoke curled up. On the altar, a wooden plaque bore a woman’s name. Lin Jing squinted to read it—”Xue Chaoyue.”
After placing the incense, Fu Qingfeng fell silent for a while before speaking in a low voice: “I saved that child’s life.”
Only the howling wind and snow answered him.
Fu Qingfeng continued: “The Astrologer Pavilion pointed to Chu Kingdom, so I guessed it would be him.”
The young man’s features weren’t particularly striking, but he exuded a steady and imposing presence. At this moment, a bitter expression surfaced on his face. “Feng Wuchen is dead. The sins he committed are known only to a few now. Chaoyue, do you think that child will hate us when he grows up?”
He closed his eyes briefly, then let out a bitter chuckle. “Forget it. If he hates us, then so be it. Evil causes reap evil results.”
Lin Jing mused, “I knew it—there’s a grand conspiracy. This guy is definitely a player, and from the villain faction.”
System: “Wow, you sure think you know everything.”
Lin Jing: “Aren’t you guys super strict about roleplay? Gotta stay in character all the time? Oh, wait, I forgot—this is a cultivation world. Hahaha, divine beings’ senses are everywhere.”
System was too lazy to respond: “Go play by yourself. I’m out.”
Lin Jing: “Okay, okay.”
Fu Qingfeng remained in the shrine, staring blankly for a long time without saying a word.
Lin Jing watched for a while, got bored, and floated away.
If he was checking out the Immortal Alliance, then of course he had to visit the Astrologer Pavilion too!
And if he was going to check it out, he might as well go straight to the top floor!
With a single thought, Lin Jing shifted locations.
The Astrologer Pavilion was located in Nightcry City. The building was made of wood, adorned with intricate carvings, and painted a deep red. Golden bells hung from the flying eaves at each corner, chiming softly in the wind.
Lin Jing floated up and up, reaching the top floor.
And then he saw golden runes scattered all over the floor, layers upon layers of black gauze, and in the very center, a young man sitting in a wheelchair, dressed in pure black robes.
His hair was extremely long, flowing onto the ground, resembling a cascade of dark silk from a distance. Not only was the young man crippled, but he was also blind, with a black cloth wrapped over his eyes.
Standing beside him was a man wearing a half-mask of an asura. With utmost respect, he reported, “A message from the Immortal Alliance. When they arrived at the temple in Xishui Village as you predicted, they only found the corpse of an old beggar. There was no trace of a child.”
Lin Jing nearly burst out laughing.
An old beggar? That was me.
The wheelchair-bound youth asked softly, “How could there be no one?”
The Asura-masked man said, “They were delayed due to certain events, and by the time they arrived, it was already too late.”
The wheelchair-bound youth smiled, his lips a deep crimson. “Certain events?”
The Asura-masked man replied, “Yes. A Nascent Soul-stage powerhouse in the Chu Kingdom self-destructed his dantian and perished, unleashing a terrifying pressure. They couldn’t advance any further.”
The wheelchair youth chuckled lightly. “There aren’t many Nascent Soul-stage cultivators in this world. Have you found out who it was?”
“We have. It was… the long-vanished leader of the Immortal Alliance, Feng Wuchen. It seems he succumbed to qi deviation and died. His corpse was utterly destroyed, and its whereabouts are unknown.”
The wheelchair youth’s lips curled into a slow smile as he extended his pale, slender fingers—fingers so unnaturally white they seemed almost sickly. He calmly opened his hand.
Nestled in his palm was a human eyeball, black and white distinctly defined, embedded within living flesh.
He said, “Interesting.”
From the sidelines, Lin Jing watched this scene unfold. Instinctively, he raised his hand to look at his own pinky finger.
A red string was tied around it, concealing an old scar.
Lin Jing blinked in surprise before musing aloud, “System, which do you think has more flair—my severed finger or his palm eye?”
But the system was gone. Even if it were here, it would probably just think he was a little insane.
Lin Jing didn’t get a response, so he just laughed it off.
Having seen enough of the wheelchair youth, the Immortal Alliance, and the Astrologer Pavilion, he finally remembered the story’s protagonist.
Where was Chu Feihuan now?
He was probably with that blue-clad girl at the Jiuyang Sword Sect by now.
Lin Jing closed his eyes, imagined for a moment, and when he opened them again, he had already traveled from Nightcry City to the Jiuyang Sword Sect. Compared to the previous two locations, the sect was far livelier.
Spring was in full bloom, and the place bustled with activity.
Peach blossoms and bamboo trees lined the sect’s entrance.
A group of disciples chattered animatedly.
“Senior Sister Gu actually brought back a young man from the outside? And he’s just an ordinary mortal with no cultivation? That’s so unlike her.”
“I know, right? The Twin Beauties of the World are both stunning, but their temperaments are completely different. That Miss Shangguan from the Lingxiao Sect has no spiritual roots, is weak and delicate, and is fiercely protected by the sect leader—commoners can’t even catch a glimpse of her. But our Senior Sister Gu is talented, unparalleled in her cold elegance, and travels the world with her Biling Sword. She’s a true prodigy.”
“Hahaha, to be honest, Shangguan Wan isn’t even worthy of being compared to Senior Sister Gu. I bet people only call them the ‘Twin Beauties’ out of respect for the Lingxiao Sect’s leader. Hmph, I don’t care for delicate and weak women. The weak are nothing but burdens.”
“Enough about that. Senior Sister Gu is actually arguing with Senior Brother Wei over that boy.”
Lin Jing was thoroughly enjoying their gossip.
But upon hearing the last sentence, he suddenly remembered his goal and immediately flew over.
At the stone steps leading to the Jiuyang Sword Sect, two people stood locked in a tense standoff.
Senior Sister Gu—Gu Xiangsi.
She was still in that flowing blue dress, gripping her sword. Her delicate, snow-like features were furrowed in a cold frown as she asked icily, “Wei Han, are you really going to bar even me from entering today?”
The man opposing her, judging by his attire, was clearly a high-ranking cultivator.
Wei Han sneered as he glanced at the young man standing behind Gu Xiangsi—Chu Feihuan. He then scoffed, “Xiangsi, it’s not about letting you in. It’s about this person you’ve brought. If the Jiuyang Sword Sect starts accepting just anyone, how will we maintain our standing in the cultivation world?”
Gu Xiangsi frowned. “He’s here to see Master Xuan Yin.”
Wei Han acted as if he had heard the world’s funniest joke and laughed heartily. “Master Xuan Yin? Him? Hahahahahaha!”
Gu Xiangsi pursed her lips. “He has a token.”
Wei Han raised a brow. “Oh? Then let’s see it.”
Gu Xiangsi turned to the ever-silent Chu Feihuan. “Hand me the jade, will you?”
Chu Feihuan, still as pale as ever, cast her a cool glance with his green eyes before silently taking out the jade.
Gu Xiangsi sighed in relief and handed it to Wei Han.
To her surprise, Wei Han barely even looked at it before throwing it to the ground. With a derisive laugh, he mocked, “You think this worthless trinket counts as a token? So what if he’s a mortal prince? In the cultivation world, he’s worth less than the dog by my side.”
The moment the blood-red jade hit the ground, Lin Jing saw Chu Feihuan’s hands clench together.
Chu Feihuan’s long hair cascaded down as he lowered his head, silently watching the jade roll toward the edge of the cliff—the only relic left behind by his father.
“Wei Han!” Gu Xiangsi’s voice was filled with fury. She immediately turned, rushing toward the cliff, and reached out just in time to grab the jade.
The crowd erupted in shock.
It was the first time they had ever seen their cold and aloof Senior Sister Gu lose her composure in public.
Clutching the jade tightly, Gu Xiangsi swiftly drew her sword, her gaze turning razor-sharp as she glared at Wei Han. Her voice was like ice. “He is under my protection. Insulting him is insulting me! Say another word, and don’t blame me for being merciless.”
Wei Han’s face twisted with rage. But the Biling Sword’s cold edge was pointed at him, and he had no choice but to swallow his anger and sneer, “Gu Xiangsi, you can protect him for now…”
Gu Xiangsi cut him off, enunciating each word clearly: “I can protect him for a lifetime.”
“Hiss!” The Jiuyang Sword Sect disciples gasped.
“Hiss!” Lin Jing.
Chu Feihuan, you should just marry her.
Gu Xiangsi held the jade and walked toward Chu Feihuan. Her flowing blue robes rippled in the wind. With a soft gaze full of apology, she bit her lip and said gently, “I’m sorry, but… Chu Feihuan, trust me, I will make sure you enter this sect.”
Every word was tender. Every word was precious.
Chu Feihuan remained silent, his long lashes casting shadows over his cold eyes as he stared at the jade resting in her pale palm. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
Lin Jing wanted to shout at him from a distance.
Stop pretending, Chu Feihuan. I know your righteousness meter is skyrocketing right now.
What are you waiting for? You should be taking that jade with blood-red eyes, nodding solemnly at Gu Xiangsi, and making the first promise of your life to protect her forever.
“You’ll replay this moment every night.”
Sitting on a peach blossom branch, Lin Jing chuckled to himself, plucking petals and mumbling to no one in particular.
Beneath his feet were clouds and wind, and his long bejeweled robe billowed in the breeze.
From the day he entered Jiuyang Sword Sect, it was as if the stage had been set for Chu Feihuan’s future entanglements of love and hatred.
What does it take to melt the heart of a gloomy and withdrawn youth? Love, passion, unwavering care, and the courage to stand before him, shielding him from the storm.
Forget Chu Feihuan—if Lin Jing put himself in his shoes, he felt even he would be moved.
Gu Xiangsi was a good girl. No matter her motives, her intentions were always for his good. If he wasn’t moved now, could he even be considered human?
Yet, Chu Feihuan simply reached out, took the jade pendant, and softly said, “Thank you.”
He was too composed—neither humiliated nor visibly touched.
Gu Xiangsi hesitated briefly before offering him a smile.
The onlookers, however, sucked in a breath and immediately cursed under their breath.
“What kind of attitude is that??”
“He got all that help and still acts so aloof? Shouldn’t he be kneeling in gratitude before Senior Sister Gu?”
Lin Jing’s smile stiffened. He sighed inwardly: Stop, stop, this kid is just reserved. He’s definitely moved deep down!
In the end, Gu Xiangsi took Chu Feihuan into Jiuyang Sword Sect, defying the opposition of many.
As the crowd gradually dispersed, Lin Jing sat on a peach tree branch, holding a now-bare twig, watching Chu Feihuan’s silhouette fade into the depths of the sect. He lightly shook his head and sighed.
At the final step into the sect, Chu Feihuan suddenly paused.
Gu Xiangsi asked, “What’s wrong?”
Chu Feihuan pressed his lips together, then shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
From the moment Chu Feihuan entered Jiuyang Sect, the ten years of his cultivation journey seemed to pass at an imperceptibly accelerated pace.
Day by day, events unfolded—yet blink once, and spring had turned to winter.
Through the same gate, yet stepping in and out led to entirely different worlds.
Lin Jing would occasionally return to his original body, that of Shangguan Wan.
Shangguan Wan was too frail. Since childhood, she had survived only by relying on rare medicinal herbs. Even the slightest emotional fluctuation could trigger heart-wrenching pain. Her father, the sect master, did not want his beloved daughter to suffer because of outsiders, so he kept her isolated from the world.
Thus, Lin Jing lived alone in the Yingluo Hall, undisturbed, enjoying his leisure.
Each day, he folded paper cranes, then drifted toward Chu Feihuan in his sleep, observing how people mistreated him—or how they showed him kindness.
Chu Feihuan’s life was like that of an ordinary person: he met both good and bad people. He wasn’t particularly unlucky, nor could he be considered fortunate.
After roaming the cultivation world, Lin Jing eventually settled near Chu Feihuan—because the drama around him was just too entertaining.
There was always something happening.
For instance, one day, a clueless new player crawled up to Chu Feihuan, grabbed his hands, and babbled in a frenzy: “Son, you must be a good person! I was your father in a past life! If you don’t do good, I will die with regrets!”
Chu Feihuan: “……”
Lin Jing: “Hahahahahahahaha!”
Of course, before the player could finish his nonsense, he was immediately slain. The outcome was predictable.
There were even girls who treated this world like a romance game—probably because the protagonist was handsome, making him worth pursuing. During Chu Feihuan’s time in Jiuyang Sect’s academy, they frequently gifted him presents and stood up for him when he was bullied, even though he never asked for it.
Naturally, those who were obviously “players” never lasted long in this world.
Lin Jing absolutely adored his omniscient observer role.
Perhaps it was because he knew all of Chu Feihuan’s suffering was merely a trial in his life, and that someone would always come to his rescue.
So even when he saw Chu Feihuan getting beaten up, his head held underwater, or left barely clinging to life—
Lin Jing merely sat atop a nearby rock, watching calmly, as distant and indifferent as the wind.
Over these ten years, he had seen too much of Chu Feihuan’s life.
How he was bullied by his fellow disciples.
How he endured violence and humiliation.
How he was falsely accused and slandered.
How he was taken in as a disciple—only to be neglected and despised by Xuan Yin Zunren.
His master did not like him.
That was why his position in the sect was so awkward.
And yet, he grew up.
How he trained relentlessly without rest.
How he practiced his swordsmanship day after day.
“Chu Feihuan, guess what I brought for you?”
In the academy, by the window, a clear and sweet voice rang out.
Chu Feihuan was not well-liked—no one sat beside him.
Lin Jing loved sitting beside him, watching how people approached him, driven by nothing but love and hatred.
“Kid, your goddess is here,” he commented lazily, propped up on the desk.
Naturally, Chu Feihuan could neither see him nor hear his words.
He lifted his head, his once-boyish face now sharpened with age. Black hair, black robes, and icy blue eyes. Only when he saw the girl in blue standing by the window did something in him shift.
Outside, golden sunlight streamed down, and birds chirped merrily.
Lin Jing smirked and remarked, “Ah, the deep affections of youth.”
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