She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar-Chapter 52

◎Kidnapping Over Purchasing◎

Under the joint intervention of their family and Yan Luoyue, Yan Gan and Sang Ji missed their chance to join the fun at the Hundred Refinements Assembly.

Thus, they couldn’t help but envy Ling Shuanghun, who got to accompany their little sister on the trip.

But even in their envy, they didn’t forget to remind Yan Luoyue to get along well with her travel companion.

Yan Gan: "Little sister, Ling Shuanghun is older than you and has traveled more than you have. So, trust him with everything—just let him handle things. Don’t tire yourself out, got it?"

Yan Luoyue: "…" Why did she feel like her brother was teaching her how to pass the buck?

Sang Ji: "Little sister, if your flying artifact runs out of spirit stones halfway, just ride on Ling Shuanghun’s back. Don’t you dare trek through mountains and rivers by yourself, understand?"

Yan Luoyue: "…" She was sure now—you two just wanted to mess with Ling Shuanghun, didn’t you?

Yan Gan and Sang Ji vehemently denied this accusation.

Yan Gan shook his head and waved his hands. "No, how could that be? We consider him a good friend!"

Sang Ji was even more adamant. "Don’t misunderstand—we’re brothers, through and through. Little sister, bring Shen Jingxuan along, and the five of us can go have fun together. Let’s see just how capable Ling Shuanghun really is!"

Yan Luoyue: "…"

Enough already—by the last sentence, the sheer fakeness of your so-called "brotherhood" was practically oozing out, impossible to hide!

Despite this, with the rare holiday from school, the five of them still gathered happily to see Yan Luoyue and Ling Shuanghun off and sneak out for some fun.

Sang Ji justified it eloquently: "We need to get to know Ling Shuanghun first—figure out what kind of person he really is."

The journey to the Hundred Refinements Assembly was long. What if the crane clan ran out of supplies and sold his little sister along the way?

Yan Gan also agreed to the outing.

He trusted the moral character of a crane historian.

But some instinct told him there might be some one-sided grudge between these two.

"At the very least, let them bond as travel companions. Otherwise, if they don’t even talk the whole way, it’ll be so boring."

Yan Gan, Sang Ji, Shen Jingxuan, Ling Shuanghun, and Yan Luoyue.

This lively, mismatched group—complete with a little girl and a nun—drew countless curious glances along the way.

Ling Shuanghun wasn’t familiar with Yunning Great Marsh, so he immediately turned to the locals for guidance.

"Where are we going next?"

Without hesitation, Shen Jingxuan pointed toward the rising sun. "All the way north."

Ling Shuanghun was baffled. "Huh?"

Yan Luoyue quickly laughed and lowered Shen Jingxuan’s finger, thinking: This was exactly why she wasn’t taking the little nun to the Hundred Refinements Assembly.

With Shen Jingxuan’s uncanny ability to misidentify directions, if she got lost in an unfamiliar place, Yan Luoyue would spend ages searching for her.

Sang Ji rubbed his hands together, grinning mischievously. "Heh heh, we’re going somewhere fun, exciting, and profitable."

The moment he finished, Yan Gan kicked him.

"Shut up, little sister’s here!"

Then, both of them turned expectantly to Ling Shuanghun, waiting to see what kind of conclusion this pure, old-fashioned crane youth would jump to.

Under their intense stares, Ling Shuanghun’s snow-like complexion gradually flushed a faint pink, contrasting beautifully with the crimson mark between his brows.

He glanced nervously at Yan Luoyue and lowered his voice.

Yan Gan and Sang Ji perked up, eagerly anticipating his moment of social suicide.

Then, they heard Ling Shuanghun whisper, "Is… is it a fighting arena?"

Yan Gan: "…"

Sang Ji: "…"

You guessed it right away, so why the blushing?!

Ling Shuanghun rubbed his ear and explained seriously:

"I’m not teasing you two, Brother Sang and Brother Yan. It’s just that my elder brother has always forbidden me from going to such places. This is the first time I’ve openly discussed it with friends, so I’m a little nervous—hence the blushing."

Yan Gan was instantly sympathetic. "Then it’s perfect—we’ll go together today!"

Ling Shuanghun hesitated. "I respect my elder brother deeply."

Sang Ji tilted his head, smirking challengingly. "So you’re saying you don’t dare go?"

"…No, please let me finish."

Ling Shuanghun explained earnestly, "I’ve always followed my brother’s instructions—since he forbade me from going during the day, I’ve always snuck out at night."

Everyone: "…"

So you interpreted "day" as strictly daylight hours?! The mental gymnastics here are truly divine.

Yan Luoyue pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling like she was finally getting a clear picture of Ling Shuanghun’s personality.

This guy was a total wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Sang Ji crossed his arms, intrigued.

"Then what do we do? It’s broad daylight now, the sun’s shining bright. We can’t just wait around till nightfall for you."

Ling Shuanghun lowered his head, pondered deeply, then calmly looked up again.

"It’s fine. My brother only said, 'You shouldn’t go to such places during the day,' not 'You all shouldn’t go.' Since the five of us are going together, it shouldn’t violate his prohibition."

Everyone, for the second time: "…"

Yan Luoyue tugged at Sang Ji’s sleeve, signaling him to bend down.

She gave him a sympathetic look. "Give it up, Brother Ji. You can’t outwit him. This is his professional expertise."

Hadn’t Ling Shuanghun, with just a few words, turned Yan Bixin—a proper turtle clansman—into "Crow Lord"?

If Sang Ji kept bantering with him, he might end up getting his species changed to a pangolin.

At that point, Yan Bixin’s biography would be titled The Black History of Yan Bixin.

And Sang Ji’s would be called What Did the Pangolin Say?

Sang Ji choked back a retort and muttered, "You’re… not quite like the crane clansmen I’ve met before."

Ling Shuanghun smiled faintly, his demeanor still refined and gentle.

"How could I be different? Our crane clan is known as the clan of gentlemen, upholding the motto of 'openness and integrity.' Have you ever met a crane who wasn’t upright?"

Sang Ji: "…"

He bitterly regretted not having a mirror on hand to shove in Ling Shuanghun’s face.

The moment they reached the arena gates, Sang Ji and Yan Gan bolted ahead like excited puppies.

The two brothers rushed in first to book a private booth for the group.

As for the remaining three, just as they reached the entrance of Silverlight Arena, Ling Shuanghun smoothly pulled out a beast-head ring and slipped it on.

Yan Luoyue craned her neck for a look—wow, it was silver!

From what she knew, a black iron ring required three consecutive wins, bronze required ten.

As for silver? That took twenty straight victories.

Clearly, Ling Shuanghun’s midnight escapades over the years hadn’t been for nothing.

Yan Luoyue’s curious gaze was soon joined by Shen Jingxuan’s.

Noticing the two girls staring at his hand, Ling Shuanghun took a polite step back.

At a distance of half a zhang, he turned his gaze away with old-fashioned propriety, removing the ring and holding it in his palm for them to see.

Ling Shuanghun explained, "It's not that I'm particularly fond of adornments, but wearing this ring grants me a twenty percent discount on expenses in the arena."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Well, that was a painfully practical reason.

Come to think of it, she not only had her own black iron ring—among the belongings left behind by the scholar Wu Chunhui, there was also a silver ring...

Noticing Yan Luoyue pulling out the ring from the corner of his eye, Ling Shuanghun kindly reminded her, "The black iron ring gives a five percent discount."

"That's not what I was asking," Yan Luoyue waved her hand dismissively. "I remember that every time you upgrade your ring, the arena master receives a reward—you can choose one extra item from their list. Do you recall what the reward for the silver ring was?"

Ling Shuanghun naturally remembered.

Recording everything he had ever seen was the duty of a historian, an instinct ingrained deep in his bones.

After reciting a long list of prizes, Ling Shuanghun hesitated slightly.

"There's one last reward, but it's a bit... unusual."

Yan Luoyue looked up.

Ling Shuanghun: "The final reward is 'a wish that may come true.'"

Yan Luoyue blinked shrewdly. "Does 'may come true' mean the arena reserves the final right of interpretation?"

It was the first time Ling Shuanghun had heard such a novel phrase, and he paused to digest it.

"Well... you could say that, Fellow Daoist Yan."

After a moment, seeing that Yan Luoyue had no further questions, Ling Shuanghun excused himself and headed toward the arena's backstage.

As for Yan Luoyue, she took Shen Jingxuan to the registration desk and signed up under the arena name "Lü Lü Lü."

By the time Yan Luoyue returned to the arena, Sang Ji had already prepared their private booth.

Ling Shuanghun had just finished his first hand-to-hand match and was now waiting for his second.

Yan Luoyue settled into the booth, slightly surprised. "He’s that fast?"

"Of course. Crane-folk have it easy in hand-to-hand matches," Sang Ji remarked with a hint of envy.

In unarmed combat, it was generally accepted that demonic beasts had the advantage.

While other demonic beasts relied on sharp teeth and claws, the crane-folk had something even better—flight!

—Heh, bet you didn’t see that coming, did you? We can fly~

Though a crane’s legs were slender, they were also powerful.

Paired with their large, flapping wings, their shadowless kicks rained down from above like bamboo leaves, effortlessly knocking out opponents one by one.

At this point, Sang Ji couldn’t help but grumble.

Damn it, why didn’t the arena have a swamp battlefield?

If there were a swamp arena, their crocodile-folk’s death rolls would be unstoppable.

As they spoke, Ling Shuanghun’s second opponent arrived.

The arena matched fighters based on rank, race, and combat ability.

Thus, Ling Shuanghun found himself facing a golden eagle demon—another avian, but far more experienced and battle-hardened.

After a few aerial exchanges, Ling Shuanghun was clearly at a disadvantage.

Though Sang Ji had complained earlier, his heart was still with his friend.

After all, words could be deceitful, but the spirit stones he bet told the truth—he had wagered on Ling Shuanghun twice in a row.

Just as the battle reached its most intense moment, the audience leaning forward in anticipation, the elegant white crane arched its graceful neck and let out a piercing cry toward the sky!

Sang Ji slammed his fist down. "The Crane Song! This match is ours!"

The Crane Song was a unique tradition of the crane-folk.

Scientifically speaking, their long necks and resonant voices made them natural wind instruments.

Thus, the crane-folk had developed the "Crane Song" as their signature technique.

Normally, they used it to communicate, soothe their young, or even court mates.

But in battle, the Crane Song became a weapon.

And right now, Ling Shuanghun was putting it to use.

Ling Shuanghun sang with full, soaring clarity, his voice carrying sorrow and grandeur like a beam of light piercing the heavens.

As a cultured historian, Ling Shuanghun even included lyrics in his song.

He sang not of random tales, but of the historical records he himself had penned.

Singing to convey history was a common folk tradition.

Yan Luoyue understood all of this—she truly did.

The only thing she couldn’t comprehend was—damn it, Ling Shuanghun was singing about her story!

And the worst part? He wasn’t just singing it—he was pouring his heart into it, his voice rising and falling with dramatic flair.

The song hit Yan Luoyue like a ton of bricks, nearly sending her to an early grave.

Flapping his wings, Ling Shuanghun sang:

"In the year 128 of Xuanyang, the artificer Yan Bixin emerged~

Bixin could foretell doom, every word a prophecy of woe~

Cloaked in black, veiled in mist~

The crow cries 'caw caw,' but the master warns, 'Your house will collapse'~

Alike in form and spirit, thus Shuanghunzi dubbed her 'Raven Lord'..."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Yan Gan, hearing the Crane Song for the first time, was utterly enthralled. "Wow, he’s telling a story through song!"

The subject of said story: "..."

Yan Luoyue’s fists clenched.

With a sharp motion, she stood up.

Shen Jingxuan glanced at her in surprise. "Luoyue, what are you doing?"

Yan Luoyue marched out, teeth gritted. "I’m going to roast a crane for dinner."

Everyone: "..."

Hearing this declaration, Shen Jingxuan and the others cast sympathetic looks toward the arena.

Onstage, the proud white crane was literally singing his way to victory, his slender legs kicking a flurry of bamboo-leaf-shaped footprints onto his opponent’s face.

Meanwhile, offstage, Yan Luoyue was storming out of the booth at 80 km/h.

Sang Ji sighed. "Is this what they mean by 'win the battle, lose the war'?"

Ling Shuanghun, do you realize that while you’ve beaten the golden eagle, you’re about to be stewed?

To prevent collusion between acquaintances for rigged matches, the arena always assigned opponents.

But if two arena masters had a grudge and wanted to settle it onstage, the arena allowed it—though no betting was permitted, making it a free show to draw crowds.

Ling Shuanghun had just sat down backstage to rest when a servant delivered a challenge.

"Black Iron Arena Master 'Kou Kou Kou' invites you to a duel."

A historian’s sensitivity to words was extraordinary.

Most people, hearing a name like "Kou Kou Kou," would assume it was censored.

But Ling Shuanghun frowned in thought, connecting the dots with the "black iron ring" clue, and soon matched the three "kou" characters to their true meaning.

Back when Yan Luoyue had first teased apart the meaning of this name, Ling Shuanghun now pieced it back together just as deftly.

"Black Iron, Three Mouths... Could it be Little Yan Daoist?"

Ling Shuanghun carefully tucked away the challenge letter and nodded. "Very well, let's proceed as she requested."

—And that was why, just before stepping onto the stage, Ling Shuanghun suddenly realized this match was a Blade-and-Sword Duel.

This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.

"..." Gazing at Little Yan Daoist across the platform, Ling Shuanghun's snow-white sleeves fluttered gracefully as he bowed with utmost sincerity. "Little... [redacted] Daoist, truth be told, I'm not skilled in Blade-and-Sword Duels."

His opponent returned the bow with even greater earnestness, her expression more genuine than his, her words more brutally honest.

"I know. I could tell. That's exactly why I specifically chose a Blade-and-Sword Duel."

The young girl's large eyes sparkled as she flashed Ling Shuanghun a smile—sweet but not cloying, brimming with barely restrained killing intent.

It was as if the words "I'm here to beat you up" were practically written across her face.

Ling Shuanghun: "..."

A chill crept up the crane demon's spine, settling at the base of his skull.

He began frantically racking his brain, trying to recall where he might have offended her.

Blade-and-Sword Duels permitted the use of weapons.

However, to prevent contestants like Yan Luoyue—who could pull out one magical artifact after another from her bottomless inventory—from dominating the match, each participant was limited to a single weapon.

As the match was about to begin, the referee signaled for both sides to reveal their chosen arms.

Yan Luoyue shook out the item in her hand: a golden, glittering hair tie, its purpose and origin utterly enigmatic.

As for Ling Shuanghun, he glanced left and right before ultimately raising empty hands.

"I have no proficiency with weapons, so I'd rather go without. As for you, [redacted] Daoist, please don't hold back on my account."

The rules of the Blade-and-Sword Duel allowed weapon usage, and Ling Shuanghun wouldn't exploit his own abstention to pressure his opponent.

Just as in a Fist-and-Foot Duel, he wouldn't tie his own wings—his natural advantages of flight, sharp beak, and talons were fair game there.

Meanwhile, Little Yan Daoist's ability to discern his weakness with weapons and exploit it by proposing this format was her own tactical brilliance.

History had taught Ling Shuanghun to accept every outcome with equanimity, no matter how the dice fell.

So even when, within the first snap of a finger, the crane demon in his true form suffered a critical blow—his long beak neatly bound by Yan Luoyue's golden loop—the red-crowned crane merely blinked innocently.

"..."

No blood was drawn, but Yan Luoyue had effectively muzzled him.

With a flick of her wrist, the golden loop expanded midair like a child's ring toss, perfectly encircling the crane's slender neck.

The crane threw back its head with a cry, wings spread wide as it glided backward in a skating motion, attempting to slip free.

The loop slid halfway up, from neck to the crimson crown of his head, then down the length of his beak—

Wait. The loop didn't slide off. It cinched tight around Ling Shuanghun's beak!

The moment it reached his mouth, the previously docile golden ring suddenly sprang to life like an over-caffeinated serpent.

Under Yan Luoyue's control, it twisted 180 degrees and tightened with the practiced ease of a girl tying a ponytail.

In the blink of an eye, four or five coils were wound snugly around the crane's beak.

Only when the pressure became unbearable, the glowing golden noose constricting relentlessly, did the crane finally land gracefully and lock eyes with Yan Luoyue's gleefully clenched fists.

Ling Shuanghun realized this was likely the very purpose behind her weapon choice.

What he didn't know was that this little loop could expand or shrink, stretch or contract, with incredible elasticity and toughness.

The last legendary artifact capable of such feats was the Cosmic Ring.

But since Yan Luoyue's version was crafted from green stallion tendon, she'd dubbed it the "Cosmic Bullseye Loop."

Having struck first blood, Yan Luoyue burst into song.

Unlike crane melodies, turtle songs held no offensive power—she was simply vocalizing her joy.

As she gave the loop another twist (bringing the total to five coils around the beak), her lyrics became uncannily appropriate:

"Ohhh~ Five rings~ You've got one more than four rings~"

Ling Shuanghun: "..."

The crane shook its head and flapped its wings, but the muzzle wouldn't budge.

Yet within moments, realization dawned.

He shifted back to human form, causing the loop to drop away.

"Little Yan... [redacted] Daoist! Might I ask if I—"

Yan Luoyue gave him no chance to finish.

The instant he transformed, she morphed into her own true form—a whirling dervish of a turtle.

Like a turbocharged ninja turtle, she spun through the air with enough centrifugal force to unhinge Newton's coffin lid, hurtling toward Ling Shuanghun's face in a miniature tornado.

From within this vortex emanated Yan Luoyue's immersive 3D surround-sound vocals:

"The wind is howling~ The steeds are neighing~ The crane is bellowing~ The crane is bellowing~"

Ling Shuanghun: "..."

Heaven bear witness—he wasn't bellowing!

He'd barely raised his voice, merely trying to ask a question!

The turtle shell stopped an inch short, but the rotating air blades struck first, etching a vivid red line across Ling Shuanghun's collarbone.

At the critical moment, he reverted to crane form, broad wings stirring the air to deflect the attack.

The audience held their breath as spinning carapace met crane wing in a muffled crunch of bone against keratin.

A blizzard of white feathers erupted across half the arena.

The crane let out a mournful cry while Yan Luoyue went ricocheting off like a ping-pong ball.

Just before flying out of bounds, her Cosmic Bullseye Loop came full circle—literally—lassoing the crane's neck to reel herself back from the edge.

This time, Ling Shuanghun instantly transformed upon capture, having learned his lesson.

But with one injured arm and Yan Luoyue yanking the loop around his neck, his balance faltered mid-shift, sending him sprawling.

Yan Luoyue crouched over him.

Seeing his mouth open to speak, she swiftly clamped a hand over it.

"..."

Shaking his head with a wry smile, Ling Shuanghun tapped the ground three times with his uninjured wing-arm to concede.

As the crowd erupted over the outcome, he whispered:

"Little Yan Daoist... by any chance, do you know Master Yan Bixin?"

Being singled out by Yan Luoyue repeatedly, he had begun to form a vague suspicion in his heart.

The next moment, a crisp crack sounded from Little Yan’s clenched fist.

At that, Ling Shuanghun understood everything.

Ling Shuanghun hurriedly said, “Wait, the historical anecdotes I recorded are all true—not a single one is fabricated!”

Yan Luoyue indignantly thumped the crane demon’s head.

“I know that.”

If Ling Shuanghun had been falsifying records, he wouldn’t be here with a rubber band looped around his neck—he’d already have his feathers plucked and be stewing in a pot.

The most tragic part for Yan Luoyue was this: despite how absurd and ridiculous Ling Shuanghun’s records sounded, they were all true!

Even the nickname “Crow Lord” was merely something Ling Shuanghun had summarized and refined.

After all, thanks to the innkeeper’s relentless promotion, opinions on whether Master Yan Bixin’s origins were human or crow demon had split right down the middle.

Sensing Yan Luoyue’s inner turmoil, Ling Shuanghun solemnly explained,

“My crane song only got through the opening verse before my opponent surrendered by dropping his feathers. If you’d like, I can sing the rest for you when we return.”

“Though I used some of Master Yan’s amusing anecdotes as an introduction, his achievements should not be overshadowed. The reason the lyrics were written humorously at first was…”

“…to lure people in before slaughtering them,” Yan Luoyue interjected darkly. “I know all about you educators and your tricks.”

It was like how advanced mathematics courses would start with an easy introduction, giving students the illusion they might actually pass.

Or those lighthearted history lectures that lured people in with false confidence.

Only when they decided to pursue a history degree did the massive textbooks tear off their covers, revealing their dry, monstrous true faces.

Yan Luoyue thought for a moment, then leaned in and whispered quickly into Ling Shuanghun’s ear:

“Since you’re so keen on spreading historical knowledge, let me teach you something too—do you know why Master Yan’s second edition of Monster Slayer only included artifact cards and no character cards?”

Ling Shuanghun blinked up at her, his clear eyes shining with pure curiosity. “I don’t. Please enlighten me, Little Yan.”

Yan Luoyue grinned, baring her teeth.

“—Because if you use real people, their friends and family will come knocking for revenge!”

Her eyes curved into crescents. “So, which do you prefer—braised crane or stewed crane?”

Ling Shuanghun blinked his innocent eyes and offered a meek smile.

“If I must choose… how about drunken crane? …Wait, no—stop plucking my feathers! Not the black ones! Little Yan, Little Yan!—Yan! This crane is about to roar, I swear I’ll roar!”

In the end, everyone was satisfied.

Shen Jingxuan remarked, “How strange. After that, they actually became closer.”

Before, when the two of them had been overly polite, the air between them had been thick with frost and morning dew.

But ever since Yan Luoyue had given Ling Shuanghun a thorough “inspection,” they could often be seen huddled together over maps.

On top of that, they seemed to be secretly planning something behind everyone’s backs.

“Unexpected, yet makes perfect sense. There’s nothing strange about it.”

Sang Ji jerked his chin toward Yan Gan. “Just look at us. Fighting is the best way to bond. Once you’ve had a scrap, you’re practically friends.”

Yan Gan corrected him, “Winning the fight is the best way to bond—if Little Sister had lost, we’d be preparing a sack for bird-napping right now.”

The three battle enthusiasts exchanged grins, the air thick with the scent of mischief.

“I wonder how far Luoyue has gotten by now,” Shen Jingxuan murmured, spinning her prayer beads, a trace of wistfulness crossing her face.

“She’s only been gone half a day, and I already miss her.”

…

So where was Yan Luoyue at that moment?

Out in the wilderness, catching snakes!

Surprise! The secret project she and Ling Shuanghun had been plotting was to sneak an extra travel companion into their journey.

Winter had arrived, and Yan Luoyue had just celebrated her fifth birthday, her health points soaring past 100,000.

Yet barely a morning after leaving her clan’s territory, she had already veered off course.

She was determined to fulfill her earlier promise: to substitute kidnapping for negotiation.

Patting the red-crowned crane’s back, Yan Luoyue signaled Ling Shuanghun, who folded his wings and swooped down.

The moment he shifted back to human form, he smoothed his already immaculate robes.

“Is Little Wu somewhere nearby?”

“No.” Yan Luoyue checked her compass. “He’s further ahead… but you should stay here. Too many people might scare him off.”

Ling Shuanghun hesitated. “Scare him off? Wait… Yan, what exactly are you planning?”

Before him, Yan Luoyue wore a sweetly sinister grin as she pulled out a burlap sack, rope, and a fire starter from her storage pouch.

Ling Shuanghun: “!!!”

He was utterly stunned.

What was this? Did everyone have to get beaten up before becoming her travel companion?

Yan Luoyue pointed at her cherubic smile.

“First, I’ll politely invite him.”

Ling Shuanghun frowned. “And if he declines?”

Yan Luoyue waved the sack and rope. “Then I’ll substitute kidnapping for negotiation—bag him first, then persuade him patiently afterward.”

“…And if you can’t catch him?”

With a snap, Yan Luoyue lit the fire starter.

“Then I’ll set a fire and see if he comes out.”

Ling Shuanghun was aghast. Clearly, turtle clan education had some serious flaws. “Who taught you this?!”

Yan Luoyue replied gravely, “History did.”

After all, hadn’t Zhang Fei once considered the same method to “invite” Zhuge Liang out of seclusion?

Ling Shuanghun: “???”

The little girl gathered her supplies, puffed out her chest, and marched boldly in the direction her compass pointed.

As Yan Luoyue’s figure disappeared into the distance, Ling Shuanghun obediently waited behind.

Quietly, he pulled out a notebook and began jotting down material for The Chronicles of Yan Luoyue.

Though the name “Yan Luoyue” remained unknown to the world for now, Ling Shuanghun had a premonition.

After all, someone who knew when to be courteous, when to enforce physics, and how to pin the blame on history was like a needle in a bag, a gallstone in the liver, or a blood clot in the brain—destined to make waves sooner or later.

Soon, the crane’s playful singing drifted across the empty wilderness:

“Through mist and wind, Little Yan and I roam~

Midway she seeks a friend, but ‘invite’ means ‘drag home’~

Little Wu shall join our crew, oh what a sight~

I foresee him getting beaten black and white~”

"Come to me in all your colorful splendor, bearing healing salves as gifts~"

The moment she stepped out of Ling Shuanghun's sight, Yan Luoyue promptly tucked away all the incriminating evidence.

Honestly, though her words sounded fierce, she couldn’t bring herself to actually follow through.

Following the compass's guidance, Yan Luoyue ventured deeper into the wilderness.

When the needle turned completely red and began spinning wildly in circles, she knew Wu Manshuang must be nearby.

This was likely the extent of his usual roaming grounds.

The compass spun because traces of his presence lingered everywhere in the area.

It was the season of withered grass, and a small snake hidden among the winter-dried reeds was like a drop of water seamlessly blending into the ocean.

Yan Luoyue paced back and forth several times but found no trace of another person.

Instead, at one point, she felt the faintest, most cautious gaze brush against her back—a sensation that made her heart skip.

As the saying goes, the most skilled hunters often appear as prey.

Yan Luoyue didn’t turn toward the source of the gaze.

She even pretended to notice nothing, taking a couple more steps while glancing around aimlessly.

The girl’s eyes flickered with hesitation, but more prominently, with urgency.

Her hands twisted together, clenching and unclenching, as if wrestling with some inner conflict.

After a moment, her expression grew flustered, and she called out in a hushed, anxious voice:

"Jingxuan… Jingxuan… are you nearby?"

—Jingxuan, I know you’re not here. Lend me your name for a bit, and I’ll buy you vegetarian cakes when we get back.

The hidden figure in the shadows: "…"

So that explained it. A well-behaved girl who attended classes diligently in her clan’s territory wouldn’t just wander into such a desolate, godforsaken place.

It was that Master Shen Jingxuan again…

Thinking of the other’s legendary inability to navigate, the shadowy figure pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his hood.

Still, she’d come here for Shen Jingxuan.

Under the cloak, the boy laughed at himself quietly: He’d thought, for a moment, that she’d come for—

He cut off the thought before it fully formed.

Behind the white veil, his eyes turned wistfully toward the grass, while the corners of his lips strained upward in a forced smile.

—No, he shouldn’t think that way. He should tell himself: It’s better this way.

Better that she’d only come for Shen Jingxuan.

That way, once he helped her find Shen Jingxuan, the two would return happily to their lives, leaving him with another memory of her skipping away.

Just like last time. Just like every time.

That was enough. Even just glimpsing her back, he could share in her joy.

She wouldn’t realize he’d been here, and he wouldn’t have to reject her invitation a second time.

"Jingxuan? Jingxuan…" The girl continued calling the name, her voice tinged with helplessness.

She must have been genuinely flustered, stopping to flip over even a rock in case her friend was hiding beneath it.

Usually so sharp and unerring, seeing her fumble over something so trivial was oddly endearing.

Yan Luoyue circled the area once more but still saw no sign of another person.

With a defeated sigh, she muttered loudly enough to be heard:

"Did Jingxuan take the compass and go back first? But now I’m the one who can’t find my way home!"

The moment the words left her lips, a faint rustling came from the grass nearby.

Yan Luoyue’s eyes lit up, and she hurried over. "Wu—Jingxuan!"

Parting the waist-high grass revealed no trace of the little nun.

Instead, a neatly arranged arrow of twigs lay on the ground, its tip pointing unerringly toward the turtle clan’s territory.

Yan Luoyue: "…"

She schooled her expression fiercely, refusing to let even a hint of amusement show.

Pretending not to see the arrow, she wandered aimlessly along its edge.

Ideally, stepping on it and scattering the twigs would have sold her act better.

But the arrow was so meticulously crafted—like a certain little mummy kneeling solemnly to arrange it—that she couldn’t bring herself to ruin it.

She ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‍couldn’t even step over it without guilt.

Feigning nonchalance, she turned and left the arrow intact behind her.

Honestly, her acting was so poor, only the most gullible little snake would fall for it.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a thunderous crash erupted behind her after she’d taken two steps in the opposite direction.

Yan Luoyue spun around to see a dead tree toppling over inexplicably.

Perhaps worried she’d miss it, the culprit had snapped off excess branches, leaving only those that formed—unmistakably—another arrow, stubbornly pointing the way home.

Yan Luoyue: "…"

The perpetrator, seemingly concerned even a one-degree deviation might doom her to eternal wandering, made the fallen tree twitch back to life.

It adjusted itself with a posthumous jerk, correcting that negligible angle before finally lying still.

Yan Luoyue: "…"

She sucked in a breath so hard her ribs ached.

Help. Keeping a straight face was agony—she couldn’t laugh now!

Hugging herself for warmth (or so she pretended), she deadpanned:

"This place is too dangerous… No, I can’t go that way. What if there’s an earthquake?"

With that, she resolutely turned and marched in the exact opposite direction of home.

As she walked, she strained to listen.

Behind her, a frantic rustling erupted, as though someone were pacing in distress.

…Well, if she laughed just a little while his back was turned, that didn’t make her a bad person, right?

Just a tiny chuckle—one he’d never notice.