Chapter 5: How to earn affection points with your future disciple.
Jun. 11th, 2025 01:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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keslationsMeanwhile, Gong Zhu was absolutely shocked—
And so he started frantically tapping the system: “Did he just ask me…if I wanted to eat him?” It couldn’t be that he’d misheard due to it being a new language, could it? Did “eat” mean the same thing in both worlds?
[He did…]
Gong Zhu was even more confused: “System, are the people in your world all cannibals?”
System: […Of course they aren’t. Yao cultivators occasionally eat people, and there are some demonic disciples who drink the vital energy or souls of Daoist cultivators, but the kind of cannibals you’re imagining in your head right now definitely don’t exist.]
Yao cultivators! Demonic cultivators! He definitely wasn’t one of those!
Gong Zhu looked at the teen before him, who was now as stiff as a heating diode… Hm…oh I get it now. Don’t be so nervous, kid, if you let that current get any stronger you’re going to burn yourself.
……
“Eat?” Fu Yuanzhi, upon hearing the young man repeat his question with a bewildered tone in his soothingly gentle voice, wanted nothing more than to find a fissure in the ground to crawl into.
Agh, he’s gonna think I’m a total nutcase!
He hurriedly attempted to salvage the situation by straightening up and giving a respectably proper salute, saying with perfect enunciation, “I am Fu Yuanzhi, a humble Class Ren disciple from Chuxin Palace. It is an honor to meet you, Qianbei.”
Let’s just pretend that awkward incident just now never happened!
Gong Zhu didn’t move, because he was still frantically tapping the system: “System, System! Don’t play dead, keep talking, what’s Chuxin Palace, what does he mean by Classren, all I can think of is classroom.”
The system, which for once was staying online noticeably longer than usual, explained: [Chuxin Palace is Yunmeng Sky Palace’s…er, Yunmeng Sky Palace is the sect you are currently located in, and Chuxin Palace is where all the sect’s new disciples study cultivation together. These disciples are divided into ten classes according to their grades and their Daoist magic assessment levels. The ten classes then, from one to ten—also from highest to lowest rank—are called Jia, Yi, Bing, Ding, Wu, Ji, Geng, Xin, Ren, and Gui, in accordance with the numbering of the ten Heavenly Stems. After each yearly assessment, the previous year’s Class Gui (ten) will be weeded out from the roster; those in Class Ren (nine) demote into Class Gui, and if they cannot advance by the next year, they will be next to be weeded out.]
Gong Zhu involuntarily sucked in a breath at that explanation. How strict! He then replied with a nod, “So Class Ren is second to last, meaning he’ll be kicked out next year?”
[That’s right.]
“In other words, you actually know a lot, it’s just that you need something to trigger your explanations, is that it?” Gong Zhu raised an eyebrow—he’d asked the system what sect this was back when he first transmigrated, only for the system to feign ignorance and muddle its way out of having to answer. What all this boiled down to was that the system really was sent by the god of transmigration to make his life difficult.
Hm…on closer inspection, this kid…looked very familiar. He was probably around sixteen or seventeen, and his looks weren’t half bad…
“Ai, I remember now,” Gong Zhu said as the memory lit up in his mind. “Isn’t this the one who’s always falling off of clouds?”
This really was a bit like fate—Gong Zhu had seen him fall from the clouds in a familiar pose while feeding squirrels on the peak just yesterday, and he showed up here the next day? He looked delicate and cute too, not at all like a dunce with no drive to improve himself.
And so, Gong Zhu couldn’t help smiling at the system once again: “This child is so silly, it’s adorable.”
The system was silent.
Fu Yuanzhi saw that the pretty young man in the tree wasn’t responding, seemingly pondering something instead; that aside, the man was looking at him with a smile, causing the nearly-suppressed heat in his face to return with such force that he felt as if he was emanating steam…
…But…this qianbei is seriously…really good-looking…he’s prettier than any of those upper sect girls everyone praises…bah! Immediately after thinking this, Fu Yuanzhi viciously cursed himself out in his mind—how could he go obsessing over Qianbei’s beauty as soon as they met? He couldn’t let Qianbei think he was some ignorant boor!
Just as he was about to explain the purpose of his visit, he suddenly saw a strange movement from within his qianbei’s long hair. The young man then furrowed his brow, reached a slender hand into his hair, and plucked out a…
A baby bird so fat you nearly couldn’t tell its face from its butt.
The two humans and one bird all looked at each other in silence.
Seeing Fu Yuanzhi staring so hard at the bird that he was close to going cross-eyed from his staring contest with it, Gong Zhu couldn’t help but laugh. He leapt lightly from the tree, took Fu Yuanzhi’s hands, stuffed the bird into them, then casually started walking up the mountain.
Fu Yuanzhi looked down at the birdball in his hands. The birdball pointed its wide-open mouth at him and let out a loud cheep.
…Did…Qianbei hold my hand just now?
“Ah…Qianbei…Qianbei, wait for me!” Fu Yuanzhi quickly ran after him, carefully holding the bird.
Qianbei’s pace was neither hurried nor slow, clearly walking in a perfectly leisurely manner. Fu Yuanzhi, however, was gasping for breath in his attempt to keep up, and also had to watch out for the bird in his hands while chasing after him. And yet…when he lifted his head to see Qianbei’s porcelain-white ankles stepping amidst the tall grass…
I can follow him like this for a million years!
“Qianbei! Wait for me—” Fu Yuanzhi strode forward, reflexively reaching out a hand to grab—
And caught hold of a smooth, warm wrist.
Fu Yuanzhi looked up at his suddenly stopped qianbei, down at his hand currently clutching Qianbei’s wrist…and then, he cravenly turned tail and ran.
He ran…
Gong Zhu was completely baffled by this turn of events. After standing there for quite a long while, he finally asked the system: “Could it be that, according to this world’s beauty standards, my looks are especially frightening?”
The system replied with a question of its own: [Host, your bird has been kidnapped.]
…
The first thing the black-clothed enforcer from the Hall of Judgment saw upon arriving at Chuxin Palace’s square was Fu Yuanzhi spacing out with a bird in his arms. He frowned, striding over to ask, “Have you completed the assignment you were tasked with?”
Fu Yuanzhi’s heart skipped a beat, the unwarranted heat in his body subsiding, and he quickly shoved the bird into his sleeve before bowing his head and respectfully replying, “This disciple reached the outer perimeter of Yueqi Peak, but the mountain path was difficult to traverse, and with my cultivation suppressed by the grand formation as well, I carelessly lost my way. I ask that you please extend my deadline by a few shichen*, Shixiong.”
This excuse could be considered a reasonable one, and so the man from the Hall of Judgment didn’t press any further, instead saying with an undisguised look of impatience, “Tomorrow at the latest.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take this.” The Hall of Judgment shixiong tossed him a paper talisman, saying, “This is a cloud pattern script talisman written by the zhangmen himself. I’m also passing along a spell; the zhangmen’s instructions are that if you come across any sort of obstruction upon climbing Yueqi Peak, you can use this script talisman to subdue it.”
Fu Yuanzhi accepted the talisman and took note of the spell, the haze of doubts in his mind growing even denser than before.
The zhangmen himself wrote this…for me to use…against Qianbei?
Even after the Hall of Judgment member left, Fu Yuanzhi stayed frozen to the spot, seriously thinking over the entire development, and ultimately still felt that there was something off about it—according to the zhangmen’s intention, if “the person on the peak” refused to cooperate in pouring his spiritual power into the spirit stone, then he should…suppress him with this paper talisman, before taking it by force?
Upon reaching this point in his thought process, Fu Yuanzhi immediately ran back to his dorm, for no other reason than that he refused to believe a qianbei who carried a featherless baby bird on his person could be a demon!
Upon opening the dormitory door, he found Yue Henxing rolling around on his bed in a blanket cocoon as expected. The chick in Fu Yuanzhi’s arms let out a cheer, leapt onto the soft pillow, and immediately got to sleeping.
Yue Henxing raised his head like a man putting up a final struggle from his deathbed: “What’re you doing?”
But Fu Yuanzhi just stared blankly for a moment—no, he couldn’t let Yue Henxing help him investigate, why was his brain constantly short-circuiting today? Qianbei’s existence had always been a mystery, and Yunmeng Sky Palace had been around for…probably a little under ten thousand years by now. In that time there’d been all sorts of legends about the forbidden ground having yao and demonic cultivators and the like, yet there’d not once been a single legend saying that Yueqi Peak had such an amazingly elegant qianbei on it…
No, I can’t tell him! Once he’d thought through this point, Fu Yuanzhi turned right around and left, leaving an extremely perplexed Yue Hengxing, who glanced at the bird already sleeping sprawled on his pillow, shook his head, and went back to sleep himself.
So it was that Fu Yuanzhi, taking advantage of the moonlight hours, snuck back onto Yueqi Peak. He stepped out just in time for classes to let out at Yundu Palace, and inadvertently found himself running into Class One again. Fu Yuanzhi wasn’t angered in the slightest by this turn of events; he waited for them to finish taunting him, then continued on his way.
He ran up the mountain road he’d taken earlier that day, venting at himself as he did so—I was so rude today, turning and running right in front of Qianbei, I hope he’s not angry with me—
Shit, Qianbei’s bird!
Suddenly, a slender hand appeared out of thin air, and Fu Yuanzhi felt the sensation of warm fingers passing through his hair. He immediately turned his head to discover that the qianbei he’d seen during the day was now standing behind him, pinching a red karrablast* between his fingers. Frowning, he then tossed the bug into the sky.
The karrablast then exploded with a bang, countless sticky, blood-red globs flying all over the place. Before Fu Yuanzhi could react, Qianbei instantly came to his side, reaching out long arms to pull him bodily into his embrace; the scenery in front of him blurred, and next thing he knew, Fu Yuanzhi found himself appearing by a water pavilion.
Gong Zhu was still busily banging on the system: “Why didn’t you tell me that bug would explode?”
System: […That was a red phosphorus lid bug from the Fuqiu Desert. Seeing how casually you grabbed it, I mistakenly thought you knew it would explode. Besides, Host, you should know that if I give you too many setting details at once, you definitely won’t remember a single one of them!]
“The Fuqiu Desert? It’s all mountains around here, so that sounds like it must be really far away.” Gong Zhu said, “But are you telling me that you making things hard for me by keeping me guessing actually had a reason behind it?”
The fright Fu Yuanzhi just suffered was no small one, either—not only could this bug explode, but the spiritual pressure its explosion created could blast toxins into one’s meridians. On top of that, in his hydrology and geography class, the professor had said this kind of red beetle was a demonic bug from the desert; it was absolutely not something that should exist in this area.
The youth couldn’t help but snort coldly at that—it was probably that bunch from Class One again.
“You have this disciple’s thanks, Qianbei.” Fu Yuanzhi turned around, wiping the disdainful expression off his face, his voice filled with nothing but the utmost respect.
Gong Zhu, meanwhile, stared at him. Hrm…schoolyard bullying in the cultivation world? This kid does have a gentle appearance that makes him look particularly bullyable…ai! Da-Ju!
Just as he was thinking to himself, a huge, orange, fat rabbit leapt down from the bookshelf, slamming right into the middle of Fu Yuanzhi’s back and knocking him to the ground.
That fat rabbit even used its butt to hold down Fu Yuanzhi, perked up its ears, and directed a cute look at Gong Zhu.
Gong Zhu…Gong Zhu very unkindly burst into laughter.
Fu Yuanzhi blushed as he struggled to push that fat bottom off of himself. Just as he was about to get up, however, he found himself face-to-face with a family of squirrels.
And so…Gong Zhu laughed even more happily than before.
“…Qianbei…” Fu Yuanzhi lifted his head with a hurt look on his face, but upon seeing Qianbei’s eyes curving happily in his attempts to curb his laughter, he couldn’t help laughing foolishly along.
[In view of the fact that this unknown character has twice trespassed onto Yueqi Peak, this system will scan the target: Fu Yuanzhi. Scan complete, it has been discovered that the target is carrying one energy-storing spirit stone, one soul-subduing cloud pattern talisman, and one brocade pouch. Preliminary judgment…hostile! Suggestion to Host: Kill him!]
Gong Zhu nearly wanted to uninstall the system at this point. Next you’re going to tell me you’re secretly a demon lord system or something.
The system was still kicking up a ruckus, even going so far as to make a loud droning noise in imitation of an air raid siren. The decibels were far too high, causing Gong Zhu’s expression to darken on the spot; this in turn startled Fu Yuanzhi, who immediately started speaking in a respectful yet high-speed tone: “Please calm down, Qianbei, and forgive this disciple for his reckless behavior today! It was simply because I received a secret command from the zhangmen to ask that you assist with an important matter, that I came here in the middle of the night; I beg your forgiveness for disturbing you!”
What Gong Zhu heard: “Qianbei…bibibibababa…disciple…lalalalaooooojiji…”
“System, stop yelling. He’s talking too fast for me to understand, gimme a translation of what he said.”
System: [He holds ill intentions. System has issued a quest: Kill the malicious lower sect disciple.]
Gong Zhu: I’ve perceived the malice of the world.
…
In Yunmeng Audience Hall on the main peak of Yunmeng Sky Palace, Yin Ming, hallmaster of the Hall of Judgment, stood at the bottom of the steps with lowered head. The zhangmen of Yunmeng Sky Palace stood in silence in the middle of the hall; before him was the brightly shining core of Yundu Palace’s grand array, within which was a mini Yundu Palace with dimensions under a foot in length. Glittering light emanated from above the mini Yundu Palace, the refraction changing the zhangmen’s white clothes into a motley of rainbow colors.
The zhangmen slowly reached out a hand. Just as his fingertip was about to touch the mini Yundu Palace, a clear light burst out, instantly repelling his finger. The resulting red welt on his slender fingertip disappeared as quickly as it had come.
“Zhangmen!”
“It’s all right.” The zhangmen quietly withdrew his hand. After a moment, he then asked, “Have you found someone to go to Yueqi Peak?”
“Yes, an enforcer reported that he picked a random Class Nine lower sect disciple who had missed class.”
The zhangmen looked back at him: “And that disciple went in?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yueqi Peak’s grand array didn’t stop them?”
Hallmaster Yin Ming was puzzled by the zhangmen’s question: “That disciple was carrying your mountain entry token, of course they went in.”
“…The mountain entry token can pass through the restrictions on the outer perimeter, but if the one within the mountain locked it down himself, not even a hundred tokens—or even my going there myself—could enter Yueqi Peak.” The zhangmen gazed at Yin Ming before him as he continued, “It has only been a thousand years since you joined the sect; there are some things you do not know, nor is there any need for you to know. Keep an eye on that lower sect disciple for me. If anything goes wrong, deal with it as you wish.”
“Understood. But there…there is one thing this disciple does not understand.” Yin Ming lifted his head, saying, “Who exactly is being detained within the grand array on Yueqi Peak?”
The zhangmen lowered his head, the refracted lights from the little Yundu Palace making it difficult to read the expression on his face. He stared at Yin Ming for a long time before slowly answering:
“The master of Yunmeng Sky Palace.”
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And so he started frantically tapping the system: “Did he just ask me…if I wanted to eat him?” It couldn’t be that he’d misheard due to it being a new language, could it? Did “eat” mean the same thing in both worlds?
[He did…]
Gong Zhu was even more confused: “System, are the people in your world all cannibals?”
System: […Of course they aren’t. Yao cultivators occasionally eat people, and there are some demonic disciples who drink the vital energy or souls of Daoist cultivators, but the kind of cannibals you’re imagining in your head right now definitely don’t exist.]
Yao cultivators! Demonic cultivators! He definitely wasn’t one of those!
Gong Zhu looked at the teen before him, who was now as stiff as a heating diode… Hm…oh I get it now. Don’t be so nervous, kid, if you let that current get any stronger you’re going to burn yourself.
……
“Eat?” Fu Yuanzhi, upon hearing the young man repeat his question with a bewildered tone in his soothingly gentle voice, wanted nothing more than to find a fissure in the ground to crawl into.
Agh, he’s gonna think I’m a total nutcase!
He hurriedly attempted to salvage the situation by straightening up and giving a respectably proper salute, saying with perfect enunciation, “I am Fu Yuanzhi, a humble Class Ren disciple from Chuxin Palace. It is an honor to meet you, Qianbei.”
Let’s just pretend that awkward incident just now never happened!
Gong Zhu didn’t move, because he was still frantically tapping the system: “System, System! Don’t play dead, keep talking, what’s Chuxin Palace, what does he mean by Classren, all I can think of is classroom.”
The system, which for once was staying online noticeably longer than usual, explained: [Chuxin Palace is Yunmeng Sky Palace’s…er, Yunmeng Sky Palace is the sect you are currently located in, and Chuxin Palace is where all the sect’s new disciples study cultivation together. These disciples are divided into ten classes according to their grades and their Daoist magic assessment levels. The ten classes then, from one to ten—also from highest to lowest rank—are called Jia, Yi, Bing, Ding, Wu, Ji, Geng, Xin, Ren, and Gui, in accordance with the numbering of the ten Heavenly Stems. After each yearly assessment, the previous year’s Class Gui (ten) will be weeded out from the roster; those in Class Ren (nine) demote into Class Gui, and if they cannot advance by the next year, they will be next to be weeded out.]
Gong Zhu involuntarily sucked in a breath at that explanation. How strict! He then replied with a nod, “So Class Ren is second to last, meaning he’ll be kicked out next year?”
[That’s right.]
“In other words, you actually know a lot, it’s just that you need something to trigger your explanations, is that it?” Gong Zhu raised an eyebrow—he’d asked the system what sect this was back when he first transmigrated, only for the system to feign ignorance and muddle its way out of having to answer. What all this boiled down to was that the system really was sent by the god of transmigration to make his life difficult.
Hm…on closer inspection, this kid…looked very familiar. He was probably around sixteen or seventeen, and his looks weren’t half bad…
“Ai, I remember now,” Gong Zhu said as the memory lit up in his mind. “Isn’t this the one who’s always falling off of clouds?”
This really was a bit like fate—Gong Zhu had seen him fall from the clouds in a familiar pose while feeding squirrels on the peak just yesterday, and he showed up here the next day? He looked delicate and cute too, not at all like a dunce with no drive to improve himself.
And so, Gong Zhu couldn’t help smiling at the system once again: “This child is so silly, it’s adorable.”
The system was silent.
Fu Yuanzhi saw that the pretty young man in the tree wasn’t responding, seemingly pondering something instead; that aside, the man was looking at him with a smile, causing the nearly-suppressed heat in his face to return with such force that he felt as if he was emanating steam…
…But…this qianbei is seriously…really good-looking…he’s prettier than any of those upper sect girls everyone praises…bah! Immediately after thinking this, Fu Yuanzhi viciously cursed himself out in his mind—how could he go obsessing over Qianbei’s beauty as soon as they met? He couldn’t let Qianbei think he was some ignorant boor!
Just as he was about to explain the purpose of his visit, he suddenly saw a strange movement from within his qianbei’s long hair. The young man then furrowed his brow, reached a slender hand into his hair, and plucked out a…
A baby bird so fat you nearly couldn’t tell its face from its butt.
The two humans and one bird all looked at each other in silence.
Seeing Fu Yuanzhi staring so hard at the bird that he was close to going cross-eyed from his staring contest with it, Gong Zhu couldn’t help but laugh. He leapt lightly from the tree, took Fu Yuanzhi’s hands, stuffed the bird into them, then casually started walking up the mountain.
Fu Yuanzhi looked down at the birdball in his hands. The birdball pointed its wide-open mouth at him and let out a loud cheep.
…Did…Qianbei hold my hand just now?
“Ah…Qianbei…Qianbei, wait for me!” Fu Yuanzhi quickly ran after him, carefully holding the bird.
Qianbei’s pace was neither hurried nor slow, clearly walking in a perfectly leisurely manner. Fu Yuanzhi, however, was gasping for breath in his attempt to keep up, and also had to watch out for the bird in his hands while chasing after him. And yet…when he lifted his head to see Qianbei’s porcelain-white ankles stepping amidst the tall grass…
I can follow him like this for a million years!
“Qianbei! Wait for me—” Fu Yuanzhi strode forward, reflexively reaching out a hand to grab—
And caught hold of a smooth, warm wrist.
Fu Yuanzhi looked up at his suddenly stopped qianbei, down at his hand currently clutching Qianbei’s wrist…and then, he cravenly turned tail and ran.
He ran…
Gong Zhu was completely baffled by this turn of events. After standing there for quite a long while, he finally asked the system: “Could it be that, according to this world’s beauty standards, my looks are especially frightening?”
The system replied with a question of its own: [Host, your bird has been kidnapped.]
…
The first thing the black-clothed enforcer from the Hall of Judgment saw upon arriving at Chuxin Palace’s square was Fu Yuanzhi spacing out with a bird in his arms. He frowned, striding over to ask, “Have you completed the assignment you were tasked with?”
Fu Yuanzhi’s heart skipped a beat, the unwarranted heat in his body subsiding, and he quickly shoved the bird into his sleeve before bowing his head and respectfully replying, “This disciple reached the outer perimeter of Yueqi Peak, but the mountain path was difficult to traverse, and with my cultivation suppressed by the grand formation as well, I carelessly lost my way. I ask that you please extend my deadline by a few shichen*, Shixiong.”
This excuse could be considered a reasonable one, and so the man from the Hall of Judgment didn’t press any further, instead saying with an undisguised look of impatience, “Tomorrow at the latest.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take this.” The Hall of Judgment shixiong tossed him a paper talisman, saying, “This is a cloud pattern script talisman written by the zhangmen himself. I’m also passing along a spell; the zhangmen’s instructions are that if you come across any sort of obstruction upon climbing Yueqi Peak, you can use this script talisman to subdue it.”
Fu Yuanzhi accepted the talisman and took note of the spell, the haze of doubts in his mind growing even denser than before.
The zhangmen himself wrote this…for me to use…against Qianbei?
Even after the Hall of Judgment member left, Fu Yuanzhi stayed frozen to the spot, seriously thinking over the entire development, and ultimately still felt that there was something off about it—according to the zhangmen’s intention, if “the person on the peak” refused to cooperate in pouring his spiritual power into the spirit stone, then he should…suppress him with this paper talisman, before taking it by force?
Upon reaching this point in his thought process, Fu Yuanzhi immediately ran back to his dorm, for no other reason than that he refused to believe a qianbei who carried a featherless baby bird on his person could be a demon!
Upon opening the dormitory door, he found Yue Henxing rolling around on his bed in a blanket cocoon as expected. The chick in Fu Yuanzhi’s arms let out a cheer, leapt onto the soft pillow, and immediately got to sleeping.
Yue Henxing raised his head like a man putting up a final struggle from his deathbed: “What’re you doing?”
But Fu Yuanzhi just stared blankly for a moment—no, he couldn’t let Yue Henxing help him investigate, why was his brain constantly short-circuiting today? Qianbei’s existence had always been a mystery, and Yunmeng Sky Palace had been around for…probably a little under ten thousand years by now. In that time there’d been all sorts of legends about the forbidden ground having yao and demonic cultivators and the like, yet there’d not once been a single legend saying that Yueqi Peak had such an amazingly elegant qianbei on it…
No, I can’t tell him! Once he’d thought through this point, Fu Yuanzhi turned right around and left, leaving an extremely perplexed Yue Hengxing, who glanced at the bird already sleeping sprawled on his pillow, shook his head, and went back to sleep himself.
So it was that Fu Yuanzhi, taking advantage of the moonlight hours, snuck back onto Yueqi Peak. He stepped out just in time for classes to let out at Yundu Palace, and inadvertently found himself running into Class One again. Fu Yuanzhi wasn’t angered in the slightest by this turn of events; he waited for them to finish taunting him, then continued on his way.
He ran up the mountain road he’d taken earlier that day, venting at himself as he did so—I was so rude today, turning and running right in front of Qianbei, I hope he’s not angry with me—
Shit, Qianbei’s bird!
Suddenly, a slender hand appeared out of thin air, and Fu Yuanzhi felt the sensation of warm fingers passing through his hair. He immediately turned his head to discover that the qianbei he’d seen during the day was now standing behind him, pinching a red karrablast* between his fingers. Frowning, he then tossed the bug into the sky.
The karrablast then exploded with a bang, countless sticky, blood-red globs flying all over the place. Before Fu Yuanzhi could react, Qianbei instantly came to his side, reaching out long arms to pull him bodily into his embrace; the scenery in front of him blurred, and next thing he knew, Fu Yuanzhi found himself appearing by a water pavilion.
Gong Zhu was still busily banging on the system: “Why didn’t you tell me that bug would explode?”
System: […That was a red phosphorus lid bug from the Fuqiu Desert. Seeing how casually you grabbed it, I mistakenly thought you knew it would explode. Besides, Host, you should know that if I give you too many setting details at once, you definitely won’t remember a single one of them!]
“The Fuqiu Desert? It’s all mountains around here, so that sounds like it must be really far away.” Gong Zhu said, “But are you telling me that you making things hard for me by keeping me guessing actually had a reason behind it?”
The fright Fu Yuanzhi just suffered was no small one, either—not only could this bug explode, but the spiritual pressure its explosion created could blast toxins into one’s meridians. On top of that, in his hydrology and geography class, the professor had said this kind of red beetle was a demonic bug from the desert; it was absolutely not something that should exist in this area.
The youth couldn’t help but snort coldly at that—it was probably that bunch from Class One again.
“You have this disciple’s thanks, Qianbei.” Fu Yuanzhi turned around, wiping the disdainful expression off his face, his voice filled with nothing but the utmost respect.
Gong Zhu, meanwhile, stared at him. Hrm…schoolyard bullying in the cultivation world? This kid does have a gentle appearance that makes him look particularly bullyable…ai! Da-Ju!
Just as he was thinking to himself, a huge, orange, fat rabbit leapt down from the bookshelf, slamming right into the middle of Fu Yuanzhi’s back and knocking him to the ground.
That fat rabbit even used its butt to hold down Fu Yuanzhi, perked up its ears, and directed a cute look at Gong Zhu.
Gong Zhu…Gong Zhu very unkindly burst into laughter.
Fu Yuanzhi blushed as he struggled to push that fat bottom off of himself. Just as he was about to get up, however, he found himself face-to-face with a family of squirrels.
And so…Gong Zhu laughed even more happily than before.
“…Qianbei…” Fu Yuanzhi lifted his head with a hurt look on his face, but upon seeing Qianbei’s eyes curving happily in his attempts to curb his laughter, he couldn’t help laughing foolishly along.
[In view of the fact that this unknown character has twice trespassed onto Yueqi Peak, this system will scan the target: Fu Yuanzhi. Scan complete, it has been discovered that the target is carrying one energy-storing spirit stone, one soul-subduing cloud pattern talisman, and one brocade pouch. Preliminary judgment…hostile! Suggestion to Host: Kill him!]
Gong Zhu nearly wanted to uninstall the system at this point. Next you’re going to tell me you’re secretly a demon lord system or something.
The system was still kicking up a ruckus, even going so far as to make a loud droning noise in imitation of an air raid siren. The decibels were far too high, causing Gong Zhu’s expression to darken on the spot; this in turn startled Fu Yuanzhi, who immediately started speaking in a respectful yet high-speed tone: “Please calm down, Qianbei, and forgive this disciple for his reckless behavior today! It was simply because I received a secret command from the zhangmen to ask that you assist with an important matter, that I came here in the middle of the night; I beg your forgiveness for disturbing you!”
What Gong Zhu heard: “Qianbei…bibibibababa…disciple…lalalalaooooojiji…”
“System, stop yelling. He’s talking too fast for me to understand, gimme a translation of what he said.”
System: [He holds ill intentions. System has issued a quest: Kill the malicious lower sect disciple.]
Gong Zhu: I’ve perceived the malice of the world.
…
In Yunmeng Audience Hall on the main peak of Yunmeng Sky Palace, Yin Ming, hallmaster of the Hall of Judgment, stood at the bottom of the steps with lowered head. The zhangmen of Yunmeng Sky Palace stood in silence in the middle of the hall; before him was the brightly shining core of Yundu Palace’s grand array, within which was a mini Yundu Palace with dimensions under a foot in length. Glittering light emanated from above the mini Yundu Palace, the refraction changing the zhangmen’s white clothes into a motley of rainbow colors.
The zhangmen slowly reached out a hand. Just as his fingertip was about to touch the mini Yundu Palace, a clear light burst out, instantly repelling his finger. The resulting red welt on his slender fingertip disappeared as quickly as it had come.
“Zhangmen!”
“It’s all right.” The zhangmen quietly withdrew his hand. After a moment, he then asked, “Have you found someone to go to Yueqi Peak?”
“Yes, an enforcer reported that he picked a random Class Nine lower sect disciple who had missed class.”
The zhangmen looked back at him: “And that disciple went in?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yueqi Peak’s grand array didn’t stop them?”
Hallmaster Yin Ming was puzzled by the zhangmen’s question: “That disciple was carrying your mountain entry token, of course they went in.”
“…The mountain entry token can pass through the restrictions on the outer perimeter, but if the one within the mountain locked it down himself, not even a hundred tokens—or even my going there myself—could enter Yueqi Peak.” The zhangmen gazed at Yin Ming before him as he continued, “It has only been a thousand years since you joined the sect; there are some things you do not know, nor is there any need for you to know. Keep an eye on that lower sect disciple for me. If anything goes wrong, deal with it as you wish.”
“Understood. But there…there is one thing this disciple does not understand.” Yin Ming lifted his head, saying, “Who exactly is being detained within the grand array on Yueqi Peak?”
The zhangmen lowered his head, the refracted lights from the little Yundu Palace making it difficult to read the expression on his face. He stared at Yin Ming for a long time before slowly answering:
“The master of Yunmeng Sky Palace.”
Chapter 4: Are you going to eat me?
Jun. 11th, 2025 12:54 pmrikoren posting in keslationsAt the top of the mountain, the one whom legends described as terrifying in appearance, who was neither a vicious beast nor a demonic cultivator, was happily patting a boulder. There were two characters on this boulder, which he’d just learned to recognize today—
“Yueqi”.
#I learned something new I’m so happy#
The characters were carved in a spot located a very long walk’s distance below his residence, half-hidden in the hazy sea of clouds. Gong Zhu stood barefoot on the ice-cold rock of the mountain, using his hands to make measurements from a distance. Each of those big characters was taller than him, each stroke powerful and bold, the penmanship still retaining such a forceful air that it seemed as if the characters could go flying off at a moment’s notice; though it was written with the “qi” for “rest”, this handwriting lacked even an iota of the leisure you’d expect for a place of relaxation.
So cool!
“My guess is ‘I’ wrote this in the past.” Gong Zhu gesticulated at the characters for quite a long while before sighing, “If you had me try writing it again now, the resulting chicken scratch would give me away on the spot!”
The system could no longer endure this constant fear of exposure: [You won’t give yourself away…you’ve merely been summoned back to your previous…is all…]
Hm, is this system from the Bureau of Secrets*? Holding back halfway through the sentence, does it think I’m deaf?
Although— “So my deduction was correct? I’m definitely a bigshot, a sect master or something.” Gong Zhu nodded at his own words. This isn’t anything new; whether it’s Jinjiang or *****dian, regardless of which transmigration trope you’re looking at, you always transmigrate into a character with a bit of a story behind them. I’ve never heard of anyone transmigrating into a cannon fodder character who dies in three minutes…although…I get the feeling that the system is noticeably…indignant? Don’t tell me a rip-off system like you wishes its host was an outer sect kitchen employee?
The system caught wind of Gong Zhu’s thoughts, and practically blurted out, [That’s right! You are…and yet they dared…]
The way it managed to stop itself in time was exactly as if it were under interrogation, a stroke of the whip extracting half a sentence from its lips before it managed to grit its teeth and resist saying more.
And so, relying on his plentiful experience in reading online web novels, Gong Zhu came to the firm understanding—that something was up here!
Curious, he asked with the patience of a teacher, “System, come, tell me my story.”
The system maintained its usual silence.
So Gong Zhu stopped paying attention to it, as was his custom, and leapt back onto the cliff. He’d fully mastered this sort of free-traveling cultivation skill by now. It basically took just one blink to go from the cliff to the water pavilion, and if he wanted to fly farther, he just needed to blink harder; but he didn’t dare attempt heading down the mountain—
Because he still couldn’t speak well!
Life in the cultivation world was extremely pleasant. There was no roll call, dormitory inspection, CET-4 or CET-6*; the air was nice and the scenery was beautiful; even his phone addiction was cured without any effort on his part. Aside from brushing up on his language skills, Gong Zhu had also spared some time to study magic and things during his time here. However, at one point he accidentally cleaved a cliff the size of a two-story building into a pile of dust, and smashed open a crater along with it. It didn’t much matter that he’d scared himself; the important thing was that the incident had scared the baby bird into covering his shoulder with poop, and from that day onward, Gong Zhu never tried casually experimenting with magic again.
Let’s stick to the literary arts before getting to the martial—bird shit is hard to wash off.
……
Yueqi Peak was an extremely ordinary isolated peak amidst those along the 800-li Yunze River. The distance to which Yunmeng Sky Palace had expanded its territory since the sect’s founding could no longer be calculated at this point, but when the sky palace was first completed in the very beginning, the sky was filled with rosy clouds, and the iconic building that was Yundu Palace sat right there amidst the sea of clouds above the Yunze River. In all the countless years it had seen come and go, every new addition to the sect’s ranks had stepped upon the cloud stairs which led up to Yundu Palace; of those people, over half had lost their footing and fallen at some point.
The upper sect Daoists with high cultivation had no need for sleep; the sky was therefore far from peaceful in the dawn hours, with only outer sect newcomers sleeping soundly in their rooms.
The cloud stairs and Yueqi Peak were in opposite directions. Fu Yuanzhi got up first thing in the morning, got dressed, and prepared to quietly sneak out so that he could avoid Yue Henxing’s nagging; his roommate was sleeping like a log, and still managed to mumble in his sleep, “Oh Yuanzhi, it’s just too tragic to think that you were eaten, there’s not even a morsel of you left…”
Fu Yuanzhi: “…”
After shutting the door behind him, he thought for a moment, then worriedly cracked it open again to add an extra sealing talisman to his roommate’s irrepressibly smelly feet, as a precaution in case the overwhelming stench got him tossed out of Yundu Palace…though on second thought, whether the guy would go to class in the first place was a question in and of itself.
Unfortunately, Fu Yuanzhi still couldn’t avoid getting discovered when passing through the square. Quite a few of the young lord of Yujing’s followers were there hooting and jeering at him, telling him he should never expect to be able to smoothly make it to class at Yundu Palace ever in this lifetime. The young lord of Yujing, meanwhile, was entirely unmoved by the scene; he merely stood in a corner of the square, looking over his class schedule.
The Hall of Judgment teacher patrolling this area was watching them with an evil glint in his eyes, waiting for someone to make the first move, at which point he could catch them and toss them onto Yinghui Peak to copy books and reflect on their mistakes.
So Fu Yuanzhi cordially greeted them without the slightest hint of anger, then made a quick getaway to save his own skin.
The sight of people grew gradually more scarce along the path to Yueqi Peak; even the occasional upper sect shixiong or shijie would carefully and evasively stick to the border of the area as they flew overhead. The sight of this scene led Fu Yuanzhi, who originally hadn’t believed in those bloody rumors, to start feeling a little nervous despite himself.
…Was it just his imagination, or were the trees here much taller than normal? Even the shrubbery looked extraordinarily sinister.
On top of that, outer disciples were also forbidden from flying—it wasn’t like he wanted to get tossed off the cloud stairs every day, but after entering the sect he’d had a flight-prohibiting ban placed on him, so that no matter the situation he’d only be able to run on his own two legs. Even if he were able to fly across the clouds before, with a flight-prohibiting ban placed on him, he had no other option but to obediently keep both feet on the ground. If something deadly resided on Yueqi Peak, there was no way this pair of legs could get him very far.
Forget it, he consoled himself: A proper immortal sect would never use disciples as a “blood sacrifice”…right?
Moreover, Fu Yuanzhi also couldn’t help wondering: What sort of mysterious mission would need him, a lower sect disciple, to do it? Though it definitely wasn’t anything good; if it was, with so many people in Class One—a good number of which were treated basically the same as the inner sect disciples—there wouldn’t be any point in turning to a guy like him, who was about to drop into Class Ten any day now.
With a sigh, he forced himself to stop thinking about big bloody mouths and continue trekking onward.
The restrictions began far below Yueqi Peak, but with the token on hand, Fu Yuanzhi didn’t feel anything peculiar; by the time he remembered Yueqi Peak even had a barrier, he’d already passed through the invisible grand mountain-locking array.
There was a very big difference between what the scenery looked like, and how it had looked in his imagination. Yueqi Peak was rife with natural beauty, with lush vegetation and murmuring streams full of particularly brightly-colored carp; this was far from the mountains of corpses and seas of blood described in the rumors. Sometimes he’d find a dull-witted rabbit or squirrel by his feet, rolling past like fuzzy balls of fur. None of them knew to hide upon seeing Fu Yuanzhi, and all of them, even the occasional big-headed goose which emerged from the bushes, was spherically fat without exception.
How…even that sparrow over there is round…
Fu Yuanzhi walked up the mountain in a daze. The farther he ascended, the more he could feel the suppressive force of the grand mountain-locking array obstructing the spiritual power in his body; not only was he unable to fly, but now it even felt as if each breath he took made his chest hurt. This grand mountain-locking array was a specialty of Yunmeng Sky Palace: the greater your spiritual power and cultivation, the stronger the suppression you were subjected to. Fu Yuanzhi had heard a passing mention of it from the professor in his array formation class, but while arrays like this were formidable, they were useless in actual combat; as such, it wasn’t a part of their outer disciple elementary-level curriculum, as forming arrays was complicated, time-consuming, and useful only for locking people away.
So…was there some thousand-year-old monster locked up here on Yueqi Peak? The kind that ate tender young disciples?
Not good, he’d been influenced by all of Yue Henxing’s mutterings—the image of him struggling fruitlessly as he slid down some creature’s throat and into its stomach appeared once more in his mind.
He rubbed his arms to ward off a full-body chill, feeling as if something were peeking at him from some unknown corner.
Fu Yuanzhi cautiously made his way around a bend by a mountain stream; he’d been walking for most of the day by now, and was so tired that he needed to lean against the cliff to catch his breath. He’d come far enough that he could now see the characters Yueqi carved vigorously into a boulder just ahead, but before he could breathe a sigh of relief, his body tensed even more nervously than before—the ground right beside the Yueqi characters was covered in a mess of scattered rocks, the largest of them barely the size of his palm, and the smallest so miniscule that they’d probably already blown away on the wind.
This area was originally bare rock, so the lines of messy scratches were clearly visible, carved with such force that they seemed close to penetrating straight through the mountain; they looked neither like the claw marks of beasts, nor like scratches made by sharp weapons.
…They were more like…like an explosion of unstable spiritual power?
Don’t tell me there really is something dangerous in the forbidden ground! The thought made Fu Yuanzhi go weak at the knees. His cultivation was only so-so to begin with, and within the grand mountain-locking array he couldn’t so much as squeeze out a spark of fire; all he could do was pray.
It was here that Fu Yuanzhi remembered the cloth pouch he’d received the day before. He hurriedly opened it up to find a rolled-up piece of thin paper, upon which was written:
“Have the person atop the peak fill this spirit stone with spiritual power.”
The person atop the peak?
Fu Yuanzhi took out the dusty gray spirit stone. The note in his hand dissolved into dark smoke after he finished reading it. Feeling a tightness in his throat, he took a moment to try to quash his nerves.
Yueqi Peak’s forbidden ground…had someone imprisoned in it? So then, was the mess here the work of that mysterious person?
But how come he’d never heard of Yunmeng Sky Palace having any bigshot demonic cultivators locked up on its grounds? The whereabouts of all those well known enough to be unavoidable names in exams were all perfectly well-documented, plus the yao clans were living in relative harmony with the Daoists these days. The likelihood of it being some yao clan saint wasn’t particularly high, either…whichever way he looked at them, the marks on this cliff face were really dangerous—whoever did it was definitely no benign old man.
The pounding of his heart was now the same deafening volume as when Yue Henxing kicked the bed in the middle of the night.
There was nothing more terrifying than the unknown; in that short stretch of mountain path, Fu Yuanzhi had already imagined a million different possibilities, with his fate being a tragic one in every single one of them. A fresh Fu Yuanzhi was delivering himself right to his killer’s door, with no idea what exactly was locked away in the forbidden ground, or what method it would use to ruthlessly slaughter him.
Climbing the mountain one step at a time, Fu Yuanzhi felt like his back was stuck full of needles and getting hit with gusts of cold wind. Looking again at the chubby animals by the side of the path, he couldn’t help wondering, were they food reserves being raised by whatever vicious beast or demonic cultivator was living on the peak? And how was he, who was now no different from an average mortal, supposed to make him obediently charge up the spirit stone?
…If it weren’t for the fact he had some tricks up his sleeve that young disciples from Chuxin Palace shouldn’t be able to use…
Hit with the acute sensation that something was wrong, Fu Yuanzhi’s entire body stiffened, feeling as if the whole way here…someone had been watching him. This feeling had been getting increasingly stronger as well, to the point that he could even sense the heat of someone’s gaze focused on the back of his neck.
He cautiously turned to look behind him, almost able to hear the audible creak of his neck as he did so.
And then…and then the person who’d been peeking at him this whole time could no longer hold back the soft laugh that emitted from his lips.
“Ah—” Fu Yuanzhi let out a tiny scream before immediately covering his mouth with both hands, his eyes comically wide.
Good heavens…
—If this is the monster in the forbidden ground, then getting eaten will totally have been worth it!
Fu Yuanzhi abruptly shook his head in an attempt to rid it of the strange thoughts that had suddenly filled it in that instant, only to hear another laugh.
It was as if…someone were poking his heart with a feather. Fu Yuanzhi stood frozen to the spot, feeling the temperature of his face steadily rising…it was just, the person before him…was so attractive it should be illegal! Or did all demonic cultivators know a thing or two about bewitching people?
Yeah that’s right, I heard that demonic cultivators have to do a little seduction first before eating people’s souls, in order to really enjoy their flavor!
Fu Yuanzhi saw that someone had appeared on one of the trees behind him—a young man, probably a few years older than him, with green clothes and jet-black hair. His appearance was just like the verdant, solitary peak they were on, but the smile yet to fade from his lips transformed him into a spring breeze at dusk, awe-inspiring yet not chilling; he leaned back against the tree branch, looking down at Fu Yuanzhi with a smiling expression half-hidden behind a hanging curtain of black hair. Seeing his somewhat embarrassed figure reflected in those glimmering eyes, Fu Yuanzhi awkwardly turned his gaze away, only to inadvertently catch sight of the young man’s casually hanging, pale-skinned toes, and consequently became even more at a loss for words than before.
“I…you…ah…” Fu Yuanzhi gaped, then immediately wanted to give himself a couple hard slaps—why was he suddenly stuttering all of a sudden?
So it was that for some inexplicable reason, Fu Yuanzhi held out both of his arms and stupidly asked, “Do you want to eat these?”
Ugh!
“Hm?” The young man tilted his head slightly, eyes filled with astonishment.
Fu Yuanzhi’s face instantly turned a dazzlingly brilliant shade of red.
<= PREV · HOME · NEXT =>
“Yueqi”.
#I learned something new I’m so happy#
The characters were carved in a spot located a very long walk’s distance below his residence, half-hidden in the hazy sea of clouds. Gong Zhu stood barefoot on the ice-cold rock of the mountain, using his hands to make measurements from a distance. Each of those big characters was taller than him, each stroke powerful and bold, the penmanship still retaining such a forceful air that it seemed as if the characters could go flying off at a moment’s notice; though it was written with the “qi” for “rest”, this handwriting lacked even an iota of the leisure you’d expect for a place of relaxation.
So cool!
“My guess is ‘I’ wrote this in the past.” Gong Zhu gesticulated at the characters for quite a long while before sighing, “If you had me try writing it again now, the resulting chicken scratch would give me away on the spot!”
The system could no longer endure this constant fear of exposure: [You won’t give yourself away…you’ve merely been summoned back to your previous…is all…]
Hm, is this system from the Bureau of Secrets*? Holding back halfway through the sentence, does it think I’m deaf?
Although— “So my deduction was correct? I’m definitely a bigshot, a sect master or something.” Gong Zhu nodded at his own words. This isn’t anything new; whether it’s Jinjiang or *****dian, regardless of which transmigration trope you’re looking at, you always transmigrate into a character with a bit of a story behind them. I’ve never heard of anyone transmigrating into a cannon fodder character who dies in three minutes…although…I get the feeling that the system is noticeably…indignant? Don’t tell me a rip-off system like you wishes its host was an outer sect kitchen employee?
The system caught wind of Gong Zhu’s thoughts, and practically blurted out, [That’s right! You are…and yet they dared…]
The way it managed to stop itself in time was exactly as if it were under interrogation, a stroke of the whip extracting half a sentence from its lips before it managed to grit its teeth and resist saying more.
And so, relying on his plentiful experience in reading online web novels, Gong Zhu came to the firm understanding—that something was up here!
Curious, he asked with the patience of a teacher, “System, come, tell me my story.”
The system maintained its usual silence.
So Gong Zhu stopped paying attention to it, as was his custom, and leapt back onto the cliff. He’d fully mastered this sort of free-traveling cultivation skill by now. It basically took just one blink to go from the cliff to the water pavilion, and if he wanted to fly farther, he just needed to blink harder; but he didn’t dare attempt heading down the mountain—
Because he still couldn’t speak well!
Life in the cultivation world was extremely pleasant. There was no roll call, dormitory inspection, CET-4 or CET-6*; the air was nice and the scenery was beautiful; even his phone addiction was cured without any effort on his part. Aside from brushing up on his language skills, Gong Zhu had also spared some time to study magic and things during his time here. However, at one point he accidentally cleaved a cliff the size of a two-story building into a pile of dust, and smashed open a crater along with it. It didn’t much matter that he’d scared himself; the important thing was that the incident had scared the baby bird into covering his shoulder with poop, and from that day onward, Gong Zhu never tried casually experimenting with magic again.
Let’s stick to the literary arts before getting to the martial—bird shit is hard to wash off.
……
Yueqi Peak was an extremely ordinary isolated peak amidst those along the 800-li Yunze River. The distance to which Yunmeng Sky Palace had expanded its territory since the sect’s founding could no longer be calculated at this point, but when the sky palace was first completed in the very beginning, the sky was filled with rosy clouds, and the iconic building that was Yundu Palace sat right there amidst the sea of clouds above the Yunze River. In all the countless years it had seen come and go, every new addition to the sect’s ranks had stepped upon the cloud stairs which led up to Yundu Palace; of those people, over half had lost their footing and fallen at some point.
The upper sect Daoists with high cultivation had no need for sleep; the sky was therefore far from peaceful in the dawn hours, with only outer sect newcomers sleeping soundly in their rooms.
The cloud stairs and Yueqi Peak were in opposite directions. Fu Yuanzhi got up first thing in the morning, got dressed, and prepared to quietly sneak out so that he could avoid Yue Henxing’s nagging; his roommate was sleeping like a log, and still managed to mumble in his sleep, “Oh Yuanzhi, it’s just too tragic to think that you were eaten, there’s not even a morsel of you left…”
Fu Yuanzhi: “…”
After shutting the door behind him, he thought for a moment, then worriedly cracked it open again to add an extra sealing talisman to his roommate’s irrepressibly smelly feet, as a precaution in case the overwhelming stench got him tossed out of Yundu Palace…though on second thought, whether the guy would go to class in the first place was a question in and of itself.
Unfortunately, Fu Yuanzhi still couldn’t avoid getting discovered when passing through the square. Quite a few of the young lord of Yujing’s followers were there hooting and jeering at him, telling him he should never expect to be able to smoothly make it to class at Yundu Palace ever in this lifetime. The young lord of Yujing, meanwhile, was entirely unmoved by the scene; he merely stood in a corner of the square, looking over his class schedule.
The Hall of Judgment teacher patrolling this area was watching them with an evil glint in his eyes, waiting for someone to make the first move, at which point he could catch them and toss them onto Yinghui Peak to copy books and reflect on their mistakes.
So Fu Yuanzhi cordially greeted them without the slightest hint of anger, then made a quick getaway to save his own skin.
The sight of people grew gradually more scarce along the path to Yueqi Peak; even the occasional upper sect shixiong or shijie would carefully and evasively stick to the border of the area as they flew overhead. The sight of this scene led Fu Yuanzhi, who originally hadn’t believed in those bloody rumors, to start feeling a little nervous despite himself.
…Was it just his imagination, or were the trees here much taller than normal? Even the shrubbery looked extraordinarily sinister.
On top of that, outer disciples were also forbidden from flying—it wasn’t like he wanted to get tossed off the cloud stairs every day, but after entering the sect he’d had a flight-prohibiting ban placed on him, so that no matter the situation he’d only be able to run on his own two legs. Even if he were able to fly across the clouds before, with a flight-prohibiting ban placed on him, he had no other option but to obediently keep both feet on the ground. If something deadly resided on Yueqi Peak, there was no way this pair of legs could get him very far.
Forget it, he consoled himself: A proper immortal sect would never use disciples as a “blood sacrifice”…right?
Moreover, Fu Yuanzhi also couldn’t help wondering: What sort of mysterious mission would need him, a lower sect disciple, to do it? Though it definitely wasn’t anything good; if it was, with so many people in Class One—a good number of which were treated basically the same as the inner sect disciples—there wouldn’t be any point in turning to a guy like him, who was about to drop into Class Ten any day now.
With a sigh, he forced himself to stop thinking about big bloody mouths and continue trekking onward.
The restrictions began far below Yueqi Peak, but with the token on hand, Fu Yuanzhi didn’t feel anything peculiar; by the time he remembered Yueqi Peak even had a barrier, he’d already passed through the invisible grand mountain-locking array.
There was a very big difference between what the scenery looked like, and how it had looked in his imagination. Yueqi Peak was rife with natural beauty, with lush vegetation and murmuring streams full of particularly brightly-colored carp; this was far from the mountains of corpses and seas of blood described in the rumors. Sometimes he’d find a dull-witted rabbit or squirrel by his feet, rolling past like fuzzy balls of fur. None of them knew to hide upon seeing Fu Yuanzhi, and all of them, even the occasional big-headed goose which emerged from the bushes, was spherically fat without exception.
How…even that sparrow over there is round…
Fu Yuanzhi walked up the mountain in a daze. The farther he ascended, the more he could feel the suppressive force of the grand mountain-locking array obstructing the spiritual power in his body; not only was he unable to fly, but now it even felt as if each breath he took made his chest hurt. This grand mountain-locking array was a specialty of Yunmeng Sky Palace: the greater your spiritual power and cultivation, the stronger the suppression you were subjected to. Fu Yuanzhi had heard a passing mention of it from the professor in his array formation class, but while arrays like this were formidable, they were useless in actual combat; as such, it wasn’t a part of their outer disciple elementary-level curriculum, as forming arrays was complicated, time-consuming, and useful only for locking people away.
So…was there some thousand-year-old monster locked up here on Yueqi Peak? The kind that ate tender young disciples?
Not good, he’d been influenced by all of Yue Henxing’s mutterings—the image of him struggling fruitlessly as he slid down some creature’s throat and into its stomach appeared once more in his mind.
He rubbed his arms to ward off a full-body chill, feeling as if something were peeking at him from some unknown corner.
Fu Yuanzhi cautiously made his way around a bend by a mountain stream; he’d been walking for most of the day by now, and was so tired that he needed to lean against the cliff to catch his breath. He’d come far enough that he could now see the characters Yueqi carved vigorously into a boulder just ahead, but before he could breathe a sigh of relief, his body tensed even more nervously than before—the ground right beside the Yueqi characters was covered in a mess of scattered rocks, the largest of them barely the size of his palm, and the smallest so miniscule that they’d probably already blown away on the wind.
This area was originally bare rock, so the lines of messy scratches were clearly visible, carved with such force that they seemed close to penetrating straight through the mountain; they looked neither like the claw marks of beasts, nor like scratches made by sharp weapons.
…They were more like…like an explosion of unstable spiritual power?
Don’t tell me there really is something dangerous in the forbidden ground! The thought made Fu Yuanzhi go weak at the knees. His cultivation was only so-so to begin with, and within the grand mountain-locking array he couldn’t so much as squeeze out a spark of fire; all he could do was pray.
It was here that Fu Yuanzhi remembered the cloth pouch he’d received the day before. He hurriedly opened it up to find a rolled-up piece of thin paper, upon which was written:
“Have the person atop the peak fill this spirit stone with spiritual power.”
The person atop the peak?
Fu Yuanzhi took out the dusty gray spirit stone. The note in his hand dissolved into dark smoke after he finished reading it. Feeling a tightness in his throat, he took a moment to try to quash his nerves.
Yueqi Peak’s forbidden ground…had someone imprisoned in it? So then, was the mess here the work of that mysterious person?
But how come he’d never heard of Yunmeng Sky Palace having any bigshot demonic cultivators locked up on its grounds? The whereabouts of all those well known enough to be unavoidable names in exams were all perfectly well-documented, plus the yao clans were living in relative harmony with the Daoists these days. The likelihood of it being some yao clan saint wasn’t particularly high, either…whichever way he looked at them, the marks on this cliff face were really dangerous—whoever did it was definitely no benign old man.
The pounding of his heart was now the same deafening volume as when Yue Henxing kicked the bed in the middle of the night.
There was nothing more terrifying than the unknown; in that short stretch of mountain path, Fu Yuanzhi had already imagined a million different possibilities, with his fate being a tragic one in every single one of them. A fresh Fu Yuanzhi was delivering himself right to his killer’s door, with no idea what exactly was locked away in the forbidden ground, or what method it would use to ruthlessly slaughter him.
Climbing the mountain one step at a time, Fu Yuanzhi felt like his back was stuck full of needles and getting hit with gusts of cold wind. Looking again at the chubby animals by the side of the path, he couldn’t help wondering, were they food reserves being raised by whatever vicious beast or demonic cultivator was living on the peak? And how was he, who was now no different from an average mortal, supposed to make him obediently charge up the spirit stone?
…If it weren’t for the fact he had some tricks up his sleeve that young disciples from Chuxin Palace shouldn’t be able to use…
Hit with the acute sensation that something was wrong, Fu Yuanzhi’s entire body stiffened, feeling as if the whole way here…someone had been watching him. This feeling had been getting increasingly stronger as well, to the point that he could even sense the heat of someone’s gaze focused on the back of his neck.
He cautiously turned to look behind him, almost able to hear the audible creak of his neck as he did so.
And then…and then the person who’d been peeking at him this whole time could no longer hold back the soft laugh that emitted from his lips.
“Ah—” Fu Yuanzhi let out a tiny scream before immediately covering his mouth with both hands, his eyes comically wide.
Good heavens…
—If this is the monster in the forbidden ground, then getting eaten will totally have been worth it!
Fu Yuanzhi abruptly shook his head in an attempt to rid it of the strange thoughts that had suddenly filled it in that instant, only to hear another laugh.
It was as if…someone were poking his heart with a feather. Fu Yuanzhi stood frozen to the spot, feeling the temperature of his face steadily rising…it was just, the person before him…was so attractive it should be illegal! Or did all demonic cultivators know a thing or two about bewitching people?
Yeah that’s right, I heard that demonic cultivators have to do a little seduction first before eating people’s souls, in order to really enjoy their flavor!
Fu Yuanzhi saw that someone had appeared on one of the trees behind him—a young man, probably a few years older than him, with green clothes and jet-black hair. His appearance was just like the verdant, solitary peak they were on, but the smile yet to fade from his lips transformed him into a spring breeze at dusk, awe-inspiring yet not chilling; he leaned back against the tree branch, looking down at Fu Yuanzhi with a smiling expression half-hidden behind a hanging curtain of black hair. Seeing his somewhat embarrassed figure reflected in those glimmering eyes, Fu Yuanzhi awkwardly turned his gaze away, only to inadvertently catch sight of the young man’s casually hanging, pale-skinned toes, and consequently became even more at a loss for words than before.
“I…you…ah…” Fu Yuanzhi gaped, then immediately wanted to give himself a couple hard slaps—why was he suddenly stuttering all of a sudden?
So it was that for some inexplicable reason, Fu Yuanzhi held out both of his arms and stupidly asked, “Do you want to eat these?”
Ugh!
“Hm?” The young man tilted his head slightly, eyes filled with astonishment.
Fu Yuanzhi’s face instantly turned a dazzlingly brilliant shade of red.
Chapter 3: Where rumors come from.
Jun. 11th, 2025 12:14 pmrikoren posting in keslationsHe looked all around the water pavilion, but aside from a bamboo bed, a small table and a single bookshelf, the only things Gong Zhu managed to unearth were two sets of clothing, one bamboo flute of a make not much different from those produced on Earth, and—in a corner of the room—a roly-poly orange rabbit, which he’d nearly stepped on before noticing.
It turned out the phrase “absence makes the bun grow wider” was far from a joke: an orange cat being fat was one thing, but how could an orange rabbit be this heavy as well? It practically measured the same length across every dimension!
Seized by sudden inspiration, Gong Zhu deliberately put on a celestial act, tapped the rabbit’s forehead with a finger, and solemnly said, “The visage of thy plump, round form hath brought me great delight. Thus, I shall take thee as mine first guardian beast, and bestow upon thee the name…Da-Ju*!”
System: […]
Da-Ju: zzzZZZ~~~
The orange rabbit was dead to the world; poking it left a little dent in its fur, and when poked a little harder it would even make a snuffling noise. Gong Zhu played with it for a while, then confirmed that it didn’t have a mirror smushed under its butt, at which point he silently walked out of the water pavilion and headed for the lakeside to get a glimpse of his own appearance.
A blurry, green-clothed figure could be seen vaguely reflected within the water of the lake, flickering along with the water’s swaying surface as if he were about to merge into the verdant mountains around him. His long, ink-black hair had been tied back in a casual ponytail; if he were a younger member of the sect, he surely wouldn’t have dared to be so indolent. But most important was his face…
Gong Zhu stared at this image for a very long time before finally convincing himself that this really was his face now. The great god of transmigration had thankfully stayed with the script on this point, not cheaping out on the beauty level he expected.
—No words on Earth could describe how attractive immortals are! T-T-This…this face, this skin, this feel, these features…
[Host, the emotion you are currently experiencing is called narcissism, is that correct?]
“…I see you’re a diligent, inquisitive system who can quickly put newly learned vocabulary to use in creative ways.” Gong Zhu cleared his throat, unable to refute its comment.
[Thanks to Host for the praise.]
“Just stick to being a silent system, okay?”
Gong Zhu focused his gaze on the water’s surface—this face was entirely different from the one he’d had before, without a single similarity to be seen in any of his features. The old Gong Zhu had looked just like your average human being; on Earth, no matter how good a 3D person looked it could never be to an overly exaggerated level, whereas in a cultivation world they were free to grow as they pleased. The person reflected on the water’s surface had soft and delicate features; describing it that way sounded suspiciously like self-praise, but Gong Zhu honestly couldn’t pick out a single flaw in his current self’s appearance.
Yup, I’m definitely satisfied.
Gong Zhu couldn’t resist asking, “Do you know…where the original owner of this body went? Could he have transmigrated into my body?” If you sent a bigshot from the cultivation world to attend classes on Marxism, Leninism, Maoism, Dengism, and materialism…he’d probably fail epically hard.
As always, the system turned mute the second he tried to use it. After what felt like practically half the day, it finally managed to come up with a reply: [This is your body.]
Gong Zhu fully lost any hope that this system could ever be of any use, and decided to treat it as an invisible pet meant only for relieving boredom.
Not that there was any use in thinking about all this off-topic nonsense—his first priority was to learn how to speak. Otherwise if anyone showed up his cover would be blown on the spot, right?
“I’m surprised a know-nothing system like you actually understands languages though.”
[Host, one must still be able to speak the human language.]
…Why did he get the feeling this fraudster system was mocking him?
So it was that in the days that followed, Gong Zhu played the part of a good high school senior, cramming his language studies day and night without rest. He didn’t actually need to sleep, a fact he only realized after studying for a full day without feeling the slightest bit tired; as time passed, he also failed to see anyone coming by to deliver food or drink—of course, he didn’t need to eat or drink either, so Gong Zhu could rest easy on that front at least.
“So if a sect senior like me goes to recruit a disciple, I should be able to pick whichever one I like, right?” Gong Zhu, staring out at the sea of clouds during a break in his studies, also took some time to let himself imagine the future while he was at it.
System: [Host, would it be alright to ask why you are so obsessed with recruiting a disciple?]
“…It’s probably because I saw it in novels before.” Unable to give a better answer, Gong Zhu grabbed a book and sat down with his back against the old pine by the cliff. The squirrel who’d curried favor with him the other day climbed onto his shoulder with a pinecone in its mouth, then started fighting for territory against the baby bird who’d already made itself a long-term resident there.
Fur and feathers flew through the air, even making an innocent victim of the hair at Gong Zhu’s temples.
“That’s enough from you two.” Gong Zhu parted the pair with his fingers, then picked up the squirrel and placed it on his opposite shoulder. The baby bird shook its partially-feathered bottom in triumph at this, stepping on Gong Zhu’s shoulder as it chirped wildly in its tiny baby voice, and making Gong Zhu feel as if…he was a bird stand.
“Ai, someone over there fell again.”
Every once in a while a few of those cloud-hopping disciples would fall down for whatever reason; some of them lost their footing, and the occasional one was squeezed out of the crowd. Gong Zhu cheerfully watched from the cliffside as he said, “Hey…I think that’s the same kid from last time.”
……
The fallen outer disciple was called Fu Yuanzhi, and he’d already lost count of how many times he’d fallen from the cloud stairs in the past half-year.
Time had already passed, and the gates of Yundu Palace waited for no man—once time was up, the grand array would close, and those still outside the gate could only stare at it in defeat. Flying boats then came over to pick up some of the crowded-out disciples. The head boat attendant took one look at him and didn’t so much as harrumph; the two of them were old enough acquaintances by this point that he even knew which room he lived in, dumping him back at his dorm without bothering to ask a single question.
There were a few other disciples who’d also failed to enter Yundu Palace, and after getting tossed down all together by the flying boats, dejectedly made their way back on foot; Yundu Palace’s professors loved it when disciples missed class, always glowing with happiness as they deducted points. Fu Yuanzhi was the only one there who was entirely unfazed, treating it with as much familiarity as a walk in the park.
There was someone else in the room, who didn’t so much as lift his eyelids at the sight of Fu Yuanzhi walking in.
“Got tossed down again, huh?” His roommate rolled over on the bed, saying, “Seriously, that bunch in Class One will probably all get picked up by the various peak heads and elders as soon as they finish their assessments, so what’re they doing blocking people out every day? Especially someone in Class Eight like you, you’re basically not a threat to them at all!”
Fu Yuanzhi closed the door as he replied, “It’s Class Nine now.”
The guy on the bed immediately rolled into a sitting position, eyes wide: “Oh-ho, so you’ve been demoted again? You’re in the same class as me now?”
Fu Yuanzhi very calmly nodded his head: “That’s right. I’ve missed eighteen days of classes just this month, did you think I’d be getting promoted instead?”
“You’ve let people toss you off the cloud stairs eighteen times?” Roommate Yue Henxing clucked in amazement, “My goodness, is Class One that determined to get you eliminated?”
Fu Yuanzhi returned a question instead of an answer: “What about you, why’d you skip again?”
“Didn’t wanna go.” Yue Henxing flopped backwards, falling into his blanket. “My dad forced me to come here in the first place. I never wanted to be here, my dream is to idle away my days having fun ’til the day I die. Next semester I’ll drop to Class Ten, then next year I can pack up my stuff and go off to live my free and unfettered life. What’s so good about cultivation anyway? Just look at yourself and you can see that this immortal sect isn’t any more peaceful than the mortal world.”
Fu Yuanzhi had long grown accustomed to this unmotivated roommate of his. However, he said with a laugh, “Your father won’t let you drop into Class Ten, whereas I’ve got no guarantees for myself.”
Yue Henxing suddenly slammed his fist against the bed with a shout: “Shit! You’re right, the old man could do anything for the sake of the family’s reputation, while your family…you were in the top three in the entrance examinations, and now even some of those guys born in the mortal realm are ahead of you in the rankings. If you get demoted to Class Ten next year, then I’ll really have seen it all! I’ve always said Yunmeng Sky Palace isn’t the same place it used to be—the Yunze River’s overflowing with the same rotten stench as Yujing City for eight hundred li in either direction!”
Fu Yuanzhi shook his head—Class Ten, the worst class among all the freshman classes, was pronounced “gui” according to the tenth of the heavenly stems, and was therefore often called the “ghost class” due to “ghost” having the same pronunciation. There was no Class Ten when the new students were first divided into classes; it wasn’t until the second year that the lowest ranking students in the preceding classes would be reorganized. These preceding classes also had an order to them, however, and so one had to drop through the ten heavenly stems in sequence, one after the other. There were ten levels from Class One (jia) to Class Ten (gui), and Fu Yuanzhi was probably the quickest to drop through them all since the first day of Yunmeng Sky Palace’s founding.
Class Ten wasn’t eligible to participate in the heavenly exams, and so was unable to formally enter the inner sect to study cultivation; if its members didn’t go back where they came from in the future, the best position they could hope for was that of a sweeper, breathing in the metaphorical exhaust left behind by the true immortals flying above their heads day after day.
“How’d you end up offending the young lord of Yujing City, of all people?” It was hard to tell whether Yue Henxing was feeling sympathy or joy over his misfortune as he continued, “Although I can’t stand him either.”
As they were talking, the door was suddenly opened, and a black-clothed inner sect attendant stood looking coldly at the two “underachievers”. His gaze swept over the names embroidered on their chests, after which he tossed Fu Yuanzhi a small pouch and instructed, “No need to go to tomorrow’s classes either; you’re taking this up Yueqi Peak for an errand. It’ll earn you points, so it’s not for nothing.”
As Fu Yuanzhi dazedly accepted the pouch, Yue Henxing cried out, “Where did you say? Yueqi Peak? The place clearly written in the sect rules as a forbidden ground? What, does the young lord of Yujing City have such great influence that even you people from the Hall of Judgment are in cahoots with him now?”
The Hall of Judgment member’s expression cooled: “Is that really how you should be speaking to me?”
“Come on, this is Yueqi Peak you’re talking about.” Yue Henxing lazily replied, “Who was it that told everyone at the entrance ceremony, ‘Yueqi Peak is a forbidden ground within this sect, trespassers enter at risk of their lives et cetera and so forth’? Wasn’t it the hallmaster of your very own Hall of Judgment? For all we know you guys have some kind of terrifying and vicious beast locked up there, and with that little bit of meat he’s got on him, my roommate here’s gonna end up shoved in the cracks between that beast’s teeth if he goes there. Let me be clear here, aside from Fu Yuanzhi, there isn’t anyone else capable of enduring this young master’s stinky feet; I refuse to accept any new roommates!”
While saying this, he even stuck out a bare foot and waved it, its overwhelming stench assaulting the man’s senses just as advertised, smelling simultaneously both sour and spicy to a discerning sniffer, and so powerful that the black-clothed cultivator immediately backed up, pinching his nose.
Amused as he was by this, Fu Yuanzhi also knew that while his roommate acted irresponsible on the surface, he was actually from an influential family, and both his parents were Yunmeng Sky Palace graduates with exceptional skills in cultivation and lots of secret intelligence channels. Judging by how he was trying to stop him from taking on this task, Yueqi Peak’s forbidden ground likely wouldn’t be easy to enter.
The black-clothed cultivator from the Hall of Judgment said with an indignant toss of his sleeves, “Enough with your little tricks! Don’t go assuming that just because we haven’t caught you in the act doesn’t mean the Hall of Judgment doesn’t know how you troublemakers are always sneaking off to Yueqi Peak, and calling it ‘night exploration of the perilous peak’ or something too.”
This time it was Yue Henxing’s turn to be at a loss for words. The Hall of Judgment member then tossed a jade token to Fu Yuanzhi, saying, “You’ll need this pass to get through Yueqi Peak’s grand mountain-locking array. Go first thing tomorrow morning; there’s a note in the pouch that has instructions on what you should do, but it’s currently still locked with a spell, so look at it once you reach the mountain tomorrow. Don’t tell anyone else what you read on it.”
Having said his piece, he didn’t bother staying a single extra moment in that room, turning and running with his nose pinched between his fingers. The Hall of Judgment cultivator was gone just like that, leaving behind a pair of low-level disciples exchanging glances in the dorm; after what seemed like an eternity, Fu Yuanzhi—pinching a breath-holding talisman between his fingers—said, “Yue-xiong, withdraw your magical power already, it seriously stinks.”
Yue Henxing had a terribly nauseated look on his face: “Damn, how do you draw breath-holding talismans? Teach me how to draw one, I suck at studying and forgot how to undo this foot-stink spell.”
Fu Yuanzhi: “…”
……
It proved impossible to dispel the odor of feet from the room, leaving Yue Henxing with no choice but to put his shoes on, stick a pair of spell-binding talismans on his feet, and dejectedly follow Fu Yuanzhi out to the square.
Nearly all of those low-level disciples who’d yet to pass the heavenly exam selections lived in this complex, in the center of which was a huge, square-shaped public square. There were rows of disciple dorms on the left and right sides of the square, while up ahead was a grand archway that rose up into the clouds. The building at the front of the square was meant for disciples to do homework in, and as such was given the name “Chuxin Palace”, referring to a beginner’s aspirations for learning.
Yunmeng Palace accepted new members once every eight years, but those who entered the sect still needed to go through yearly assessments. Those who dropped into Class Ten and couldn’t claw their way back up again would be tossed out each year, which was why they accumulated new members for sixteen years before having the one heavenly examination, and even then, by the time the heavenly exams rolled around the amount of participants would total less than half of both classes of new disciples combined. Add to that how strict the exams were, and over time people eventually took to calling it “ascension”.
At this time of day, the only people you’d find in Chuxin Palace were those who’d already given up on that impossible dream of ascending to the heavens.
As such, Fu Yuanzhi attracted quite a lot of attention upon walking in the door. Everyone knew the proctors had been full of praise for him when he first entered the sect, only to drop continuously through the ranks over the few years since he joined; he’d come in with a halo, yet now he was in a more miserable position than any of them.
It was to a point where they couldn’t even be bothered to avoid the subject around him, instead saying right in front of his face, “Ai, have you heard? Fu Yuanzhi’s going to Yueqi Peak.”
“Ah? You gotta be kidding me, Fu Yuanzhi’s gonna become a blood sacrifice!”
“Nonsense, we’re an immortal sect, where are you gonna find demonic cultivators to perform a blood sacrifice ceremony?”
The previous disciple exaggeratedly rolled his eyes: “I hear tell there’s a whole bunch of fiendish demonic cultivators locked up on Yueqi Peak!”
“That’s just a rumor, I heard it’s vicious beasts from ancient times!”
“No no, it’s definitely demonic cultivators!”
“Darling, it doesn’t matter if it’s vicious beasts or demonic cultivators, they all eat people just the same!”
……
The silent Fu Yuanzhi felt as if he had the words “fresh meat” written on his head.
Yue Henxing—unhurriedly following behind Fu Yuanzhi—whispered, “I told you it was that guy from Yujing’s doing, otherwise how would they have found out so quickly that you were tasked with going to Yueqi Peak? The Hall of Judgment member only just left.”
The “guy from Yujing” he mentioned was referring to the young son of the lord of Yujing City. He’d joined the sect at the same time as the two of them, but with his superior social status, he basically had just as much power and influence in the immortal sect as he did at home; some of his sectmates from smaller families even curried favor with him by calling him “Little Lord Yujing”. As for how Fu Yuanzhi had managed to offend this guy—Fu Yuanzhi himself didn’t really know.
Maybe they just didn’t vibe with each other…that was the only answer Fu Yuanzhi could come up with at the moment.
“So what exactly is on Yueqi Peak?” Yue Henxing asked.
“How should I know?” Fu Yuanzhi replied, “I’ll tell you when I come back tomorrow.”
“Whoa…you’re still so optimistic.” Yue Henxing appeared frustrated by his refusal to learn on this front. “If it turns out to be a den of monsters, there won’t be any coming back!”
Fu Yuanzhi casually patted his shoulder: “Don’t exaggerate, all those low-level disciples who snuck into the forbidden ground’s outskirts to explore all came back, didn’t they?”
“They came back, sure,” Yue Henxing muttered, “but not many of them came back in one piece.”
“…Is Yueqi Peak’s forbidden ground really that frightening?” Fu Yuanzhi furrowed his brow as he said, “I remember you participated in a night exploration last year, too.”
“Don’t bring that up. I went for the sake of showing off, but I actually slipped away before we got there, so I didn’t so much as touch Yueqi Peak’s shadow. I hear tell that night was a seriously bloody one, filled with shrieking and howling; of the ones who went on that exploration, a pair from Class Two were the worst off, with their legs cut off at the root, crawling back with their hands. They didn’t get found until the next morning, with a whole trail of blood stretching out behind them—” Yue Henxing sent himself shuddering at his own words, and an exasperated Fu Yuanzhi gave his shoulder another pat upon seeing it.
“When are you going to fix your bad habit of blurting random nonsense?”
“…I’m telling the truth though, just ask around, every story about Yunmeng Sky Palace’s forbidden ground that you can find in novels is always horror-themed. Of all the people who’ve gone into the forbidden ground of Yueqi Peak these past few thousand years, has a single one come out unscathed? There’s definitely something disastrous there; otherwise why would everyone without exception keep their lips shut so tight that even that young master from Yujing doesn’t know what exactly is up there?” Yue Henxing said, “What if you foolishly enter the forbidden ground, only for some vicious beast or somesuch to be sitting there with its bloody jaws opened wide, waiting for you to step in like a delicious meat pie on legs!”
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It turned out the phrase “absence makes the bun grow wider” was far from a joke: an orange cat being fat was one thing, but how could an orange rabbit be this heavy as well? It practically measured the same length across every dimension!
Seized by sudden inspiration, Gong Zhu deliberately put on a celestial act, tapped the rabbit’s forehead with a finger, and solemnly said, “The visage of thy plump, round form hath brought me great delight. Thus, I shall take thee as mine first guardian beast, and bestow upon thee the name…Da-Ju*!”
System: […]
Da-Ju: zzzZZZ~~~
The orange rabbit was dead to the world; poking it left a little dent in its fur, and when poked a little harder it would even make a snuffling noise. Gong Zhu played with it for a while, then confirmed that it didn’t have a mirror smushed under its butt, at which point he silently walked out of the water pavilion and headed for the lakeside to get a glimpse of his own appearance.
A blurry, green-clothed figure could be seen vaguely reflected within the water of the lake, flickering along with the water’s swaying surface as if he were about to merge into the verdant mountains around him. His long, ink-black hair had been tied back in a casual ponytail; if he were a younger member of the sect, he surely wouldn’t have dared to be so indolent. But most important was his face…
Gong Zhu stared at this image for a very long time before finally convincing himself that this really was his face now. The great god of transmigration had thankfully stayed with the script on this point, not cheaping out on the beauty level he expected.
—No words on Earth could describe how attractive immortals are! T-T-This…this face, this skin, this feel, these features…
[Host, the emotion you are currently experiencing is called narcissism, is that correct?]
“…I see you’re a diligent, inquisitive system who can quickly put newly learned vocabulary to use in creative ways.” Gong Zhu cleared his throat, unable to refute its comment.
[Thanks to Host for the praise.]
“Just stick to being a silent system, okay?”
Gong Zhu focused his gaze on the water’s surface—this face was entirely different from the one he’d had before, without a single similarity to be seen in any of his features. The old Gong Zhu had looked just like your average human being; on Earth, no matter how good a 3D person looked it could never be to an overly exaggerated level, whereas in a cultivation world they were free to grow as they pleased. The person reflected on the water’s surface had soft and delicate features; describing it that way sounded suspiciously like self-praise, but Gong Zhu honestly couldn’t pick out a single flaw in his current self’s appearance.
Yup, I’m definitely satisfied.
Gong Zhu couldn’t resist asking, “Do you know…where the original owner of this body went? Could he have transmigrated into my body?” If you sent a bigshot from the cultivation world to attend classes on Marxism, Leninism, Maoism, Dengism, and materialism…he’d probably fail epically hard.
As always, the system turned mute the second he tried to use it. After what felt like practically half the day, it finally managed to come up with a reply: [This is your body.]
Gong Zhu fully lost any hope that this system could ever be of any use, and decided to treat it as an invisible pet meant only for relieving boredom.
Not that there was any use in thinking about all this off-topic nonsense—his first priority was to learn how to speak. Otherwise if anyone showed up his cover would be blown on the spot, right?
“I’m surprised a know-nothing system like you actually understands languages though.”
[Host, one must still be able to speak the human language.]
…Why did he get the feeling this fraudster system was mocking him?
So it was that in the days that followed, Gong Zhu played the part of a good high school senior, cramming his language studies day and night without rest. He didn’t actually need to sleep, a fact he only realized after studying for a full day without feeling the slightest bit tired; as time passed, he also failed to see anyone coming by to deliver food or drink—of course, he didn’t need to eat or drink either, so Gong Zhu could rest easy on that front at least.
“So if a sect senior like me goes to recruit a disciple, I should be able to pick whichever one I like, right?” Gong Zhu, staring out at the sea of clouds during a break in his studies, also took some time to let himself imagine the future while he was at it.
System: [Host, would it be alright to ask why you are so obsessed with recruiting a disciple?]
“…It’s probably because I saw it in novels before.” Unable to give a better answer, Gong Zhu grabbed a book and sat down with his back against the old pine by the cliff. The squirrel who’d curried favor with him the other day climbed onto his shoulder with a pinecone in its mouth, then started fighting for territory against the baby bird who’d already made itself a long-term resident there.
Fur and feathers flew through the air, even making an innocent victim of the hair at Gong Zhu’s temples.
“That’s enough from you two.” Gong Zhu parted the pair with his fingers, then picked up the squirrel and placed it on his opposite shoulder. The baby bird shook its partially-feathered bottom in triumph at this, stepping on Gong Zhu’s shoulder as it chirped wildly in its tiny baby voice, and making Gong Zhu feel as if…he was a bird stand.
“Ai, someone over there fell again.”
Every once in a while a few of those cloud-hopping disciples would fall down for whatever reason; some of them lost their footing, and the occasional one was squeezed out of the crowd. Gong Zhu cheerfully watched from the cliffside as he said, “Hey…I think that’s the same kid from last time.”
……
The fallen outer disciple was called Fu Yuanzhi, and he’d already lost count of how many times he’d fallen from the cloud stairs in the past half-year.
Time had already passed, and the gates of Yundu Palace waited for no man—once time was up, the grand array would close, and those still outside the gate could only stare at it in defeat. Flying boats then came over to pick up some of the crowded-out disciples. The head boat attendant took one look at him and didn’t so much as harrumph; the two of them were old enough acquaintances by this point that he even knew which room he lived in, dumping him back at his dorm without bothering to ask a single question.
There were a few other disciples who’d also failed to enter Yundu Palace, and after getting tossed down all together by the flying boats, dejectedly made their way back on foot; Yundu Palace’s professors loved it when disciples missed class, always glowing with happiness as they deducted points. Fu Yuanzhi was the only one there who was entirely unfazed, treating it with as much familiarity as a walk in the park.
There was someone else in the room, who didn’t so much as lift his eyelids at the sight of Fu Yuanzhi walking in.
“Got tossed down again, huh?” His roommate rolled over on the bed, saying, “Seriously, that bunch in Class One will probably all get picked up by the various peak heads and elders as soon as they finish their assessments, so what’re they doing blocking people out every day? Especially someone in Class Eight like you, you’re basically not a threat to them at all!”
Fu Yuanzhi closed the door as he replied, “It’s Class Nine now.”
The guy on the bed immediately rolled into a sitting position, eyes wide: “Oh-ho, so you’ve been demoted again? You’re in the same class as me now?”
Fu Yuanzhi very calmly nodded his head: “That’s right. I’ve missed eighteen days of classes just this month, did you think I’d be getting promoted instead?”
“You’ve let people toss you off the cloud stairs eighteen times?” Roommate Yue Henxing clucked in amazement, “My goodness, is Class One that determined to get you eliminated?”
Fu Yuanzhi returned a question instead of an answer: “What about you, why’d you skip again?”
“Didn’t wanna go.” Yue Henxing flopped backwards, falling into his blanket. “My dad forced me to come here in the first place. I never wanted to be here, my dream is to idle away my days having fun ’til the day I die. Next semester I’ll drop to Class Ten, then next year I can pack up my stuff and go off to live my free and unfettered life. What’s so good about cultivation anyway? Just look at yourself and you can see that this immortal sect isn’t any more peaceful than the mortal world.”
Fu Yuanzhi had long grown accustomed to this unmotivated roommate of his. However, he said with a laugh, “Your father won’t let you drop into Class Ten, whereas I’ve got no guarantees for myself.”
Yue Henxing suddenly slammed his fist against the bed with a shout: “Shit! You’re right, the old man could do anything for the sake of the family’s reputation, while your family…you were in the top three in the entrance examinations, and now even some of those guys born in the mortal realm are ahead of you in the rankings. If you get demoted to Class Ten next year, then I’ll really have seen it all! I’ve always said Yunmeng Sky Palace isn’t the same place it used to be—the Yunze River’s overflowing with the same rotten stench as Yujing City for eight hundred li in either direction!”
Fu Yuanzhi shook his head—Class Ten, the worst class among all the freshman classes, was pronounced “gui” according to the tenth of the heavenly stems, and was therefore often called the “ghost class” due to “ghost” having the same pronunciation. There was no Class Ten when the new students were first divided into classes; it wasn’t until the second year that the lowest ranking students in the preceding classes would be reorganized. These preceding classes also had an order to them, however, and so one had to drop through the ten heavenly stems in sequence, one after the other. There were ten levels from Class One (jia) to Class Ten (gui), and Fu Yuanzhi was probably the quickest to drop through them all since the first day of Yunmeng Sky Palace’s founding.
Class Ten wasn’t eligible to participate in the heavenly exams, and so was unable to formally enter the inner sect to study cultivation; if its members didn’t go back where they came from in the future, the best position they could hope for was that of a sweeper, breathing in the metaphorical exhaust left behind by the true immortals flying above their heads day after day.
“How’d you end up offending the young lord of Yujing City, of all people?” It was hard to tell whether Yue Henxing was feeling sympathy or joy over his misfortune as he continued, “Although I can’t stand him either.”
As they were talking, the door was suddenly opened, and a black-clothed inner sect attendant stood looking coldly at the two “underachievers”. His gaze swept over the names embroidered on their chests, after which he tossed Fu Yuanzhi a small pouch and instructed, “No need to go to tomorrow’s classes either; you’re taking this up Yueqi Peak for an errand. It’ll earn you points, so it’s not for nothing.”
As Fu Yuanzhi dazedly accepted the pouch, Yue Henxing cried out, “Where did you say? Yueqi Peak? The place clearly written in the sect rules as a forbidden ground? What, does the young lord of Yujing City have such great influence that even you people from the Hall of Judgment are in cahoots with him now?”
The Hall of Judgment member’s expression cooled: “Is that really how you should be speaking to me?”
“Come on, this is Yueqi Peak you’re talking about.” Yue Henxing lazily replied, “Who was it that told everyone at the entrance ceremony, ‘Yueqi Peak is a forbidden ground within this sect, trespassers enter at risk of their lives et cetera and so forth’? Wasn’t it the hallmaster of your very own Hall of Judgment? For all we know you guys have some kind of terrifying and vicious beast locked up there, and with that little bit of meat he’s got on him, my roommate here’s gonna end up shoved in the cracks between that beast’s teeth if he goes there. Let me be clear here, aside from Fu Yuanzhi, there isn’t anyone else capable of enduring this young master’s stinky feet; I refuse to accept any new roommates!”
While saying this, he even stuck out a bare foot and waved it, its overwhelming stench assaulting the man’s senses just as advertised, smelling simultaneously both sour and spicy to a discerning sniffer, and so powerful that the black-clothed cultivator immediately backed up, pinching his nose.
Amused as he was by this, Fu Yuanzhi also knew that while his roommate acted irresponsible on the surface, he was actually from an influential family, and both his parents were Yunmeng Sky Palace graduates with exceptional skills in cultivation and lots of secret intelligence channels. Judging by how he was trying to stop him from taking on this task, Yueqi Peak’s forbidden ground likely wouldn’t be easy to enter.
The black-clothed cultivator from the Hall of Judgment said with an indignant toss of his sleeves, “Enough with your little tricks! Don’t go assuming that just because we haven’t caught you in the act doesn’t mean the Hall of Judgment doesn’t know how you troublemakers are always sneaking off to Yueqi Peak, and calling it ‘night exploration of the perilous peak’ or something too.”
This time it was Yue Henxing’s turn to be at a loss for words. The Hall of Judgment member then tossed a jade token to Fu Yuanzhi, saying, “You’ll need this pass to get through Yueqi Peak’s grand mountain-locking array. Go first thing tomorrow morning; there’s a note in the pouch that has instructions on what you should do, but it’s currently still locked with a spell, so look at it once you reach the mountain tomorrow. Don’t tell anyone else what you read on it.”
Having said his piece, he didn’t bother staying a single extra moment in that room, turning and running with his nose pinched between his fingers. The Hall of Judgment cultivator was gone just like that, leaving behind a pair of low-level disciples exchanging glances in the dorm; after what seemed like an eternity, Fu Yuanzhi—pinching a breath-holding talisman between his fingers—said, “Yue-xiong, withdraw your magical power already, it seriously stinks.”
Yue Henxing had a terribly nauseated look on his face: “Damn, how do you draw breath-holding talismans? Teach me how to draw one, I suck at studying and forgot how to undo this foot-stink spell.”
Fu Yuanzhi: “…”
……
It proved impossible to dispel the odor of feet from the room, leaving Yue Henxing with no choice but to put his shoes on, stick a pair of spell-binding talismans on his feet, and dejectedly follow Fu Yuanzhi out to the square.
Nearly all of those low-level disciples who’d yet to pass the heavenly exam selections lived in this complex, in the center of which was a huge, square-shaped public square. There were rows of disciple dorms on the left and right sides of the square, while up ahead was a grand archway that rose up into the clouds. The building at the front of the square was meant for disciples to do homework in, and as such was given the name “Chuxin Palace”, referring to a beginner’s aspirations for learning.
Yunmeng Palace accepted new members once every eight years, but those who entered the sect still needed to go through yearly assessments. Those who dropped into Class Ten and couldn’t claw their way back up again would be tossed out each year, which was why they accumulated new members for sixteen years before having the one heavenly examination, and even then, by the time the heavenly exams rolled around the amount of participants would total less than half of both classes of new disciples combined. Add to that how strict the exams were, and over time people eventually took to calling it “ascension”.
At this time of day, the only people you’d find in Chuxin Palace were those who’d already given up on that impossible dream of ascending to the heavens.
As such, Fu Yuanzhi attracted quite a lot of attention upon walking in the door. Everyone knew the proctors had been full of praise for him when he first entered the sect, only to drop continuously through the ranks over the few years since he joined; he’d come in with a halo, yet now he was in a more miserable position than any of them.
It was to a point where they couldn’t even be bothered to avoid the subject around him, instead saying right in front of his face, “Ai, have you heard? Fu Yuanzhi’s going to Yueqi Peak.”
“Ah? You gotta be kidding me, Fu Yuanzhi’s gonna become a blood sacrifice!”
“Nonsense, we’re an immortal sect, where are you gonna find demonic cultivators to perform a blood sacrifice ceremony?”
The previous disciple exaggeratedly rolled his eyes: “I hear tell there’s a whole bunch of fiendish demonic cultivators locked up on Yueqi Peak!”
“That’s just a rumor, I heard it’s vicious beasts from ancient times!”
“No no, it’s definitely demonic cultivators!”
“Darling, it doesn’t matter if it’s vicious beasts or demonic cultivators, they all eat people just the same!”
……
The silent Fu Yuanzhi felt as if he had the words “fresh meat” written on his head.
Yue Henxing—unhurriedly following behind Fu Yuanzhi—whispered, “I told you it was that guy from Yujing’s doing, otherwise how would they have found out so quickly that you were tasked with going to Yueqi Peak? The Hall of Judgment member only just left.”
The “guy from Yujing” he mentioned was referring to the young son of the lord of Yujing City. He’d joined the sect at the same time as the two of them, but with his superior social status, he basically had just as much power and influence in the immortal sect as he did at home; some of his sectmates from smaller families even curried favor with him by calling him “Little Lord Yujing”. As for how Fu Yuanzhi had managed to offend this guy—Fu Yuanzhi himself didn’t really know.
Maybe they just didn’t vibe with each other…that was the only answer Fu Yuanzhi could come up with at the moment.
“So what exactly is on Yueqi Peak?” Yue Henxing asked.
“How should I know?” Fu Yuanzhi replied, “I’ll tell you when I come back tomorrow.”
“Whoa…you’re still so optimistic.” Yue Henxing appeared frustrated by his refusal to learn on this front. “If it turns out to be a den of monsters, there won’t be any coming back!”
Fu Yuanzhi casually patted his shoulder: “Don’t exaggerate, all those low-level disciples who snuck into the forbidden ground’s outskirts to explore all came back, didn’t they?”
“They came back, sure,” Yue Henxing muttered, “but not many of them came back in one piece.”
“…Is Yueqi Peak’s forbidden ground really that frightening?” Fu Yuanzhi furrowed his brow as he said, “I remember you participated in a night exploration last year, too.”
“Don’t bring that up. I went for the sake of showing off, but I actually slipped away before we got there, so I didn’t so much as touch Yueqi Peak’s shadow. I hear tell that night was a seriously bloody one, filled with shrieking and howling; of the ones who went on that exploration, a pair from Class Two were the worst off, with their legs cut off at the root, crawling back with their hands. They didn’t get found until the next morning, with a whole trail of blood stretching out behind them—” Yue Henxing sent himself shuddering at his own words, and an exasperated Fu Yuanzhi gave his shoulder another pat upon seeing it.
“When are you going to fix your bad habit of blurting random nonsense?”
“…I’m telling the truth though, just ask around, every story about Yunmeng Sky Palace’s forbidden ground that you can find in novels is always horror-themed. Of all the people who’ve gone into the forbidden ground of Yueqi Peak these past few thousand years, has a single one come out unscathed? There’s definitely something disastrous there; otherwise why would everyone without exception keep their lips shut so tight that even that young master from Yujing doesn’t know what exactly is up there?” Yue Henxing said, “What if you foolishly enter the forbidden ground, only for some vicious beast or somesuch to be sitting there with its bloody jaws opened wide, waiting for you to step in like a delicious meat pie on legs!”
Chapter 2: Host, I am your system, let us bring mutual harm to each other!
Jun. 11th, 2025 11:47 amrikoren posting in keslationsThough the system may have dumped a bucket of cold water over Gong Zhu's plans, it was a perfectly reasonable soaking—how could he start fascinating about disciples when he hadn't even figured out who he was yet?
Who am I?
—This was an absolute philosophical problem, the ultimate question of human existence. Gong Zhu was also more-or-less certain by now that he hadn't had the good fortune to transmigrate into a novel or game with a plot he could follow, which meant that there likely wasn't any protagonist halo-wreathed godmode disciple out there waiting for him.
If he wanted a disciple, he could rely only on himself to get one!
Gong Zhu stood observing on the cliffside for a long time, just to be on the safe side. The wind occasionally dispersed the sun-pinked clouds, making visible an unbroken mountain range and the long river winding around it. This magnificently beautiful natural scenery lost out, however, in comparison to the dazzling sight of the various buildings dotting the mountain range; these buildings couldn’t be described with such simple words as “gorgeous” or “spectacular”, because these words in Gong Zhu’s vocabulary were used to describe man-made buildings, whereas the view currently before him truly made him realize—
This realm was no longer the human realm. The danmaku comments flying through Gong Zhu’s mind consisted entirely of two words: Mount Shu*.
Countless figures shuttled back and forth, some soaring through the air while others—just like Gong Zhu had seen in video games and movies back in his previous world—stood on swords or mystic tools he couldn’t currently put a name to. The majority of them, however, were the kind mentioned earlier: jumping happily about amidst the clouds and buildings and mountains. Most of these leaping figures were wearing relatively simple and uniform outfits, running across clouds and the like, and would bow politely to those who were flying as well.
Therefore, those who were leaping had lower ability than those who were flying, most likely making them low-level students.
The clouds gathered and dispersed, following which Gong Zhu saw an even more jaw-dropping sight: water pavilions could float not just on water but in the air as well, with an endless string of gauze curtains stretched between them, from one end to the other, which people could actually walk on; corridors floated in the air as well, without any pillars to support them, and could be moved, like railroad tracks, to the left or right at will.
The cloud layer opened further to reveal little boats leaving ripples as they sailed dexterously across the sea of clouds, with graceful-looking spirit birds flying in rows behind them, looking happy as could be.
"Oh my god," Gong Zhu couldn't help mumbling to himself, "I'm definitely not on Earth anymore."
A bell rang, and as Gong Zhu watched those distant disciples start running around, he got the vague feeling that this place wasn't quite the same as proper cultivation sects—these cultivators weren't each forging their own paths alone on mountaintops, but instead were more like...an Eastern version of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, or a high fantasy-style Chinese Daoist academy, because those disciples were clearly giving the impression of kids heading to class with books in their arms.
Looking further outwards, he could catch a vague glimpse of a magnificent mountain gate so large it seemed almost to touch the sky. While he couldn't quite make out what was written on it due to the cloud cover, each sharp stroke of those characters was so intense it felt as if they could penetrate straight through the rock. Gong Zhu stopped looking at it, and the oppressive feeling it had given him quickly disappeared. Watching those disciples hop around was more fun anyway.
"Oh, someone fell over there."
The hopping disciples were all hopping in one direction, when suddenly, he watched as one of them was squeezed out of the cloud layer, falling straight down towards the mountain river.
—Upon closer inspection, Gong Zhu saw that it was quite a handsome young boy as well; it made sense for his expression to distort upon getting thrown from such a height, but even that distortion seemed to have barely any effect on the attractiveness of his features. One could deduce from this that, under normal circumstances, he must be even more good-looking. Gong Zhu allowed himself to be shallow for a rare moment, and couldn't help worrying whether he might fall to his death—
Obviously he wouldn't. This wasn't materialist Earth, after all.
After passing through the cloud layer, that young disciple pulled a willow branch from who knows where, did a beautiful flip in mid-air, then started to fly...the willow branch?
Gong Zhu was still marveling over the thought that you could use a random tree branch to make up for a lack of flying sword when he saw the willow branch explode with a snap, following which the disciple fell backwards once again. Gong Zhu noticed that this time he didn't have anything nearby to grab hold of or any more willow branches to break, instead able only to flail wildly at a large cloud and get himself wet all over. There were a few small boats passing by not far from him—just as Gong Zhu was thinking this, one of the boats just happened to pass beneath that disciple, catching him. It seemed this large sect had been thorough in its planning, and any security measures Gong Zhu could think of were already put in place.
Gong Zhu breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the small boat glide away.
After watching for a good while without any more good-looking young disciples falling from the clouds, Gong Zhu reined in his wildly running mind and came to a conclusion—
This sect isn't just big, it's so huge you practically can't see where it ends!
It might even be the first immortal sect in history, or something! Hm...now that I think about it, what is my sect called... Gong Zhu poked the guilt-ridden system, which kept playing dead in response.
"You don't know this either?" Gong Zhu said, stunned, "You systems definitely aren't taking certification tests before taking up your posts!”
The hustle and bustle going on in the distance continued for quite a long while, yet not a single person, not even a spirit beast, flew towards the high-up peak which Gong Zhu was on. Which made him all the more certain—
"System, do you think I might be this big sect's founding father or something big like that, who's currently living in seclusion, and that's why the younger generations are avoiding me?" If that was the case, Gong Zhu thought to himself, then fooling people into thinking he was the real deal and not some body-snatcher would be an easy task, because nobody had the guts to stare at him that closely in the first place.
[...] The system chose to stay silent on this subject.
That family of squirrels was passing by the spaced-out Gong Zhu for a fourth time when one of them hesitated, its little nose twitching incessantly and its tail sweeping back and forth so much that it left a sweeping mark on the ground; eventually, it carefully placed the most fully-fruited pinecone it had down by Gong Zhu's feet. The moment he looked down, however, the little guy made a break for it and quickly disappeared from sight.
So basically, I've picked up a bunch of furry little fans first before anything else?
Gong Zhu shook his head, a bemused smile on his face as he picked up the pinecone. He found that he could sense the little squirrel's peeking gaze from where it was hiding in a pine tree, and couldn't resist marveling once again at how amazing his cultivation must be, after which he gave a slight nod of the head in the squirrel's direction: "Thank you, I'll be taking this then."
The squirrel couldn't understand him either way, but there wasn't anyone else he could chat with on this mountain, and keeping it all bottled up in silence could hurt his mental health. According to the tropes, chatting with his system definitely wouldn't be a wise option either; systems and transmigrators could only cause mutual harm to each other.
The system conveniently chose this moment to come out and hurt him: [This might be a presumptuous question to ask, Host, but is your name...really just Gong Zhu?]
Gong Zhu helplessly replied: "...I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter, there."
System: [Friendly reminder: Even if you cannot remember your current name, please do not use one like "Gong Zhu". In this world, "Gong" is not a surname that has ever existed in all of history. Host is asked to please tread with caution.]
Gong Zhu: "..."
—He'd been hit by culture shock from another world!
Could this get any worse? Being named Gong Zhu was tragic enough already: when his Honored Mother was pregnant, she saw that her idol's son was named Wu Suowei (which sounded like "whatever" in Chinese), and deeply felt that this naming sense was beyond cool. The fact he happened to have the surname Gong was truly a blessing, and so she'd named him Gong Zhu (which was literally "palace master"); the problem here was that, while "whatever" was a grand-sounding name, the Chinese for "palace master" sounded exactly like "princess", which...elicited feelings that were hard to describe. And just his luck, now he couldn't even mention this surname at all? You'd better have the ability to tell me the original's name then, System!
The system maintained its silence.
Sighing again, Gong Zhu offhandedly replied, "Alright, I get it. Getting transmigrated is already bad enough as it is, so adding to the bad news doesn't make too much of a difference anyway.”
But...there was no surname Gong? Gong Zhu couldn't help but frown—although Gong wasn't as stupidly common as names like Zhang, Wang, Li, or Zhao, it was still listed in the Hundred Family Surnames, and it wasn't exactly weird in any way...
After some pondering, Gong Zhu decided to head back to—no, to look for the original's residence, and see if he could find any clues about his identity. Currently there wasn't a single living creature on this mountain aside from birds and squirrels, but if a junior did show up then he couldn't go failing to even communicate—
"Ah!" Gong Zhu let out a tiny exclamation of surprise—because he found that he was no longer on the mountaintop, but standing within a water pavilion instead.
Still in shock, Gong Zhu looked down to see that he was still wearing the same clothes as before, so it definitely wasn't a second transmigration. Which meant this was...the Thousand-Li Steps!
...A-A-Am I really this powerful? Oh that's right, according to how things go in all the novels and movies, masters living in seclusion at the feet of mountains are all white-bearded old men who failed to achieve perfect cultivation in their youth and are desperately in need of successors now that they're old, and masters secluding themselves mid-mountain or in caves are skeletons lying in corners with a rare mystic book in their arms. So the one I've transmigrated into, who's secluded on the mountain's peak, is the real McCoy!
What did I unconsciously use just now though, the distance-folding technique?
[Host, your cultivation is already at the wind-flying level, of course you can manage the Thousand-Li Steps. This is perfectly understandable. Don't almost all the online games you've played have an ability like Teleport or Quickstep? You have a high cultivation level, so naturally you can move as you please without needing to wait for any ability cooldowns.] The system spoke with the same tone as if it were selling him Napa cabbages at the low, low price of 50 cents a pound.
Gong Zhu quietly sucked in a breath—No no, it's not as I please at all! I can't go flying around at random, what if two young disciples are in the middle of doing something that can't be seen in public when I suddenly drop in on them out of nowhere...
Another problem popped into his head immediately following this, and Gong Zhu couldn't stop himself from asking, "Wait, what level...did you say I was?"
The system was silent for a moment before, rather than explaining the term, replied with: [Host, please forget the novels you've read before, their settings are different. You're definitely going to need to take your time with studying.]
"...You actually know what a setting is?"
[I learned this vocabulary from scanning your memories, after all...]
That inexplicably bad feeling Gong Zhu had grew stronger thanks to this answer, and he casually placed the fast-asleep bird on a small table before looking around the room. The water pavilion was modestly sized, located by the shore of a peaceful lake (you couldn't call it a water pavilion if it wasn't) and, far from being an enclosed space, had two sides covered with hanging gauze curtains instead of walls. On the other, uncurtained end of the building, a bamboo bed and bookshelf were placed against the walls.
Just as he'd thought, the problem was more serious than initially assumed.
—Gong Zhu's vision faded in and out as he faced that bookshelf, taking a long while to recover before immediately bringing up a question in his mind: "Why...can't I read these words!?"
There's no way the original was illiterate, is there?
Hehe, nobody'd believe that.
There's no way that's possible! Who could ever believe that a master cultivator secluded from society was a total illiterate who couldn't even recognize traditional numbers?
And so a despairing Gong Zhu immediately thought of an answer, though he still cautiously asked, "The common language of this world...isn't Chinese, is it?"
The system didn't answer this question, but Gong Zhu could clearly feel the ridicule it emanated...The entire universe speaking Chinese? In your dreams!
Sure enough, novels were all just art, and though art originated from life, it absolutely wasn't above life. All those plots where people transmigrated to find themselves in bed surrounded by concerned NPCs who automatically began explaining their character's setting and backstory to them, started with the original's memories and knowledge pre-installed, remembered all their martial arts abilities without issue, and could even pull out the poetry of the ancients to fool people in their free time, it was all! Just! Lies!
Transmigration's a risky business, you're better off just living properly in your own world.
The final straw fell, crushing Gong Zhu to death—he couldn't help pressing his forehead against that pile of moon runes, feeling in that moment the impossibly great malice of the world! His current situation was that he didn't know why he'd suddenly come to another world and, to make matters worse: It was a world he knew nothing about, where his own identity was a mystery to him, and flipping through books for clues was useless because he couldn't even read the language!
So even if he did come across a native, there'd probably be a language barrier preventing communication! It wouldn't make sense for the words to be different but still pronounced the same!
"System, how come you can speak Chinese?" And not just Chinese, either; Gong Zhu still remembered the tone with which this damn system had showed off its English to him.
[By accessing the memories in Host's primordial soul...]
Enough, I gotta effin' get this off my chest! So you're the kind of system that learns a new thing and immediately uses it like a pro, huh? How come only systems are allowed to access their hosts' memories, can't we turn things around and let the host read the system's save file for once? Gong Zhu leaned weakly against the bookshelf as he knocked on the system: "You can at least...teach me the local language...right?"
If it couldn’t satisfy even this request, Gong Zhu was absolutely breaking up with this useless decoration.
[...Okay…that’s doable.] The system probably felt a little guilty as well.
#Having to learn a foreign language even after transmigrating is definitely not what I signed up for!#
Fortunately, after calming down enough to take a closer look at those books, Gong Zhu noticed that most of them were paper, and many of the handwritten ones all shared the same handwriting. He could therefore more or less deduce: These books were written by his previous "self".
Also, though he didn't recognize the characters, they did give him a vague sense of familiarity—not because the original's memories had begun to awaken in his mind, but because those characters looked a lot like Chinese, square and straight-lined. Judging by the sentence structure, if he started studying it, the grammar and vocabulary shouldn't be all that difficult either; it wouldn't be impossibly tough gibberish like the elvish you'd find in famous fantasy work Lord of the Rings, at least.
Sighing, he took a moment to console himself with the thought that at least it was a xianxia world he'd transmigrated into and not some interstellar future era, which would've definitely put him in deep shit—if he'd transmigrated into an interstellar era and accidentally kicked up a fuss over a smart toilet which had always been able to talk, he'd have been exposed on the spot and sent to a research facility. And that was putting aside his current illiteracy, too...plus the best thing about ancient times was the lack of internet, making it easier for transmigrators to avoid detection. Of course, the worst thing about it was also the lack of internet.
Otherwise he might have been able to go on Baidu real quick to ask—What should you do when you travel to a strange world and discover there's a language barrier?
Then he could follow this up with a Weibo post—#There's no transmigrator in history more miserable than me!#
Gong Zhu lamented to himself as he sat at the table, preparing to start his language class. After all this thinking, that little disciple whose whereabouts were still unknown was probably the only thing left that could soothe his soul... Ai, I can't wait to meet that wolf cub disciple who turns to the dark side in all the transmigration tropes. For the sake of taking in a disciple, I've gotta pull out that motivation I had when preparing for college entrance exams and start learning this foreign language! Besides, this was a free transmigration with no plot or system quests to follow., which meant that if he were to take in a disciple then it wouldn't go the way it always did in the tropes, with their required bit of surface-level suffering. So he'd definitely start treating his disciple well right away, and spoil him like nobody's business!
Although, looking at everything the god of transmigration had set up for him...they better not cut his wolf cub disciple out of the equation, or he was going to riot.
He could handle any difficulty they threw his way, as long as he got that disciple he'd been promised!
[Host...just another reminder, could you please get your bearings on your own situation before thinking about disciples...]
Gong Zhu flatly replied: "System, do you have a block function?" The system obediently turned on silent mode.
Speaking of which, I really should get to seeing what I look like; I better not be too ugly, or my darling disciple might not want me.
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Who am I?
—This was an absolute philosophical problem, the ultimate question of human existence. Gong Zhu was also more-or-less certain by now that he hadn't had the good fortune to transmigrate into a novel or game with a plot he could follow, which meant that there likely wasn't any protagonist halo-wreathed godmode disciple out there waiting for him.
If he wanted a disciple, he could rely only on himself to get one!
Gong Zhu stood observing on the cliffside for a long time, just to be on the safe side. The wind occasionally dispersed the sun-pinked clouds, making visible an unbroken mountain range and the long river winding around it. This magnificently beautiful natural scenery lost out, however, in comparison to the dazzling sight of the various buildings dotting the mountain range; these buildings couldn’t be described with such simple words as “gorgeous” or “spectacular”, because these words in Gong Zhu’s vocabulary were used to describe man-made buildings, whereas the view currently before him truly made him realize—
This realm was no longer the human realm. The danmaku comments flying through Gong Zhu’s mind consisted entirely of two words: Mount Shu*.
Countless figures shuttled back and forth, some soaring through the air while others—just like Gong Zhu had seen in video games and movies back in his previous world—stood on swords or mystic tools he couldn’t currently put a name to. The majority of them, however, were the kind mentioned earlier: jumping happily about amidst the clouds and buildings and mountains. Most of these leaping figures were wearing relatively simple and uniform outfits, running across clouds and the like, and would bow politely to those who were flying as well.
Therefore, those who were leaping had lower ability than those who were flying, most likely making them low-level students.
The clouds gathered and dispersed, following which Gong Zhu saw an even more jaw-dropping sight: water pavilions could float not just on water but in the air as well, with an endless string of gauze curtains stretched between them, from one end to the other, which people could actually walk on; corridors floated in the air as well, without any pillars to support them, and could be moved, like railroad tracks, to the left or right at will.
The cloud layer opened further to reveal little boats leaving ripples as they sailed dexterously across the sea of clouds, with graceful-looking spirit birds flying in rows behind them, looking happy as could be.
"Oh my god," Gong Zhu couldn't help mumbling to himself, "I'm definitely not on Earth anymore."
A bell rang, and as Gong Zhu watched those distant disciples start running around, he got the vague feeling that this place wasn't quite the same as proper cultivation sects—these cultivators weren't each forging their own paths alone on mountaintops, but instead were more like...an Eastern version of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, or a high fantasy-style Chinese Daoist academy, because those disciples were clearly giving the impression of kids heading to class with books in their arms.
Looking further outwards, he could catch a vague glimpse of a magnificent mountain gate so large it seemed almost to touch the sky. While he couldn't quite make out what was written on it due to the cloud cover, each sharp stroke of those characters was so intense it felt as if they could penetrate straight through the rock. Gong Zhu stopped looking at it, and the oppressive feeling it had given him quickly disappeared. Watching those disciples hop around was more fun anyway.
"Oh, someone fell over there."
The hopping disciples were all hopping in one direction, when suddenly, he watched as one of them was squeezed out of the cloud layer, falling straight down towards the mountain river.
—Upon closer inspection, Gong Zhu saw that it was quite a handsome young boy as well; it made sense for his expression to distort upon getting thrown from such a height, but even that distortion seemed to have barely any effect on the attractiveness of his features. One could deduce from this that, under normal circumstances, he must be even more good-looking. Gong Zhu allowed himself to be shallow for a rare moment, and couldn't help worrying whether he might fall to his death—
Obviously he wouldn't. This wasn't materialist Earth, after all.
After passing through the cloud layer, that young disciple pulled a willow branch from who knows where, did a beautiful flip in mid-air, then started to fly...the willow branch?
Gong Zhu was still marveling over the thought that you could use a random tree branch to make up for a lack of flying sword when he saw the willow branch explode with a snap, following which the disciple fell backwards once again. Gong Zhu noticed that this time he didn't have anything nearby to grab hold of or any more willow branches to break, instead able only to flail wildly at a large cloud and get himself wet all over. There were a few small boats passing by not far from him—just as Gong Zhu was thinking this, one of the boats just happened to pass beneath that disciple, catching him. It seemed this large sect had been thorough in its planning, and any security measures Gong Zhu could think of were already put in place.
Gong Zhu breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the small boat glide away.
After watching for a good while without any more good-looking young disciples falling from the clouds, Gong Zhu reined in his wildly running mind and came to a conclusion—
This sect isn't just big, it's so huge you practically can't see where it ends!
It might even be the first immortal sect in history, or something! Hm...now that I think about it, what is my sect called... Gong Zhu poked the guilt-ridden system, which kept playing dead in response.
"You don't know this either?" Gong Zhu said, stunned, "You systems definitely aren't taking certification tests before taking up your posts!”
The hustle and bustle going on in the distance continued for quite a long while, yet not a single person, not even a spirit beast, flew towards the high-up peak which Gong Zhu was on. Which made him all the more certain—
"System, do you think I might be this big sect's founding father or something big like that, who's currently living in seclusion, and that's why the younger generations are avoiding me?" If that was the case, Gong Zhu thought to himself, then fooling people into thinking he was the real deal and not some body-snatcher would be an easy task, because nobody had the guts to stare at him that closely in the first place.
[...] The system chose to stay silent on this subject.
That family of squirrels was passing by the spaced-out Gong Zhu for a fourth time when one of them hesitated, its little nose twitching incessantly and its tail sweeping back and forth so much that it left a sweeping mark on the ground; eventually, it carefully placed the most fully-fruited pinecone it had down by Gong Zhu's feet. The moment he looked down, however, the little guy made a break for it and quickly disappeared from sight.
So basically, I've picked up a bunch of furry little fans first before anything else?
Gong Zhu shook his head, a bemused smile on his face as he picked up the pinecone. He found that he could sense the little squirrel's peeking gaze from where it was hiding in a pine tree, and couldn't resist marveling once again at how amazing his cultivation must be, after which he gave a slight nod of the head in the squirrel's direction: "Thank you, I'll be taking this then."
The squirrel couldn't understand him either way, but there wasn't anyone else he could chat with on this mountain, and keeping it all bottled up in silence could hurt his mental health. According to the tropes, chatting with his system definitely wouldn't be a wise option either; systems and transmigrators could only cause mutual harm to each other.
The system conveniently chose this moment to come out and hurt him: [This might be a presumptuous question to ask, Host, but is your name...really just Gong Zhu?]
Gong Zhu helplessly replied: "...I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter, there."
System: [Friendly reminder: Even if you cannot remember your current name, please do not use one like "Gong Zhu". In this world, "Gong" is not a surname that has ever existed in all of history. Host is asked to please tread with caution.]
Gong Zhu: "..."
—He'd been hit by culture shock from another world!
Could this get any worse? Being named Gong Zhu was tragic enough already: when his Honored Mother was pregnant, she saw that her idol's son was named Wu Suowei (which sounded like "whatever" in Chinese), and deeply felt that this naming sense was beyond cool. The fact he happened to have the surname Gong was truly a blessing, and so she'd named him Gong Zhu (which was literally "palace master"); the problem here was that, while "whatever" was a grand-sounding name, the Chinese for "palace master" sounded exactly like "princess", which...elicited feelings that were hard to describe. And just his luck, now he couldn't even mention this surname at all? You'd better have the ability to tell me the original's name then, System!
The system maintained its silence.
Sighing again, Gong Zhu offhandedly replied, "Alright, I get it. Getting transmigrated is already bad enough as it is, so adding to the bad news doesn't make too much of a difference anyway.”
But...there was no surname Gong? Gong Zhu couldn't help but frown—although Gong wasn't as stupidly common as names like Zhang, Wang, Li, or Zhao, it was still listed in the Hundred Family Surnames, and it wasn't exactly weird in any way...
After some pondering, Gong Zhu decided to head back to—no, to look for the original's residence, and see if he could find any clues about his identity. Currently there wasn't a single living creature on this mountain aside from birds and squirrels, but if a junior did show up then he couldn't go failing to even communicate—
"Ah!" Gong Zhu let out a tiny exclamation of surprise—because he found that he was no longer on the mountaintop, but standing within a water pavilion instead.
Still in shock, Gong Zhu looked down to see that he was still wearing the same clothes as before, so it definitely wasn't a second transmigration. Which meant this was...the Thousand-Li Steps!
...A-A-Am I really this powerful? Oh that's right, according to how things go in all the novels and movies, masters living in seclusion at the feet of mountains are all white-bearded old men who failed to achieve perfect cultivation in their youth and are desperately in need of successors now that they're old, and masters secluding themselves mid-mountain or in caves are skeletons lying in corners with a rare mystic book in their arms. So the one I've transmigrated into, who's secluded on the mountain's peak, is the real McCoy!
What did I unconsciously use just now though, the distance-folding technique?
[Host, your cultivation is already at the wind-flying level, of course you can manage the Thousand-Li Steps. This is perfectly understandable. Don't almost all the online games you've played have an ability like Teleport or Quickstep? You have a high cultivation level, so naturally you can move as you please without needing to wait for any ability cooldowns.] The system spoke with the same tone as if it were selling him Napa cabbages at the low, low price of 50 cents a pound.
Gong Zhu quietly sucked in a breath—No no, it's not as I please at all! I can't go flying around at random, what if two young disciples are in the middle of doing something that can't be seen in public when I suddenly drop in on them out of nowhere...
Another problem popped into his head immediately following this, and Gong Zhu couldn't stop himself from asking, "Wait, what level...did you say I was?"
The system was silent for a moment before, rather than explaining the term, replied with: [Host, please forget the novels you've read before, their settings are different. You're definitely going to need to take your time with studying.]
"...You actually know what a setting is?"
[I learned this vocabulary from scanning your memories, after all...]
That inexplicably bad feeling Gong Zhu had grew stronger thanks to this answer, and he casually placed the fast-asleep bird on a small table before looking around the room. The water pavilion was modestly sized, located by the shore of a peaceful lake (you couldn't call it a water pavilion if it wasn't) and, far from being an enclosed space, had two sides covered with hanging gauze curtains instead of walls. On the other, uncurtained end of the building, a bamboo bed and bookshelf were placed against the walls.
Just as he'd thought, the problem was more serious than initially assumed.
—Gong Zhu's vision faded in and out as he faced that bookshelf, taking a long while to recover before immediately bringing up a question in his mind: "Why...can't I read these words!?"
There's no way the original was illiterate, is there?
Hehe, nobody'd believe that.
There's no way that's possible! Who could ever believe that a master cultivator secluded from society was a total illiterate who couldn't even recognize traditional numbers?
And so a despairing Gong Zhu immediately thought of an answer, though he still cautiously asked, "The common language of this world...isn't Chinese, is it?"
The system didn't answer this question, but Gong Zhu could clearly feel the ridicule it emanated...The entire universe speaking Chinese? In your dreams!
Sure enough, novels were all just art, and though art originated from life, it absolutely wasn't above life. All those plots where people transmigrated to find themselves in bed surrounded by concerned NPCs who automatically began explaining their character's setting and backstory to them, started with the original's memories and knowledge pre-installed, remembered all their martial arts abilities without issue, and could even pull out the poetry of the ancients to fool people in their free time, it was all! Just! Lies!
Transmigration's a risky business, you're better off just living properly in your own world.
The final straw fell, crushing Gong Zhu to death—he couldn't help pressing his forehead against that pile of moon runes, feeling in that moment the impossibly great malice of the world! His current situation was that he didn't know why he'd suddenly come to another world and, to make matters worse: It was a world he knew nothing about, where his own identity was a mystery to him, and flipping through books for clues was useless because he couldn't even read the language!
So even if he did come across a native, there'd probably be a language barrier preventing communication! It wouldn't make sense for the words to be different but still pronounced the same!
"System, how come you can speak Chinese?" And not just Chinese, either; Gong Zhu still remembered the tone with which this damn system had showed off its English to him.
[By accessing the memories in Host's primordial soul...]
Enough, I gotta effin' get this off my chest! So you're the kind of system that learns a new thing and immediately uses it like a pro, huh? How come only systems are allowed to access their hosts' memories, can't we turn things around and let the host read the system's save file for once? Gong Zhu leaned weakly against the bookshelf as he knocked on the system: "You can at least...teach me the local language...right?"
If it couldn’t satisfy even this request, Gong Zhu was absolutely breaking up with this useless decoration.
[...Okay…that’s doable.] The system probably felt a little guilty as well.
#Having to learn a foreign language even after transmigrating is definitely not what I signed up for!#
Fortunately, after calming down enough to take a closer look at those books, Gong Zhu noticed that most of them were paper, and many of the handwritten ones all shared the same handwriting. He could therefore more or less deduce: These books were written by his previous "self".
Also, though he didn't recognize the characters, they did give him a vague sense of familiarity—not because the original's memories had begun to awaken in his mind, but because those characters looked a lot like Chinese, square and straight-lined. Judging by the sentence structure, if he started studying it, the grammar and vocabulary shouldn't be all that difficult either; it wouldn't be impossibly tough gibberish like the elvish you'd find in famous fantasy work Lord of the Rings, at least.
Sighing, he took a moment to console himself with the thought that at least it was a xianxia world he'd transmigrated into and not some interstellar future era, which would've definitely put him in deep shit—if he'd transmigrated into an interstellar era and accidentally kicked up a fuss over a smart toilet which had always been able to talk, he'd have been exposed on the spot and sent to a research facility. And that was putting aside his current illiteracy, too...plus the best thing about ancient times was the lack of internet, making it easier for transmigrators to avoid detection. Of course, the worst thing about it was also the lack of internet.
Otherwise he might have been able to go on Baidu real quick to ask—What should you do when you travel to a strange world and discover there's a language barrier?
Then he could follow this up with a Weibo post—#There's no transmigrator in history more miserable than me!#
Gong Zhu lamented to himself as he sat at the table, preparing to start his language class. After all this thinking, that little disciple whose whereabouts were still unknown was probably the only thing left that could soothe his soul... Ai, I can't wait to meet that wolf cub disciple who turns to the dark side in all the transmigration tropes. For the sake of taking in a disciple, I've gotta pull out that motivation I had when preparing for college entrance exams and start learning this foreign language! Besides, this was a free transmigration with no plot or system quests to follow., which meant that if he were to take in a disciple then it wouldn't go the way it always did in the tropes, with their required bit of surface-level suffering. So he'd definitely start treating his disciple well right away, and spoil him like nobody's business!
Although, looking at everything the god of transmigration had set up for him...they better not cut his wolf cub disciple out of the equation, or he was going to riot.
He could handle any difficulty they threw his way, as long as he got that disciple he'd been promised!
[Host...just another reminder, could you please get your bearings on your own situation before thinking about disciples...]
Gong Zhu flatly replied: "System, do you have a block function?" The system obediently turned on silent mode.
Speaking of which, I really should get to seeing what I look like; I better not be too ugly, or my darling disciple might not want me.
Table of Contents
Jun. 10th, 2025 10:02 pmrikoren posting in keslationsBook of the Southern Mountains (incomplete)
Book of the Western Mountains
Book of the Northern Mountains
Book of the Eastern Mountains
Book of the Central Mountains
Book of Lands Beyond the Southern Seas
Book of Lands Beyond the Western Seas
Book of Lands Beyond the Northern Seas
Book of Lands Beyond the Eastern Seas
Book of Lands Within the Southern Seas
Book of Lands Within the Western Seas
Book of Lands Within the Northern Seas
Book of Lands Within the Eastern Seas
Book of the Eastern Wilderness
Book of the Southern Wilderness
Book of the Western Wilderness
Book of the Northern Wilderness
Book of the Seas
Book of the Western Mountains
Book of the Northern Mountains
Book of the Eastern Mountains
Book of the Central Mountains
Book of Lands Beyond the Southern Seas
Book of Lands Beyond the Western Seas
Book of Lands Beyond the Northern Seas
Book of Lands Beyond the Eastern Seas
Book of Lands Within the Southern Seas
Book of Lands Within the Western Seas
Book of Lands Within the Northern Seas
Book of Lands Within the Eastern Seas
Book of the Eastern Wilderness
Book of the Southern Wilderness
Book of the Western Wilderness
Book of the Northern Wilderness
Book of the Seas
Table of Contents
Jun. 10th, 2025 10:00 pmrikoren posting in keslationsChapter 001 – Not Your Typical Transmigration
Chapter 002 – Host, I am your system, let us bring mutual harm to each other!
Chapter 003 – Where rumors come from.
Chapter 004 – Are you going to eat me?
Chapter 005 – How to earn affection points with your future disciple.
Chapter 006 – System: As long as Host is happy.
Chapter 002 – Host, I am your system, let us bring mutual harm to each other!
Chapter 003 – Where rumors come from.
Chapter 004 – Are you going to eat me?
Chapter 005 – How to earn affection points with your future disciple.
Chapter 006 – System: As long as Host is happy.
Chapter 1: Not Your Typical Transmigration
Jun. 10th, 2025 09:46 pmrikoren posting in keslationsGong Zhu stood alone in the cold wind, putting on a disappointed pose. Before him was a vast sea of clouds, perfectly mirroring his feelings of frustration.
—It wasn’t that he was purposely posing like a master sage in a fantasy TV drama…actually, he might really be a lofty sage right now!
This was only a “might”, because he had no clue who he was right now! Who am I? Where am I? What am I supposed to be doing? He’d just suddenly appeared here, innocent and confused, without the slightest idea of what had just happened.
—Through observation and reasoning, what little information he could gather was this: The people here could fly through the air, and were dressed in a very ancient style, which meant this was most likely a cultivation world rather than a wizarding world from western fantasy. The place he was currently located was a large sect as well, but for some unknown reason the previous owner of this body had an entire mountain to himself, and there wasn’t even a single building in the area, which meant there was no chance of him finding any convenient passersby to try to coax the original’s identity out of.
Who ever heard of a transmigrator being able to tell at a glance that he had background and status, but had no idea who he actually was? Great god of transmigration, will this mistake lose you your bonus?
I’m so confused…
Gong Zhu liked reading novels in his free time, and the transmigration genre was an age-old favorite among webnovels, with countless different tropes coming out one after the other. Normally though, there was always a trigger for the transmigration. Car accidents, plane crashes, and falling in water were popular in the early years, following which came more advanced ideas: things like getting shocked while playing video games, failing to fill in the plotholes for a novel you wrote, and the greatest of them all—transmigrating into a harem novel and turning it gay.
But after thinking it over for a long while, Gong Zhu felt that he’d created a new branch of this genre—
“Blind transmigration”. The characteristics of this version were as follows:
1. I don’t know how I got here either!
2. The two scenes switched so seamlessly and naturally, there wasn’t even a fade to black!
3. And that’s not the half of it, because I don’t even have any idea where or what I transmigrated into!
With so many years of experience as a dumbass netizen, Gong Zhu’s complaints were already playing in his mind in danmaku format; and the kind you couldn’t turn off, at that.
Everything happened both naturally and suddenly. Just a second ago, he was sitting in his classroom, in a seat that was neither in the front nor the back of the class, the Ideological and Political Education teacher at the podium giving the university’s most sleep-inducing lesson in a dry voice. He’d pulled out his phone in preparation to order delivery for lunch, lowered his head, raised it again, and what appeared before his eyes was already another world.
Clouds gathered and dispersed, the morning sky beyond it an azure blue, with a vast sea of green as far as the eye could see; amidst that were luxuriant mountains dotted with emerald green, a long and winding river, and wooded mountains scattered haphazardly across the land like a chart of stars.
…What’s going on here?
The Ideological and Political Education professor’s last words were still lingering in his ears, too: “…Adhere to the Scientific Outlook on Development and realize the Four Modernizations…”
As such, Gong Zhu at the time had no idea that “transmigration” had happened; such a thing was far too unscientific, and definitely not Marxist at all. Although it wasn’t uncommon for people to transmigrate into the novel they were reading, they were generally still able to distinguish art from reality.
So Gong Zhu thought over it for a moment, and decided…the pork and mushroom baozi he’d bought at that roadside stall this morning…had been poisoned!
Weibo was covered in stories about fellow Yunnanese people eating mushrooms like they always did and hallucinating tiny people as a result, after all, so Gong Chu was extremely calm about it. There was honestly no intrinsic difference between suddenly seeing strange mountains or suddenly seeing tiny people – they were all just hallucinations. And so he coolly remained in his seat, facing a vast sea of clouds and mountain ranges, raised a hand, and said in a calm voice: “Excuse me for interrupting, laoshi, but I’ve started hallucinating. Could you please call 120, I think I’ve got food poisoning.”
A squirrel squatting in an old pine tree by the cliff edge watched Gong Zhu talking to himself, showing a very human look of concern for someone it clearly thought was mentally handicapped.
His left hand didn’t feel quite right; before he started “hallucinating”, it should have been holding his cellphone as he prepared to order delivery, but now…
“Cheep!”
A sparrow that hadn’t grown all its feathers yet?
…So I spent an entire holiday working to buy a brand new 3000-yuan smart…bird?
Gong Zhu expressionlessly lowered his head. The sparrow lying in his hand, sensing his gaze, narrowed its eyes happily and chirped again as it nuzzled its little yellow beak against his fingers.
…This…this is a seriously powerful poison mushroom! You gotta come quick, 120 people!
Once he was cured, they needed to have a serious discussion about this—#the food safety situation of vendors outside of college dormitories is worrying#—after eating their food products, a perfectly healthy male student suddenly began to hallucinate, thinking he was wearing wide-sleeved loose robes, kneeling on the edge of a cliff, and carrying a featherless baby bird in the palm of his hand!
Speaking of which, this baby bird felt way too real! Gong Zhu had always liked small animals, so it was taking all the self-control he had to resist the urge to pet the bird. What a joke—getting poisoned from eating mushrooms was already something to laugh at, but if the hallucinations made him start doing weird things on top of that, he might end up scaring his classmates and professor to tears!
Gong Zhu sat upright, quietly waiting for 120 to arrive. The mountain breeze brushed past his face; the sun and moon and stars revolved overhead, from shining sun in the sky to bright moon and scattered stars, and once again to a pale white light making its appearance in the east; a family of squirrels passed by his feet three times, transporting a total of eighteen acorns…only then did Gong Zhu gradually come to realize that something was off.
…From beginning to end, there hadn’t been any real change in the scenery aside from the unpredictable movements of the clouds around the mountain. 120 probably wouldn’t be coming, and that familiar classroom with its old-fashioned professor never reappeared either—as if they’d never existed to begin with.
Gong Zhu heard himself exhale, and in that moment the world around him suddenly became incredibly real.
For a college student from the 21st century, when the scenery in front of you suddenly changed from a classroom into a beautiful mountain peak…normally, your first reaction would be “WTF I’ve started hallucinating”, whereas the very last thing that might come to mind would be “Oh my god, did I just transmigrate?”
Gong Zhu shot up from his seat at this truly shocking conjecture. He stared dazedly at the chick currently curled into a fast-asleep ball in his palm, and slowly raised his hand. The little sparrow was warm and soft, and had yet to grow in all its flight feathers; he used his other hand to gently pet the bird’s head, and the little guy rolled over, looking like a face-up pancake in its sleep.
“Does this mean…you’re real?” Gong Zhu muttered to himself. The next instant, a beam of light broke through the sea of clouds in the distance so suddenly that Gong Zhu unthinkingly took a step backwards in shock. A flock of birds noisily circled upwards through the cloud layer, dodging away from multiple piercing lights—
Those were all people!
Gong Zhu stared in amazement at a bunch of people flying around in the distance, traveling in groups which shone in every color of the rainbow—
This…this was a cultivation world!
Right, Gong Zhu now noticed a problem: He’d been standing on this windy cliff all this time, dressed in an outfit that was perfectly celestial-looking but also so thin it was just one or two layers of soft cloth, and to top it all off, he’d just realized upon standing up that he wasn’t wearing any shoes…and yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit cold. He could feel a cool sensation on his toes when touching the frost and dew on the grass, but it wasn’t uncomfortable at all; he also didn’t feel hungry or thirsty despite not having ingested anything this whole time, and more importantly, he didn’t feel any need to pee at all.
He’d clearly still been struggling over what takeout to order not long ago, and in the blink of an eye he was suddenly a stranger to the needs of mortal men…it was hard to say if he should be laughing or crying over this.
So if he had a short bluescreen moment, that was perfectly understandable.
There was probably a really long distance between those people and the mountain peak Gong Zhu was on, yet he discovered that he could clearly make out every detail of their faces. He continued to stand there on the cliff edge for a long time, during which he figured out that the majority of the figures flying around in the distance had the appearance of young adults, and were all dressed in an identical style which was probably…a school uniform?
Some kind of heavenly music with a lively rhythm began to play, and those guys in uniform-like clothes began running frantically in several fixed directions. No matter how you looked at it, this was exactly like when high schoolers heard the school bell—Gong Zhu clicked his tongue in amazement. Back when he’d read a certain famous story about a little wizard with a lightning scar, he’d sighed, Those western wizards already started running schools to educate their kids a thousand years ago while us eastern cultivators are still kowtowing in sects, we’re seriously behind the times.
Maybe the god of transmigration had tossed Gong Zhu the chance to experience cultivation in person because they’d heard his complaints.
Also, upon closer inspection, not all of them were flying; many of them were actually…hopping around on clouds? A good number of them still seemed new to it, their clumsy appearance reminding Gong Zhu of Super Mario, and he couldn’t help laughing at this thought. After laughing though, he thought to himself, I really am careless—I’ve just gone and traveled to a strange new world, how can I still be in the mood to laugh?
But trading laughter for tears wouldn’t be any more of a help in this current situation, so Gong Zhu silently thought back to all those popular joke pieces like “The Transmigration Survival Guide” which he’d read on the internet in the past…who ever thought this sort of niche knowledge would come in handy one day?
Wait, Gong Zhu thought in a panic, according to (a famous green literature city’s popular BL) tropes, if you transmigrate into a cultivation world, and start the adventure at max level too— (normally it’s the opposing *****dian site that always has people transmigrating into a nobody, then leveling up through a series of challenging experiences, whereas on ***jiang the popular choice is transmigrating directly into a max-level godmode boss-type character) —if your goal isn’t to stop your own disciple or shidi from destroying the world, then it’s usually to stop your mortal enemy from destroying the world… Gong Zhu sucked in a breath with a hiss—he was getting kind of excited!
He’d said this before when reading novels, but if he were to transmigrate, he’d definitely spoil the protagonist to hell and back, and absolutely wouldn’t act wishy-washy like in the tropes, where the guy wants to be good to the protagonist but still has to consider how not to act too noticeably OOC, and then even when they’re about to reach the bedroom scene at the end he still insists on pretending he’s unyieldingly straight.
No, absolutely not! Besides, I was never straight to begin with!
Gong Zhu quirked his lips up in a smile—Come at me, I’m all ready to dote on the protag! Where are you protag?
No, that still doesn’t seem right, just wait another minute…who’s the protagonist?
Generally speaking, it’s standard practice for transmigration to come with a system! Shouldn’t there be a yaoi system that passes out quests, acts as a cheat program that only works some of the time, and occasionally kicks its host’s legs out from under him for lack of anything better to do? And then this system should guide the transmigrator step by step on the path to a loving relationship with the protagonist…ahem, I mean to the plot!
Just when Gong Zhu was pondering over this with a frown, wondering if maybe reality and the world of novels were more different than he’d thought, the system really did show up—
A voice suddenly appeared within his consciousness, methodically saying in the exact mechanical voice he’d always imagined: […Scanning memory…accessing life essence…simulating…System activating, startup successful—System welcomes Host’s return.]
So there really is one after all?
He’d been prepared for this, so the suddenly appearing voice didn’t scare him in the slightest.
“What do you mean, return?” The sharp-witted Gong Zhu asked—Don’t tell me, could my character design include a part about my past and present lives being inextricably linked to this world?
[…It was arrival…System is a product of this world, and learned to use words familiar to Host after scanning Host’s memories just now. Having only just learned, please allow forgiveness for any possible slight deviations in tone.]
Gong Zhu wordlessly put a palm to his forehead, after which he couldn’t help jokingly saying, “Your Chinese is seriously awkward. Could it be that you’re actually an English language system?”
The System fell silent as well, replying after a moment: [OK, I can speak English…]*
“No, thanks, let’s stick to Chinese.” Gong Zhu fully gave in.
[Based on the results of the earlier memory scan, System recommends that Host continue exploring the surrounding environment to determine his identity.] The system obediently switched back to stilted Chinese. For some reason though, Gong Zhu got the feeling it sounded aggrieved.
Feeling that he should be the aggrieved one here, he asked: “You don’t know who I am?”
The system went silent again, replying after a while with: […If…Host himself doesn’t remember who he is…how would System know?]
Gong Zhu: “…”
This must be a fake system! I’m pretty sure that under normal circumstances it should be the host knows nothing, and the system knows everything but purposely refuses to tell!
“Then do I have any missions I’m supposed to do?”
The system didn’t hesitate to answer this time: [Host’s own path in life should be up to himself to discover.]
Gong Zhu: “…” So you’re a chuuni-minded system, too.
#This doesn’t conform to the basic rules of transmigration at all!#
Who ever heard of accidentally transmigrating and then having to play detective by yourself, what do I want a system like you for, are you just here to help bump up my like count?
Looking back at what’s happened before and after transmigrating, the only thing that’s matched the tropes so far is that there’s a system, and it’s just as shitty as the stories say!
Accepting his fate with a shake of the head, he thought to himself, seeing as he no longer needed to eat, his cultivation level definitely wasn’t low; judging by what distant scenery he could see from the cliff, the cultivators were flying back and forth in groups, and there was a wide range to the area in which they flew as well, meaning this sect had to be a pretty big one; and he himself was occupying an entire mountain alone, without even anybody coming by to disturb him—
Could he possibly be a sect master living in seclusion?
He looked down at himself. His outfit was entirely different from those young cultivators’ school uniforms: his long hair wasn’t neatly tied in a proper ‘do, instead draping loosely over his shoulders, yes, and add to that the baby bird he was holding in his hand…if he were a low-level disciple playing with birds in a state of dishevelment up on a mountaintop somewhere, his shifu would’ve dragged him off for a spanking ages ago.
As such, there was no mistaking it: not only was he a max-level main account character, he was definitely a bigshot even among all the max-level characters around! The kind that had a high rank in the sect, spent his days alone in quiet contemplation, and was powerful enough that no one dared to mess with him!
Wonderful, Gong Zhu thought with a nod. Now, all he needed was a cute and well-behaved disciple who was in need of a hug! One with a tragic backstory and a deep-seated desire for revenge would be best; based on his self-cultivation built from long years of playing PVP games without breaking out in swears, he was certain he had more than enough patience and love to soothe a darling disciple exploding with resentful energy, and lead him step by step towards the Great Harmony of Life…
[…Host, shouldn’t you first figure out who you are before looking for a disciple?] the system asked melancholically.
Gong Zu expressionlessly stood by the cliffside and, just like it said in all the proper transmigration stories, wished really badly that he could blacklist the system.
…
About a dozen men and women lined the grand hall. No lamps lit the room, only the pillar of light around which they stood, seeming to pierce outwards through both the ceiling and floor of the building; a palm-sized miniature model of the hall floated within that light, and beneath it, each of these men and women stood within a magic array.
“This won’t do.” A woman with a stern expression on her otherwise lovely face dejectedly lowered her hand. “Is he still refusing to hand over the Yundu Palace array chart?”
“It’s time to charge the formation again.” A man dressed in purple retracted his hand as well, his tone cold as he said, “No matter what you say, I absolutely have to go have another talk with him.”
“You?” The woman from before mocked, “If you go, forget injecting spiritual power into the array. It’ll be a blessing from Daozu if he doesn’t stab you with his sword the moment he sees you!”
“He wouldn’t dare! If you ask me, he’s basically just a criminal to our sect, keeping him on Yueqi Peak is already more than he deserves. If he hadn’t refused to hand it over back then—”
“Tch, if you think you have what it takes then go fight him! Rob it from him, why don’t you!”
“Rob? It should belong to the sect to begin with, how is that robbery? Are we not even allowed to talk about him monopolizing it for himself?”
“Yueqi means ‘the place where the moonlight rests’. Does he still think he’s the same as he was so many years ago, like the bright moon in the sky, with the stars to guard him?” someone else sneered.
The myth had long since fallen from the altar.
They clashed in argument with each other, but luckily it didn’t go past verbal taunts, and didn’t escalate to physical violence; this continued until the man in the center stopped them, completely unaffected as he gently said, “Forget it, Yueqi Peak isn’t a place you can ascend; even I wouldn’t get any mercy from him right now. Let’s just follow the usual plan and pick a low-level disciple from the lower classes. Those young disciples are the only ones who can still cause him to have misgivings.”
“Yes, sir…” they all quietly replied, then each withdrew their spiritual power from the core of the grand array and left the hall.
HOME · NEXT =>
—It wasn’t that he was purposely posing like a master sage in a fantasy TV drama…actually, he might really be a lofty sage right now!
This was only a “might”, because he had no clue who he was right now! Who am I? Where am I? What am I supposed to be doing? He’d just suddenly appeared here, innocent and confused, without the slightest idea of what had just happened.
—Through observation and reasoning, what little information he could gather was this: The people here could fly through the air, and were dressed in a very ancient style, which meant this was most likely a cultivation world rather than a wizarding world from western fantasy. The place he was currently located was a large sect as well, but for some unknown reason the previous owner of this body had an entire mountain to himself, and there wasn’t even a single building in the area, which meant there was no chance of him finding any convenient passersby to try to coax the original’s identity out of.
Who ever heard of a transmigrator being able to tell at a glance that he had background and status, but had no idea who he actually was? Great god of transmigration, will this mistake lose you your bonus?
I’m so confused…
Gong Zhu liked reading novels in his free time, and the transmigration genre was an age-old favorite among webnovels, with countless different tropes coming out one after the other. Normally though, there was always a trigger for the transmigration. Car accidents, plane crashes, and falling in water were popular in the early years, following which came more advanced ideas: things like getting shocked while playing video games, failing to fill in the plotholes for a novel you wrote, and the greatest of them all—transmigrating into a harem novel and turning it gay.
But after thinking it over for a long while, Gong Zhu felt that he’d created a new branch of this genre—
“Blind transmigration”. The characteristics of this version were as follows:
1. I don’t know how I got here either!
2. The two scenes switched so seamlessly and naturally, there wasn’t even a fade to black!
3. And that’s not the half of it, because I don’t even have any idea where or what I transmigrated into!
With so many years of experience as a dumbass netizen, Gong Zhu’s complaints were already playing in his mind in danmaku format; and the kind you couldn’t turn off, at that.
Everything happened both naturally and suddenly. Just a second ago, he was sitting in his classroom, in a seat that was neither in the front nor the back of the class, the Ideological and Political Education teacher at the podium giving the university’s most sleep-inducing lesson in a dry voice. He’d pulled out his phone in preparation to order delivery for lunch, lowered his head, raised it again, and what appeared before his eyes was already another world.
Clouds gathered and dispersed, the morning sky beyond it an azure blue, with a vast sea of green as far as the eye could see; amidst that were luxuriant mountains dotted with emerald green, a long and winding river, and wooded mountains scattered haphazardly across the land like a chart of stars.
…What’s going on here?
The Ideological and Political Education professor’s last words were still lingering in his ears, too: “…Adhere to the Scientific Outlook on Development and realize the Four Modernizations…”
As such, Gong Zhu at the time had no idea that “transmigration” had happened; such a thing was far too unscientific, and definitely not Marxist at all. Although it wasn’t uncommon for people to transmigrate into the novel they were reading, they were generally still able to distinguish art from reality.
So Gong Zhu thought over it for a moment, and decided…the pork and mushroom baozi he’d bought at that roadside stall this morning…had been poisoned!
Weibo was covered in stories about fellow Yunnanese people eating mushrooms like they always did and hallucinating tiny people as a result, after all, so Gong Chu was extremely calm about it. There was honestly no intrinsic difference between suddenly seeing strange mountains or suddenly seeing tiny people – they were all just hallucinations. And so he coolly remained in his seat, facing a vast sea of clouds and mountain ranges, raised a hand, and said in a calm voice: “Excuse me for interrupting, laoshi, but I’ve started hallucinating. Could you please call 120, I think I’ve got food poisoning.”
A squirrel squatting in an old pine tree by the cliff edge watched Gong Zhu talking to himself, showing a very human look of concern for someone it clearly thought was mentally handicapped.
His left hand didn’t feel quite right; before he started “hallucinating”, it should have been holding his cellphone as he prepared to order delivery, but now…
“Cheep!”
A sparrow that hadn’t grown all its feathers yet?
…So I spent an entire holiday working to buy a brand new 3000-yuan smart…bird?
Gong Zhu expressionlessly lowered his head. The sparrow lying in his hand, sensing his gaze, narrowed its eyes happily and chirped again as it nuzzled its little yellow beak against his fingers.
…This…this is a seriously powerful poison mushroom! You gotta come quick, 120 people!
Once he was cured, they needed to have a serious discussion about this—#the food safety situation of vendors outside of college dormitories is worrying#—after eating their food products, a perfectly healthy male student suddenly began to hallucinate, thinking he was wearing wide-sleeved loose robes, kneeling on the edge of a cliff, and carrying a featherless baby bird in the palm of his hand!
Speaking of which, this baby bird felt way too real! Gong Zhu had always liked small animals, so it was taking all the self-control he had to resist the urge to pet the bird. What a joke—getting poisoned from eating mushrooms was already something to laugh at, but if the hallucinations made him start doing weird things on top of that, he might end up scaring his classmates and professor to tears!
Gong Zhu sat upright, quietly waiting for 120 to arrive. The mountain breeze brushed past his face; the sun and moon and stars revolved overhead, from shining sun in the sky to bright moon and scattered stars, and once again to a pale white light making its appearance in the east; a family of squirrels passed by his feet three times, transporting a total of eighteen acorns…only then did Gong Zhu gradually come to realize that something was off.
…From beginning to end, there hadn’t been any real change in the scenery aside from the unpredictable movements of the clouds around the mountain. 120 probably wouldn’t be coming, and that familiar classroom with its old-fashioned professor never reappeared either—as if they’d never existed to begin with.
Gong Zhu heard himself exhale, and in that moment the world around him suddenly became incredibly real.
For a college student from the 21st century, when the scenery in front of you suddenly changed from a classroom into a beautiful mountain peak…normally, your first reaction would be “WTF I’ve started hallucinating”, whereas the very last thing that might come to mind would be “Oh my god, did I just transmigrate?”
Gong Zhu shot up from his seat at this truly shocking conjecture. He stared dazedly at the chick currently curled into a fast-asleep ball in his palm, and slowly raised his hand. The little sparrow was warm and soft, and had yet to grow in all its flight feathers; he used his other hand to gently pet the bird’s head, and the little guy rolled over, looking like a face-up pancake in its sleep.
“Does this mean…you’re real?” Gong Zhu muttered to himself. The next instant, a beam of light broke through the sea of clouds in the distance so suddenly that Gong Zhu unthinkingly took a step backwards in shock. A flock of birds noisily circled upwards through the cloud layer, dodging away from multiple piercing lights—
Those were all people!
Gong Zhu stared in amazement at a bunch of people flying around in the distance, traveling in groups which shone in every color of the rainbow—
This…this was a cultivation world!
Right, Gong Zhu now noticed a problem: He’d been standing on this windy cliff all this time, dressed in an outfit that was perfectly celestial-looking but also so thin it was just one or two layers of soft cloth, and to top it all off, he’d just realized upon standing up that he wasn’t wearing any shoes…and yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit cold. He could feel a cool sensation on his toes when touching the frost and dew on the grass, but it wasn’t uncomfortable at all; he also didn’t feel hungry or thirsty despite not having ingested anything this whole time, and more importantly, he didn’t feel any need to pee at all.
He’d clearly still been struggling over what takeout to order not long ago, and in the blink of an eye he was suddenly a stranger to the needs of mortal men…it was hard to say if he should be laughing or crying over this.
So if he had a short bluescreen moment, that was perfectly understandable.
There was probably a really long distance between those people and the mountain peak Gong Zhu was on, yet he discovered that he could clearly make out every detail of their faces. He continued to stand there on the cliff edge for a long time, during which he figured out that the majority of the figures flying around in the distance had the appearance of young adults, and were all dressed in an identical style which was probably…a school uniform?
Some kind of heavenly music with a lively rhythm began to play, and those guys in uniform-like clothes began running frantically in several fixed directions. No matter how you looked at it, this was exactly like when high schoolers heard the school bell—Gong Zhu clicked his tongue in amazement. Back when he’d read a certain famous story about a little wizard with a lightning scar, he’d sighed, Those western wizards already started running schools to educate their kids a thousand years ago while us eastern cultivators are still kowtowing in sects, we’re seriously behind the times.
Maybe the god of transmigration had tossed Gong Zhu the chance to experience cultivation in person because they’d heard his complaints.
Also, upon closer inspection, not all of them were flying; many of them were actually…hopping around on clouds? A good number of them still seemed new to it, their clumsy appearance reminding Gong Zhu of Super Mario, and he couldn’t help laughing at this thought. After laughing though, he thought to himself, I really am careless—I’ve just gone and traveled to a strange new world, how can I still be in the mood to laugh?
But trading laughter for tears wouldn’t be any more of a help in this current situation, so Gong Zhu silently thought back to all those popular joke pieces like “The Transmigration Survival Guide” which he’d read on the internet in the past…who ever thought this sort of niche knowledge would come in handy one day?
Wait, Gong Zhu thought in a panic, according to (a famous green literature city’s popular BL) tropes, if you transmigrate into a cultivation world, and start the adventure at max level too— (normally it’s the opposing *****dian site that always has people transmigrating into a nobody, then leveling up through a series of challenging experiences, whereas on ***jiang the popular choice is transmigrating directly into a max-level godmode boss-type character) —if your goal isn’t to stop your own disciple or shidi from destroying the world, then it’s usually to stop your mortal enemy from destroying the world… Gong Zhu sucked in a breath with a hiss—he was getting kind of excited!
He’d said this before when reading novels, but if he were to transmigrate, he’d definitely spoil the protagonist to hell and back, and absolutely wouldn’t act wishy-washy like in the tropes, where the guy wants to be good to the protagonist but still has to consider how not to act too noticeably OOC, and then even when they’re about to reach the bedroom scene at the end he still insists on pretending he’s unyieldingly straight.
No, absolutely not! Besides, I was never straight to begin with!
Gong Zhu quirked his lips up in a smile—Come at me, I’m all ready to dote on the protag! Where are you protag?
No, that still doesn’t seem right, just wait another minute…who’s the protagonist?
Generally speaking, it’s standard practice for transmigration to come with a system! Shouldn’t there be a yaoi system that passes out quests, acts as a cheat program that only works some of the time, and occasionally kicks its host’s legs out from under him for lack of anything better to do? And then this system should guide the transmigrator step by step on the path to a loving relationship with the protagonist…ahem, I mean to the plot!
Just when Gong Zhu was pondering over this with a frown, wondering if maybe reality and the world of novels were more different than he’d thought, the system really did show up—
A voice suddenly appeared within his consciousness, methodically saying in the exact mechanical voice he’d always imagined: […Scanning memory…accessing life essence…simulating…System activating, startup successful—System welcomes Host’s return.]
So there really is one after all?
He’d been prepared for this, so the suddenly appearing voice didn’t scare him in the slightest.
“What do you mean, return?” The sharp-witted Gong Zhu asked—Don’t tell me, could my character design include a part about my past and present lives being inextricably linked to this world?
[…It was arrival…System is a product of this world, and learned to use words familiar to Host after scanning Host’s memories just now. Having only just learned, please allow forgiveness for any possible slight deviations in tone.]
Gong Zhu wordlessly put a palm to his forehead, after which he couldn’t help jokingly saying, “Your Chinese is seriously awkward. Could it be that you’re actually an English language system?”
The System fell silent as well, replying after a moment: [OK, I can speak English…]*
“No, thanks, let’s stick to Chinese.” Gong Zhu fully gave in.
[Based on the results of the earlier memory scan, System recommends that Host continue exploring the surrounding environment to determine his identity.] The system obediently switched back to stilted Chinese. For some reason though, Gong Zhu got the feeling it sounded aggrieved.
Feeling that he should be the aggrieved one here, he asked: “You don’t know who I am?”
The system went silent again, replying after a while with: […If…Host himself doesn’t remember who he is…how would System know?]
Gong Zhu: “…”
This must be a fake system! I’m pretty sure that under normal circumstances it should be the host knows nothing, and the system knows everything but purposely refuses to tell!
“Then do I have any missions I’m supposed to do?”
The system didn’t hesitate to answer this time: [Host’s own path in life should be up to himself to discover.]
Gong Zhu: “…” So you’re a chuuni-minded system, too.
#This doesn’t conform to the basic rules of transmigration at all!#
Who ever heard of accidentally transmigrating and then having to play detective by yourself, what do I want a system like you for, are you just here to help bump up my like count?
Looking back at what’s happened before and after transmigrating, the only thing that’s matched the tropes so far is that there’s a system, and it’s just as shitty as the stories say!
Accepting his fate with a shake of the head, he thought to himself, seeing as he no longer needed to eat, his cultivation level definitely wasn’t low; judging by what distant scenery he could see from the cliff, the cultivators were flying back and forth in groups, and there was a wide range to the area in which they flew as well, meaning this sect had to be a pretty big one; and he himself was occupying an entire mountain alone, without even anybody coming by to disturb him—
Could he possibly be a sect master living in seclusion?
He looked down at himself. His outfit was entirely different from those young cultivators’ school uniforms: his long hair wasn’t neatly tied in a proper ‘do, instead draping loosely over his shoulders, yes, and add to that the baby bird he was holding in his hand…if he were a low-level disciple playing with birds in a state of dishevelment up on a mountaintop somewhere, his shifu would’ve dragged him off for a spanking ages ago.
As such, there was no mistaking it: not only was he a max-level main account character, he was definitely a bigshot even among all the max-level characters around! The kind that had a high rank in the sect, spent his days alone in quiet contemplation, and was powerful enough that no one dared to mess with him!
Wonderful, Gong Zhu thought with a nod. Now, all he needed was a cute and well-behaved disciple who was in need of a hug! One with a tragic backstory and a deep-seated desire for revenge would be best; based on his self-cultivation built from long years of playing PVP games without breaking out in swears, he was certain he had more than enough patience and love to soothe a darling disciple exploding with resentful energy, and lead him step by step towards the Great Harmony of Life…
[…Host, shouldn’t you first figure out who you are before looking for a disciple?] the system asked melancholically.
Gong Zu expressionlessly stood by the cliffside and, just like it said in all the proper transmigration stories, wished really badly that he could blacklist the system.
…
About a dozen men and women lined the grand hall. No lamps lit the room, only the pillar of light around which they stood, seeming to pierce outwards through both the ceiling and floor of the building; a palm-sized miniature model of the hall floated within that light, and beneath it, each of these men and women stood within a magic array.
“This won’t do.” A woman with a stern expression on her otherwise lovely face dejectedly lowered her hand. “Is he still refusing to hand over the Yundu Palace array chart?”
“It’s time to charge the formation again.” A man dressed in purple retracted his hand as well, his tone cold as he said, “No matter what you say, I absolutely have to go have another talk with him.”
“You?” The woman from before mocked, “If you go, forget injecting spiritual power into the array. It’ll be a blessing from Daozu if he doesn’t stab you with his sword the moment he sees you!”
“He wouldn’t dare! If you ask me, he’s basically just a criminal to our sect, keeping him on Yueqi Peak is already more than he deserves. If he hadn’t refused to hand it over back then—”
“Tch, if you think you have what it takes then go fight him! Rob it from him, why don’t you!”
“Rob? It should belong to the sect to begin with, how is that robbery? Are we not even allowed to talk about him monopolizing it for himself?”
“Yueqi means ‘the place where the moonlight rests’. Does he still think he’s the same as he was so many years ago, like the bright moon in the sky, with the stars to guard him?” someone else sneered.
The myth had long since fallen from the altar.
They clashed in argument with each other, but luckily it didn’t go past verbal taunts, and didn’t escalate to physical violence; this continued until the man in the center stopped them, completely unaffected as he gently said, “Forget it, Yueqi Peak isn’t a place you can ascend; even I wouldn’t get any mercy from him right now. Let’s just follow the usual plan and pick a low-level disciple from the lower classes. Those young disciples are the only ones who can still cause him to have misgivings.”
“Yes, sir…” they all quietly replied, then each withdrew their spiritual power from the core of the grand array and left the hall.
Project List
Jun. 10th, 2025 09:41 pmrikoren posting in keslationsThe Classic of Mountains and Seas （山海经）
An ancient Chinese classic text describing the mythical geography and wildlife of a magical, prehistoric China, this text has been around as early as the 4th century BC, if not earlier. A great reference for when you're reading any sort of Chinese fantasy fiction, as the places and creatures listed in it can be seen in anything from novels to video games to movies, etc.
We Still Don't Know The Palace Master's Name （今天我们也不知道宫主叫什么）
Author: 素长天, Su Changtian
Content Warning: Light cannibalism jokes
Ever since Gong Zhu transmigrated into a cultivation world and picked up a relatively miserable disciple, he'd started looking forward to seeing that black-hearted wolf cub that was such a popular trope in fiction. But how come, even after going through so many trials and tribulations, this disciple still had such a healthy mindset?
Gong Zhu, with exasperation: Good disciple, when are you going to turn into the big villain? This master is still waiting to sacrifice himself (carnally) to appease you.
Disciple: No, I refuse, goodboy.jpg
...Looking at himself again, with his high cultivation level, being in a sect but living alone on a mountaintop with not a single disciple, having no choice but to pick a low-level errand-running student to be his disciple—and suddenly he felt that he and his disciple both were surrounded by all sorts of big conspiracies. This was exciting, but the problem was...Who am I, what's my name? (𖦹﹏𖦹;)
...Shouldn't transmigration follow basic rules at least? Those novels I read in my past life were liars!
Not only this, but the way I transmigrated was fishy too, my System is as crazy as the Jinjiang server, and most importantly, all these people must clearly be blind to keep picking on my disciple...I'm drawing my sword in anger, outta the way disciple, I'll be the villain myself!
Disciple: Ah! Shizun calm down, if you need anyone killed I'll do it, please put down your sword! Also, as your disciple I will sacrifice myself (carnally) to appease you!
Sword: Fuck, can someone please notice me, I don't wanna eat any more of their dog food!
Gujian
Gujian 1, or "The Remarkable Tale of Ancient Swords: Where Lie the Heart of the Qin and the Soul of the Sword?" （古剑奇谭：琴心剑魄今何在） was independently developed by Aurogon Shanghai and officially released in July 2010. It was the first fully-voiced large-scale 3D xianxia RPG made in China, and was made with the theme of Reincarnation in mind.
Taking place in a fantastical Tang Dynasty, the story follows a young man named Baili Tusu as he travels across the country in search of a way to bring closure to the tragedies of his past. In the process, he discovers love, friendship, and secrets about himself which will change his entire worldview.
Chinese Paladin: The Legend of Sword and Fairy
Sword and Fairy 1 （仙劍奇俠傳） is another xianxia RPG developed by Softstar Entertainment Inc and originally released in 1995; the version shared in this playlist is the Steam remaster from 2001. The story follows a young man named Li Xiaoyao, a teenage orphan with dreams of becoming a martial artist in the jianghu like his parents before him, who gets his chance at adventure when an unexpected series of events leads to him promising to take a mysterious girl named Zhao Ling'er on a journey to find her missing mother.
Book of the Southern Mountains
Jun. 10th, 2025 08:17 pmrikoren posting in keslationsThe first range of mountains in the mountain systems of the south is a range called the Que Mountains. The first mountain in the Que mountain range is Zhaoyao Mountain, positioned by the western coast, which has many osmanthus trees, and is rich in metals and jade. There is a type of herb on this mountain which has the appearance of chives but grows blue-green flowers; this herb is called zhuyu, and those who eat it will not feel hunger. There is a type of tree on this mountain which has an appearance similar to a paper mulberry tree, but with a black grain in its wood, and flowers which give off light enough to illuminate their surroundings; the tree is called migu, and those who bear one of its branches will not lose their way. There is a type of wild beast on this mountain which looks like a macaque, but with a pair of white-colored ears, which can both crawl and walk upright; it is called a xingxing, and those who eat its flesh can walk at lightning speed. The Liji River has its source at this mountain, and flows westward into the sea; within the river are many plants called yupei, which if worn on one's body can prevent parasitic bloating.
