Chapter 12: All Because of the Road Sign

Having completed the recitation of the disordered 3,500 vocabulary words for the college entrance exam and successfully handled the system’s random quizzes, Cui Huai felt a qualitative leap in her mental capacity.

A distorted kind of leap.

Through her tireless efforts from dawn till dusk, she had finally gained some utterly useless strength.

System: “Don’t be discouraged. Jiang Xuan is just a college student. Once you pass the CET-6 English exam, this common language task will be complete.”

Cui Huai looked at those two vocabulary books for CET-4 and CET-6, each thicker than a brick, and for the first time thought, perhaps it would be better to perish alongside the system.

Sensing Cui Huai’s passive resistance, the system quickly issued a phased reward, dangling a carrot before this stubborn mule for the first time.

“Considering the host’s positive efforts, here is a reward reducing your spiritual root complexity by 0.5. May you continue striving and achieve brilliance.”

Cui Huai lazily lifted her eyelids and slammed the two heavy vocabulary books onto the table, expressing her displeasure while signaling the system to hurry up.

The reward’s effect was indeed remarkable; she immediately felt her muddled body lighten.

Filled with vigor, Cui Huai temporarily abandoned her rebellious thoughts against the system, reigniting her fighting spirit, ready to strike.

Half a month ago, that scoundrel Fu Qin had advanced to the second layer of Qi Refining, and in recent days, she had nearly been overwhelmed by him. Now with her complex spiritual roots slightly simplified, she was determined to reclaim the upper hand!

***

With a clear mind, she pressed her sword against Fu Qin’s neck, eyebrows raised in triumph. “Senior Brother, your progress has been a bit slow lately. To learn from the virtuous, why not spend more time observing your junior sister?”

Fu Qin scowled and pushed the sword aside. “Cui Huai, if you have such confidence talking to your creditor, maybe you should just repay your debt.”

Cui Huai shrugged. “I want to, but I have no money.”

“You’re so arrogant even though you owe money.”

“Senior Brother, let’s be clear—it’s you who wants me to repay, so shouldn’t you be more polite?” Cui Huai smiled brightly, though her words only infuriated Fu Qin further.

Fu Qin was furious, unable to best her with either words or fists; never in his life had he felt so powerless.

“You… you…” He couldn’t figure out how to handle this rogue and could only leave with dignity, flicking his sleeves.

He went to check on the tree he had painstakingly cared for. The sparse saplings planted on the barren ground mostly looked vigorous and full of potential.

Then a seedling of parasol tree with yellowing, withered leaves carelessly caught Fu Qin’s eye—

Cui Huai had killed another of his parasol trees.

At that moment, Fu Qin strangely empathized with the dying sapling, realizing he was no different. Both were inexplicably struggling to survive under Cui Huai’s control; the tree had just departed a step ahead! Who knew which day Cui Huai would drive him to death by frustration!

Seething, he forcefully dragged the suspect to confess his crime. The suspect, Cui Huai, cooperated without hesitation and admitted everything.

Cui Huai insisted it was unintentional. Her spiritual roots were so complicated that she and various plants were mutually antagonistic—if she were mortal, she would be the kind to kill every plant she touched.

She had been trying hard to restrain herself, doing her best not to offend Fu Qin’s treasured trees.

She was not unreasonable. Since Fu Qin took good care of her Huagai tree, she also wanted to save the parasol tree. She watered, fertilized, and pruned as required, but her ability was limited.

Caught in the wrong, Cui Huai was forced by Fu Qin to go down the mountain to buy new saplings. Her debt list grew with the added cost of the trees.

“Senior Brother, I can’t pay this bill yet. Why not lend me a little more? I want to buy a new outfit.”

“You wish.”

Cui Huai and Fu Qin bickered their way back to the sect. Approaching the gate, they spotted a woman pacing nervously.

The once-flourishing Xiaoyao Sect had been in decline for a long time, seldom visited by outsiders, so today’s visitor was unusual.

The woman looked to be around fifty, wearing coarse linen clothes, utterly devoid of spiritual power—undeniably a mortal.

Upon seeing Cui Huai and Fu Qin, she hurried a few steps forward but kept a respectful distance, wary of offending cultivators. Then, without hesitation, she dropped to her knees and repeatedly kowtowed, pounding her head firmly on the ground.

Fu Qin quickly cast a spell to lift her up. The woman raised her tear-streaked face, blood seeping from her forehead, her voice trembling with sobs.

“Two immortals, I beg you, please save my husband.”

The woman’s name was Wu Xiaofang. She and her husband lived on Mount Fuyang. Her husband worked as a woodcutter, while she occasionally sold sewing handiwork in town.

Living near the immortals on this mountain, they had been cautious and careful, and their lives had been fairly peaceful.

Yesterday, as usual, she went to sell her sewing goods but returned to find her husband hadn’t come home. At first, she thought he was delayed, but when night fell and he still hadn’t appeared, she took a lantern and searched for him.

Only at dawn did she find him lying alone on the ground, his chopped firewood scattered around. At that moment, she felt as if the sky had collapsed.

Her trembling hand reached out to check for his breath. It was hot, but at least he was still alive, and only then did her tears dare to fall.

The old man probably never imagined that the small cart he used to haul wood would be used on himself as she slowly carried him home.

He stirred once on the way, clumsily comforting her not to cry.

Fortunately, she remained rational and seized his brief moments of consciousness to piece together what had happened.

Today, on his way to cut wood, he passed by a signpost belonging to the Maze Pavilion on Mount Fuyang. A cultivator suddenly appeared, accusing him of damaging the signpost and diverting disciples, causing the sect losses.

Before he could defend himself, the cultivator sentenced him on the spot and casually struck him down—both a minor punishment and a warning.

But a cultivator’s minor punishment was a grave matter for a mortal. From her shallow understanding, she guessed her husband’s ribs were broken.

After settling him at home, she went to the town seeking a doctor. Upon learning her husband was hurt by a cultivator, no one dared come. Nobody wanted to offend a cultivator for the sake of a stranger mortal.

She did not blame them but still hoped someone would show mercy and save her husband. She had tried every means—throwing tantrums, kneeling, bowing, weeping her heart out—but as one with nothing to offer, her dignity and face were worthless.

“The man’s already in his fifties or sixties, he’s lived long enough. Don’t trouble yourself—accept fate,” said the last old doctor in town.

She returned home in a daze, standing before their drafty door, unsure how to tell her husband no doctor would come.

It was cruel to both of them.

Before entering, she suddenly recalled her husband mentioning months ago that two immortals from Xiaoyao Sect had once borrowed his axe.

He had told her excitedly how astonishing they looked—cold-faced but kind-hearted.

Could she still try? Was there still hope?

Wu Xiaofang wiped her tears bit by bit, turned away from the house without entering, and headed toward Xiaoyao Sect.

She was not ready to give up—let her try once more.

At worst, if fate willed it, she and the old man would go together; at least they’d have each other as companions on the path beyond the Yellow Springs.