Ji Wangshu shook his head and walked back into the Sect Hall, picking up the Yellow Millet Pillow before strolling to his own dwelling.
For now, there was no need to worry too much about the little junior sister. Besides, even if she were truly kidnapped…
He glanced inward at his Foundation Establishment perfection cultivation base—the same realm as Mu Zhiming in the dream world—then looked out the window.
Outside, a Stone Path extended from the mountain gate, leading down the mountain, first intermittent, then faint, disappearing into the Cloud Sea.
The most bewildering time in life isn’t when there’s no road ahead, but when the path is vaguely visible, yet you don’t know where it leads.
Some people simply throw themselves into it, relying on the carefree philosophy that the cart will find its way around the mountain, forcing out an answer.
Others stand at the crossroads, measuring back and forth, hesitating, until even that blurred road vanishes into the mist.
Ji Wangshu was the latter. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been a shut-in in a small county town building in his past life, nor would he be a shut-in cultivating at Yixiu Sect in this one.
His heart faltered, and he let out a sigh.
Even if the little junior sister were truly captured, with his current cultivation, there was little he could do. He might as well finish the Dream World quest and see what reward his Golden Finger would give him.
He pondered, then lay down on the bed, rested his head on the Yellow Millet Pillow, and continued sleeping.
…
In the Dream World, he woke up on the stone bench. His Spiritual Sense extended, perceiving the aura within the small courtyard.
Mu Zhiming hadn’t returned yet.
He rubbed his nose. This blockhead—just like the little junior sister, always someone to worry about.
He then rose on his Sword, searching for Chen Miao’s Courtyard not far from the mountainside.
Although Chen Miao wasn’t a personal disciple of the Sect Master, she was still a top-ranked Inner Sect disciple, so she also lived on this mountainside.
Found it. Ji Wangshu’s eyes lit up as he saw Chen Miao not far away, sitting in a recliner in her Courtyard, reading a book. He flew over.
“Chen…” He landed his Sword, suddenly realizing he didn’t know how to address her. After all, he wasn’t a Sect Disciple. Calling her Senior Sister might be overstepping, and he couldn’t think of anything else suitable at the moment.
Chen Miao looked up slightly at the sound, put down her book, and, as if sensing his thoughts, gave a sweet smile:
“Brother Wangshu, you can just call me Senior Sister Chen. Blockhead taught you the basic Sect Sword Techniques, so we’re practically siblings in the Sect. No need to be so formal.”
Ji Wangshu sighed in relief and cupped his fists: “Senior Sister Chen.”
Chen Miao’s personality was different from Blockhead’s—she was lively and clever.
More importantly, she had never interacted with his fake Childhood Sweetheart persona, so he didn’t need to be so careful around her, constantly afraid that some word or action would expose his identity as a Flower Goblin.
He then continued: “Blockhead still hasn’t come back. Senior Sister Chen, do you have any idea where she might be?”
Chen Miao was also startled. Senior Sister Mu still hadn’t returned?
She looked at the sky—it was already dusk, and the sun was about to set. Usually at this time, Blockhead would have long returned to her Courtyard to rest.
“It is a bit late. She’s probably forgotten the time while practicing Sword. I’ll come with you to look for her.”
With that, she pulled a Flying Sword from her Storage Pouch, stepped onto it, and instinctively reached out both hands, grabbing Ji Wangshu’s fair hand to pull him onto the Sword.
Before Ji Wangshu could even react, he was already on the Flying Sword. His hands hesitated, unsure where to place them.
Chen Miao turned around, sensing his thoughts, and chuckled: “Brother Wangshu, don’t be so polite. You’re Blockhead’s childhood friend, so that makes you my good friend too.”
With that, Chen Miao reached back, took Ji Wangshu’s hand, and naturally wrapped it around her own waist.
Goodness, this Chen Miao was really familiar too quickly, Ji Wangshu thought, his old face flushing as he silently lowered his head.
Though Chen Miao’s waist wasn’t as slender as Blockhead’s, it was still well-proportioned, and the two were suddenly in close contact.
A faint, subtle fragrance of a woman drifted up from her collar, wafting from the back of her neck to Ji Wangshu’s nose.
“Let’s go. Blockhead should be over there.” Chen Miao took off on her Sword, soaring into the Cloud Sea, heading toward a Mountain Peak.
Chen Miao had grown up in the Market Town, honing a sharp skill for reading people. Seeing Ji Wangshu silent and seemingly restrained, she spoke up to strike a conversation.
“Brother Wangshu, this is your first time leaving the small courtyard. The sisters in the Sect are all very curious about you.”
Ji Wangshu was taken aback, thinking it was true. Whether in the real Yixiu Sect or the dream Immortal Sect, he was like a shut-in, never leaving his doorstep.
“That’s true.”
“Before you came, Blockhead didn’t really have friends in the Sect. Since you arrived, she smiles a lot more.”
“Indeed.”
Ji Wangshu recalled the past three months of daily life with Blockhead. It couldn’t be said they were as inseparable as true Childhood Sweethearts, but at least they were roommates with a decent relationship—practicing Sword together, chatting together, and he occasionally helped her tend the Flower Garden.
Within the Cloud Sea, the immortal mountains drifted hazily as the two chatted. Ji Wangshu was drawn into a brighter mood, and the anxiety of pretending to be Blockhead’s Childhood Sweetheart over the past few months faded somewhat. They talked and laughed all the way.
Before long, they flew to a towering Mountain Peak. A vast Sect Grand Hall stood not far ahead, and before it lay a Plaza as large as a go board scattered with stars.
At this moment, only a few disciples were still practicing Sword in the Plaza. When they saw Ji Wangshu descending from the Cloud Sea, their eyes widened with curiosity, and they began whispering among themselves.
“Is that Ji Wangshu? Senior Sister Mu’s kept man? He doesn’t even look that handsome…”
Ji Wangshu ignored the gossip and searched for Mu Zhiming alongside Chen Miao.
Soon, he spotted her in a corner of the Plaza. His peripheral vision caught a small pouch on the ground, and he walked over.
Mu Zhiming stood with her eyes closed, holding a Wooden Sword, swinging it alone in the open space, fine beads of sweat hanging on her forehead.
In front of her was a small wooden figurine with a Sachet hanging around its neck, emitting a faint Spiritual Energy that spread outward.
“Senior Sister Mu!” Chen Miao called out.
Mu Zhiming turned around. Her gray-white pupils reflected the silhouettes of Ji Wangshu and Chen Miao standing side by side.
Chen Miao’s hand was still resting on Ji Wangshu’s shoulder, her expression as sunny and cheerful as ever. Ji Wangshu, meanwhile, wore a relaxed, natural smile she had never seen before, and he even winked at Blockhead.
Their heights were remarkably similar—an outsider would take them for a Dao Companion pair.
Mu Zhiming’s eyelashes trembled slightly, then her gaze lowered.
In the three months of living side by side with Ji Wangshu, his words had always carried a hint of caution and restraint.
But now, standing beside Chen Miao, all of that had vanished without a trace. Even the strange floral fragrance he emitted and the Spiritual Energy fluctuations on his body were so calm and natural.
“…So it wasn’t me.”
Her hand gripping the Wooden Sword tightened. She instinctively stepped back, and with a “clatter,” kicked the pouch beside her.
“Blockhead, time to go home. The sun’s almost down.”
Ji Wangshu stepped forward, looking at Mu Zhiming, then naturally extended his right hand to pick up the small pouch on the ground.
In that instant, Mu Zhiming slid her Wooden Sword backward, swept it with force, and extended her left index finger to catch the pouch herself.
The motion was fluid and seamless, as if she were dodging something.
Then, ignoring Ji Wangshu’s stunned expression, she took a sharp breath, sheathed her Wooden Sword, drew her precious Sword, and stepped onto it.
Ji Wangshu stood frozen in place, scratched his head, said nothing, stepped up, and instinctively leaned close to Mu Zhiming’s shoulder.
But Mu Zhiming silently took two steps forward.
Exactly—one at the Sword’s tip, one at the Sword’s tail, leaving an arm’s length of distance between them.
Ji Wangshu was stunned again and rubbed his nose.
Was this… being rejected?
He racked his brain over everything he’d done the past two days, then shook his head.
He truly couldn’t find where he’d displeased her. After three months, their relationship had become as natural as true Childhood Sweethearts.
Yet now, it felt like they were back to Liberation, or even worse.
He thought for a moment with no answer, so he could only cup his fists toward Chen Miao behind him, his brows furrowed tightly. His arm hung frozen in the air for a long time before he finally dared to lightly grip the corner of Mu Zhiming’s collar.
Mu Zhiming didn’t even bid Chen Miao a polite farewell before flying her Sword into the Cloud Sea.
Above the Cloud Sea, the Sword flew steadily at a slow pace. Ji Wangshu leaned forward slightly to see what was inside the pouch.
Inside the pouch lay a single piece of Osmanthus Cake.