Back then, Ning Yue had also believed her parents had simply forgotten in their haste. But… after all these years, she had finally come to understand: they hadn’t forgotten—they had chosen not to.
They hadn’t given her cultivation resources because they didn’t want her to walk the path of revenge. Instead, they had hoped she would live a quiet, uneventful life.
After all, the enemies responsible were backed by forces far-reaching—ones that didn’t even belong to this world. Revenge wasn’t some heroic quest; it was a road to hell, endless and consuming.
Ning Yue understood that. But even so—if the chance for revenge did appear, who wouldn’t want it?
With that thought lingering in her mind, Ning Yue quietly watched Little Mengyao sitting by the pool, drawing spiritual energy into her body.
Though the young master had claimed Mengyao was the reincarnation of a powerful being, Ning Yue didn’t really feel it. So naturally, she never considered entrusting her vengeance to Mengyao.
To her, Mengyao was just like herself—a child who had lost her home. A pitiful, displaced soul.
She didn’t want to place unrealistic hopes on that little girl’s shoulders.
As for Ye Ping’an…
At the moment, he wasn’t in the cave. He’d stepped outside.
Thinking back on the awkward misunderstanding just now, his face had been scrunched up the whole way, like he’d just swallowed a bitter gourd.
What was once a secret shared between just two people had now become a secret known to three.
Ye Ping’an was terrified. What if, later on, his junior sister met that legendary protagonist Feng Aotian… and didn’t hold back her mouth again?
What if she casually blurted out that he’d seen her naked as a child?
How would the protagonist react?
Would he be furious?
Would he kill him on the spot?
No, this wouldn’t do. He had to have a serious talk with her later. That sharp tongue of hers—it had to go. For the sake of his life.
But for now, survival came first. Food was the priority.
The three of them had flown here on Junior Sister’s sword, and naturally hadn’t brought much food.
Since she hadn’t reached the Foundation Establishment stage yet, she didn’t dare carry much weight.
If they brought too much and the sword got overloaded mid-air, Ye Ping’an had zero confidence he’d survive the fall.
Having already accepted that he wasn’t the protagonist, Ye Ping’an now valued his own little life above all. If danger could be avoided, he avoided it.
And so, by day three, they had nearly eaten everything they brought. If he didn’t find food now, their next meal would be nothing but hunger.
He couldn’t help recalling a scene from the original story—Feng Aotian taking the female leads out for a picnic, pulling steaming-hot dishes from his storage ring, placing them lovingly before each girl like a gentleman from their dreams.
Then there was Ye Ping’an… still out here, scavenging in the wild.
He dreamed day and night of owning a storage ring. A pocket dimension of his very own—wasn’t that every man’s dream?
Why else did so many men in his past life make it their life goal to buy a house?
Even a tiny space would be fine!
With a storage ring, ingredients wouldn’t spoil.
Hot meals stored inside would stay hot, fresh fruit would stay fresh. It was the ultimate tool for travel, adventure… or robbery.
But sadly, Ye Ping’an was no protagonist.
In this world, even most sect leaders in the lower realms didn’t own spatial artifacts. Ye Ping’an, scraping the bottom of the barrel, had never even seen one up close.
If news ever broke that such an item had appeared in the area, even two rival sects locked in war would call a truce to fight over who got it first.
But a dream is just a dream, and Ye Ping’an knew better than to waste time fantasizing. Spatial artifacts? In his lifetime? Not a chance.
Better to focus on the task at hand.
Though the “spiritless zone” was sparse in spiritual energy, it wasn’t completely barren.
Compared to human cultivators constantly weighed down by mundane distractions, the beasts in the wilderness faced no such obstacles.
Their lives were simple: hunt, eat, and breathe in spiritual energy.
Over time, even low-level beasts could accumulate considerable power.
Given enough years, the difference between beasts and human cultivators—even within the same spiritless land—became painfully clear.
Some long-lived species even had a slim chance to stumble upon a lucky opportunity, a flash of fortune that pushed them into the Foundation Establishment stage.
Of course, that kind of miracle was rare. Ye Ping’an had no illusions of meeting such a beast here.
Even among those at the Qi Condensation stage, beastly combat prowess often outclassed that of humans.
A human at the tenth level might easily beat a beast at the ninth—but against a beast of equal level?
Without special tricks, death was almost certain.
So Ye Ping’an treaded through the forest with utmost caution.
Thankfully, the forest was rich with food. Not just fresh mushrooms and fruit—rabbits and birds darted through the underbrush too, sometimes right past him.
He might’ve been a so-called “trash cultivator,” but he was still a cultivator. A few swipes of his sword, and he had two rabbits and a wild pheasant down.
Meat and vegetables—fully stocked.
After cleaning the game, Ye Ping’an was careful not to attract attention. He didn’t want blood scent in the air leading predators straight to their hideout.
So he butchered the animals a good distance away, washed everything clean, and brought it all—meat and fruit—back to the hidden cave.
At the mouth of the cavern, he stopped.
Deep inside the underground chamber, a barrier glowed faintly. Ye Ping’an stared at it for a while, debating whether to go in. But in the end, he didn’t have the courage.
His image in the girls’ minds had already plummeted to the depths. In fact, they likely thought of him as somewhere between a pervert and a beast.
If he just barged in now, he feared even “beast” would be too generous a title.
So he sighed, defeated, and gently placed the food by the barrier’s edge. Hopefully, when Ning Yue came out, she’d find it.
Then once Little Mengyao finished cultivating, he could go inside and finally eat.
Eat what? Why, Ning Yue’s cooking, of course.
Over the years, her culinary skills had grown to perfection. She had a complete stranglehold on Ye Ping’an’s stomach.
The past few days of rushed travel and random snacks had left him craving her dishes even more.
Wait a second… was he forgetting something?
“Oh crap,” Ye Ping’an smacked his forehead.
“The firewood!”
Even the most skilled chef couldn’t cook without fire. Without fire, all Ning Yue could prepare was cold cuts—at best.
With a new goal in mind, Ye Ping’an left the cave once more and began hunting for dry firewood.
Compared to last time, when everything had gone smoothly, this time felt like the heavens were playing a prank on him.
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