The stone Qilin statue ultimately came crashing down, its overwhelming weight bringing with it a gravitational force no human could resist.
Anything that dared stand in its path would be smashed to pieces, without exception.
And right now, standing in its path—was me.
Strength was never my forte, and in my current frail and delicate body, I had no chance of stopping it.
No chance at all.
“Bang!”
The statue slammed down with a thunderous crash.
In that critical moment, I suddenly felt a familiar sensation—an almost comforting restraint, the kind that made you want to stop thinking and just surrender.
It yanked me out of harm’s way.
A girl dove onto me.
“Clu… luru?! What are you doing here?”
Just a second ago, I had been lost in struggle—hesitating, trying to grasp that fleeting sensation, trying to understand what I truly wanted in that moment.
I was on the verge of making a decision.
And the one thing that had been haunting me this whole time—suddenly appeared before me.
She threw herself at me without a second thought.
“Nngh—”
Cluru’s little face was twisted in pain.
I quickly sat up and looked over—only to see one of her tentacles had been too slow to dodge and had gotten crushed under the statue.
“That was… too sudden…” Cluru winced, baring her tiny fangs. “I forgot to turn off the pain receptors… but it’s better now.”
With a slight tug, the part of the tentacle that had been pinned broke off, dissolving into a wisp of white light.
A new section instantly regenerated from the break, as good as new.
“Totally unnecessary! Like I’d ever get crushed by something that clumsy!” I didn’t even know what was wrong with me—I blushed furiously and lashed out at Cluru. “Stupid! Stupid octopus! Why would I ever need saving from you? That was completely pointless! Completely pointless!”
“…I promised you.”
“What?”
“When you agreed to marry me, I made you a promise…” Cluru mumbled, sounding wronged. “That I’d take care of you, even if you could never speak again.”
“…”
I was stunned into silence, unable to say a word—even as the roar of bulldozers closing in filled the air, I didn’t register a thing.
That memory Cluru spoke of—I had no sense of it. Just a blank void.
All I could do was vaguely picture it: the two of us, abandoned by the world, huddled in a dark basement, wearing tattered clothes.
One of us rambling on, lost in a cold, gloomy dream.
The other sleeping peacefully, busy hacking and being hacked in some nightmare.
“I… I never agreed to that!” I insisted again.
“You did.” Cluru still spoke as if it were fact.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.” Cluru remained as stubborn as ever.
I didn’t respond—maybe because the bulldozer was practically in my face.
“Stop! You lawless animals! Stop right now!”
Xiaoyue Jushi stood angrily in front of the bulldozer.
But the machine showed no sign of slowing down.
These people really didn’t care if they killed someone.
As the bulldozer rolled forward without pause, about to crush Xiaoyue Jushi’s thin body—
“Looks like someone’s tired of living.”
The Qilin’s power surged through me, my celestial robe fluttering though there was no wind.
Sparks of lightning began to dance across the entire Qilin Hall.
I was furious.
Though I didn’t even know why.
I was just… furious.
Furious beyond words!
Facing the bulldozer,
I formed a hand seal, fingers tucked under, all hidden in the palm.
It was the Thunder Hand Technique.
“Three east, two south, one north, four west, and five at the center—this is the origin of the Great Numbers!”
I chanted softly under my breath.
Meanwhile, not far away, Xiaoyue Jushi, hearing the chant, turned back in shock.
He completely forgot about the bulldozer bearing down on him—his entire body jolted as if struck by lightning, tingling from head to toe.
He replayed the phrase I’d just recited in his head:
“《The Luoshu》?! Shenxiao Five Thunders Orthodox Method?!”
As a Dao cultivator, Xiaoyue Jushi had never practiced any real immortal techniques, but he had heard of them.
Since he was a child, he had grown up listening to his master’s stories about the immortals.
He used to dream of one day summoning thunder and calling the rain like those mythical figures.
But as he grew older, he came to understand—those legends were just that: legends.
Totemic worship from an ignorant era, nothing more.
So-called demon-banishing Dao arts—just smoke and mirrors.
He had accepted a perfectly normal, materialist worldview.
Even this newly awakened spiritual world had nothing to do with actual immortality.
But now…
Right before his eyes, just as the Qilin Temple was about to fall into ruin—
Someone was actually trying to use those legendary immortal arts!
There was no mistake—this incantation was definitely the Shenxiao Sect’s Five Thunders Orthodox Method!
“Crackle—”
In my fury, a powerful bolt of lightning first lashed across the temple floor.
Then, it slowly gathered into my hand.
I raised my palm gently.
“Immortal Art—
One Hundred Thousand Volts!”
Xiaoyue Jushi: “……”
The thick bolt of lightning shot out horizontally—not as dramatic as one crashing down from the heavens, but far more precise.
My cultivation wasn’t strong enough; the Five Thunders lasted only a brief instant, but it was enough.
The lower half of the bulldozer was instantly melted into molten iron.
The driver’s pants were burned halfway off, exposing his pale, pudgy rear.
Whether from the shock or the fear, he had passed out cold, frothing at the mouth.
Arcs of electricity didn’t spare the other henchmen either—the entire demolition crew from the Tiger Head Gang was now convulsing on the ground, mouths foaming.
“What… what immortal technique was that?” Xiaoyue Jushi asked in a trembling voice. “Was that really an immortal art? The legendary kind?”
Maybe immortals really did exist. Maybe his dodgy master hadn’t lied to him after all.
Maybe there really were people who could unleash those ancient divine techniques—the methods were simply lost to time.
Compared to the mythical Qilin, whose existence was vague and symbolic, this kind of immortal art felt far more real.
“Xiaoyue-gege, our healing session isn’t finished yet,” I blinked at him pitifully.
“But the Qilin statue is already destroyed…” Xiaoyue Jushi let out a bitter laugh. “I grew up here in the Qilin Temple—I’ve long been used to the statue’s presence.
That statue wasn’t just about faith to me. It was a source of calm… What just happened already scrambled my brain, and now the statue’s gone—I can’t settle my mind at all.”
Xiaoyue Jushi sorrowfully picked up a shard of the shattered statue.
“So the Qilin helps you feel at peace?”
“Mhm, I suppose so. After all, I grew up hearing stories of the Qilin,” Xiaoyue Jushi sighed. “In the legends, the Qilin possessed all these admirable traits… integrity, kindness, clarity, wisdom. Whenever I threw a tantrum, my master would have me meditate in front of the statue.
Over time, even though I knew the Qilin wasn’t real, I started to internalize the spirit it represented.
That’s probably how belief is born.
It’s just… a shame the statue’s gone now.”
“Well then, just get a new one~”
“Easy for you to say,” Xiaoyue Jushi crouched down and gave my head a bitter little rub. “The Qilin isn’t exactly a mainstream figure of worship. Only weirdos like my master even believed in it. No other temples, no other statues—where would I even find a second Qilin statue…”
“Hmm—”
“Besides, that statue was hand-carved by my master,” Xiaoyue Jushi sat amidst the rubble, grief in his voice. “The old man claimed he’d seen a real Qilin—that’s how he was able to carve one so lifelike… But he’s not here anymore. A statue that vivid… won’t ever be made again.
Damn that Tiger Head Gang!”
He cursed through gritted teeth.
“Ohhh—” I got it. “So, if we just find a real Qilin, everything will be solved?”
“Pfft—” Xiaoyue Jushi chuckled. “Sure, little missy~ But even if you’re amazing, a legendary spirit like the Qilin isn’t something that just—”
“Heaven and Earth as one. Release.” I slipped off my white robe.
The spirit binding was lifted.
A drowsy little white horse appeared amid the rubble of the statue.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.