Chapter 34: Do You Treat Your Cultivation as a Game?

“You vicious woman.” Qiao Yu opened her eyes, but the voice that came from her lips was that of Lu Wei. “That’s your disciple—do you really feel nothing for him?”

“Not at all,” Wen Jinge replied. “He recovers too slowly on his own. Borrowing his body for a few days lets it heal faster. That’s what you call a win-win.”

Lu Wei was fuming inside, but he understood all too well the helplessness of being at someone else’s mercy. How had he, the mighty War God of White Deer, fallen so far as to become a pawn for others?

And yet, there was nothing he could do to refuse.

“What did you make him drink?” His face was sullen.

While Qiao Yu slept, he’d tried to seize control of the body, but the restrictions Wen Jinge had placed were ironclad—there hadn’t been the slightest gap for him to slip through. So how had a single bowl of medicinal broth brought him forth so easily?

“It was prepared by an ancient method. I don’t know exactly what’s in it,” Wen Jinge pursed her lips. “The recipe was incomplete, so I made some modifications myself.”

“Another incomplete text?” Lu Wei was speechless.

Why was it that whenever some half-ruined scroll fell into Wen Jinge’s hands, it turned out to be strangely effective? The refining array he’d seen her use before was the same; in her hands it became a seal. Why did her attempts always have such results?

He was certain now. “Have you read a lot of incomplete scrolls and made all sorts of changes to them?”

She laughed awkwardly. “Perhaps, perhaps I just have a certain talent. Whenever I want to do something, images just appear in my mind, as if I already know everything. Maybe this is what people mean when they say someone’s ‘bugged’!”

Lu Wei didn’t understand what “bugged” meant, but the more she spoke, the more exasperated he became. “Enough. What do you want me to do?”

“Lu Wei, War God of White Deer—I searched the ancient records, and there’s no mention of you. The White Deer clan did exist, but it was wiped out when the Xuan Yun Sect was founded. Your soul is from ten thousand years ago.”

“That little girl,” Lu Wei turned away, uncomfortable under Wen Jinge’s mocking gaze. If anyone had looked at him that way ten thousand years ago, he’d have torn them limb from limb. “It was her arrow that awakened me.”

“My female disciple?”

“Yes. I was the one who destroyed the White Deer clan.”

“Oh, a betrayal—there’s a story there. I’ve seen a few people forced into demonhood before, but none of them had such dense demonic energy as you.”

“It’s none of your business!” Lying in Qiao Yu’s body, his bones cracking as he moved, he managed to clamber out of bed. “You didn’t call me out just to mock me, did you? Get to the point.”

“Well, I’ve been researching an ancient method lately.”

Lu Wei shuddered. Could he still summon Qiao Yu to the surface? He didn’t want to get sealed away by another ancient technique.

“Relax.” Wen Jinge patted his shoulder. “This boy you’re inhabiting is fated for misfortune, but he’ll become a Sword God one day. That doesn’t conflict with your former status as War God. I’m keeping you around because I haven’t decided whether to kill him yet. If something dangerous happens, remember to come out and take the blow for him!”

Lu Wei’s face froze. Wasn’t this just telling him to happily count the money even as he was being sold? “Could you not say such things right to my face? It hurts.”

“Oh, come on, you’re just a soul now. What’s there to hurt? When Qiao Yu’s hand was broken, you didn’t feel a thing.”

Lu Wei fell silent.

“That refining array from before wasn’t true refining, really—it just gradually merged you and him together. Isn’t that a bit like possession? I’m helping you out, you should be grateful.”

Lu Wei had nothing left to say.

By now, the two of them had reached a desolate area—fallen, rotting trees littered the ground, which was scored with countless ravines. Though this was still part of the same mountain, it looked as if decades of drought had passed, shaping a bizarre landscape.

“Are you really the master of this peak?” Lu Wei frowned.

Over the past few days, lying in Qiao Yu’s body, he’d heard plenty about Wen Jinge, the Seven Peaks, and the Xuan Yun Sect. He couldn’t fathom how the supposedly wealthiest Wen Jinge had managed to turn her peak into such a wasteland.

“As real as it gets.”

Lu Wei pointed at the ground. “This… I haven’t been to the other peaks, have I?”

“The things on this mountain were ruined before I woke up. I lost my memory, truth be told. If it weren’t for my love of reading, I’m not sure I could have sealed you at all.”

Lu Wei’s mouth twitched, his smile growing more and more wanton.

Wen Jinge took a deep breath. After all, this was Qiao Yu’s body—if he kept smiling like that, Qiao Yu would probably wake up with an aching face. She reached out to pull his lips down.

“Don’t smile like that, you’ll frighten the flowers and grass.”

“Are there any flowers here?”

“There will be soon. Why else would I need you?”

“I’m not your laborer!” Lu Wei gestured at the cracks in the earth. “The soil’s dried to a crisp. Careful, nothing will grow!”

“Look!” Wen Jinge motioned toward the dwellings she and her disciples used, then pointed to the northern bamboo grove in the distance. “Isn’t this close to where we live?”

“So what if it is?”

“If it’s close, we don’t have to wear clothes.”

Lu Wei’s face flushed red. He glanced at Wen Jinge, then at himself, and stammered, pointing at her, “You—you’re shameless! Even your disciples and the dead aren’t safe from you!”

Wen Jinge looked at him like she was staring at a salted fish hung from the rafters for two years—utterly disdainful. “What are you talking about? Can you stop filling your head with nonsense? Isn’t building something worthwhile? If you weren’t the only demon on this mountain, whose stench more or less matches mine, I wouldn’t bother with you at all!”

Lu Wei was speechless.

Wen Jinge’s expression remained as serious as ever, and she proved to him once again just how peculiar her mind was.

“An array?”

“Yes.” Wen Jinge squatted, drawing a design on the ground. When he came closer, she shoved him aside. “Go on, move! With a face that plain, where do you find the confidence to think I’d be interested in you? If you weren’t from ancient times, do you think I’d let you tag along?”

Lu Wei was about to lose his temper—how was he plain?

Once, he’d been the War God of White Deer, unmatched in his generation, a jade among men, countless women longing for his beauty.

He was muttering to himself, but seeing Wen Jinge’s array more than half-complete, he finally asked, “So what are you planning to do?”

“Dig a pit,” Wen Jinge answered righteously, which only made him angrier.

This woman was, without question, the most extravagant and wasteful person he had ever met.

The mighty War God of White Deer fell silent, recalling her earlier words: perhaps Wen Jinge meant to dig a bathhouse pool.

“Why are you staring at me?” Wen Jinge uncomfortably wiped her face. She hadn’t exploded, after all.

Her face was clear, the area was right—there really shouldn’t be anything there.

“Impressive!” Lu Wei stuck out his thumb, biting his lower lip. “Do you use all your cultivation just to play around?”

Wen Jinge had given him too many shocks. In the past, as the War God of White Deer, he had poured all his cultivation into battle, leaving it scattered across the battlefield.

“What else can you do?” He remembered that all Wen Jinge’s disciples were sword cultivators, and she herself wielded two demon swords.

“I lost my memory,” Wen Jinge said, glancing at the array’s core, needing just one more thing to activate it. She counted on her fingers. “After waking up, I found I could do all the things of a spell cultivator or talismanist. As for artifact forging, I should know a bit. My youngest disciple had his cultivation destroyed by demon cultivators, and apparently, I’m the one who taught him his cultivation method.”

Lu Wei was jealous.