The antidote required several rare, exorbitantly expensive herbs. At first, I was worried, but thankfully, those two fellow cultivators who had no choice but to cultivate the Path of Ruthlessness sponsored me with spirit stones. So the antidote was all but assured.
Saving the villain was like securing myself a golden thigh to cling to. If he rose to prominence someday, I’d have someone to rely on, and this life of mine might last a little longer.
As for the male and female leads in the story, those two sword cultivators from the Lingxi Sect… In the original novel, Giang Úc fell to demonic cultivation, led the demon clan in a siege of the city, and was killed when the two of them struck him with their swords.
Now that Giang Miên was still alive, and I hadn’t harmed Giang Úc, he probably wouldn’t fall to demonic cultivation. With his talent, sooner or later he’d become a figure of renown. As long as he didn’t attack the immortal sects, those male and female leads wouldn’t try to uphold justice on Heaven’s behalf. I could live in peace under his protection and slowly look for a way home.
By the time Giang Úc had recovered about seventy or eighty percent, Vân Hoa had also been released from the Dark Prison. She stopped coming to pick fights with me and instead stayed cooped up in her room all day, refusing to see anyone. Everyone in the sect sighed. The junior sister who used to stand up for the weak had finally been worn down by reality.
It had been an internal dispute, so I had no idea how some disciple had “accidentally” let it slip. Before long, rumors were crashing around like waves. My reputation took another hit.
Vân Hoa was the Phi Tinh Sect’s poster girl, with a throng of admirers, including no shortage of powerful cultivators. When they heard what had happened, they threatened to teach me a lesson. Trình Trú’s expression grew even grimmer, and he stood guard outside my room with his sword for three days and nights.
“Big sister, that man’s been standing there for so long. Doesn’t he get tired?” Giang Miên lay by the window, looking at Trình Trú with curiosity.
After we were rescued, we made a pact. In front of other people, they still acted as my spirit pets and called me “Master.” But when we were alone, we treated each other like friends.
“Don’t mind him.” I waved a hand and slammed the window shut. Since I wasn’t looking at him, I didn’t see Trình Trú narrow his eyes the moment it closed.
I blew on the bowl of medicine and brought it to Giang Úc’s lips, my gaze as gentle as autumn water. His face turned red. “I-I can do it myself.”
“No, you can’t. Open your mouth.”
Giang Úc obediently drank every last drop. Satisfied, I set the bowl down, then took a cloth and wiped the corner of his mouth.
His injuries could have been healed with pills, of course. But pills were so impersonal. They couldn’t compare to me carefully brewing medicine for him twice a day, morning and night, then feeding it to him myself. How touching was that?
The villain was willing to take my medicine now. Wouldn’t that mean he’d let me cling to his golden thigh later? If things got too bad at the Phi Tinh Sect, I could always go over to his side, right? I really was a genius!
The new moon hung among the willow branches. The two little foxes in the room had long since fallen fast asleep, lulled by the scent of Trầm Tâm flowers. I pushed open the window and suddenly met Trình Trú’s gaze.
My spiritual sense stirred, and a low voice sounded in my mind. “Don’t be afraid. With the Phi Tinh Sect’s mountain-guarding formation, they can’t get in.”
“I’m not afraid, Senior Brother. You don’t have to stay here to protect me.”
“I’m worried that, within the sect, they don’t know the whole story…”
Just as the story described, this Senior Brother of mine was an upright and kindhearted man. It was a good thing I’d risked Mộc Phong finding out and given him the Thanh Ngọc Trâm, the original owner’s defensive artifact.
“Junior Sister is all right. But the defensive artifact you gave me… I’m afraid it can’t be repaired. It was a gift from the former sect leader. You…”
“Oh, a dead thing is worth less than a living person. If it helped Junior Sister get through this ordeal, then that was its fate. Like I said, only the three of us know about this. We absolutely mustn’t let Master find out.”
Trình Trú’s gaze softened. “All right.”
He paused, then added, “I’ll find you another, better defensive artifact to make up for it.”
“Sure, sure. Senior Brother can figure out the cost and just pay me back in spirit stones.”
The man leaning against his longsword paused. His voice came through a message spell, tinged with confusion. “Are you very short on money?”
I nodded honestly. “I am. And if Senior Brother could lend me a little more, that’d be even better.”
“There’s no need to talk about borrowing between us. How much do you need?”
I got out paper and brush and calculated the costs of Giang Úc’s continued treatment + a Clearheart Pill + expenses after leaving the sect… The paper fluttered in the breeze with a rustling sound. A moment later, I looked up at Trình Trú, my spiritual sense firm and resolute. “One hundred thousand spirit stones!”
Clang! His longsword clattered to the ground. Trình Trú’s eyes went wide, and he lost all composure, his voice cracking. “How much did you say?!”