The Little White Cat seemed long accustomed to his personality.
It flicked its tail and, relying on being a ghostly creature, passed straight through the wall.
After leaving the room, it padded along the moonlight and paced up to another quiet chamber before slipping inside.
Lightly disturbed by the little ghost creature’s ghostly qi, the youth meditating with closed eyes in the quiet chamber opened his eyes. His gray eyes turned toward it.
Ji Lingyao raised an eyebrow. “Master kicked you out again?”
“Hmph.” The Little White Cat snorted at him in displeasure.
Then it spoke in human tongue. Its voice was childish, sounding like that of a young child, and its tone was somewhat dejected. “I seem to have sensed the master’s aura…”
But the master had long since fallen…
It drooped its ears, curled up its body, and tucked its tail tip close to its side. It was not happy at all.
The memories of its master were actually quite blurry.
In the cat’s memory, its master’s face was like ink that had not yet dried, accidentally smudged by the cat’s paw into a messy blur.
However, the cat still remembered its master’s voice, its master’s scent, and the feeling of curling up in its master’s arms while being petted.
No matter how many years passed, the higher one’s cultivation, the clearer one’s past memories became.
Under Elder Shen’s care, this white cat had barely stepped onto the ghost path.
It had no talent for cultivation and had been forcibly raised for several hundred years solely thanks to Elder Shen feeding it treasures. Its intelligence was only around ten years old, its cultivation was not high, and its memories were naturally unclear.
Unable to recall its master’s appearance, the Little White Cat grew dejected and listless. Even its moon-bright fur dimmed.
Its pupils were heterochromatic—one blue, one yellow—and now they flickered like they were soaked in water.
Seeing the little cat sink into heartbroken withdrawal, Ji Lingyao pulled out a toy adorned with white feathers.
The leaping feathers immediately drew its attention. After all, with its low intelligence, it was still just a playful child.
He teased the Little White Cat, watching it bounce away those sad thoughts. Meanwhile, he pondered to himself.
Snowball had been raised with great care—its fur smooth and glossy. That girl would surely like it too.
At that time, he could use his master’s cat to get closer to Little Junior Sister.
Then, thinking of something, a few strands of amusement appeared unbidden in the youth’s gray eyes.
Besides the cat, opportunities for experiential training in the Cultivation World were plentiful, and excuses for traveling together were even more numerous.
A jade tablet appeared in his palm in an instant. He casually tossed and caught his messaging artifact.
With a flick of his hand, he precisely gripped the falling jade tablet, stirring up a gust of wind as he curved his eyes in a smile.
If he remembered correctly, Hidden Sword Mountain would open its gates soon. That would give him a reason to invite Little Junior Sister out for a trip.
He had it all planned out—and he didn’t even ask about his master in the other quiet chamber.
That luxurious figure clad in deep night-purple robes sank back into silence—or rather, a deathly stillness devoid of any ripples.
Slender, pale fingers slowly rose, lighting several incense candles.
Within his pitch-black pupils, a few bright red sparks flickered on and off, like drops of blood overflowing.
Before him, the incense smoke rose straight up without deviation.
Such a reaction from the Soul Summoning Incense indicated no wandering souls nearby.
The hand holding the incense slowly lowered again. With a slight press, he quietly inserted it into the incense burner.
In the previously empty quiet chamber, this exquisitely carved, petite Spirit Shrine had abruptly appeared. Now, several sticks of incense burned before the Spirit Shrine.
Space treasures were the most convenient, letting him carry this elaborate yet useless object with him at all times.
Thin gauze draped down from above the Spirit Shrine, shadowy and indistinct, concealing the Memorial Tablet placed squarely in the center.
This item, obtained in defiance of his family’s insistent demands, had been worshiped by him for years on end.
With the incense lit, silence reigned all around. Yet the voice from his dream echoed faintly in his ears—
“If not for you insisting on breaking off our engagement, how could I have died from sheer anger?”
He had studied soul-summoning techniques and naturally dabbled in the path of ghosts.
Ancient texts stated that if the deceased harbored resentment, that hatred could manifest as dreams.
She hated him.
The incense flames spat sparks, reflecting in his ink-black pupils like a drop of blood growing ever more vivid.
This was fine too.
The blood hung suspended in his eyes. His eyelashes trembled ever so slightly, imperceptibly. He sat cross-legged quietly before the Spirit Shrine, closed his eyes, and entered meditation once more.
Hating him was fine.
As long as he could see her again in his dreams.
That would suffice.
Entering meditation again, Shen Ting’an did indeed dream once more.
Perhaps due to his unsettled emotions—or perhaps because he deliberately indulged them—he dreamed of events from long ago.
Fallen leaves swirled in the courtyard. Wind blew through the latticed windows. A drop of ink spread across the paper, ruining the entire sheet of calligraphy practice.
The youth irritably tossed aside his brush. Ink splattered, several drops staining the front of his robes, but his usual obsession with cleanliness did not flare up.
He rose and paced a couple of steps before stopping. In a sulk, he asked his attendant.
“Has she come?”
The attendant replied, “No.”
This made him even more irritated. Simply because she had not come, annoyance flushed his cheeks red.
Yet his handsome face was too young to hide the grievance brewing between his brows. A faint watery glint swirled in the depths of his eyes.
Ever since learning that his betrothed intended to elope with a half-demon slave, he had been like this.
At first, upon hearing the news, he had been furious—seething, even. He had sent his attendant to relay a message to her, declaring that he wanted to break off the engagement.
Then came the grievance. But his personality had always been spoiled; he never lowered his head first. It was always his betrothed who came to coax him.
“Young Master, it’s been several days now. Perhaps we should just let it go—the engagement is broken, after all…”
The attendant tried to persuade him, but Little Young Master Shen refused to listen. He warned, “Who said I’m breaking the engagement?!”
The attendant swallowed his words, not daring to voice the truth. Little Young Master Shen had only been bluffing to threaten her, but the Shen Family elders had already made their decision.
The youth’s thoughts were simple. He merely wanted to use the engagement to force his betrothed to choose.
Between him and that half-demon slave, he figured that as long as she came to him, he would win.
Elder Shen observed his own memories.
His gaze fell upon Little Young Master Shen’s youthful face—somewhat immature, yet full of vigor. This face looked best when paired with that girl.
But suddenly, a trace of cold mockery surfaced in Elder Shen’s eyes. It was not directed at anyone else—it was aimed squarely at Little Young Master Shen himself.
In the end, Little Young Master Shen could not hold back. He sneaked out, wanting to see what had happened to her.
He thought that perhaps, having done something so foolish, she had been confined by her family. He wanted to see what was holding her back.
If that were the case, he would reluctantly forgive her.
Then he would reluctantly plead on her behalf, reluctantly continue the engagement, reluctantly marry her, have children with her, and reluctantly grow old together…
Elder Shen watched intently. The youth vaulted over the wall, sped past street scenes, heart full of amusing thoughts as he rushed all the way to another residence.
Soon, his steps slowed to a bewildered stagger. He halted before the mansion draped in mourning banners.
The plain white banners rose and fell silently in the wind, faintly stirring the blurred sounds of grief-stricken weeping.
Elder Shen stared fixedly. The mansion’s attendants approached him tremblingly, never expecting the engagement-breaking Little Young Master Shen to show up suddenly.
The attendant suspected he had come to vent his anger over the young miss’s elopement affair. Stammering politely, he called out, “Young Master Shen.”
It was laughable, really. Back when the engagement was still on, these attendants would jokingly address him as “son-in-law.”
Now that the engagement was broken, there should naturally be no further entanglements.
Little Young Master Shen stood stunned. Elder Shen gazed at him and mockingly curled the corner of his mouth.
Later, as his cultivation improved, his memories gradually sharpened, day after day.
Like water flowing ceaselessly, day and night, scouring away every single nuance of emotion from that day.
The frustration of ink bleeding across the paper; the anxiety of waiting for her visit; the sense of abandonment by his fiancée; the impatience he could no longer contain…
He had rushed there in a frenzy, still wondering how to conceal the heat in his cheeks—how to keep her from seeing the panic in his heart.
Only upon seeing the mourning banners did he come to an abrupt halt.
All that embarrassed warmth drained away in an instant, wrenching the very marrow from his spine and leaving him staggering.
The plain white mourning banners became a deluge of icy snow, snuffing out the blood in his bones.
Someone had died.
That was why she had not come to find him.
In the quiet chamber, Elder Shen—who had been in meditation—opened his eyes, awakening from the dream once more.
She had not come to find him.
Outside the window, the moonlight shifted softly. The Immortal Boat slowly set off, heading back to the sect.
Li Yin had finally calmed down. Her fingers kept rubbing her neck.
There were no marks. It did not hurt.
But it had been terrifying.
This was too awful. She thought with some dejection.
I hate her. I hate her so much—hate her enough to strangle her to death.
This capture target seemed to have inherited the emotions from the save file. Then the other capture targets from the Bad End save files should be the same.
She had originally wanted to probe what happened afterward—to see if this world had automatically filled in any supplemental plot. But now…
Li Yin could not resist pinching her own neck and letting out a few tiny, hysterical screams.
She absolutely had to hide her identity!
That said, after a busy night, Master Li had not gotten a single bite to eat. She simply did not dare place a Supplementation Seal on her ex.
Her cultivation was far too low. Even with the boost from her items, ten minutes had drained every last drop of her spirit power.
Once she calmed down, Li Yin took out the Spirit Dew her master had given her and took a shallow sip.
This truly was a treasure. The sweet flavor and spirit power flooded her mouth and tongue in an instant, fully replenishing her spirit power.
She propped her cheek on her hand and toyed with the little bottle, shaking it back and forth as she stared at the sparkling liquid inside.
Although she could use this treasure to restore her spirit power, without a partner for dual cultivation, she had no way to raise her cultivation. Over the long term, that would make it easy for others to see through her.
Lost in distress, Li Yin quietly counted off on her fingers in her mind, mulling over who nearby might be suitable for dual cultivation.
As a newcomer, the cultivators she knew could be counted on one hand—just those two.
Li Yin first thought of Ji Little Dao Lord, then vigorously shook her head.
The gray-eyed youth had decent cultivation, but he was Elder Shen’s disciple—and he already suspected her. She might end up exposed.
That left Elder Yaoguang. Of course, this gentle beauty was now her master.
For the moment, her pretty master served two purposes. Li Yin had two choices.
The first: Play it safe like a coward—
Treat her pretty master like convenient grass by the nest and keep him for cover.
The second: Don’t chicken out—go for it—
Treat her pretty master like a furnace cauldron: push him down, slap on a mark, and supplement from him.
Faced with the options, the Player fell into indecision.