Jiu Baiyun quickly closed the courtyard gate behind her, the heavy wooden latch falling into place with a dull thud that sounded particularly abrupt in the deathly silent night.
He then made a simple hand seal to cast a barrier spell with his other hand.
A faint, almost imperceptible ripple of transparent energy flickered briefly over the gate and the top of the wall.
Only after finishing these actions did he turn around, leaning against the cold wooden door and letting out a long sigh.
The small courtyard wasn’t large.
By the faint, pale starlight, one could barely make out a simple earthen hut in one corner and a shed piled with some miscellaneous items.
Su Zhiyun was leaning against the courtyard wall, keeping several steps away from Jiu Baiyun, her chest still rising and falling slightly.
She tried to steady her breathing, her eyes filled with complex emotions as she sized up this unfamiliar “fellow transmigrator.”
“Hah…”
Jiu Baiyun raised a hand to rub his temples, breaking the silence.
“Almost didn’t make it… The quarter-hour before and after midnight is when the strange creatures are most restless and their senses are sharpest. If you’re looking to die next time, pick a more auspicious hour.”
Su Zhiyun choked on his words, immediately feeling indignant.
“If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have finished it already!”
“What, you were really planning to burn the people living inside along with the place?”
Jiu Baiyun couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his tone.
Su Zhiyun’s face flushed bright red at his words.
She stiffened her neck and retorted, “I didn’t know anyone was in there!”
“If I had known people lived there, how could I possibly have…”
The second half of her sentence, “set it on fire,” trailed off under Jiu Baiyun’s half-smiling, half-mocking gaze, sounding rather lacking in conviction.
She stamped her foot in frustration, then simply turned her head away, refusing to look at Jiu Baiyun anymore.
But soon, Su Zhiyun remembered what Jiu Baiyun had said about the fox immortal not existing at all.
This statement felt like a kitten scratching an itch in her heart—the more she thought about it, the more puzzled and curious she became.
Unable to restrain her curiosity any longer, Su Zhiyun hesitated for a moment before slowly turning her head and fixing her gaze on Jiu Baiyun.
“Hey! What did you mean by ‘the fox immortal doesn’t exist’?”
Jiu Baiyun was just about to step toward the house to escape the increasingly penetrating chill of the night when Su Zhiyun’s words made him pause mid-step.
“The fox immortal doesn’t exist. Just what it sounds like,” he shrugged, his tone very casual.
“The villages around here have always had legends about a fox immortal. And then… well, someone probably just happened to save them a few times, and they subconsciously thought it was the fox immortal manifesting its power. Building a shrine, putting out some offerings, just to ease their minds.”
He patted his sleeves, which had gathered a bit of dust from the wall, his movements natural and relaxed.
There wasn’t the slightest flicker in his eyes, as if this were simply the truth.
This level of “fib” was practically second nature to the current Jiu Baiyun; he didn’t even need to blink.
“That’s all there is to it.”
As if afraid Su Zhiyun wouldn’t believe him, Jiu Baiyun summarized again, his tone carrying a hint of “what’s so strange about that?”
Before gesturing with his chin toward the house.
“It’s freezing out here, and it’s almost ‘that time.’ Come on, let’s go inside and talk in detail.”
With that, Jiu Baiyun didn’t linger any longer.
He immediately pushed open the creaking door, his figure quickly disappearing into the house.
Immediately after, a dim, yellowish candlelight flickered to life, casting a small pool of warm glow through the open doorway into the courtyard and stretching Su Zhiyun’s shadow at the entrance.
Now, Jiu Baiyun’s explanation had plunged her into brief contemplation.
Her delicate brows furrowed slightly, and she unconsciously murmured under her breath.
“Is that so…”
The night wind seemed to suddenly turn even more biting, carrying the sinister chill of the approaching midnight, ruthlessly piercing through her thin clothing.
Su Zhiyun shuddered violently, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself.
Her gaze also shifted from contemplation, landing on the interior of the house.
However, looking at Jiu Baiyun’s silhouette outlined by the candlelight inside, Su Zhiyun’s just-raised footsteps abruptly halted outside the threshold.
That bit of warm light now held no attraction for her; instead, it filled her with an indescribable sense of awkwardness and resistance.
She didn’t like men.
If Jiu Baiyun weren’t also a transmigrator and didn’t seem to know a lot, she would never have stayed with him or talked this much.
That was true in general, let alone sharing a room with Jiu Baiyun.
‘If only he were a girl…’
Watching Jiu Baiyun’s busy figure inside the house, this thought uncontrollably surfaced in Su Zhiyun’s heart, accompanied by a sigh of helplessness.
After waiting a few seconds inside and hearing no footsteps following, Jiu Baiyun couldn’t help but frown and look back.
“Standing guard at the door like a door god? Aren’t you freezing to death?”
He wasn’t aware of Su Zhiyun’s inner thoughts.
Watching her hesitate at the doorway, he had no idea what she was hesitating about.
Su Zhiyun’s body trembled slightly.
Then, she took a deep breath.
Finally, as if having made some kind of decision, Su Zhiyun gritted her teeth, abruptly stepped forward, and quickly crossed that creaking threshold.
As soon as she entered, a smell mingling with dust and faint candle smoke rushed into her nostrils.
The interior was even more spartan than she had imagined.
A rickety, creaky wooden table, a lopsided stool, some indistinguishable clutter piled in a corner, and most prominent—the place spread with dry grass that could barely be called a “bed.”
Su Zhiyun almost instinctively chose the corner farthest from that bed, pressing her back tightly against the cold earthen wall.
She truly hadn’t expected that Jiu Baiyun, who was cultivating immortality, would still live in such a shabby place…
Seeing Su Zhiyun keeping her distance and her look of disdain, Jiu Baiyun couldn’t help but click his tongue.
“I haven’t been here long myself. Conditions are what they are. Make do.”
As he spoke, Jiu Baiyun also spread his hands, indicating there was nothing he could do.
“See if you want to sleep on the bed or on the floor.”
After tidying the bed a bit, Jiu Baiyun pulled out a bundle of blankets from the pile of clutter and spread them out on the ground.
Su Zhiyun’s gaze swept back and forth between the only two options in the room, her face clearly etched with rejection.
Whether it was lying directly on the crude bed planks or wrapping herself in that blanket that looked like it hadn’t been washed in ages, both made her skin crawl.
Jiu Baiyun finished spreading the blanket and straightened up, just in time to catch the clear disgust on her face.
He raised an eyebrow, not particularly surprised, and had no intention of forcing her.
“Tsk, think it’s dirty?” His tone was calm, carrying a bit of casualness that suggested he was used to this. “Alright, suit yourself.”
With that, he stopped paying attention to Su Zhiyun’s dilemma and walked over to sit on the bed, seemingly preparing to rest.
Just as Su Zhiyun thought he really was going to leave her to her own devices, Jiu Baiyun paused as if remembering something.
He reached into the folds of his robe and rummaged around.
He pulled out a stone bead about the size of a pigeon egg, perfectly round, its color as warm and smooth as jade.
“Here, catch.”
Jiu Baiyun flicked his wrist, and the round stone traced an arc through the air, flying steadily toward Su Zhiyun in the corner.
Su Zhiyun instinctively reached out and caught it.
The stone bead felt slightly cool to the touch, its texture fine and warm.
A strange sense of tranquility transmitted through her palm.
“It contains the most basic breathing and energy circulation method. Calm your mind, focus your intent, and sink your consciousness into it. You’ll naturally see the pathways of the technique’s circulation and the breathing rhythm.”
“This is the foundation of cultivation, the first step you must master.”
He watched Su Zhiyun looking down curiously at the stone in her hand, paused, then added leisurely.
“Of course, if you can truly calm your mind, you can also meditate all night. It’s more restful than sleep.”
Su Zhiyun lowered her head, her fingertips rubbing the warm, jade-like stone bead.
However, more pressing than immediately delving into this so-called cultivation foundation was a more urgent, practical problem occupying her mind.
Where was she going to sleep tonight?!
Her eyes quickly swept over that pile of dry grass that, in her view, barely qualified as a “bed,” then disdainfully glanced at the rolled-up blanket on the floor that exuded an old, stale smell.
Just as she instinctively considered continuing to huddle in the corner and whether she could really last the night, the corner of her eye suddenly caught a barely noticeable detail on the side wall of the room.
There seemed to be a not-so-obvious door seam there, concealed by shadow.
“There,” Su Zhiyun immediately pointed toward that corner, her voice tinged with urgency.
“Isn’t there another room there?”
Jiu Baiyun glanced in the direction she pointed, showing no surprise on his face, and explained in a flat tone.
“Oh, that little partition? There is one, but it’s too small. Probably just big enough to barely squeeze in one person standing or sitting cross-legged. It’s empty inside, nothing but dust.”
He paused, watching the instant spark of hope and expectation light up Su Zhiyun’s eyes, and added.
“If you really want to go in there, it’s fine. But the space is just that small. Absolutely no lying down, only sitting meditation.”
“Sitting meditation is fine!”
Su Zhiyun almost shouted immediately, her tone resolute.
As long as she could have an independent, enclosed space, that was enough!
Before the words had fully left her mouth, she hurried over to the small partition’s entrance and reached out to push the slightly heavy wooden door.
Creak.
Just as Jiu Baiyun had said, it was narrow and cramped inside.
But Su Zhiyun didn’t care at all.
She quickly squeezed in sideways and immediately closed the door behind her.
The moment the wooden door closed, a clear click sound of a latch falling into place was heard.
Clearly, Su Zhiyun had bolted the door from the inside.
Outside the door, hearing this distinct locking sound, Jiu Baiyun’s mouth twitched involuntarily.
He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “Really…”
Then he sighed helplessly.
“Hmph, picked up a little ancestor…”
Deep in his mind, the Yao Fox Demon Venerable’s voice held thick mockery and dissatisfaction.
‘I think you’re just bored and looking for trouble!’
Jiu Baiyun ignored the demon venerable’s complaint.
He just took another look at the tightly closed partition door, raised a hand to cover a yawn.
After all the commotion for most of the night, he really was tired.
He stopped overthinking it, blew out the candle, and lay down on the crude bed planks.
Darkness completely enveloped the simple main room, separating the two people inside and outside the partition.
At this moment, Su Zhiyun was sitting cross-legged on the ground, leaning her back against the cold earthen wall, her palm tightly clutching the cool stone bead.
Floating before her was a translucent, faintly blue panel.
“System… didn’t you say that going to that place would lead me to a cute older sister who could make me stronger?”
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