All those bone-chilling shadows faded away with the wind, heralding that Su Wanwan’s Sacred Body had reached a new level.
From now on, she was no longer just a weak little girl. For those big brothers whose brains were short-circuited and believed merely sniffing could extend their lifespan, she could finish them off with a single sword stroke.
Thus, the jade pendant was no longer necessary.
This jade pendant had been given to her by classmate Lin Mo, who was worried about her health.
Did she really not need it anymore?
Even though the cold had vanished, the warmth radiating from the jade pendant at her chest still filled her with a blazing sun-like comfort, nourishing her entire body.
“Only a fool would throw it away.”
“I’ve already lost so much, am I supposed to throw this away too? Besides, throwing it away won’t change anything that’s already happened…? It can’t. So why bother getting rid of it?”
Ugh… Her eyes were swollen from crying…
Lin Mo, don’t let the teacher see you again.
Such a Reverse Tiangang rebel disciple was absolutely unacceptable.
Thinking this, Su Wanwan somehow wanted to cry again. Tears fell like beans: “Is my First Love really over just like that? I don’t want to live anymore!”
Crying like this, she felt a bit embarrassed. She was an Immortal Realm Supreme, yet here she was, sobbing over such a trivial matter. What would people think if word got out?
She’d thought her tears were for the shattering of morals, that even though she lost face, she could find a hint of tragic heroism. But, seriously, this? …How pathetic was this crying? Get a grip, have some dignity—what are you even crying for, you fool.
Of course, it wasn’t just because her First Love ended. How could she not be upset? She blamed classmate Lin Mo for their relationship, blamed him, and blamed herself for this outrage! She regretted ever taking him as a disciple, but no matter what, she was heartbroken.
Why shouldn’t she cry over heartbreak?
While she was sobbing, suddenly, the world spun wildly.
No way! Again!
She wasn’t ready for this!
Su Wanwan quickly glanced at the words on the panel.
[You’ve already made your choice. In the next moment, your gaze falls again on the last Karmic Thread. In truth, you feel a strange sense about her appearance.
But in a way, she delayed your death.
You have a feeling that if you sever it, while it won’t end the apocalypse, it will bring about a series of positive changes.
And if you wish, you can do it.
This sword…]
After the dizzying whirl, Su Wanwan slowly opened her eyes.
She saw…
Lin Mo-gege, you wouldn’t want your teacher to become a cold, lifeless corpse, would you…
At last, she clearly saw that face.
She had long, jet-black curly hair draped smoothly over her shoulders. Her skin was as fair and smooth as mutton-fat jade. Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief. Below her high nose, her pink lips curved up in a slight smile. She wore a sweet expression, dimples like rose-red apples on her cheeks—adorable, yet with an air of grace, just like a sweet, scheming little loli.
She looked impossibly lovable.
The only consolation was the flat expanse of her chest—completely flat, like an airport. Even so, with such a sweet appearance, she was surely very popular with boys, especially since she had the natural advantage of being a younger sister.
The pink “Karma”—was that her?
If so, then that sea of blood…
Times had changed. A flat-chested girl’s words might once have sounded annoying, but at this moment, Su Wanwan felt differently.
She and classmate Lin Mo had fate, but it looked like being together was impossible.
She couldn’t get past that mental barrier.
The appearance of the Bingyu Sword and those inexplicably emerging memories all told her that the master she and Lin Mo sought so bitterly was likely the same person. Even if she tried to persuade herself with awkward reasons, it was only self-deception.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Lin Mo—on the contrary, her feelings for him had grown deeper and more complicated. Compared to a few days ago, she no longer simply admired him as a girl; now, after spending every day together…
She liked Lin Mo more, and cherished him even more.
But this feeling was no longer romantic; it was more like the love an elder has for a younger one.
Even though Su Wanwan found this notion annoying, her perspective had changed.
In the past, she saw Yao Xi as a rival, but upon this “reunion,” she instead had the illusion of looking at a junior. In one careless moment, she even felt a motherly urge to “screen” this girl for her disciple.
But what could she do? Her position was clear. She and Lin Mo could not continue any further, and as it happened, except for being a bit scheming, this girl was genuinely devoted to her disciple, and her looks were quite outstanding.
What a ridiculous situation!
A wave of deep reluctance welled up in Su Wanwan’s heart, but she forcefully pressed it down. Her eyes became utterly calm.
“I want to see more.”
Gathering her focus, Su Wanwan followed the pink Karmic Thread, traversing through… She saw many everyday scenes between classmate Lin Mo and this girl, looking just like any ordinary “siblings.” Both were students, with the brother only a grade above the sister.
Su Wanwan couldn’t help but wonder: with Lin Mo’s cold personality, why did he get along so well with this girl?
But she didn’t dwell on it for now; she wanted to find all the “causes,” to see the very beginning, and then make her choice.
She saw it. She was almost there.
“Hurry! Look up front! Wow! Are they filming a TV show?”
“Where? Where!”
“Look, just ahead—a boy fell from the sky, and he’s dressed in ancient clothes! Must be flying on wires or something.”
Opening his eyes, all he saw were strangely dressed people.
Speaking in languages he couldn’t understand.
Who… am I?
After a bout of dizziness, he fainted.
When he woke again, a girl appeared before his eyes—should be called a little girl, really, with a bit of baby fat on her cheeks, not more than ten years old.
She had bright, lively eyes, looking clever and full of mischief, with a “I’m very smart” vibe. She was smiling, a sweet smile: “Big Brother.”
Is she calling me…?
So that’s it—I’m her brother.
From that day on, I had an identity. My name is Lin Mo, my little sister is called Yao Xi. Although I always found it strange that we didn’t share the same family name, this little home gave me a feeling of warmth. Right, there was also a strange uncle at home, loud-voiced and especially hearty. He’d often ruffle my hair roughly and, seeing my indignant face, go out and buy me Transformers.
Then I started school, attending the same elementary school as my sister, one grade above her.
The uncle once asked, “Kid, have you ever gone to school before? Why not start from first grade?”—but for some reason, his tone really rubbed me the wrong way. It was like, “Who do you think you are, questioning me?”
Of course, I didn’t say it out loud—didn’t want to get smacked.
At first, I couldn’t keep up in class, since I’d never seen this kind of writing. Knowledge felt like a spring, flowing in my left ear and out the right.
Falling behind in studies, I even thought about starting over from first grade.
But I was almost ten years old; kids that age should be in fourth grade.
So, one day, I gathered my courage and thick-skinned, went to ask my “sister,” who was a grade below me, for help.
Why courage? Because I realized my sister only smiled at me on the surface. She didn’t really like me. When the uncle was around, it was fine, but as soon as he left, her face would turn stone-cold, eyes glaring, looking like she couldn’t stand me.
This made me a bit reluctant to get close to her. In a way, I was afraid of her.
That’s why it took courage.
That day, I broke precedent and took the initiative to approach her. Even though it felt humiliating—an older brother asking his younger sister for help with his grades—if I didn’t want to be looked down on, I had no choice but to ask the “scary” little girl.
Coincidentally, the uncle wasn’t home that day. Because he had to support both of us in school, even if it was late, he was often out. In the mornings, he’d cook a lot of food and leave it in the fridge, and at night we’d heat it up ourselves.
With the uncle gone, the little girl could reveal her true colors, showing me a look of utter disdain—her little nose was practically pointed at the sky.
She still taught me how to read, explained why X+1=2, so X=1.
But she wouldn’t teach me English, saying, “That’s useless, we’re not going abroad. Who would I even talk to if I learned it?”
She must have been bad at English—I didn’t call her out on it.
She taught me anyway, but on one condition.
It was that condition that made me realize, for the first time, that maybe I didn’t really belong here.
“Could you please, from now on, not call me little sister? It’s gross.”
“If you agree, I’ll help you.”
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