When it came to that confession, Ling Huan’s cheeks reddened a bit, but he didn’t dwell on it.
He figured it was just Ling Xue, that troublesome woman, teasing him.
There are many kinds of ‘liking,’ after all—it doesn’t have to mean love or romance.
Ling Huan wasn’t in a hurry to return to his own room.
It wasn’t that he was unwilling to leave the beauty behind, or that he was clinging to Ling Xue’s room.
The main reason was—Ling Xue wasn’t letting him go.
“Master, when dealing with your subordinates, you must mix grace with authority. You’ve only shown me authority—where’s the grace?”
Ling Xue’s face wore a look of dissatisfaction as she abruptly stood up, kicked aside the table and chairs, and dropped to the floor, scolding sharply, “You should give me some benefits!”
As she spoke, she even arched her waist.
Ling Huan opened his mouth, but in the end, he said nothing.
He could only step forward and sit directly on Ling Xue’s waist.
The moment he sat down, Ling Xue started to hum and whimper, making some rather concerning sounds.
Truly, as expected of her.
Frightened, Ling Huan was about to get up, but Ling Xue immediately barked, “Don’t get up!”
In an instant, the roles of master and servant were reversed.
The first little underling the system forced him to take in… is really quite the pervert.
Now that it had happened, Ling Huan had no choice but to accept it.
That bewitching, soul-stealing cry from Ling Xue left Ling Huan restless and uneasy.
He forced himself to calm down and not dwell on these matters.
Ling Huan knew he had to look further ahead.
The future would likely bring endless trouble; the most important thing now was to focus his energy on cultivation.
If he wanted to live a peaceful and happy life in this life, improving his own strength was the top priority.
Next was enhancing his family’s power, and finally, expanding his own influence.
That way, he could relax as a rich young master, living every day carefreely with beautiful fairies by his side—that was Ling Huan’s dream.
With no worries about food or clothing, and a warm bed shared with a fairy.
Right, the timing was perfect.
He summoned the system panel and noticed that a new button had appeared in the top right corner of the [Panel] interface: [Simulation Space].
Judging by Ling Xue’s attitude, it looked like he’d be stuck sitting here for another two or three hours.
Might as well dive into the [Simulation Space] and give it a try.
As he clicked, a swirling vortex appeared before his eyes, and with a wave of dizziness, he was pulled right in.
The next second, when he opened his eyes, Ling Huan found himself standing in a void.
There was no ground beneath his feet, yet he felt a solid sensation supporting him.
All around him was darkness, as though he stood in a starless universe—boundless, unsettling, and inexplicably fearsome.
[Welcome, Host, to the Simulation Space!]
[Please select a simulation mode.]
[Cultivation Technique]
[Breakthrough]
[Simulated Combat]
[Alchemy]
[Weapon Forging]
There were five simulation modes in all, but only the buttons for [Simulated Combat] and [Cultivation Technique] were glowing; the rest were gray.
It seemed only those two had been unlocked.
Ling Huan chose [Simulated Combat] straight away.
Once selected, the pop-up looked just like a fighting game interface.
First up: choose your opponent.
There were only two available—Ling Xue, and Jiu-ge.
Ling Xue, Eighth Layer of Qi Refinement, Peak.
Jiu-ge, Sixth Layer of Qi Refinement, Peak.
Why only two people?
Could it be there are restrictions on who you can fight in the simulated battles?
Ling Huan had seen plenty of the guards at Ling Manor, after all.
Maybe you need to fulfill certain requirements to unlock combatants?
Could it be you need to have witnessed their fighting skills in person?
If that was the case, why wasn’t Jiang Yue unlocked?
But he wasn’t about to overthink it.
Since there were opponents, he might as well pick one and see.
After some thought, Ling Huan chose Ling Xue.
It wasn’t about showing off or thinking he was impressive—he mainly wanted to experience, if Ling Xue hadn’t shot those poison needles at him that day, would he have even had a chance to resist?
In the cultivation world, the opponents he’d most often face would certainly be those much stronger than himself.
Being suppressed by someone with overwhelming strength is a dreadful feeling; your body freezes, limbs grow cold and numb—not to mention fighting back, even running away becomes clumsy and hopeless.
If he couldn’t get used to being crushed by powerful enemies, then if it ever happened for real, he’d be petrified, unable to move—a lamb to the slaughter.
Currently, the strongest person he knew was Ling Xue.
Once Ling Huan made his selection, the surrounding void peeled away like torn wallpaper.
Behind the void was a familiar place—the riverbed where he’d once played with Yan Qing and the others.
So that’s how it worked.
Ling Huan immediately understood: the requirement must be to have seen, or fought with, someone personally.
That explained why only Jiu-ge and Ling Xue were available as opponents in the simulated battle.
The scenery finished changing.
The moist scent of the river wafted over, the babbling of the water mixed with a chilly breeze.
Ling Xue’s figure gradually came into view before Ling Huan, but compared to her real self, her expression was utterly solemn—no wildness, no crazed words.
Just a pair of sharp eyes staring intently at him.
A huge “Start” button floated before Ling Huan, and even his senses could feel Ling Xue’s overwhelming pressure.
No longer suppressing his fear with anger, Ling Huan felt an icy chill shoot straight up to the crown of his head.
He knew this feeling well.
It was death—the feeling of impending death.
The moment he pressed the “Start” button, Ling Xue moved.
In the blink of an eye, she closed the distance—right before his eyes in a flash.
She held no weapon, but clenched her fist, knuckles sharp, driving her fist straight at Ling Huan’s face!
He couldn’t block in time and tried to dodge to the side.
But in that split-second, Ling Xue’s punch suddenly halted, shifting from a fist to a bladed palm, cutting off her own attack and sweeping horizontally at Ling Huan’s head!
A cold sweat broke out on Ling Huan—he hadn’t expected Ling Xue to react so fast! And that palm blade, charged with spiritual energy, was downright terrifying!
Ling Xue’s hand sliced through the air, trailing a frosty afterimage, chopping down straight at his face!
There was no room to retreat!
Ling Huan let his feet slip out from under him, falling flat on his back.
The sharp attack brushed right past his face, slicing off flying strands of hair!
Ling Huan was startled by the bone-chilling cold above his head—one second slower, and he’d have lost half his skull.
But before he could catch his breath, a shadow fell over his entire field of vision!
Stunned, Ling Huan saw that the tail-end of Ling Xue’s palm slash had left behind a trail of spiritual energy—at the very end, it formed a flashing dagger!
Without warning, it stabbed straight at his face!
It wasn’t just falling, it was being driven by spiritual energy—racing straight for his forehead!
“Crap!”
At this point, Ling Huan couldn’t even put up a defense.
He couldn’t react—he just watched, eyes wide, as the dagger made a sickening “squelch,” piercing through his cheek.
The next moment, the space returned to nothingness.
Ling Huan lay on the ground, struggling to sit up as he gasped for air.
Recalling that moment before death, he shuddered.
His face even seemed to tingle with phantom pain.
He reached up to touch his cheek, and, finding no wound, finally relaxed.
Just then, the system popped up a battle report.
[Defeated by Ling Xue!]
[Duration: 00 minutes 03 seconds.]
[Continue simulation? Remaining simulation time: 14 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes.]
Three seconds?
One round?
Sure, he wasn’t as strong as Ling Xue—but was he really that fragile?
Only three seconds?
Ling Huan had thought he could last at least half a minute!
He was basically a “second man”—a man who dies in seconds!
What man could stand for that?
No way!
Ling Huan refused to believe it—he refused to believe he couldn’t last even a minute!
Fueled by defiance, he hit continue!
And then, Ling Huan dove into a frenzy of extra training.
Time ticked by, second by second.
Ling Huan died, over and over, until he was utterly worn out and wracked with despair.
Ling Xue was simply too fast, her moves impossible to predict, especially her expert use of controlling objects, which left Ling Huan with almost no way to defend.
Add to that the pebbled riverbed, making it feel like he was fighting a furniture master in a furniture store.
Everywhere was a weapon, everywhere a hazard.
Lose focus for an instant—dead.
Fail to block a flying object—dead!
He was like a sheet of paper in front of Ling Xue!
And Ling Xue was a scissor fiend—any attack could slice him to pieces!
His survival time gradually increased, but he still couldn’t break past the ten-second mark.
Even as he grew more familiar with Ling Xue’s moves and patterns, the fundamental issue remained—he was just too outclassed.
Strength, speed—he was way behind. Just dodging her attacks was exhausting, never mind trying to counter.
Was it because his spiritual energy reserves were too low, making him too slow?
Ling Huan felt his speed was always just a step behind hers.
Shouldn’t he be focusing his spiritual energy in his legs to boost speed?
Or was simply gathering it there not enough?
Instead of wrapping himself in spiritual energy, should he try directing it outwards from inside, achieving a kind of external flow?
Ling Huan considered this and thought it quite possible.
So, concentrating, he closed his eyes and focused.
In an instant, spiritual energy flowed through his whole body, sweeping away all heaviness and sluggishness, surging like a tide along every meridian!
He felt overflowing power—his whole body buzzing with strength!
Reinvigorated, Ling Huan started again!
This time, he was determined to reclaim a man’s dignity!
He threw himself into another round of combat against Ling Xue, fighting until heaven and earth spun!
10 seconds.
15 seconds.
20 seconds.
35 seconds!
56 seconds!
[Simulation Space exhausted. Cooldown: 71 hours, 59 minutes.]
Fifteen days—for 56 seconds.
Ling Huan lay on the ground, panting hard.
No attack skills, no movement techniques—he lasted 56 seconds on pure dodging alone.
With strength at the Fourth Layer of Qi Refinement.
And most importantly, simulated opponents always aimed to kill, never holding back—not even once.
Each fight was to the death.
Given all that, Ling Huan was very satisfied.
As the vortex appeared again before him, dragging him back in, the blinding light forced his eyes shut.
When the world stopped spinning, Ling Huan opened his eyes and found himself back in the familiar room.
He was still in Ling Xue’s room, his body slightly rocking.
He was still sitting on top of Ling Xue.
But suddenly, a wave of intense exhaustion washed over him.
Physically, he felt nothing, but his mind was drained.
Could it be that [Simulation Space] was linked to his spiritual energy?
That must be why he could only simulate for 15 days?
“I… how long have I been sitting on you?”
Ling Huan asked.
“Master, what are you saying? You only just got on.”
“Just now? How long ago?”
“Master, are you dazed? It’s been less than a second.”
A second?
So while he was in [Simulation Space], time in the outside world was frozen?
What a bargain!
But… the exhaustion was real—Ling Huan felt he might fall asleep at any moment.
But before that, there was something he had to say.
He climbed off Ling Xue.
“Eh? Wait! Master, what are you doing? Why—”
Before she could finish, Ling Huan walked to her, leaned down, took her hand, and pulled her up.
“Eh? Wait, Master, are you going to torment me again? You promised me a reward! If you don’t satisfy me, I’ll lower my affection for you! I—” Ling Xue threatened, but halfway through, she noticed the extreme fatigue in Ling Huan’s eyes.
“Thank you… thank you for holding back.”
Before Ling Xue could react, Ling Huan seemed to lose his soul, eyes closing as he collapsed into her arms.
Resting his head against her soft chest, he fell into a deep sleep.
He wasn’t faking—he truly was exhausted.
The red glow around Ling Huan was much dimmer than before.
Usually, this meant that at this moment, he was completely defenseless—anyone could change his fate now, snuffing out that brilliant red glow for good.
Ling Huan didn’t cough up blood, nor did he show any ill effects.
Stripped of his not-quite-childlike wisdom, his sleeping face finally looked like a ten-year-old boy.
Very cute.
Ling Xue gently picked him up, placed him on her own bed, covered him with a quilt, and slipped under the covers herself, hugging him close.
Ling Huan’s small body felt like a ragdoll in her arms, though bigger and much warmer than the one she’d once had.
She’d loved that doll, but lost it quickly.
She’d loved the mother who sewed her dolls, and the father who bought her fabric and cotton for them, but they too were gone—lost in the mist cast by the Destiny Pavilion, leaving only screams and warm blood splattering the bamboo hut.
Whatever she liked, always disappeared quickly.
So she preferred pain, hoping pain would disappear quickly too.
Now, she found herself liking this young master, hoping he wouldn’t disappear too—at least, not before she did.
Young master, you’re so dumb.
Didn’t you know I tried to kill you once?
How can you thank me instead?
Now… I’ll only trust you more, start to think of you as family.
That was the excuse you gave to win me over, wasn’t it?
Just a lie, meant to put me at ease.
You definitely won’t see me as family, right?
I’m a bad woman, a wretched woman.
Ling Xue murmured silently in her heart, her consciousness blurring as her eyelids drooped.
Was it the warmth of the bed, or Ling Huan’s warmth?
She couldn’t tell.
She couldn’t tell.
She only hugged him tighter, imagining she held a small doll, the chirping of insects outside a lullaby sung by her mother.
And her father’s thunderous snores—eventually silenced by her mother’s angry slap and a scolding: “Go to sleep properly, don’t wake the child.”
Fortunately, tonight, the wind doesn’t blow, and a child’s simple dream cannot be scattered.