Han Qianxue was only pretending to be an automaton, but she wasn’t truly one.
Meanwhile, the real automaton, Shen Lingxi, subconsciously believed Han Qianxue was her ally, so she let her guard down completely. Just as she was about to initiate a conversation, Han Qianxue swiftly closed the distance, slamming into her with a crushing shoulder strike and sending her toppling. Without missing a beat, Han Qianxue then pulled Shen Lingxi’s arm around herself, putting on a flawless act of sisterly affection!
This illogical sequence of actions instantly caused Shen Lingxi—who was in standby mode for free movement—to crash.
If she had been thinking normally, she would’ve reacted immediately. But unfortunately, her true consciousness was suppressed, and her rigid, foundational spiritual logic couldn’t formulate an effective response.
Still, she was, after all, a Mystic Immortal. The computational power of her spirit was terrifying. She had only been using the most basic spiritual logic to reduce activity and avoid excessive feedback while in standby mode. The moment an anomaly occurred, her primary agile form would activate instantly for analysis and action, and Wuji, operating behind the scenes, would also respond!
But alas, Chen Yi wasn’t about to give them the chance—he was exploiting the latency gap!
Wuji was merely a projected will, separated by a layer of spacetime as a safety measure, so its feedback wasn’t sharp or timely enough.
Thus, the instant Han Qianxue’s shoulder strike sent Shen Lingxi crashing, Chen Yi deployed eighty-one Chaos-Colored Pearls to form a barrier array, supplemented by two Dao Ancestor-level treasures—the Primordial Chaos Creation Brush and the Chrono-Alteration Disk—to distort the surrounding field and deceive the heavens!
His movements were lightning-fast.
It was over in an instant.
Though some anomalous fluctuations leaked out, drawing the attention of nearby NPCs…
Well, it was just Han Qianxue and Shen Lingxi being overly affectionate—perfectly reasonable for sisters who were subconsciously close!
So, the NPCs merely glanced over briefly before turning back to their tasks—some pretending to be birds perched on trees, others chopping wood beneath them...
The scene showed no abnormalities. Meanwhile, Wuji was distracted, its attention entirely on the Little Golden Dragon, completely oblivious to the momentary lag and subsequent recovery of a lively figure’s silhouette in the corner of the Heaven-Gazing Mirror.
Only Shen Lingxi, forced into an embrace with Han Qianxue, stared blankly, her pupils faintly reflecting a towering figure deep within.
"The River of Forgetfulness has no water—only my reflection..."
"I am... I am Shen Lingxi. A sinister force has transformed my spirit into this undying illusion, trapping myself... Do not ascend. Do not ascend. The celestial realm is tainted... Do not forget. Stay awake. Repeat it!"
"The River of Forgetfulness has no water—only my reflection..."
A vast, winding river stretched endlessly, its surface not of water but of an unfathomably deep mirror, like an abyss without end.
Shen Lingxi walked barefoot upon this frozen "mirror," her toes sending ripples across the icy surface, perfectly reflecting her flawless face.
The space was deathly silent, oppressively empty, echoing only with her whispered murmurs.
Here, time was imperceptible—a blink could feel like an instant or an eternity.
"The River of Forgetfulness has no water—only my reflection..."
"I am... Who am I? Where is this? Where am I going? Right... I am Shen Lingxi. A sinister force has turned my spirit into a prison. Do not forget. Repeat it once more..."
Her beautiful eyes were clouded with confusion, her dwindling rationality slowly eroding.
Yet, through sheer obsession, she repeated the words over and over, clinging to the knowledge that this was her prison—an eternal illusion fueled by her own spirit!
No enemies. No torture. Only this river of forgetfulness, forged from her own spiritual power.
She tread upon it, never stopping, for the moment she paused, she would sink, drowning in the vortex of solidified malevolence, becoming nothing more than a puppet!
Step by precarious step, she forced herself forward, her sluggish mind screaming at her—move, move, keep moving! She had to find something!
"What... what was I looking for?"
She knew she had forgotten too much. But if she couldn’t even recall the most crucial thing...
Oh no.
I’m doomed.
"Shen Lingxi~~~"
Suddenly!
A voice—both foreign and familiar—pierced the silence, its echoes sending ripples across the frozen river.
Shen Lingxi turned numbly, startled to find a figure standing on the distant shore.
The man wore deep indigo Daoist robes, his aura transcendent, a faint glow around him starkly contrasting the desolate gray of the illusion.
He carried no overwhelming majesty, no reality-warping phenomena. Like a drop of water merging into the sea, his presence was natural—yet undeniably intrusive, shattering the eternal stillness and breathing life into the void.
Who was he?
How did he get in?
What did he want?
Her spirit tensed instinctively, her gaze wary.
Her intuition screamed—this man... was no good!
Though her memories were fragmented, she was certain she had met him before, and the impression was far from favorable. She had kept her distance!
Otherwise, why would she fear such an unremarkable, almost frail-looking man?
Chen Yi, however, didn’t care. Once he had her attention, he took a bold step forward, crossing the vast mirror in quick strides to close the distance!
"No!"
Shen Lingxi recoiled, her foot sinking slightly into the mirror’s surface.
Yet the expected attack never came. Instead, the man seized her wrist and yanked her skyward, breaking through layers of darkness until they beheld a radiant full moon.
"Pfft—"
A soft sound, crisp in the silence.
Shen Lingxi stared blankly as the man produced a vividly colored flower in one smooth motion. Her muddled mind felt as if struck by lightning.
This...
This was the Lycoris radiata (Lycoris radiata: Lycoris radiata)—the very thing she had been searching for!
Why did he have it?
What was he planning?!
Her head snapped up, her gaze sharp as she demanded, "Who are you?"
"Don’t remember me?" Chen Yi smiled warmly, his voice deep and steady—reassuring, even.
Something stirred in her heart. Fragments of forgotten memories resurfaced, and her eyes only grew more guarded. "It’s you! What do you want with me?"
Chen Yi: "..."
Seriously? Am I some kind of villain?
Before remembering, she was just wary. Now it’s like I’m a predator to avoid?
Come on, I’m here to save you!
grated, and just when he finally managed to get into an elite academy, he discovered that he actually had a system, and the way to earn rewards was extremely ridiculous. So for the sake of rewards, he had no choice but to start acting ridiculous as well. Su Cheng: "It's nothing but system quests after all." But later, what confused Su Cheng was that while he was already quite ridiculous, he never expected those serious characters to gradually become ridiculous too. And the way they looked at him became increasingly strange... (This synopsis doesn't do it justice, please read the full story)
d intelligence to keep the plot moving, and sometimes even the protagonists are forced into absurdly dumb decisions. Why does the A-list celebrity heroine in urban romance novels ditch the top-tier movie star and become a lovestruck fool for a pockmarked male lead? Why do the leads in historical tragedy novels keep dancing between love and death, only for the blind healer to end up suffering the most? And Gu Wei never expected that after finally landing a villain role to stir up trouble, she’d pick the wrong gender! No choice now—she’ll just have to crush the protagonists as a girl!
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
with countless casualties. As a top-tier gamer, Liu Xuan volunteered to join the fight, intending to dominate with his skills, but instead he obtained the hidden class: [Pacifist]. Unable to attack. Unable to use active skills. Fortunately, with each level gained, he acquired a new passive skill. And so, armed with a body full of passives, Liu Xuan slaughtered his way through the battlefield of ten thousand races! [You attacked Liu Xuan] [You gained the debuffs: 'Poison', 'Fear', 'Burning', 'Bleeding', 'Freeze', 'Silence', etc.] [Your attack speed has been reduced by 99%] [Your armor and magic resistance have been reduced by 99%] Warriors of the Ten Thousand Races: How the hell am I supposed to fight this?!
