Modified Empress: Breaking into Ying Bing's Room at Night

"She was peerless in beauty, ethereal and untainted by worldly cares—a goddess acknowledged by the entire martial world."

"She was of exalted status, decisive in judgment, a figure whose mere presence made countless factions across the Nine Heavens and Ten Realms tremble."

"She was peerless in strength, her sword's gleam chilling nineteen provinces."

"Her name was Leng Qingqiu, an empress, also known throughout the Nine Heavens and Ten Realms as the Cold Enchantress, for her might was a taboo existence in that realm."

With just a few words, Li Mo painted the vivid image of an aloof and overwhelmingly powerful empress.

Shang Wu pondered, skepticism lacing her voice:

"Is there really such a person? I’ve never heard of her."

Ying Bing also turned her gaze to Li Mo, eyes narrowing slightly.

Li Mo cleared his throat.

"Well, she’s called a taboo for a reason, and it was so long ago—it’s normal you wouldn’t know."

"The Great Shang Dynasty once flourished too, and many illustrious figures from that era have since vanished without a trace."

Shang Wu pursed her lips and took a sip of wine.

"Fine, go on."

Li Mo continued:

"Yet, as the saying goes, 'the tallest tree catches the wind.' How could a solitary empress, unbound by any faction or control, not be seen as a thorn in the side of many?"

"To deal with her, the righteous and demonic sects joined forces, driving her to the brink of annihilation."

"That day, the sun and moon dimmed, heaven and earth overturned, gods wept, and night ghosts wailed."

"Her palace ran red with blood, corpses piled like mountains, countless mighty experts perished—shaking the world to its core."

"Though Leng Qingqiu was formidable, she too was pushed to her limits, cornered before a bottomless abyss."

Shang Wu’s almond-shaped eyes shimmered, clearly engrossed in the tale.

Ying Bing, however, wore an increasingly pensive expression.

Something felt familiar.

Though the empress in Li Mo’s story bore a different name and life, certain trials resonated deeply with her.

In her past life, she too had been ostracized by the Nine Heavens and Ten Realms—not for any wrongdoing, but simply for pursuing her martial path, never intending to stir chaos.

Yet though she stayed aloof from the world, the world came for her.

A being of unmatched power, beyond anyone’s control, was threat enough to be deemed an enemy.

Still.

Her fate diverged from the empress in Li Mo’s tale.

"With no escape left, she uttered one final vow—'Even in death, my martial heart remains unbroken'—and leaped into the abyss."

"Ah? What happened next? What then?" Shang Wu pressed eagerly.

Did the protagonist die right at the start?

Was that the end?

Li Mo chuckled softly.

"Patience, Master. Think about it—if this secret history survived, how could the protagonist truly perish? Truth be told, this tale was left behind by Leng Qingqiu herself."

"At death’s door, she activated a mystical artifact known as the 'Spring-Autumn Cicada.'"

"And so!"

"Not only did she survive, but she also returned to the bloom of her youth!"

Li Mo, ever the storyteller, delivered this revelation with dramatic flair, pulling his listeners deeper into the tale.

Shang Wu gasped. "!"

Clatter—

For the second time that day, Ying Bing’s chopsticks slipped from her fingers and hit the floor.

Shang Wu smirked.

"Little Bing’er, you find this too unbelievable too, don’t you? How could there be an artifact that revives the dead?"

"And not just revival—it reversed time itself!"

Nothing in this world is more insurmountable than life and death.

Nothing more merciless than the passage of time.

Countless legends and peerless experts have all succumbed to time, never breaking free from the shackles of mortality.

"Transcending death, reversing time... How could such a thing be possible?" Shang Wu murmured, her tone tinged with melancholy.

"Perhaps... it exists."

"Hm?" Shang Wu turned in surprise.

Since when did Little Bing’er get so invested?

Seeing Ying Bing engrossed, Li Mo felt a flicker of satisfaction.

Then he shot Shang Wu an exasperated look.

"Master, if you keep interrupting, I’m stopping here."

"Fine, fine. The storyteller reigns supreme."

Shang Wu poured him another cup of wine, signaling she’d behave and refrain from nitpicking.

After all, legends were legends—who knew how much was true?

As long as it was entertaining, that was enough.

Li Mo took another sip before resuming.

As he spun the tale, the image of a solitary, transcendent woman, devoted solely to her martial path, took shape.

In this new life, she leveraged her past knowledge to rise swiftly.

Yet this same Leng Qingqiu, after her rebirth, encountered an ordinary man who had never practiced martial arts.

She began disguising herself as a commoner, interacting with him, growing closer... until she was moved.

Thus, the peerless empress took a mundane man as her husband.

Many amusing incidents followed.

Bizarre yet logical, brimming with pure, unfiltered sweetness.

And after finding love, her martial arts progressed even further.

Li Mo, fueled by the immortal’s wine, grew more animated as he narrated.

The plot twisted and turned under his delivery, gripping his audience.

Shang Wu was utterly captivated.

Compared to the usual plays and storytellers’ tales, this was on another level.

Even if parts strained credulity, it was... irresistibly addictive.

"In the end, Leng Qingqiu retired from the martial world with her family..."

"No rain, no rainbow."

Hic—"Though her life was fraught with trials, setbacks, even death..."

"She never yielded, and in the end, she gained both martial mastery and love."

Li Mo capped it off with his own reflection.

His point was clear:

If even death could be conquered, then no matter how turbulent life seemed, the clouds would part.

Young one, your journey has only just begun—why fret over temporary losses?

A perfect, uplifting conclusion.

"That’s it?" Shang Wu lamented, craving more.

She was about to coax Li Mo into another story when she noticed that Li—the storyteller—Mo had slumped onto the table, soft snores escaping him.

Having downed a third of the immortal’s wine, he’d peacefully drunk himself into slumber after his performance.

"Tsk, still needs work on his alcohol tolerance," Shang Wu mused.

With no other choice, she hauled him back to his room, finished the last of the wine, and retired herself.

"Martial mastery and love... both attained?"

Ying Bing lay in bed, the scent of a certain someone lingering in the air, the echoes of his storytelling still fresh in her mind.

For some reason.

As night deepened and she couldn’t train, her thoughts grew restless.

Was what Li Mo said fabricated... or based on truth?

Wait.

Ying Bing suddenly remembered—she still hadn’t completed her system’s punishment.

But... sharing a bed?

Her brows knitted tightly.

Did she have to... sneak into Li Mo’s room in the dead of night?

This... this was...

It shouldn’t have been a big deal.

Yet after that story, merely picturing the scene made the strange fluttering in her chest intensify...

Creak—

Suddenly.

The door swung open.

A figure staggered in and collapsed onto the bed.

Ying Bing swiftly dodged, her delicate hand already resting on the Skyfrost Sword.

But a strong wave of alcohol fumes assaulted her senses, followed by the sound of snoring.

"Mmm... hehe..."

The young man on the bed squirmed twice, as if lost in a pleasant dream, his sleeping face still wearing a foolish grin.

It was Li Mo.

Ying Bing stood silently by the window, her expression unreadable in the darkness.

[Ding. The first day is about to end.]

[Host, please complete your punishment as soon as possible, or the system will unbind.]

[Countdown: 10, 9, 8, 7...]

In the end,

a soft sigh echoed through the room.