Chapter 1: A Melodramatic Script

Chapter 1: A Melodramatic Script

Fu Yu, have you had enough of this nonsense?

Fu Yu and Jun Bu Du were a long-married couple.

On the day he went to save the world, he didn't say anything particularly special to her.

It was an utterly ordinary afternoon. The two of them were lazily sunbathing together under the Green Bodhi Tree. He rose from the bamboo chair, looked down at her, and his tone was as casual as if discussing dinner.

He asked, "Will you be alright alone without me?"

She thought for a moment. "I probably won't be used to it."

He smiled faintly and sighed softly. "Then you'll have to get used to it for a while."

She nodded in agreement. "Yes, I'll have to get used to it for a while."

He smiled again, his long eyelashes lowering.

They had been together for too long. Any parting words, no matter what they were, seemed awkward and overly sentimental.

While she was still hesitating, he turned and left.

That was the last time they saw each other.

Privately, Fu Yu thought Jun Bu Du wouldn't die, but he still died.

Miracles in stories only happen in stories.

He died.

She had no intention of following him in death.

They were an old married couple; such overly sentimental things weren't their style.

Just as they said at parting, without him, she was simply not used to it—when he was around, he always took care of her, accommodated her, making her unaccustomed to being alone.

For a good while, she kept forgetting he was dead.

"Hey, where's my green dress?" she asked casually.

The bedroom echoed emptily.

"Where's the dress—"

"—dress—"

It was strange. Jun Bu Du was only slightly taller than the average person, but with him around, the room never felt so empty it echoed.

Without him, there were echoes, which somehow made it seem even livelier.

She remembered he was dead and had to just wear a red dress she didn't particularly like.

The unsatisfactory clothing left her glum all day.

Sometimes, when matters in the sect required her input, she would instinctively reply, "I'll ask Jun Bu Du for you later..."

The other person would be stunned, and she would be stunned too.

Others would become flustered, carefully tiptoeing around her emotions as if she were some fragile object.

Actually, she really wasn't heartbroken.

She said it! She really, truly, was not heartbroken!

But no one believed her.

The more she explained, the more nervously others followed her around, afraid she might do something drastic.

Unable to get through to them, she could only let them be.

During the Qingming Festival ceremony that year, she always felt the absence of someone to take charge, causing her to be flustered and forgetful.

"Where is he, dead somewhere?!"

She snapped irritably, then suddenly remembered that the person "absent from the ceremony" was the very one being commemorated.

She cried at her own stupidity.

Thinking about it afterward, others, unaware she was angry at herself, must have thought she was crying over his death.

It was utterly impossible to explain.

Later on... she forgot which day she started getting used to it.

It seemed like just a very ordinary day. Everything suddenly returned to how it was before she ever met him. She ate well alone, slept well alone, and no longer called his name subconsciously for no reason.

She left the sect and traveled alone to many places.

The Evil Spirits in the world had been eradicated. People were recuperating and rebuilding, and peace and tranquility reigned everywhere.

People praised him, revered him, and erected many golden statues in his honor.

She passed by, hearing countless tales of his world-saving deeds, smiled, and kept her own contributions and name hidden.

This was the peaceful and prosperous age he loved and for which he gave his life.

Since he couldn't see it, she would walk more and see more on his behalf.

She walked for a very, very long time.

One day, hearing children at the village entrance singing ballads about him, she stood quietly to the side and listened for a while. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

"Such an amazing person was my late husband."

Late husband. Late husband.

Late husband, ah...

Looking back over a hundred years, she finally accepted this fact from the bottom of her heart.

Coincidentally, she was also very tired.

The village had planted many Green Bodhi Trees. She liked this type of flowering tree whose scientific name contained the character for "crossing," so she settled down here.

She rested at sunrise and also rested at sunset.

On an utterly ordinary afternoon, she fell asleep and did not wake up. Fu Yu actually thought she wouldn't wake up.

Startled awake, she was a bit dazed.

"Fu Yu, have you had enough of this?" snapped an impatient young man's voice.

Fu Yu was taken aback.

It had been so many years since anyone had called her by her full name directly; usually, she was addressed as "Your Eminence."

And what did he mean by 'causing trouble'?

Her late husband, though he looked young, was always someone's master, grandmaster, great-grandmaster, or even great-great-grandmaster in terms of seniority. His public image was stern, disciplined, and unapproachable; no one dared speak loudly in his presence.

By marrying him, she had been forced to become a highly respected figure herself.

She... cause trouble?

How novel.

"I was wrong to hurt you, even if it was an accident. But Fu Yu," the young man's voice grew more emphatic, "in this matter, aren't you also at fault?"

Fu Yu opened her eyes and found herself lying on a bed, sharp pains throbbing in her abdomen, as if her intestines had been severed.

A man in white stood beside the bed.

The man pressed his fingers to his forehead, looking weary. "How many times have I said it? My cousin is like a sister to me. Her life was in danger, and you clearly had the Heart Elixir that could save her, yet you stubbornly refused to give it—I only acted in a moment of desperation."

Fu Yu stopped examining her body.

Now she understood.

Cultivators could refine a Heart Elixir within their bodies at the cost of a great deal of cultivation and life essence. Nurtured in the dantian like a pearl in an oyster, it could be transferred to heal others' injuries or illnesses.

Refusing to give it, only to have it forcibly taken—no wonder her dantian hurt so much.

Fu Yu nodded. "Injuring someone and seizing their treasure—what does your sect have to say about that?"

The man's expression darkened, his tone growing sharper. "I told you, I'll make it up to you. We're engaged—is such a small matter really worth troubling the elders with?"

Fu Yu: "..."

Engaged?!

Though it had nothing to do with her, she felt an inexplicable twinge of guilt.

Fu Yu said seriously, "Your destined match isn't me. Don't say such things again."

The man in white frowned deeply. "You're speaking in anger again! My cousin is pure and kind-hearted; she doesn't harbor the feelings you suspect. Our relationship is completely innocent—can't you stop being so suspicious and jealous over nothing?"

Fu Yu: "?"

She looked up and studied this self-absorbed creature.

He was decent-looking, handsome in a superficial way, but far from impressive.

After all, she was used to her late husband's face.

Her late husband had the appearance of distant mountains and serene cranes, like ink wash painting—his features seemed delicately outlined with fine brushstrokes, carrying an indescribable, elusive charm. One glance was never enough; you always wanted a second.

Yet, even with such looks, he never attracted romantic entanglements.

The man in white glanced at the sunlight outside the window, a hint of anxiety creeping into his expression. "You tricked me into coming here, and now my cousin has no one to look after her. What if something happens to her? Fine, I'll inform my master and marry you as soon as possible. Just behave yourself and stop threatening suicide!"

Fu Yu asked curiously, "Threatening suicide?"

The man couldn't hide his annoyance. "Didn't you send someone to spread word that you had died, using it as an excuse to insult me and my cousin? You always resort to these clumsy tricks—extracting a Heart Elixir won't kill anyone!"

He stormed off with a flick of his sleeve.

Fu Yu mused, "Extracting a Heart Elixir indeed won't cause death."

So how did this "Fu Yu" die?

Yes, the original owner of this body was already dead, her soul dispersed.

The one who woke up was Fu Yu.

Generally, this situation would be called "borrowing a corpse to return a soul," but given Fu Yu's status, it was more like "inviting a deity to possess the body."

Fu Yu thought to herself: Since she was now entangled in this karma, she might as well seek justice for the deceased.

She raised her hand and pointed at the retreating figure of the man in white.

"Kneel—"

Under the pressure of her authority, words became law.

The man in white did not kneel, nor did he look back. He only let out a cold laugh and walked away even faster.

Fu Yu: "..."

She had forgotten—this wasn't her own body.

She tried to circulate her spiritual energy, but her damaged dantian immediately erupted with a sharp pain. The spiritual energy within her was as faint as a wisp of smoke.

Fu Yu: Tsk.

Unable to use physical force, she had to fall back on her old trade.

She formed a hand seal and directed it toward the man's retreating back. "May the celestial officials withhold their blessings, fortune be meager, fate be harsh—may wealth be lost."

This bit of spiritual energy was only enough for a beginner-level curse.

Among elementary curses, Fu Yu considered "loss of wealth" to be the most potent.

The man in white remained unaware that he had been cursed and hurriedly disappeared beyond the threshold.

Finally, peace returned.

Fu Yu surveyed her surroundings.

The bedroom was sparse. Against the wall stood an antique rosewood shelf, haphazardly strewn with chess manuals, sword techniques, talisman diagrams, musical instruments... a miscellaneous assortment, like a jack-of-all-trades.

Fu Yu chuckled.

This "Fu Yu" was somewhat similar to her.

She too would often be seized by whims, wanting to learn one thing one moment and another the next. Jun Bu Du couldn't stand her constant chatter and would search the world for rare scrolls and texts for her.

Her interests came quickly and faded even faster.

She’d get fed up in a flash and chuck it aside.

Jun Bu Du was a man who finished what he started. Facing the mess she left behind after learning only half of something day after day was practically wrecking his Dao heart.

He was at his wit's end with her, so he’d wait until she fell asleep, pick up a scroll, and read it aloud right by her ear.

Jun Bu Du had a clear, cool, and pleasant voice—even reciting scriptures sounded pleasant.

She couldn’t do anything about him either.

Studying while sleeping—she had somehow become the most diligent person ever.

Fu Yu was lost in thought, reminiscing, when a slender figure came stumbling in: “Wah—Master! Wait for Xiao Wei, Xiao Wei will come keep you company right away! Master treated me with immense kindness. If Master is dead, Xiao Wei won’t live either!”

Their eyes met.

A moment of silence.

“Ahhh—Master’s corpse is moving! Help!”

The scrawny thing jerked and shot backwards, fleeing faster than a rabbit.

Fu Yu: “...”

What a loyal Foxtail Grass Spirit.

An hour later.

Fu Yu tapped her chin lightly. “My surname is Xie, given name Fu Yu. I cultivated that Heart Elixir to save my gravely injured, unconscious grandfather.”

The Foxtail Grass Spirit obediently squatted beside the bed. “Yes, Master, that’s right, Master.”

Fu Yu: “My grandfather was a sect elder. Before the incident, he once supported... what’s-his-name...”

The Foxtail Grass Spirit quickly picked up

its master’s words: “Lu Xingchen, Master’s fiancé. If Master hadn’t taken a liking to him, he’d have died by the roadside long ago. And he still dreams of becoming the sect’s prodigy? In his dreams!”

Fu Yu understood. “Now that our family has fallen on hard times, that poor boy has actually made something of himself. He stole my medicine to heal his own people.”

The Foxtail Grass Spirit was fired up. “Exactly! It’s utterly despicable! What should we do? How do we get back at him? Should we go down with him?”

Fu Yu: “...That’s really not necessary.”

The Foxtail Grass Spirit was disappointed. “Oh.”

It grumbled indignantly, “But Master, I heard the Sect Ancestor has taken a liking to his talent and plans to take him as a Direct Disciple. Once he has a powerful backer, we won't stand a chance against him!”

Fu Yu smiled. “I can curse him with Incantation.”

“Incantation?” The Foxtail Grass Spirit’s pupils trembled. “Master! That superstitious nonsense is no good! If you believe in that stuff, you’ll get scammed into buying longevity pills when you’re old!”

Fu Yu: “...Do you know that a High Priest can curse a Demi-god to death from a thousand miles away?”

The Foxtail Grass Spirit wailed. “Isn’t that just a pie-in-the-sky promise the Old Charlatan tells to trick newcomers into joining the trade? In reality, out of a hundred Diviners, ninety-nine end up setting up fortune-telling stalls on the streets, and the one who stays in the sect—also sets up a fortune-telling stall.”

Fu Yu: “...”

She couldn’t exactly say that wasn’t the employment predicament Diviners faced.

The Foxtail Grass Spirit sneered contemptuously. “Whenever some big shot dies an unnatural death, a bunch of Diviners will inevitably jump out, fighting tooth and nail to claim they were the ones who cursed that person to death.”

Fu Yu: “Ahem, ahem.”

The Foxtail Grass Spirit delivered the killing blow: “Does anyone believe it? Does anyone? Even the deceased’s family can’t be bothered to trouble them! What Diviners? Just a bunch of big frauds!”

Fu Yu: “...”

She understood the reasoning, and the situation was pretty much as described. There was just one small problem—

The High Priest who cursed the Demi-god to death was none other than herself.