The moon hung high like a jade platter—cold and distant.
The pitch-black sky sparkled with constellations, and below, the city glimmered with millions of neon lights.

At the center of this world, Luo Qingchuan saw Su Yingxue smiling at him with curved eyes.
The wind no longer felt cold. Nothing did.
They drifted through clouds, falling through the air, as if descending into the depths of the universe, dancing in the loneliest dark.

Heaven and earth seemed to flip, like opposing sides of a mirror, reflecting a breathtaking landscape—
like a masterpiece meticulously painted by a great artist.

The wind brushed past Luo Qingchuan's ears, whistling as it blew by.
The sound was ever-changing, fierce yet gentle, merging and flowing.

He heard the sweet harmonies of a children's choir,
a mysterious diva singing a lingering ballad,
a symphony performing in an empty concert hall.

The two slowly descended onto the rooftop of a remote villa.
Sitting together beneath the moonlight, Su Yingxue curled up in his arms like a cat, as if exhausted.

Her eyes reflected a sea of stars—yet they still couldn't compare to the subtle brilliance hidden in the boy beneath them.

Their silhouettes shimmered quietly in the night.

"I once read a line: ‘Every day we don't dance is a betrayal of life.'"

"When I saw that, I started crying. I think… I've been betraying life for a long time."

Luo Qingchuan listened silently to Su Yingxue's voice.
He looked down and gently brushed away the wind-blown strands of hair from her pale face, carefully revealing the elegant beauty beneath.

"But I don't regret it, and I'm not sad.
Luo Qingchuan, all the time I've lost—every second and minute of it—makes me love you more today."

Su Yingxue slowly closed her eyes.
With a faint, sweet smile on her lips, the girl fell asleep in his arms.
Her slim waist barely filled his embrace, her long legs beneath her uniform skirt curled in a graceful arc, her soft chest rising and falling in calm rhythm.

Radiant and dignified—
A peerless beauty.

All the spiritual energy in Su Yingxue's body had been drained by their long flight.

With no defenses left, she had entrusted every part of herself to Luo Qingchuan.

Luo Qingchuan studied her soft, pale cheeks, faintly tinged with pink.
This girl had already become his—completely, without reservation.
And yet, she still radiated an inexplicable, mysterious beauty.

She possessed too many charms to name.

She was too special.

Luo Qingchuan wondered how much trust it took to completely surrender yourself to another person,
to fall into sleep with your guard down, and feel safe doing it.

At least for now—he had never trusted anyone like that.

Luo Qingchuan usually only trusted himself.

Because he knew—he shouldn't place expectations on others.
That would be a selfish kind of burden.

But now, he felt a sense of pressure.

The girl's love came with hope—
a warmth that also weighed heavy.

She had made him her light of salvation, and then threw herself recklessly into that light.
It was a gift—but also a claim.

Luo Qingchuan gently picked up the sleeping girl and carried her into the bedroom,
laying her soft and fragrant body gently on the bed.

After a moment of thought,
Luo Qingchuan reached out with both hands and began unbuttoning the shirt of her school uniform, one by one.

Her smooth, pale skin emerged beneath the fabric.
Her delicate collarbone quivered gently with each breath, her soft shoulders relaxed into the bed.
Her waist was as slender as silk curtains in a palace.
The unfastened blouse revealed a flat, pearly abdomen, dusted with faint pink.

Lower down, Luo Qingchuan removed her skirt.
Her long legs curled gently beside each other, revealing curves that stole the breath away.
Her skin was nearly translucent, smooth as jade—every faint blue vein clearly visible.

Her thick lashes rested quietly, breathing light and soft.
Black hair spread across the pillow like a ripple of night.

She murmured,
"Luo Qingchuan… sleep with me…"

Luo Qingchuan could barely imagine this perfect girl
kneeling on top of him, swaying her hips,
her little face shaded by her hair and wearing a gentle smile,
claiming him fully—completely—
their bodies entwined,
her lips moaning soft cries like a solo violin—
delicate and hauntingly beautiful.

He didn't do anything inappropriate.
Luo Qingchuan pulled a blanket over the sleeping girl,
gently stroked her cheek,
and sat in silence, his heart churning.

Su Yingxue's heart was like an arrow bravely chasing happiness—
Once drawn, it would never turn back.

But also like porcelain—
the most fragile kind.

And now, she had placed it in his hands,
asking him to hold it carefully and never drop it.

Luo Qingchuan walked back out into the courtyard,
the cool breeze brushing his face.

He stretched lazily, smiling gently.

"Let's begin."

Luo Qingchuan sat cross-legged on the grass and summoned the Qinggui mask to begin refining it.

The earlier encounter with Zuo Tian had sounded the alarm.

Luo Qingchuan had to keep moving forward, giving everything he had—
or one day, the true child of destiny would catch up.
And he'd die horribly.

But that wasn't all.
Lu Chuning, Quexie, the identity of the demonic cultivator...

All kinds of monsters hiding in the shadows,
malicious forces waiting for the right moment to devour someone whole.

Luo Qingchuan sliced open his right index finger using spiritual energy—
blood dripped onto the ferocious-looking ghost mask.

The fingertips are linked to the heart,
so this kind of blood was often called heartblood.

Luo Qingchuan used his divine sense to connect with the mask,
merging his consciousness and forming a faint spiritual link.

Once complete, the Qinggui transformed into a shadow and imprinted itself on the back of Luo Qingchuan's hand.

The boy stood, energized.
Under the vast night sky, he raised his right hand and pulled the mask from the void, pressing it to his face.

In an instant, his mind sharpened,
his senses expanded.
He could clearly see every leaf, every potted plant, every insect in the yard—sharp and vivid.

He was calm—calmer than he had ever been.

His mind was crystal clear.
All unnecessary thoughts were silenced.

He had become like a machine made for battle.

Luo Qingchuan realized: even someone with no technique, once bonded with the Qinggui,
could become a seasoned warrior—seizing every opportunity in a fight.

Like activating cheat scripts in a MOBA,
like auto-parry hacks in a sword dueling game.

Unfortunately, the Qinggui offered no physical power boost.
Against enemies with overwhelming cultivation, it could create openings,
but not miracles.

Only by refining a spiritual artifact with one's own heartblood
could a cultivator become one with it,
wielding it like an extension of their body.

It would become a companion—
a battle partner closer than any friend,
a part of the cultivator's soul.

Otherwise, it was just a tool.

That's why Zuo Tian's flying sword, once severed by Luo Qingchuan's Misfortune Blade, had left him bleeding.
It was a serious injury.

The Qinggui wasn't an ordinary spirit tool.
If not fed spiritual energy, it would return to the qi sea on its own.

And a cultivator without spiritual energy
was like a dying beast, bleeding out on the battlefield.

The Qinggui would not help such a person.

Luo Qingchuan quickly removed the grotesque mask, pulled out his phone,
and opened the Quexie app.

He completed his personal info.
As a "Wanderer," he didn't need to submit private details—only cultivation stage and code name.

After some thought, he gave up.

He was terrible at naming things.
So he just borrowed the name of the mask.

Wanderer: Qinggui
Realm: Foundation Establishment, Stage 2
Points: 0
Reputation Stars: ★★★☆☆

"Registration complete. Welcome, Mr. Qinggui. May your martial path be prosperous."

……

"This is..."

Inside the vast golden tower,
Zuo Tian, pale-faced, stood before a wall full of strange masks—led there by the Old Ancestor's remnant soul.

"Pick one," the Old Ancestor sighed.
"Luo Qingchuan is protected by a master. You must strike when he's away."

Zuo Tian hesitated, disappointed.
"It's just Luo Qingchuan. Even with a pill, he's only at Qi Condensation level 2.
He's not worthy to be my enemy.
And yet I have to go this far just to deal with him? Isn't that unfair to me?"

He felt deeply unwilling.

"A gentleman hides his blade and waits for the right moment."

Seeing the Old Ancestor's insistence, Zuo Tian glanced over—
and instantly locked eyes on one mask.

He was strangely happy—like a child finding a beloved toy.

"This one," Zuo Tian pointed.

The Old Ancestor looked and frowned.

It was a fox-faced mask—seductive and eerie—wearing a calm and mysterious smile.
It looked like the chosen of fate, mocking the world.

"Why this one?"

"It's pretty," Zuo Tian grinned.
"Even if I wear this to kill Luo Qingchuan, I doubt he'll be scared.
And if he knows why—I think… he might even thank me."
……