Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

“Do you want to come up, or should I go down?” Zhu Changliu asked.

Qin Jun said nothing, folding her sleeves and quietly observing the young man dressed in coarse linen.

The youth blinked slowly. “Then I’ll go down.”

Zhu Changliu stood firm, dusted off his clothes, and then looked at Qin Jun.

Though his clothes were plain and ordinary, and his movements appeared casual and carefree, the refined upbringing ingrained deep within him could not be hidden, even after long years in high places. Or perhaps he never intended to hide it at all.

Zhu Changliu yawned repeatedly, glancing at the sky and ground but refusing to meet Qin Jun’s gaze directly. “Palace Master, may I ask what brings you here?”

He was surprisingly polite, deliberately using the word “may,” Qin Jun thought.

“You know why you’re here,” Qin Jun said.

Zhu Changliu chuckled, though there was no humor in his eyes. “How do you know it was me?”

Qin Jun remained silent, her eyes drifting downward to the palace master’s token at Zhu Changliu’s waist.

Zhu Changliu’s eyes followed hers and then said, “I was careless. Next time, I’ll hide it somewhere less conspicuous.”

“You’re not bad,” Qin Jun said, eyes filled with admiration. “Do you have any plans for yourself? Would you like me to help you achieve your life’s purpose?”

The system silently groaned, recognizing yet another ploy to trick an innocent young man.

Zhu Changliu blinked slowly, seemingly unprepared for Qin Jun’s words. Surprise in his eyes blossomed into a smile, which spread from his eyes to the corners and finally across his entire face.

“You want to help me?” he asked, sounding incredulous.

“I think things are fine as they are,” Qin Jun said. “I didn’t come here to live a life of glory.”

The gloom that had been chased away by his smile returned, heavy and lifeless. The breeze dissipated, gathering once more into a storm on the verge of eruption, like an icebound volcano aching to break free.

“Very well,” Qin Jun nodded. “Then we’ll take things as they come.”

Suddenly, the storm around the youth vanished.

Zhu Changliu stared in shock at the figure standing before him—a tall woman, slender yet sturdy, like a pine on a cliff’s edge or the wind sweeping across the wilderness. Her features were delicately beautiful yet fragile, her complexion pale and gaunt, but in her eyes—long and sharp as blades—there burned wind, fire, and wine.

Zhu Changliu found himself curious about where his path would lead.

He couldn’t help but look back into Qin Jun’s dark eyes, searching for a ripple, an anchor where he might find peace.

He almost agreed to Qin Jun’s offer.

“Consider this your one unexcused absence. When you return, write a reflection and an essay on aiding others in skipping class, no less than five thousand words, delivered to my office by tomorrow morning.”

Zhu Changliu was speechless.

The cold, merciless words extinguished the fire in the young man’s heart. He suddenly no longer wished to stand there.

Struggling desperately, Zhu Changliu tried to prove it hadn’t been his imagination. “Why say such disheartening things?”

Qin Jun glanced toward the desolate demon palace and smirked. “Did you really think you’d see a beautiful view standing here?”

Zhu Changliu was left speechless.

Qin Jun folded her sleeves, the red ribbon on her hair swaying in the wind. “Though you have some skill, the demon palace has its rules. If you try to break them, I’ll find a way to break you.”

She smiled faintly; her dark pupils shone like blazing fires.

“Remember to be punctual.”

Qin Jun departed, and in the dim sky, Zhu Changliu barely caught sight of the fluttering red ribbon behind her. A copper coin clinked against something, sounding like a soul-stirring bell.

In Zhu Changliu’s weary, melancholic eyes, it seemed as if they were ignited by the fire in Qin Jun’s gaze. The frail body, looking more like a consumptive ghost than Qin Jun, seemed to harbor a blazing inferno, struggling to find a breakthrough.

The world was vast and silent; only the heartbeat within his chest reminded him—

He was still alive.

…

System: “Does the host think he’ll submit the reflection on time?”

“Will,” Qin Jun replied with a single word, deigning to grace the system while busy reviewing official documents.

System: “Why?”

Qin Jun rolled her eyes. Why even ask? Because she had challenged Zhu Changliu’s pride, and he naturally would want to retaliate later. She refused to waste time on meaningless questions.

“Think for yourself. If you can’t figure it out, don’t ask me.”

System: “…” It was precisely because it couldn’t figure it out that it asked! If it could, it wouldn’t be asking!

The two exchanged fewer than ten sentences, each a riddle. Before the system could respond, the conversation ended.

Just as it mustered the courage to ask, its enthusiasm was crushed…

System: “Sigh… these days, money is hard to earn, and life is hard to swallow…”

Qin Jun looked up, her gaze complex and thoughtful.

“Non-carbon-based lifeforms actually operate through this kind of miraculous energy transformation?”

?

System froze. What was the host talking about? Why couldn’t it understand again?

System: “May I ask… what does the host mean?”

Qin Jun was silent. “…Nothing much, just feeling a bit annoyed suddenly.”

Just no one appreciating her worn-out jokes.

Humor no one else understood was as lonely as her unparalleled wisdom.

Qin Jun flipped through the tangled report in her hands. Shen Tu Suxin’s enormous handwriting was a torture to the paper and her eyes.

Her irritation deepened.

She closed the report, considering whether to drag someone back to her cave to vent her frustration.

In the end, Qin Jun spared poor Shen Tu Suxin and chose instead to unleash her ire on the system.

Holding her palace master token, she quickly found a flaw in the program she’d extracted from the system.

Qin Jun: “The underlying logic and the location clock-in algorithm are flawed. Roll it back and fix it—have the patch online by tomorrow morning. I trust you so much, and yet such a simple function is written this poorly.”

System: …Why so angry today? Could it be a problem with the spiritual jade pearl?

“Where is the problem?” it asked humbly. It was half-baked anyway, copied straight from the “market consensus”—it hadn’t even fully learned it yet. Now, just managing to piece together a half-finished product, it already thought itself a genius, but—

System suddenly felt dejected.

Qin Jun: “You’re asking me? Don’t you understand your own problems?”

If it knew where its problems lay, would it still have any? Wouldn’t it have solved them already!

The system decided this wasn’t the time to argue with the host. It chose to retreat strategically and develop cautiously.

System: “…Should I fix it?”

“Fix it?” Qin Jun sneered. “Do you even understand how?”

The system, embarrassed and furious, requested a shock: “Host, please treat your employee kindly!”

A flash of lightning struck. Qin Jun dodged to the side. The lightning hit the palace master token perfectly, instantly activating the code etched into it. A faint glow drifted in the air like luminous insects dancing.

The code once composed of “0”s and “1”s, strings of commands and calls, now transformed into spiritual energy—runes woven from spiritual energy.

Interesting, Qin Jun thought.

Her gaze followed the drifting spiritual energy. A completely novel world unfolded before her eyes.

The chance to define a spiritual energy-based programming language was right here—an opportunity to make a name for herself, even ushering in a “Qin Jun” era.

Qin Jun raised her hand, attempting to touch the fluttering spiritual energy. Tiny points of light traced mysterious, beautiful patterns in the air.

The system trembled in the consciousness space. It watched as the host suddenly halted, her pale face seeming to ignite with fire, her usually listless body bursting with boundless vitality. It was as if the lightning hadn’t struck the token but had struck her soul.

It quietly observed the floating spiritual energy, unable to grasp what was so extraordinary about it to ignite such passion in Qin Jun.

It even cheerfully wondered if, in the future, when the host failed to cooperate with system tasks, it could use lightning to strike the palace master token to bring the stubborn mule back on track.

Qin Jun closed her eyes. The true qi she had painstakingly gathered surged from her skin, enveloping the dispersed spiritual energy. She studied each particle, feeling every one…

Time passed slowly. Qin Jun remained motionless. Even the system grew tired, unsure what she was doing.

Suddenly, Qin Jun opened her eyes. The scattered lights in the air converged wildly into one, compressing into a large point of light before slowly descending back into the palace master token.

Then, a satisfied smile appeared on Qin Jun’s face.

System: “What is the host smiling at?”

Qin Jun extinguished the candle with a burst of energy and prepared to return to her room to rest.

“Nothing. Sleep.”

…

Pain.

So much pain.

Raindrops fell like stones upon her body. Qin Jun was kicked into the mud, her body nearly shattered. Mud and water flooded her nostrils; breathing became a luxury.

“Qin Jun.”

Agonizing pain spread through her body, from the foot pressing on her back to every limb and bone.

She couldn’t even scream “pain.”

Rain poured heavily. Someone lifted her from the ground. Thunder flashed suddenly, revealing a breathtakingly beautiful face.

“You can only die at my hands.”

Her neck was twisted, never to rise again.

…

Qin Jun suddenly opened her eyes, gasping for breath.

She had been dreaming.

The room was pitch black, and outside even darker, with no light to see by, silent and still.

Only her panting broke the silence.

She was not dead. She was still alive.

Qin Jun’s hand trembled slightly. The lingering pain seemed to prevent her from even controlling her own body.

She stared quietly at the canopy above. When her heartbeat steadied, her breathing eased, and the cold sweat became merely clammy and cold, she spoke:

“System, did I die at the male lead’s hands?”

The system was busy fixing bugs, wishing it could down two more cups of coffee and have a smoke. “Yeah, why? Did you forget your mission?”

Qin Jun: “Nothing, just confirming.”

The system was silent. At least Qin Jun slept a while; it hadn’t closed its eyes all night!

System: “Why ask now? Finally remember your mission target is the male lead?”

“The male lead is Helián Héng, the orphan of the Rong Kingdom’s royal family. He should currently be preparing to apprentice at the Sword Pavilion, ready to shine brilliantly in the immortal alliance competition three years from now.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, according to the storyline, you ultimately die by the male lead’s hands. If you don’t want such a miserable death, better get moving. Stop wasting time on your performance KPIs and start improving your skills, okay? Otherwise, the pearl will drain you dry, and even a dried-up corpse has no charm.”

“There’s no palace master who’s a useless person!”

Qin Jun replied calmly, “When does he kill me?”

System sighed deeply. “Because you didn’t read the storyline properly, you forgot something so important. It’s about seventy or eighty or ninety years later—exact details the system can’t recall. Once you enter the mission world, you can’t consult the guide anymore.”

Qin Jun: “How do I die? Neck snapped, golden core cut out, pearl extracted?”

System: “Bingo! Correct! That’s your ending.”

Qin Jun gazed quietly into the night, lay back down, and closed her eyes.

System sneaked a question: “Why are you suddenly asking all this?”

“Just remembered and wanted to ask. I’m going to sleep. Remember to test thoroughly and launch the patch tomorrow.”

System: “…Damn.”

Vampire!

Qin Jun suspected this was indeed her fate, but she didn’t tell the system that the male lead who killed her—

Had a face exactly like Zhu Changliu’s.