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Join the Server“Stop!” A hoarse, harsh shout erupted from Han Shuang’s throat.
Her figure flickered like a ghost, instantly flashing before that potted “Welcome Pine.” She spread her arms, using her unremarkable stature to shield the green, vine-wrapped “zongzi” and the pine tree behind her.
She glared at Gu Chang’an, Ling Shuangjue, and Luan Ge with the eyes of one beholding heretics, every word squeezed through clenched teeth.
“You… you sinners who blaspheme the divine!”
“Don’t you dare touch her!”
“Han Shuang, have you lost your mind?” A Penglai elder who had managed not to faint pointed a trembling finger at her, shaking with rage. “Do you even know what you’re doing?! This is betrayal of the sect! Betrayal of the Sacred Lord!”
“Shut up!”
Without turning back, Han Shuang flicked a sharp blade of ice behind her.
“Ssshh!” The ice grazed the elder’s scalp, freezing the stone pillar behind him in a thick layer of frost.
Han Shuang’s voice was cold and fervent.
“The old gods are no longer worthy of my faith.”
With that, she turned back to Gu Chang’an and the others, her hostility a hundred times more intense than when she faced their combined attack moments ago.
“Take those covetous looks off your faces!”
“Divinity is meant to be worshipped and revered, not fought over like trinkets by mortals!”
“From this day on, I, Han Shuang, am the First Guardian beneath the Divine Throne! Anyone who dares to lay a finger on the divine… must first step over my corpse!”
…
Gu Chang’an, Ling Shuangjue, and Luan Ge exchanged bewildered glances.
A giant question mark formed in each of their minds.
‘Isn’t this script a bit off?’
‘We fought tooth and nail, from righteous path to demonic, from human to demon tribes. We were this close to snatching the person, and then this former warden appears out of nowhere and declares her a god?’
Ling Shuangjue let out a cold laugh. “Guardian? You?”
She curled her lip in contempt, her blood-red pupils full of mockery. “A watchdog who couldn’t even protect its master—how dare you yap in my presence?”
“I’ll say this one last time: stand aside. Otherwise, I won’t mind reducing you to ashes.”
A terrifying killing intent, like a tangible tsunami, crashed down upon Han Shuang.
Her face turned deathly pale, her body trembling uncontrollably.
It was the absolute pressure of a peak Harmony Dao realm expert. Even at the Spirit Transformation realm, she was but an ant trying to shake a tree—utterly outmatched.
Yet her eyes showed no trace of yielding.
“If you want to hurt her…” Han Shuang gritted her teeth, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth, every word laced with the metallic taste of blood. “…you’ll have to kill me first.”
“Sigh, what a bother…” A lazy, somewhat husky male voice suddenly rang in everyone’s ears. “I told you, Little Qingli, how many times? Don’t just pick up random things and bring them home.”
“See? Now look what’s happened.”
“You’ve gotten entangled in karmic debt—can’t shake it off.”
The voice came abruptly, yet it felt almost inevitable.
Like, at the crescendo of a breathtaking symphony, someone yawned and tossed a half-gnawed chicken leg into the orchestra pit.
All the top experts present instantly locked onto the source.
At the edge of the ritual altar, leaning against a broken stone pillar, was a shabby old man who had appeared from nowhere, lazily yawning.
He looked utterly ordinary: hair tied in a messy bun with a straw rope, a face etched with wrinkles, a suspicious greasy sheen at the corner of his mouth, and a grimy gourd of liquor dangling from his hand.
Not a trace of spiritual energy emanated from him—he seemed like the most common mortal.
Yet such a mortal had materialized silently within this encirclement of top experts and was speaking to that “Welcome Pine” radiating a terrifying aura.
“Who are you?!” Gu Chang’an’s Frostbright Sword quivered slightly, its tip turning to point at the old man, her voice cold as snow.
Danger! Extreme danger!
Her sword intent probed toward him.
“Old man?” Ling Shuangjue’s crimson eyes narrowed as she slowly reined in her demonic aura.
She couldn’t see through him.
In this world, those she couldn’t see through could be counted on one hand.
And every one of them deserved to die.
“So noisy, so noisy…” The old man grumbled, his cloudy eyes sweeping over the three.
“I say, you little girls, why so much fire at such a young age?”
“And you.” He turned his gaze to the potted pine, speaking crossly. “How many times have I told you, Little Qingli? Don’t go digging up everything and dragging it back to your nest! Especially human-shaped ones—they’re the most troublesome!”
At the name “Little Qingli,” every needle-like leaf on the pine, which had been radiating heavenly pressure, trembled violently.
Then, under the dumbfounded stares of everyone, that vast, majestic life-force pressure deflated like a pricked balloon—”whoosh”—and vanished completely.
All the needles drooped again, resuming their cowering, harmless demeanor.
Even the small pot scooted back a little, and the emerald vines wrapped around Shen Zhaoqing visibly wilted, though they stubbornly held on, hugging the “zongzi” even tighter.
This scene made the expressions of Gu Chang’an, Ling Shuangjue, and Luan Ge incredibly complex.
“Old Shopkeeper?”
A faint, overjoyed voice came from within the gaps of the vines.
Mu Qingli, who had just been majestic and ready to take on three opponents, now sounded like a naughty child caught hiding five catties of candy by their parent.
“You, how did you come?”
“How did you come?”
The old man—Old Shopkeeper—rolled his eyes at her. “If I didn’t come, were you going to tear down my inn?”
He shook his liquor gourd and sighed. “I was planning to sleep a few more years, but you lot made such a racket my head aches. Especially you, Little Qingli. Weren’t you off gathering herbs? How did you end up on this godforsaken immortal island, snatching brides?”
“I wasn’t!” Mu Qingli’s voice was full of the injustice of being falsely accused. “This is my soil! Mine!”
She made the vines lift the “zongzi” in front of Old Shopkeeper, shaking it like a treasured offering.
“Look! This is that piece of soil! I’ve nurtured it for years! It smells wonderful! With her, we can go home!”
“…”
Old Shopkeeper stared at the tightly wrapped “green zongzi,” the corner of his eye twitching violently.
On his weathered, time-worn face appeared an expression mixing headache and exasperation.
“Soil…?” Gu Chang’an, Ling Shuangjue, and Luan Ge also overheard this exchange.
“Preposterous!” Gu Chang’an’s clear voice carried barely restrained fury. “Junior Sister is a person, not some soil. Speak nonsense again, and don’t blame my sword for being merciless.”
Luan Ge, meanwhile, stroked her chin with interest.
Finally losing patience, Old Shopkeeper slammed his liquor gourd onto the ground!
“Thud!” A soft sound.
He slowly walked over to Mu Qingli, reached out with a calloused hand, and lightly tapped the potted pine.
“No respect for elders. How many times have I told you? This is your Zhaoqing Sister, not soil.”
“Whimper…” Mu Qingli let out a pitiful whine.
“Let go,” Old Shopkeeper said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Mu Qingli hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly retracted the vines.
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