Chapter 35: Rescue

“This is… the Archaic Bone Lotus?”

White Tiger Xuanjun’s voice carried a rare trace of surprise.

Luo Jiutian’s gaze locked onto that gray-white mass floating in midair, his expression heavy.
He racked his memory again and again, yet found not a single clue that matched it.

“Senior, this thing must be extraordinary, right?” he asked with a frown.

White Tiger Xuanjun gave a slow nod.

“This object is said to have originated from an ancient land of calamity, birthed from the countless remains of dead spirits. I have read of it in old records, but I never thought I would see the real thing with my own eyes.”

Her gaze lingered on the Archaic Bone Lotus, her voice calm but weighty.

“To ordinary cultivators, it has no use. It cannot raise one’s cultivation. But it carries a unique power—one that allows those born incapable of absorbing spiritual energy… to set foot on the path of cultivation.”

Luo Jiutian’s mind immediately conjured an image.
Su Yuan, Su Wan’er’s elder brother.

In his memory, that boy had a frail, slender build. His skin was pale, his features delicate, and he always bundled himself up in layers of clothing like a dumpling. His entire being exuded the sickly air of a long-term invalid.
His presence was faint, almost nonexistent.

Even in a clan as large as the Su family, few remembered his name. Fewer still recalled that he was Su Wan’er’s brother.

If one had to compare, his life bore a certain resemblance to Luo Jiutian’s own.
Both abandoned by their families.
Both targets of ridicule and scorn.
The difference was… Su Yuan didn’t even have the right to struggle.

He could not cultivate. He could not even perform the most basic act of drawing in spiritual energy.
And in a world where strength determined everything, a person unable to cultivate… had no right even to breathe.

Worse still, he had been born into a great clan like the Su family.
That kind of daily rejection and cold indifference—Luo Jiutian knew it all too well.

In the simulations, he hadn’t interacted with Su Yuan often. Yet the few times they did meet, their conversations had been unexpectedly congenial.
At the time, Luo Jiutian hadn’t thought much of it.
But thinking about it now—

A boy born crippled.
A clan’s discarded son.
And before him floated the Archaic Bone Lotus, an object that allowed exactly such a person to walk the path of cultivation.

No way…

Luo Jiutian’s brows furrowed, unease gnawing at the pit of his stomach.

“System,” he murmured in his mind.

【I am here, Host.】

“Must a Child of Fortune be suppressed in order to gain Fortune Points? Can’t I… recruit one instead? Bring him under me as a subordinate?”

【Impossible. The fortune of a Child of Fortune can only be obtained through suppression, interception of opportunities, and the like. Recruitment is only viable for Daughters of Fortune.】

Luo Jiutian fell silent.

He had considered leaving this lotus for Su Yuan.
After all, in the simulated world, Su Yuan had been one of the very few who consistently showed him genuine goodwill.

But if he really did so… once Su Yuan refined it and became a new Child of Fortune, who could predict what might happen?

One only had to look at Luo Chen’s inexplicable hostility to understand—Children of Fortune and him were destined to stand opposed.

Luo Jiutian’s eyes lingered on that gray-white lotus hovering in the air.
For a long while, he said nothing.

“Brat, why are you dazing off again?”

White Tiger Xuanjun’s sudden voice dragged him back.
He blinked and muttered, “It’s nothing. I was just thinking… this thing is rather strange.”

White Tiger Xuanjun replied coolly,
“Though it is useless to you, keeping it may not be without benefit. Someday, it could serve as a token of goodwill owed.”

Luo Jiutian nodded.
“Senior is right.”

Forget it. Since he was already here, he might as well take it.
The rest could be decided later.

Just as he stepped forward, a low hum reverberated through the chamber.
The entire room trembled violently.

Dark mist seeped from the walls, at first coiling lazily along the ground.
In the next instant, it surged upward in thick waves, climbing through the cracks in the stone, converging toward the center.

Within breaths, the mist condensed into dozens of dark silhouettes, closing in on Luo Jiutian from all sides.

They resembled the beast-head phantoms he had seen before, though smaller—only half the size of a man.
And the moment they took shape, they lunged without hesitation.

No strategy. No order.
Just relentless impact, their only target—
Luo Jiutian.

His body flickered through the chamber, his footwork alternating between swift and measured steps as he tried to weave past the attacks.
But there were too many.
Even with his speed, evasion was impossible.

One shadow slammed into his shoulder, knocking him back half a step.

“Their force… it’s no weaker than the real thing?”

His brows knitted as several more surged toward him.
Grinding his teeth, he thrust his palm into the air. A ribbon of blood-light swirled in his hand, condensing into a crimson longsword that floated free from the void.

Crimson Dust of Tears.

As the sword manifested, his eyes turned cold, and he slashed.
The blade’s aura ripped through the air.
Whole swathes of shadows were torn apart, scattering into black mist.

Yet the mist did not dissipate.
Instead, it streamed back to the edges of the chamber, reformed, and lunged again.

“They can restore themselves?”
A chill settled in his chest.

Again he cut, again they fell—
And again they rose.

The chamber became a ceaseless nest of monsters, inexhaustible, unending.
His breathing grew heavy, his spiritual power draining rapidly. No matter how fast his sword danced, the assault did not abate.

“Enough, brat. Cease your futile struggle. Let me act.”
White Tiger Xuanjun’s voice echoed in his ear.

Blocking another charge, Luo Jiutian asked quickly, “Senior has a way?”

“I can temporarily borrow your body and force our way out. But the method is costly. Afterward, I will fall into slumber, unable to awaken for some time.”

There was no hesitation.
“Fine. I’ll trouble you then, Senior.”

“Stand firm. Do not resist.”

At her words, he steadied his stance, forcing his chaotic spiritual energy into submission.
From his ring, a strand of golden light unfurled, weaving into a thin thread that pierced between his brows.

But just then—

The shadows grew restless.
They trembled, then surged like a tide, their attacks denser, faster, more frenzied than before.
As if they sensed what was happening.

Three impacts in rapid succession struck his chest, driving him back two steps. Blood spilled from his lips.

“Not good…” White Tiger Xuanjun’s tone sharpened.
“They are disrupting me. If my possession is interrupted by external force, your soul will suffer grave injury.”

The black figures crashed again and again. Each strike rattled his insides, threatening to shatter his defense.

Luo Jiutian held on with sheer willpower, sweat streaming down his brow, his eyes locked on the charging shadows. His fingers twitched, ready to summon his last resort.

At that moment—

Boom!

The ceiling above exploded.
Rubble rained down as sunlight poured in, flooding the chamber.

The golden light swept across the shadows.
Wherever it touched, they melted away, dissipating into nothingness.

In mere breaths, silence returned.
The crushing pressure vanished as if it had never been.

Luo Jiutian raised his head slowly, following the beam of light.
Above, a figure in a scarlet dress hovered gracefully in the air, backlit by the sun.

The sight struck him like lightning.
His heart gave a sharp jolt.

“…Wan’er?”