Chapter 41: The Calamity Finally Comes to an End

Although Ji Yao knew that in the cultivation world, giving someone a ring didn’t mean much—after all, any cultivator with a bit of savings would have one or more storage rings, and even when large sums of spirit stones were exchanged, low-grade storage rings were used to carry them—she still couldn’t ignore the discomfort in her heart. Twenty-odd years of ingrained beliefs were not so easily shaken off, were they?

Looking at the ring Gu Qiu handed her, Ji Yao suppressed the jumble of thoughts that kept surfacing and looked back at him with a hint of doubt.

It seemed this little girl had forgotten, hadn’t she? Gu Qiu was a bit helpless.

“I borrowed a storage pouch from you. This is to return what I owe.”

Of course Ji Yao hadn’t forgotten. She was just thrown off by the sudden appearance of a ring, and all the thoughts it provoked, so she wasn’t eager to accept it.

“I only lent you a storage pouch. You can just return it when you’re done.”

“I can’t return it. The storage pouch, along with those scraps of hide, was handed over to the Disciplinary Hall as evidence.” Gu Qiu spread his hands, as if there was nothing he could do.

“Then just forget it. It’s only a storage pouch.” If possible, she’d rather just be given spirit stones.

Ji Yao wanted to add that she could simply buy another one herself, but it wasn’t of much use anyway. Most of her belongings were kept in her Sumeru Space. The storage pouch was just for appearances, to carry a few spirit stones and ordinary items—spirit stones were far more practical.

“That won’t do. My master, the Honored Immortal Suwen, specifically asked me to return it. I even picked out one especially suited for a young lady.” Gu Qiu thought to himself that this was a small token of thoughtfulness for his junior sister, given in advance.

As the saying goes, one must not refuse a gift from an elder. Since the Honored Immortal Suwen had ordered it, Ji Yao truly had no way to refuse outright.

“Then, if I don’t like storage rings, could I exchange it for something else?” Ji Yao decided to try her luck again. Surely the Honored Immortal Suwen wouldn’t mind.

Gu Qiu tilted his head. “Is that so? Then I’ll go back and ask Master if there are any storage treasures like bracelets for ladies.”

Please, couldn’t you just give me the equivalent in spirit stones? Ji Yao was getting anxious.

“Since you have a metal spiritual root, I’ll pick out a golden bracelet for you.” Gu Qiu spoke to himself as he put away the ring. In his mind, his senior brother with a metal root loved gold things, so Ji Yao should be the same.

Who told you that just because I have a metal root, I must love everything gold? I also have an earth root—should I get something brown then?

But Ji Yao didn’t dare say it aloud, afraid Gu Qiu would actually bring her something drab and gray. All she wanted to do now was sigh.

Typical straight man!

She never expected that Gu Qiu, who seemed sly as a fox inside, would actually be such a straightforward man—a revelation that overturned her expectations again and again.

Gu Qiu, with his ice spiritual root, wasn’t cold and aloof as he appeared; beneath the surface was a deep cunning, but in the end he was still an incorrigible straight man.

Forget it, if he really brought her a golden bracelet, she’d just accept it. Vulgarity taken to the extreme becomes elegance; to be able to exchange a gift from the Honored Immortal Suwen even once was already quite a favor—any more, and she might lose the chance altogether.

“Is Uncle Gu here just to return a storage treasure to me?” Ji Yao prompted.

Of course not. This was just an excuse to ease the atmosphere and bring them closer before getting to the real point.

Gu Qiu resumed his usual businesslike demeanor and spoke seriously.

“Master asked me to find out if you know what’s written on that piece of beast hide.”

This question startled Ji Yao, but she kept her composure and replied, “Honored Immortal Suwen must be joking. The characters on that hide are so complicated—I only glanced at them twice and can’t remember them at all. How could I know what they mean?”

“I pieced the hide together and gave it to my master. We searched all the archives in Lingyun Sect and found nothing. We couldn’t even determine where those symbols originated from, let alone deduce Wei Qi and that person’s motives from them.”

“And how can you and the Honored Immortal Suwen be sure that the diagram on the beast hide is related to Wei Qi’s motives?”

“We can’t be sure. But this piece of hide is the only thing that might connect all the people involved.”

“Moreover, Wei Qi and the demonic cultivator both insisted you know the contents of the hide.”

Ji Yao could only scoff inwardly—what a slander!

Still, she needed a plausible explanation. Ji Yao racked her brains, trying to think of something that would pass muster. Her only fear was that the Honored Immortal Suwen would see right through her story.

“They just want to drag someone else down with them. I truly don’t know what’s written on the hide,” Ji Yao said with a helpless, sincere look.

“I only recall a family elder mentioning a legend. This elder said that when he was young and traveling, he once saw an ancient cultivator’s journal that recorded this legend.”

“In ancient times, the demonic race created several cultivation techniques to tempt human cultivators of weak will. These techniques were often recorded on beast hides, and the language used was the demons’ own demonic tongue.”

“This demonic language can’t be deciphered by ordinary humans. Only those cultivators who have offered their souls to the demons are permitted to know it. Although I don’t know the details of these techniques, all of them involve harming other living beings to increase one’s own cultivation.”

“The purpose behind the demons creating such techniques was to lure human cultivators into their service. Therefore, each technique had its own flaws, and the extent depended on the greed and desire within the one tempted.”

“Such people are usually deeply obsessed, or their hearts have already fallen to darkness. As long as they can grow powerful, they don’t care about any so-called flaws—after all, they’ve already sacrificed their souls to the demons.”

Ji Yao felt this was enough. Any more and she risked slipping up.

She looked innocently at Gu Qiu, as if to say: That’s all I know—any more is beyond me.

Whether he believed her or not was none of Ji Yao’s concern.

Gu Qiu suspected there was more to the story, but for a young girl to know this much was already surprising; anything more, and he’d have to question its plausibility.

After all, the Lingyun Sect was a legacy of ancient times. If even their archives held no record, it meant the origins were even older—perhaps from the age when the demons flourished, long before their destruction.

Tracing further back, only the primeval era of the demon race would have left such techniques behind.

If not for Ji Yao’s unusual resolve during this incident, they would never have looked to her for answers.

For now, Gu Qiu accepted Ji Yao’s explanation and reported everything back to the Honored Immortal Suwen.

After that, Ji Yao decided not to concern herself with the matter any further. Later, she learned from Ling Ru’s message that Chen Shaohua, Wei Qi, and the outer-sect disciple who lived with them were all eventually incinerated—by none other than Ling Ru’s master, the Honored Immortal Zhaoming.

What she hadn’t expected was that Zhaoming, with his single fire spiritual root, also possessed a unique flame. No wonder he was always so proud.

The final outcome was that Zhaoming completely forbade Ling Ru from associating with Ji Yao. From then on, their correspondence became as stealthy as thieves.

Ji Yao even wondered if Zhaoming had discovered her unusual “event-magnet” constitution and was worried she’d bring misfortune to his prized disciple.

Truth be told, Ji Yao had guessed right! Zhaoming might not put it so bluntly, but he did think Ji Yao’s spiritual roots were poor and she wasn’t diligent in her cultivation, instead getting entangled in trivial matters. She would never amount to much.

If she failed in her cultivation, her lifespan would be extremely limited. Ling Ru, with her boundless prospects, would only be held back by this friendship, leading to needless sorrow and distraction from her path.

Had Ji Yao known this, she’d have cried injustice—this was misfortune she’d never asked for!