Chapter 78: Ethereal Grace

The frail man did not escape his fate.

The commotion stirred up by Wen Jinge wasn’t targeted at anyone in particular; rather, everyone present was destined to suffer. This was all to feed the mysterious iron coffin, and as for Liang Si, Wen Jinge dared not intervene recklessly.

Liang Si knew about the coffin—he was quick-witted, and if he needed help, he wouldn’t wait for Wen Jinge to offer.

[You…] “Nonexistent” sighed repeatedly. At last, it understood the source of Wen Jinge’s confidence.

No wonder she had provoked so many out-of-character actions—it was all to charge up that coffin!

But where did this coffin come from? Why did it have no memory of it?

“Hey, what about my reward?”

[You’ve already received it.] “Nonexistent” was clearly annoyed. So, having a host this powerful was a problem after all; it made the task experience utterly unsatisfying.

“Huh? Where did I claim it? The history panel? Show me. Don’t think you can just gloss over this.”

Gloss over? Not a chance. She was determined to see how much longer “Nonexistent” would keep lying to her.

[History… panel.] “Nonexistent” sounded weary. [Zzz… System error. Would you like to restart?]

Wen Jinge: …

“Forget it, say what you want. If you don’t, next time just watch how I revive Shan Hongxing!”

[Primal energy, the power of the primordial world, lies within you.]

Wen Jinge: …

[Alright, I’m signing off. Since you’ve already discovered how to use it, there’s no need for further explanation.]

Wen Jinge: …

To outsiders, Wen Jinge appeared aloof—at least at this moment. Her expression was cold as she used a toothpick to skewer pieces of fruit, feeding segment after segment of orange to Lu Wei, whether he was hungry or not.

“I don’t like oranges.”

“Hehehehe…”

Liang Si wore a kindly smile as he peeled a pear. Lightning still rolled outside, so every so often, his hand sparked with flickers of electricity as he worked.

Lu Wei: …

Was it him who was acting strange, or were all three of them mad, or was it Heaven itself that had gone awry?

Why did it feel as if the thunder had become a free bathhouse attendant?

He couldn’t see it himself, but the louder the thunder grew, the more radiant Liang Si became, shedding past impurities, his face as fresh and handsome as a newly shelled egg.

Looking again at Wen Jinge, it was the same. Though the lightning struck the coffin, it seemed to envelop her in a sacred aura. When Wen Jinge was serious, she looked as if she were cloaked in divine light.

Even he, once a great demon who looked down on everything, found himself wanting to submit before this Wen Jinge.

It wasn’t out of fear, but willing admiration.

She seemed destined to be the most dazzling star in the heavens, meant to look down upon the sky, to toy with the world’s mortals with indifference.

“Hehehehe…”

Wen Jinge was still giggling, like a mother hen about to break into dance. Whatever Lu Wei had been thinking vanished into the clouds.

Of all that happened within the barrier, what surprised him most wasn’t Heaven favoring Wen Jinge, but the bedraggled pair of master and servant before them.

The two were now disheveled, as if they had escaped by snatching a beggar’s rags. Their hair was wild, like mushrooms bursting from a ruined hut after the rain. Their faces were haggard, like ghosts startled awake in their graves.

But none of that mattered.

What mattered was—they weren’t dead.

How could they not be dead? How was that possible?

He realized this, and so did Wen Jinge.

Then, she pounced on him, cradled him like a princess, and kissed his forehead.

No, to be precise, he had no body—so the kiss must have landed on Qiao Yu.

“There, open up, eat!”

Lu Wei: …

He complied carefully. Wen Jinge was too unpredictable; even if he didn’t cooperate, would he dare to resist? Especially with Liang Si watching him with a warning glare, eyes flashing with murderous intent.

Lu Wei had no doubt—were it not for his status as the master teacher, Liang Si might have already pinned him down for Wen Jinge.

Sure enough, as he thought this, he heard, “Master Teacher, why don’t you let Junior Brother Qiao come up? My eyes must have been playing tricks—I'd like to see their master and servant dance again.”

Lu Wei: …

Monsters roamed the world these days—he couldn’t afford to provoke them, but he could avoid them.

He stepped down, and Qiao Yu took his place, immediately moved to tears by Wen Jinge’s motherly way of feeding.

Though he knew his teacher had ulterior motives and that it was all just a dream, Qiao Yu was grateful.

Even Heaven seemed affected. “Nonexistent” sulked, reminded her several times about acting out of character, and then withdrew, while Wen Jinge continued feeding as if nothing were wrong.

“Master…” The little maid seemed frightened, wiping her soot-black face nervously. “Why aren’t they turning into demons anymore?”

“How interesting, how very interesting.”

Her master now looked like someone from Africa—charred, roasted, much like her maid, seemingly immune to pain, with white mist curling from her mouth as she spoke—truly the legendary immortal air.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such an amusing scene.”

“Master…” The maid was terrified; in this moment, her mistress was more frightening than any demon across from them. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, hahahaha, I’m fine.”

Wen Jinge looked at him as though he were a hapless beggar chicken in the midst of being cooked.

First marinated, then wrapped in lotus leaves, tied with string, moistened to ensure even soaking, coated in yellow clay, every nook and cranny sealed tight—this was craftsmanship.

Then into the fire, roasted, left to finish with residual heat. Once cooled, the package was broken, the clay crumbled away to reveal the carbonized lotus leaves. The fragrance was intoxicating.

The outer leaves shattered at a touch, layer by layer revealing hidden surprises. The inner leaves, soaked in savory juices, exuded an irresistible aroma. Even before seeing the chicken within, one’s appetite was already whetted.

There it lay, the chicken, mingled with the scent of spices, alone in the lotus leaves—small, yet making gourmets' eyes shine with longing, like treasure hunters glimpsing gems after untold hardships, hunger burning in their gaze.

Wen Jinge was poked—by Lu Wei, who then gave way for Qiao Yu again.

“Teacher, you’re drooling,” Liang Si said at the perfect moment.

Wen Jinge blushed and wiped her mouth. “I just… suddenly got hungry.”

“So, what do you want to eat?” he asked.

“Him!” Wen Jinge turned her head slowly, a strange light in her dead-fish eyes. “Look at him—doesn’t he look just like a chicken?”

“Teacher…” Liang Si was at a loss for words.

“If you want a fight, just fight. But must you insult someone? Look at Liang Si’s expression—don’t set a bad example.”

Lu Wei preferred quick, decisive battles. Although he was annoyed at being shot with an arrow, he respected his opponents—verbal insults were beneath him.

“Master Teacher…” Liang Si’s expression was lifeless, his entire demeanor slumped. He pursed his lips. “Sixth-rank cultivators don’t need to eat, right? So why am I still so obsessed with beggar’s chicken?”

“Mhm, I was once third-rank too.” Master and disciple exchanged a knowing look.

Boom!

A thunderclap exploded in his mind—suddenly, his world collapsed.

Couldn’t there be a single normal person in this world?

He looked across the way—already, the thunderclouds had scattered, defeated by the coffin, but the barrier remained. On the other side, the pair of master and servant, sporting their wild, instant-noodle hair, sat cross-legged on the ground.

Why was he hungry too?

“A mountain chicken spirit?”