Chapter 44: Moths to a Flame
Gulp. 3339 watched the shattered bluestone bricks under Yun Wuxiang’s feet with trepidation.
[Host…]
[Until the world completes its ascension, the Energy Points I get from doing missions still belong to me. If it fails, these Energy Points will be used to pay compensation? Do I look like a sucker?] Red began to show in Yun Wuxiang’s eyes.
During the world’s ascension, no one could enter or exit.
That meant even if he completed the mission and saved enough points, he couldn’t leave; he had to wait for the result of the world’s ascension.
If it succeeded, everything was fine. If it failed, all the missions he did would be in vain.
[Host, calm down. This is a probability issue. The survival and safety of the world supersede the Host’s personal interests. This is one of the basic clauses allowing Systems to enter small worlds to assist in plot maintenance; it cannot be changed.]
3339 tried hard to explain the benefits the Host might receive after the world ascended.
Yun Wuxiang: [What is the success rate of the World Consciousness?]
[Unknown. The World Consciousness has sealed its own data.]
[Unknown.] No anger could be heard in Yun Wuxiang’s voice. It was like the final calm before a violent storm, making 3339’s little heart hang in suspense.
[How many years does ascension take?]
[Unknown. According to existing data, the fastest record for a small world upgrade is a hundred years. The slowest has passed ten million years and has still not succeeded.]
Another unknown.
[Host, 35% of the Golden Mission is still incomplete. Bailing Xianjun still has 157% of the Protagonist Halo. As long as you complete this part of the mission and return the luck to the world itself, you can increase the success rate of the world’s ascension.] 3339 carefully offered a suggestion.
Whimper! The Host’s aura right now was truly terrifying! World Consciousness, you idiot, you didn’t even tell me in advance you were going to ascend.
The Golden Legend wasn’t even finished, 157% of the Protagonist Halo was outside, and the Mortal Realm plot had just started. Why couldn’t you wait until you got all those Energy Points before ascending? What exactly are you rushing for?
[Blind box gambling.] Yun Wuxiang closed his eyes and opened them again. In this moment, he made a different decision.
Yun Wuxiang: [Does your backend database have the construction principles and tutorials for space tunnels?]
[It does, but it requires points to exchange, and you have to sign a Space Tunnel Usage Treaty. Host, are you planning to research space tunnels yourself?]
[Do I have enough points to exchange for it?]
[You can only exchange for the Basic Edition: Two-Way Directional Space Tunnel.]
Yun Wuxiang said decisively and firmly: [Exchange it.]
Betting on whether the World Consciousness could ascend smoothly was worse than betting on whether he could construct a space tunnel himself.
[Host, do you want to reconsider? Learning the construction of space tunnels also takes time. The composition of cross-realm space tunnels is really complex and has high requirements for cultivation base. You need to comprehend at least one spatial World Law. It’s not too late to decide when your cultivation reaches that level.]
Yun Wuxiang rejected its proposal without hesitation: [I won’t reconsider. If I can’t learn it, that’s my problem.]
[If the World Consciousness fails, I’m afraid I won’t be able to resist tearing it apart.] Yun Wuxiang’s tone was bland, as casual as discussing what to eat for dinner tonight, as if he had just made an offhand joke.
But 3339 dared not treat this as a joke. Its Host’s eyes were almost completely red!
[Ding. “Space Tunnel Construction Basics I” exchanged successfully. 30,000 Energy Points deducted.]
[Thank you for your patronage. Wish you happy reading.]
A book appeared in Yun Wuxiang’s sea of consciousness. Just turning the first page caused a splitting headache.
A massive amount of information related to space flooded his mind—swelling pain, nausea. Enduring this uncomfortable feeling, Yun Wuxiang slowly organized the information, digesting and understanding it step by step. The process was like detangling a huge knot of matted hair; one wrong move or a bit too much force would pull at the scalp, bringing a dull pain.
Information related to space was the most complex among the many theories of magic arts. Yun Wuxiang had read through all the arts in the Daoist temple and never found any difficult to understand, but after opening this book exchanged from the System, he experienced for the first time what obscure and complex felt like.
By the time Yun Wuxiang had roughly sorted out the content of the first page, the sky outside had turned from deep night to daylight.
Yun Wuxiang’s consciousness withdrew from the mysteries of space, only to hear 3339’s slightly urgent and pleading voice.
[Host, you’re finally awake. Although you’ve given up on the mission, can you go save Prince Li?]
[If the Protagonist Gong dies now, it will affect the world’s ascension. Even if we don’t rely entirely on him, still…]
[What happened to Prince Li?]
[The poison flared up.]
While communicating with the System, Yun Wuxiang found a letter formed from a transmission talisman by his hand. It was a distress letter, the content no different from what the System said.
Hearing the words “poison flared up,” his hand reached for the copper mirror in his sleeve. He didn’t find it.
Yun Wuxiang’s brows furrowed imperceptibly. He flipped his hand to summon the Mountain Willow Orchid given by Host 6669, sensing where the nearest trace of Song Yilou was.
Then, he sensed all the Song Yilou slices moving toward his location.
The nearest one—no, many of them—were at a spot on Cang Island, and the number of links was decreasing rapidly.
Yun Wuxiang followed the Mountain Willow Orchid’s guidance to the edge of Cangfeng Island. What met his eyes was a ground full of Song Yilous—dead, alive, half-dead. As long as they could still move, the moment he arrived, they all looked toward him.
“Temple Master, you came.”
“I thought you would go find Prince Li first.”
In the blink of an eye, the two Song Yilous who spoke were attacked by “themselves”—one with a hole in his chest, the other decapitated.
Large sprays of blood splashed before his eyes.
A Song Yilou beside him lunged at Yun Wuxiang. Yun Wuxiang flicked his hand to grip a blade, thrusting the sword forward.
While penetrating the other’s body, he was firmly hugged by a pair of hands. “Ah, I got to hug you.”
Before Yun Wuxiang could act, the other party was pulled off his sword by other Song Yilous and thrown away.
“Don’t take up space if you’re dead. It’s my turn.”
One Song Yilou left, and a swarm of Song Yilous surrounded him. The speed at which Yun Wuxiang raised his sword to cut people down couldn’t match the speed of the swarm rushing from the opposite side.
He flung his sleeves to scatter talismans. A burst of thunder roared, accompanied by a monstrous heatwave circling outward. With Yun Wuxiang as the center, a circular clearing was swept clean.
The Song Yilous were repelled for a moment, but as if blind to the scorching tide of fire, they continued to rush toward Yun Wuxiang—hugging, touching, making intimate gestures while actively seeking death.
Like moths to a flame.
Even as they died, every face was smiling—relaxed, joyful, wanton, and extremely happy.
Song Yilou’s cheerful laughter echoed constantly in Yun Wuxiang’s ears, and the longsword in his hand lost its direction.
He felt he wasn’t slaughtering, but had become a stationary guillotine. As long as they died by his hand, they could go to heaven. So, batches of Song Yilous couldn’t wait to run over, shouting his name ceaselessly.
“Temple Master.”
“Temple Master~”
“I died by the Temple Master’s hand.”
“Hahahahaha, I wanted to play with the Temple Master for a while longer, but the Temple Master’s patience is so poor.”
“The Temple Master cheated. How could you let someone else interfere in our game?”
Yun Wuxiang put away the sword and switched to spells. “Bind.”
Chains flew out, wrapping the remaining four or five Song Yilous into cocoons.
Moving his foot, he kicked a corpse of Song Yilou.
Yun Wuxiang looked at the only Song Yilou who had dodged the spell chains. This piece was likely the one from the copper mirror. Excluding the fox-eyed one who had died in the Immortal Realm, only this Song Yilou had reached the Mystic Immortal realm.
This Song Yilou opened his mouth toward a trapped “self.” That Song Yilou said unhappily, “So unlucky. I wanted to die by the Temple Master’s hand too.”
Shortly after finishing speaking, he collapsed loosely like a puppet that had lost its soul.
The Song Yilou with the open mouth closed his teeth, as if chewing something.
After a swallowing motion, he said to Yun Wuxiang, “The poison in Prince Li will completely erupt in thirteen hours.”
Yun Wuxiang: “Do you think his life can threaten me?”
Song Yilou tilted his head and smiled. “How could that be? How could the Temple Master be threatened by anyone? I just wanted to try and see if his and Shen Lanqing’s lives could delay you. But then I felt that if you really ignored me because of them and left the island directly, I would be very unhappy.”
“If the Temple Master hadn’t realized I wasn’t in your sleeve and went directly to find Prince Li, I would have killed him and Shen Lanqing together, then waited for the Temple Master to regard me as the most important person and come kill me.”
Yun Wuxiang knew he wasn’t lying. The locations of Prince Li’s Manor and the Shen Residence indeed had Song Yilou fragments.
“But the Temple Master came to find me first. I am very happy,” Song Yilou said as he strode toward Yun Wuxiang. By the time the sentence ended, he was standing right in front of him.
“Temple Master, since you don’t want to contract me, how about you consume me?” Song Yilou placed a hand on his chest, vigorously marketing himself. “Consume me, and you can be like me—never dying.”
“I will become a part of the Temple Master, staying with the Temple Master forever.” Song Yilou’s brilliant smile held a few degrees of sweetness.
[Host, Song Yilou has gone crazy!]
Yun Wuxiang: [He has always been like this.]
Today, he was just a bit crazier.
Was he stimulated because I asked Host 6669 to kill him?
“Who is the Temple Master talking to?” Song Yilou stared into Yun Wuxiang’s eyes, as if wanting to penetrate through those eyes into his brain and dig out the thing talking to him inside.
3339 was frightened and dared not make a single sound.
Yun Wuxiang countered, “Who do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. The Temple Master hides many things from me. You can communicate with the Heavenly Dao and can even find some annoying people.” Song Yilou continued, “The Temple Master cheated, so I have to end the game early.”
“Temple Master, Yun Wuxiang, kill me.”
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