On the way back, Lu Jiayao looked at Wen Shuangbai with amazement and sighed, "You've changed so much after this injury, it's like you've become a different person."
Wen Shuangbai replied without batting an eye, "Love turns people into idiots. Only those who stay single can ascend to greatness."
Lu Jiayao thought for a moment and nodded in agreement. "You're right."
He escorted Wen Shuangbai to her doorstep before leaving.
Wen Shuangbai returned to her room alone to study cultivation.
Her worthless scum of a father had been an artifact cultivator in his youth, once hailed as a prodigy of Qingling Mountain.
Logically, his three disciples should have also followed the path of artifact cultivation.
But Wen Feng had never fulfilled his duties as a master, offering no guidance to his disciples, leaving the three of them to grow haphazardly on their own.
From what Wen Shuangbai knew, neither the eldest senior brother nor the youngest junior sister were artifact cultivators.
The original owner of her body had started as one, but later—because the female lead, Yu Xiaoxiao, was a sword cultivator—she forcibly switched paths as well.
To be fair, the original owner, being the daughter of both the Medical Pavilion and Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion elders, had decent cultivation talent.
But because she abruptly changed paths, the conflicting cultivation techniques caused her realm to regress instead of advancing. In the end, she couldn’t even compare to a single finger of Yu Xiaoxiao, becoming the laughingstock of the entire sect.
What a fool.
The current Wen Shuangbai, having transmigrated into this body, would never do something so brainless.
She thought artifact cultivation was a fine path—once her cultivation improved, she’d never have to worry about money.
Her scum father might be unreliable as a master, but thanks to the accumulated knowledge of predecessors over tens of thousands of years, the Xuantian Continent had a well-established cultivation system.
First, to cultivate, one had to awaken their spiritual bone.
Spiritual bones were categorized by the five elements—metal, wood, water, fire, and earth—and graded from seventh to first rank, with seventh being the lowest and first the highest.
Wen Shuangbai had a third-rank fire spiritual bone.
After confirming her elemental affinity, she needed to choose her path.
Fire cultivators had many options—artifact cultivation, sword cultivation, and more. Due to her father’s influence, the original owner had initially chosen artifact cultivation, registering under the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion of Qingling Mountain.
Wen Shuangbai held the original owner’s Mystic Heaven Mirror, her gaze lingering on a sect notice issued by Qingling Mountain a month ago.
The notice stated that Qingling Mountain would hold a sect competition in two months.
The competition was divided into two rounds: the first would be held separately by each pavilion, while the second was a sect-wide trial in a secret realm. The final rankings would be based on the combined results of both rounds.
Wen Shuangbai wasn’t surprised.
Thinking about it, this was indeed the time when this plot point began in the novel.
Yu Xiaoxiao would shine brilliantly in this competition, stepping into the limelight and meeting the male lead destined for her.
Wen Shuangbai had no interest in the male lead, but she was very interested in the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion’s rewards.
The notice mentioned that the top-ranked disciple in the pavilion’s competition would receive a reward of 30,000 spirit stones.
Wen Shuangbai: "!!"
Her junior sister wasn’t home, so she was alone. She even forgot to eat lunch and dinner (later, she’d think of it as saving money on two meals—quite a win). Adopting the same intensity as during her university finals, she began researching how to cram for the competition.
The first round of the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion’s competition would begin in a month. The specifics weren’t detailed, only that the scope would be based on the "Compendium of a Hundred Artifacts."
The "Compendium of a Hundred Artifacts" was a thick tome containing all the foundational knowledge artifact cultivators at the early spiritual stage needed to master.
Memorization was second nature to Wen Shuangbai—she was confident she could commit the entire book to memory before the competition.
The problem lay in practical application.
Practice made perfect, and practice required materials—materials that cost money.
Other disciples had their sects to rely on, or if their sects failed them, they could turn to their parents.
But her?
Ah.
Best not to dwell on such sorrowful matters.
"Second Senior Sister," Junior Sister Wen Xin peeked into the room. "You’re still awake?"
Wen Shuangbai snapped out of her thoughts, only then realizing how late it had gotten. Rubbing her tired eyes, she said, "I’ll sleep soon. It’s so late—did you need something, Junior Sister?"
"Mm." Wen Xin nodded, carrying two cracked flowerpots as she entered. "It’s going to rain heavily tonight, so I came to place these for you first."
Wen Shuangbai: "?"
Wen Xin set one pot by the bed and another by the table, her movements practiced and swift, before leaving just as quickly.
Not long after she left, the storm arrived. Wen Shuangbai had only memorized seven pages when the dripping began—fat raindrops seeped through the roof, falling like a beaded curtain straight into the flowerpots.
Wen Shuangbai stared at the leaking roof and the cracked pots with mixed emotions.
Her junior sister had placed them with pinpoint accuracy—any slight misalignment, and the water would’ve splashed everywhere.
Well, that’s what they called "practice makes perfect."
The rain continued, growing heavier.
Lying in bed, listening to the relentless pitter-patter, Wen Shuangbai tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
She grabbed the Mystic Heaven Mirror from her bedside and browsed until—
Her eyes widened. She bolted upright.
That’s it!
---
Xie Ziyin returned to his quarters after finishing his duties at the Medical Pavilion, umbrella in hand.
Not long after the death of the body’s father, the Medical Pavilion had reclaimed the elder’s residence, relegating the original owner to the most remote courtyard in the pavilion.
The courtyard was old, but the original owner had kept it clean and tidy. Being far from the crowds, it was peaceful—something Xie Ziyin could grudgingly accept.
Except for one problem: the roof leaked.
Xie Ziyin stood inside, water already covering the soles of his shoes.
A steady stream poured through a crack in the ceiling, splashing onto the floor in rippling circles.
If the rain didn’t stop, this broken house would be fit for raising fish by morning.
Xie Ziyin laughed in exasperation.
The intern who’d told him about this transmigration novel had mentioned that this character—who shared his name—would eventually turn to demonic cultivation.
At this moment, Xie Ziyin truly wanted to crack open the cannon fodder medical cultivator’s brain to see how he’d endured until that point.
In his modern life, Xie Ziyin hadn’t had a happy family either. His parents were cold and detached, divorcing when he was young.
After his grandmother passed, he cut all ties with his parents. Relying on scholarships, he became the top science student in the national exams, enrolled in the best medical university, and after graduation, joined the most prestigious hospital. With exceptional surgical skills and groundbreaking research, he became the youngest chief neurosurgeon, his future bright.
And then—in the blink of an eye—he’d transmigrated into this mess.
"..."
Xie Ziyin closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down.
When he opened them again, his emotions were ice-cold. Without hesitation, he turned and strode back into the storm.
The Medical Pavilion, lit brightly even in the dead of night, stood firm against the tempest like a lighthouse in the raging sea.
The moment Xie Ziyin stepped inside, an angry voice barked at him.
"Xie Ziyin! Since when do you have the nerve to leave the Medical Pavilion without my permission? If the elders come to inspect, can you bear the consequences?!"
Xie Ziyin set his umbrella by the door, using his spiritual energy to dry his soaked clothes, shoes, and hair under the pavilion’s eaves.
He glanced indifferently at the shouting youth. "Not my problem."
Tonight wasn’t even his shift.
The young man dressed like a peacock, his entire outfit screaming "I'm rich," instantly exploded with rage: "Y-you—how dare you talk to me like that! This is outrageous! I’ll teach you a lesson tonight!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, a protective sword gifted by his family elders materialized in his palm. He raised it, ready to strike Xie Ziyin.
Xie Ziyin didn’t even bother to look up, scoffing, "Do you even know how to use a sword?"
The peacock lost it: "Aaaah! Today, I swear I’ll take your worthless life!"
"Fine." Xie Ziyin straightened, raising a hand. He lightly traced a line down his own torso, stopping precisely over his heart, where he circled a fingertip before tapping the center. "Stab here. Pierce through, and I’ll die."
Hearing this, the peacock faltered, suddenly unwilling to advance.
An inexplicable fear, wariness, and confusion gripped him—until realization dawned.
Rumors said Xie Ziyin suffered a head injury during his training descent. Seeing him now, it was clear the man had truly lost his mind.
"Young Master Li!" Another youth rushed forward, grabbing the peacock’s arm and whispering urgently, "The competition is about to begin. Don’t act rashly—this is the medical hall. It’s not worth losing your eligibility over him."
"You’re right." Young Master Li seized the excuse to back down, sheathing his sword. He glared at Xie Ziyin. "I’ll spare your life today. But mark my words—stand guard for me tonight, or I’ll hold you accountable if anything goes wrong!"
Xie Ziyin shook his head faintly.
Hopeless.
In his past life, while working at the hospital, he’d also taught at the medical university.
He’d seen too many medical students—some destined to save lives, others to recklessly end them.
Clearly, these two fell into the latter category.
"Stand guard for you?" Xie Ziyin’s tone dripped with mockery. But then his gaze drifted to the torrential rain outside, and something seemed to occur to him. After a pause, he sighed softly, resigning himself. "Fine. One thousand per shift."
Young Master Li gaped. "You dare demand payment?"
Xie Ziyin didn’t dignify that with a response, merely giving him a look reserved for the intellectually challenged.
Obviously.
He wasn’t running a charity.
Seeing the peacock about to explode again, his companion hastily interjected, "Young Master Li, let it go. These are troubled times—consider it money for peace of mind."
Young Master Li grumbled, "If I hired someone else, it’d only cost five hundred spirit stones..."
The companion countered, "Where are you going to find someone at this hour? It’s not like you’re short on funds."
Xie Ziyin studied the companion thoughtfully before speaking up. "You need someone to prepare medicine and refine pills tomorrow? I’ll do it. One thousand."
After handing over two thousand spirit stones, the two left the medical hall.
Xie Ziyin tidied up, then took a seat and pulled out the Mystic Heaven Mirror.
He needed to participate in the medical pavilion’s competition.
Everything was ready—except for an alchemy furnace.
The Qingling Mountain disciples’ Mystic Heaven Mirror hosted the Qingling Market, where members could freely trade.
Earlier, Xie Ziyin had found a seventh-grade alchemy furnace listed for eight hundred spirit stones. But as he scrolled, a freshly posted notice caught his eye:
[Little Wen’s Budget Refining: Seventh-grade crafting services! Anything you need! If it’s flawed, full refund! Cheapest prices on Qingling Mountain! Inquiries welcome!]
Meanwhile, Wen Shuangbai limped hurriedly toward Wen Feng’s room, candleholder in hand.
Inside Wen Feng’s room sat a bamboo basket filled with discarded spirit tools—failed experiments, now gathering dust.
Wen Shuangbai wondered if she could repurpose the scrap.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, a notification chimed from her Mystic Heaven Mirror.
She eagerly opened it.
The message read: [How much for a seventh-grade alchemy furnace?]
Wen Shuangbai replied: [Any special requirements?]
The response was brief: [Cheap. Durable.]
Her eyes flicked to the sender’s name—two glaring characters: "Broke."
Well, anyone with money wouldn’t be contacting her.
She knew exactly where her competitive edge lay.
Suppressing her excitement over landing her first order, she checked other listings. The cheapest was eight hundred. She typed back: [Seven hundred.]
"Broke" was straightforward: [Deal.]
Then came the next question: [How to pay?]
After a moment’s thought, Wen Shuangbai replied: [Meet in three days?]
Broke: [Agreed.]
And so, that night, both parties went to bed satisfied.
A failed negotiation by day, a successful one by night.
