In the dead of night, the snow had finally stopped.
The bright moonlight cast a silvery glow over the ground as Jiu Yue lay on the thatched roof, the cold air piercing straight through her skull.
It was enough to sober anyone up.
Gazing at the full moon, her mind wandered to the past Doctor Tang had recounted.
The system activated late at night and couldn’t help but ask, "Host, what’s wrong?"
Jiu Yue suddenly asked, "Have you ever thought about being a villain?"
The system was startled. "A villain?! Host, calm down! We’re in the tragic romance genre, not the villain arc!"
Jiu Yue burst into laughter.
"Silly system." She rested her head on her hands and sighed. "I was just asking. Don’t you think villains often live longer and better lives?"
"Host…" The system suddenly realized. "Are you feeling sorry for them?"
Jiu Yue closed her eyes. "Don’t you?"
Look at the original host—born into hardship, raised by assassins, entangled with Prince Ping for years, only to die unnoticed.
Then there was Muling, innocent and carefree, manipulated by a scoundrel, meeting a tragic end.
The Empress of the Great Yan, kind and benevolent, was tormented by Consort Ning, unable to protect even her own child, passing away too soon.
And her master, Dao Yu, gentle and wise, was dragged onto a rogue’s path by Jin Ge. He always left room for mercy—until that mercy cost him his life.
Were they truly so deserving of death?
Jiu Yue couldn’t understand.
Why did the ones who deserved it more still live so comfortably?
The system’s tone darkened. "The main system says everyone has their own fate."
Jiu Yue: "…"
Her sorrow was instantly replaced by irritation at the mention of the "main system."
"After the mission, will I get to meet your main system?" she asked calmly.
"Theoretically, yes—ahem, no." The system coughed tactically.
Jiu Yue smiled faintly.
"Good." She flipped down from the roof and snorted. "Once I deal with the pests here, I’ll teach it what ‘every system has its own fate’ means."
The system: "…"
The system began pondering which side to take when the time came.
As Jiu Yue landed, she noticed Sima Qing standing at the door, though she couldn’t tell how long he’d been there.
Brushing snow off her clothes, she raised a brow. "You’re still awake?"
Sima Qing walked over and casually dusted the snow from her back. "Couldn’t sleep."
Jiu Yue blinked. "Something on your mind?"
"No." He smiled faintly. "But it seems you forgot—I’m not deaf."
Jiu Yue, who had been rustling on the roof: "…"
"…" She averted her gaze. "Pretend I didn’t ask."
After brushing off the snow from her cloak, Sima Qing suddenly wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her inside.
Jiu Yue stiffened, but he spoke first. "Let’s talk about the Luosha Gang."
"Most of the training camp members have arrived. I’ll introduce you to them tomorrow." Sima Qing said. "Young Master Nangong wants to establish a new faction. What do you think?"
Jiu Yue’s attention was immediately captured by the mention of the martial world.
"A new faction? So he’s breaking away from his father?" She smirked, untying her cloak.
Sima Qing took a step back. "So, do you want to try being a faction leader?"
"Faction leader!" Her eyes lit up. "Can I really?"
"Of course." Sima Qing nodded. "Three months is enough to build momentum for a new faction."
Jiu Yue propped her chin on her hand, intrigued. "Then should I pick a martial name?"
"What do you want to be called?"
"Dao Yu!" She grinned at him. "My master’s name."
This was the first time Sima Qing had heard her voluntarily mention someone from her past.
"It suits you," he said.
"You think so too, right?" Perhaps it was because she’d heard so much from Doctor Tang tonight, but Jiu Yue suddenly felt the urge to talk.
Leaning on the table, she rambled, "My master was no worse than Jin Ge… though he was shameless, stealing techniques everywhere. But I think that’s a skill in itself…"
Sima Qing listened patiently.
Jiu Yue chattered until dawn, only stopping when she noticed Sima Qing had dozed off against the wall.
Jiu Yue: "…"
She fell silent.
Glancing out the window, she stretched and then carefully carried Sima Qing to the bed, tucking him in.
The hut was just a temporary meeting spot, so the bedding wasn’t thick.
After a moment’s thought, she draped her cloak over the blanket.
Blowing out the candle, she tiptoed out.
As the door clicked shut, Sima Qing stirred awake just in time to catch her retreating figure.
His gaze landed on the cloak covering him, its faint, fresh scent lingering in the air.
He paused.
Then, slowly, he swapped the cloak and blanket—burying himself under the cloak instead.
Wrapped in its warmth, he closed his eyes and soon fell into a deep sleep.
The place was poorly equipped, so the martial artists refused to cram into the small hut, opting to spend the night perched in trees instead.
When Jiu Yue stepped outside, she spotted Doctor Tang stirring a pot of porridge in a makeshift shed across the way.
The old man stood by the fire, a mischievous grin on his face as he stirred, looking eerily like Gargamel.
Jiu Yue: "…"
Amused, she was about to approach when the system suddenly beeped.
"Progress bar has exceeded 90%. Keep it up, host!" the mechanical voice reminded.
Jiu Yue froze, startled. Pulling up the progress bar, she saw it had silently climbed to 92%.
She was stunned.
"Did you cheat for me?" she blurted.
She hadn’t done anything, yet the bar was skyrocketing.
The system didn’t explain. "Check the breakdown first."
It sent her a summarized version.
Jiu Yue scanned the four color-coded sections.
Two were marked with green circles. "These indicate completed metrics," the system said.
They were Sima Qing’s 45% "romance" and her own 5% "tragedy."
The remaining two were Sima Qing’s 40% "tragedy" and her own measly 2% "romance."
Jiu Yue tried to make sense of it. "So my contribution only needs to be 10% total?"
Half tragedy, half romance.
"Correct!" the system chirped. "But don’t get complacent. Each metric has different growth conditions."
Jiu Yue: "…"
She glared. "And that’s why my ‘romance’ is only 2%? You said I already had feelings! Are my feelings that worthless?!"
Compared to Sima Qing’s maxed-out 45%, her 2% was downright pathetic.
The system: "…"
Its tone turned icy. "Don’t ask me hard questions. Maybe reflect on yourself, host."
Jiu Yue’s face fell. Just as she was about to argue, a thin red thread shot through the air toward her.
Frowning, she swiftly drew her dagger and twirled it, deftly tangling the thread midair.
"Quick reflexes, little girl," a woman’s voice laughed.
