Qiluo Tulip

Yang Xing's grin split wide. He beamed without the slightest attempt to hide it.

"Alright!"

He turned, carried over a stool from the corner, set it across from his own, and patted the seat twice.

"Come on, sit here. Across from me."

Ning Rongrong looked at the stool.

Rather reluctantly, she walked over and sat down. She still perched on only a third of the seat, her back ramrod straight.

The two sat facing each other.

Yang Xing took a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes.

He raised his right hand, pressed his index and middle fingers together, and lightly formed a hand seal before him. His left hand rested on his knee, thumb flicking back and forth across the joints of his other four fingers, sometimes fast, sometimes slow.

His lips moved faintly, as though silently reciting something.

The room fell quiet at once.

Completely quiet.

Ning Rongrong was still not used to it.

One second, they had been bickering back and forth. The next, the whole world seemed to contain only the faint sound of Yang Xing's fingers moving and the occasional birdsong drifting in from afar outside the window.

Propping her chin up with one hand, she simply stared with her crystal-clear eyes, blinking at Yang Xing across from her as he put on his act.

His brows were lightly furrowed, his lashes lowered, casting a small shadow beneath his eyes.

Honestly, when this guy got serious, he did look the part.

Though she was one hundred percent certain he was faking it.

A minute passed.

Ning Rongrong yawned.

Two minutes.

She yawned again.

She was truly exhausted. From leaving the city to being tricked into signing a contract, from chasing Yang Xing through the streets to being chased into chaos by the snake he transformed into, then the repeated bombardment of soul skills and psychological tug-of-war.

An entire afternoon's worth of energy had been sucked dry by this swindler of a master.

Ning Rongrong covered her mouth with the back of her hand and yawned again, tears welling at the corners of her eyes.

She rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on Yang Xing's face.

The thoughts in her head began to wander.

Could he really calculate it?

Impossible. A thousand years—an unsolved problem that dozens of generations of the entire sect had failed to crack.

But...

That old farmer really had found Gold Soul Coins. That honest man's wife really had become pregnant. He really had recited all her information in one breath.

What if?

What if he really could calculate it?

The moment that thought surfaced, Ning Rongrong shook her head repeatedly, as if trying to shake water from her brain.

Unrealistic.

Absolutely unrealistic.

She propped up her chin again and continued staring at Yang Xing.

But her eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

The quiet room seemed like a gentle cocoon. A faint woody scent mixed with sunshine drifted from Yang Xing, while the afternoon light slanted through the hole and fell warmly across her face.

Ning Rongrong's head lowered bit by bit.

Her elbow slipped off her knee, and she abruptly raised her head. She was awake for two seconds before her eyelids drooped again.

After repeating this three times, that delicate little head finally settled against the palm supporting it.

Her breathing became long and even.

Her lashes closed, casting soft fan-shaped shadows over her cheeks. Her lips pouted slightly as she breathed out in steady, gentle breaths. Her ear-length short hair fell beside her face, revealing earlobes so fair they seemed translucent.

She was deeply asleep.

Quiet and still, without the sharp, prickly edge she had carried all day. At this moment, Ning Rongrong looked like nothing more than an ordinary, pretty twelve-year-old girl. Well-behaved, peaceful, and even carrying a touch of innocent childishness befitting her age.

Yang Xing opened his eyes.

He glanced at Ning Rongrong.

Today had indeed drained too much of this girl's energy.

He shook his head, raised his right index finger, and casually drew a talisman in the air. There were very few strokes; it took shape in just a few motions. A pale cyan glowing talisman appeared. With a push of Yang Xing's fingertip, it silently floated before Ning Rongrong and sank into her brow.

The Spirit-Soothing Talisman.

One of the little things from the compendium of 1,008 basic talismans the system had instilled into him after the Heaven-Piercing Talisman had been converted into a soul skill. It calmed the mind and steadied the soul, helping people replenish their mental energy.

These basic talismans were not especially powerful. Even when used at full strength, their effects were only commensurate with his cultivation. Still, they were versatile and useful, even more varied than the little tricks Wind Empress Qimen could perform.

After finishing that.

Yang Xing picked up a piece of wood from beside the table and rubbed it between his fingers.

A long wooden stick took shape.

Gripping the stick, he struck Ning Rongrong on the head without hesitation.

Not too lightly, not too heavily.

Smack.

"Mm?!"

Ning Rongrong jolted awake. The instant her eyes opened, they were still clouded with a hazy layer of moisture. Her pupils were unfocused, and she was caught in the daze between sleep and waking.

"Who, what..."

Yang Xing spoke.

"Qiluo Tulip."

Ning Rongrong blinked.

"The method for advancing the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda into the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda." Yang Xing spoke neither quickly nor slowly, as if reading from a list. "Find the immortal herb, the Qiluo Tulip, and consume it. It can directly improve your aptitude and evolve the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda into the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda."

He was done.

Ning Rongrong's brain was still booting up.

She stared blankly at Yang Xing, her lips parting slightly. A tuft of hair stuck up from her short hair, flattened that way from dozing off.

Yang Xing had already stood up.

He dusted off his robe, stretched lazily, and let out an utterly unrestrained yawn.

"Alright, I've given you the method I promised for advancing your Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda into the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda."

As he spoke, he was already walking toward the bed in the right-hand corner of the room.

"Pick one from the soul skills I introduced earlier, and I'll teach it to you. Then go enroll at that Shrek Academy of yours."

He yawned again.

"Master needs to rest."

As soon as he finished speaking, Yang Xing had reached the bed. He fell sideways onto the crude wooden plank bed, curling his robed back toward Ning Rongrong as he found a comfortable position.

Ning Rongrong stared at his back and butt.

Her lips unconsciously murmured.

"Qiluo Tulip... Qiluo Tulip..."

An immortal herb? What was that supposed to be?

Was it real?

Then another piece of information suddenly exploded in her mind.

Ning Rongrong's eyes widened.

She sprang off the stool and rushed to Yang Xing's bedside in three steps. Hands on her hips, willow brows raised, she leaned forward.

"What do you mean, this lady has to pick one soul skill herself?!"

Her voice was sharp enough to pierce through walls.

"What do you mean by that?!"

Yang Xing lay on the bed.

He did not even turn over.

The hand facing upward lazily waved twice in the air, like he was shooing away mosquitoes.

"It means exactly what it says. Pick one, and I'll teach it to you."

Ning Rongrong's voice cracked the next second.

"Aren't you teaching me all of them?!"

This time, Yang Xing did not even wave his hand.

His voice came muffled from the direction of the pillow, calm as if he were stating something perfectly obvious.

"One is enough for you to learn and master. All my soul skills are extremely powerful, and each has its own requirements. If you can perfectly master even one, that'll already be quite good."

He paused.

"Don't bite off more than you can chew."

He yawned, his voice growing vague.