Chapter Fourteen: Good Character, Nothing Can Be Done About It (Please Add to Your Collection! Don’t Forget to Bookmark!)

“A woman? Why is there a woman’s voice?” Hu Mo’s mind instantly churned in turmoil. The wild fantasies that had filled his head a moment before vanished, replaced by sudden clarity. He forced open his heavy eyelids.

He still felt nothing physically, only saw a vast expanse of white all around him. It was like mist, yet more ethereal and illusory, as if he were standing in a celestial realm. Vague memories surfaced—he had been struggling against the Three Treasures in his room. How had he ended up in such a place?

Hu Mo pondered in silence, then muttered to himself, “Looks like I’ve really died this time. This must be the netherworld.”

“Who are you? Why are you here?” The sorrowful woman’s voice echoed again, this time tinged with inquiry—a sound that seemed to travel through millennia, laced with a faint melancholy and loneliness.

“Who am I? Does it matter anymore? Beautiful lady, why hide in the mist? We’re both wandering souls now—why be so secretive?” Hu Mo was utterly convinced of his own demise, and naturally assumed the girl speaking was a ghost as well.

“A wandering soul in this world… Well said, truly…” To his surprise, the woman gave a soft laugh, though it was filled with self-mockery and resignation.

The more Hu Mo listened, the more unsettling it became. The girl’s voice was not at all eerie as one might expect from a ghost; on the contrary, it was pleasant and melodious. Yet, in such a setting, a chill crept into his bones all the same.

No sooner had this sensation arisen than Hu Mo berated himself, grumbling, “What am I afraid of? We’re both ghosts—what could she possibly do to me, eat me?”

With this thought, his fear gave way to curiosity and anticipation. He found himself envisioning a girl as forlorn as lilacs, playing a flute amidst swirling mists, her form blending into the haze, creating an unrivaled scene of beauty.

As he mused, the dense white mist began to thin, revealing the faint outline of a bamboo grove. Upon the bamboo, a skirt hem and a graceful figure appeared, stirring Hu Mo’s imagination.

Though he couldn’t see the woman’s face, he was certain—anyone with such a voice and bearing must be stunning. Hu Mo even wondered if he really had entered a land of immortals.

A beauty amid the mist—he was reminded of a line of poetry: “A peerless beauty dwells in a secluded valley.” Wasn’t this place just such a mist-shrouded valley, the beauty within awaiting someone destined to find her?

It was the perfect scene—ethereal, enchanting, breathtaking. Even Hu Mo, with his usual roguish nature, felt no hint of disrespect. Somehow, this girl had already become sacred and untouchable in his heart, to be admired from afar and never profaned.

Unconsciously, his feet moved forward, his expression dazed as he walked toward her. With every step, his face flushed with a thrill he couldn’t suppress, though he didn’t understand why. He hadn’t even seen the girl’s face; why should he feel so flustered?

The tranquil beauty of the scene only set off the girl’s loneliness all the more. Hu Mo couldn’t help feeling grateful; even in death, to encounter such a woman must be the greatest favor the heavens had ever shown him.

Closer and closer, Hu Mo felt his heart hammering in his chest. The mist around the girl thinned further, and soon he could make out the contours of her body and the faint lines of her face.

“Stop!” A sudden, crisp command rang out. Hu Mo froze where he stood, as if struck by lightning, unable to move a muscle.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over him; her rebuke pierced his heart like a thousand blades.

“Why? Why do I feel this way?” Hu Mo wondered in bewilderment, a touch of bitterness in his eyes.

Suddenly, a wave of excruciating pain swept through his body—pain so intense he could hardly bear it. Moments earlier, he’d felt nothing, as if he were made of air.

But now, he could feel his meridians, muscles, bones—even his organs—shattered and broken within him. The agony shot through his nerves, ravaging his mind. What was worse, he could not even faint; some mysterious force kept him conscious, trapped between life and death, unable to escape.

“Treasures, curse your ancestors!” Hu Mo howled, his voice hoarse and anguished. As he cried out, it felt as if his very soul were splintering. His consciousness began to fade.

“Fated or not, in the end, let it be…” A distant, gentle voice drifted away on the air, tinged with resignation.

The first light of dawn crept through the window, casting a pale glow across a handsome, bloodless face.

Hu Mo’s eyelids twitched. With a groan, he slowly opened his eyes—even this small action sent a jolt of pain through him. He felt as if his bones had been ground to dust, every ounce of strength drained.

With great effort, he turned his head and saw the parchment scrolls scattered on the floor. Only then did he realize he was still in this world; nothing had changed.

“So it was just a dream—no wonder…” Hu Mo gave a wry smile and tried to clench his right fist. Suddenly, his expression changed; his eyes flew wide open.

“That damned stone—where is it? It’s gone!” Hu Mo cried out. Despite his pain, he managed to sit up, scanning the room in alarm.

“It’s gone. It really is gone!” He stared as if he’d seen a ghost, countless thoughts racing through his mind.

Before he could catch his breath, he felt three familiar surges of energy—one in his head, one in his lower abdomen, and one running along his spine. These three forces quickly circulated through his body, forcing him into a cross-legged position. No doubt, those three troublemakers were at it again.

Hu Mo had no choice but to submit. The three seemed like playful toddlers, doing as they pleased. He might have wanted to resist, but he barely had the strength to sit up—what could he do? He resigned himself to it, curious to see what they were up to this time.

As the saying goes: life is like rape—if you can’t resist, you might as well close your eyes and enjoy it. That summed up Hu Mo’s feelings perfectly.

His consciousness drifted outside his body, a mere bystander within himself. Surveying the devastation inside, he could only shake his head in silence, sighing inwardly, his face ashen.

Some meridians were tangled, others broken into pieces, and his organs were shredded—his heart even sported a gaping wound. As for his muscles and bones, the less said, the better.

He could hardly believe he was still alive, let alone able to speak—this was nothing short of a miracle.

“Let’s see what you’re up to. I’m watching you!” Hu Mo chuckled to himself. Sometimes he’d circle the Divine Wood King Cauldron, sometimes bounce over to the Sacred Water King’s Seal, or simply wander up and down his spine—after all, this body wasn’t really his at the moment; what else was there to do?

As he roamed, his injuries steadily healed. The Divine Wood King Cauldron and Sacred Water King’s Seal sent their powers through silken threads, merging and circulating throughout his body.

To his amazement, Hu Mo found that as the combined energy swept through his meridians, each damaged section was restored—not only that, but his meridians became broader and tougher than before.

To put it simply, if his meridians had once been narrow streams, now they were mighty rivers. The energy that had once rushed through like a torrent now flowed smoothly, and the pain faded, replaced by an indescribable sense of comfort—so much so that Hu Mo almost wanted to moan with pleasure, to shout out lines straight from an adult film.

His meridians brimmed with power but lacked the swelling sensation of before. Instead, he felt a new explosive strength. He was so confident that, if the sky itself blocked his path, he could punch a hole through it—though, of course, this was pure fantasy.

As his meridians healed, his organs recovered with astonishing speed. Not only did the cracks vanish, but a faint membrane seemed to form over them—so thin he barely noticed it.

Hu Mo didn’t pay it much mind; such things hardly mattered to him now. He sighed, settling into a cross-legged pose, matching the state of his body.

Since the Three Treasures were helping him, he had nothing to complain about. He stilled his mind, gradually reconnecting with them.

The Carefree Heart Sutra began to circulate naturally, its energy flowing unimpeded through his meridians. Hu Mo realized that the Divine Wood King Cauldron’s power was now three or four times stronger than before, yet his meridians felt no discomfort. On the contrary, they seemed insatiable, greedily absorbing all the energy.

“What’s going on? Have I broken through? Impossible—I haven’t practiced any martial arts technique. How did I break through like this? Unless…” Hu Mo frowned in thought, then suddenly burst out laughing. “It must be my good luck! Damn it, I just can’t help being so lucky!”

He licked his lips, looking self-satisfied. If he were awake now, he’d probably have set a table with food and wine, ready to feast and drink. If possible, he’d move the whole scene to a fragrant courtyard, enjoying every pleasure life had to offer.

Hu Mo’s imagination ran wild, even a string of drool hanging from his chin. Truth be told, he hadn’t eaten in several meals and was feeling faint from hunger.

In his daze, a white shadow flashed before his eyes—so fast it could barely be seen.

“Sigh, seems it was just my imagination. For someone so shameless to inherit the Lingbo Technique—could this really be fate?”