Chapter 5: Still Alive

When Hua Xu saw Ji Jiuxuan inquire about the two tokens, she couldn’t help but marvel at the workings of fate. Beside her, Qi Shuoyuan was visibly excited—did this mean the result he’d divined years ago was finally coming to pass? Was there hope yet for Yan Wei and the others?

Back then, they had performed the ritual openly precisely because their enemies lurked in the shadows while they themselves were exposed. By feigning carelessness, they hoped to lull the adversary into lowering their guard and, with any luck, to ensure the others survived.

“Xiao Jiu, what do you think caused them to be shrouded in mist?” Qi Shuoyuan asked, his voice tinged with excitement. Ji Jiuxuan had already sensed the peculiarity of the two tokens, and as she pondered the strange sense of kinship she felt toward them, a sudden suspicion arose—could these be the life tokens of Ji Minghuai and Qi Yanwei?

She remembered their ritual vividly. According to the books, however, a life token would only hover around the Celestial Divination Apparatus if its owner was still alive. Did this mean they were still living?

Ji Jiuxuan voiced her musings aloud, and the answer she received recounted the outcome of the forbidden Celestial Divination performed years ago. Perhaps it was because the origin of wood spirit resided within her, rendering her exceptionally sensitive to vitality.

All the life tokens around her brimmed with vibrant life force. Though the two tokens were shrouded in mist, she could still sense the vitality leaking from within. This could only mean they were not yet dead.

Suddenly, one of the tokens dulled in color. Hua Xu hurried to send a message through her communication token, formed a series of seals with her hands, and let spiritual energy flood the great hall. The Celestial Divination Apparatus instantly emitted a golden light, enveloping the token.

After a while, the token’s color, though pale, stabilized. Yet its life force continued to ebb away.

“Grandfather, is he going to die?” Ji Jiuxuan stared intently at the token, anxiety etched across her face.

“No,” Qi Shuoyuan replied. “It’s stabilized now, and your Grandpa Hua Xu has already dispatched someone to find him.” His explanation was gentle, hoping that Ji Jiuxuan might be able to help ensure Yan Wei and the others’ safety.

“Then tell them to hurry, or his life force will be gone.”

Both Hua Xu and Qi Shuoyuan were taken aback, gazing at her in disbelief. If Ji Jiuxuan had a wood-attribute heavenly spirit root, such sensitivity might be expected—but she possessed the fire attribute.

As they spoke, the life force of the token vanished entirely, and it fell from the apparatus.

A wave of inexplicable sorrow washed over Ji Jiuxuan, and tears slipped down her cheeks. Qi Shuoyuan, shocked, hastily formed seals to envelop her in spiritual energy, and only then did her tears subside.

Hua Xu picked up the now ordinary-looking wooden token from the floor and sighed. Having spent most of his life in the Ancestral Dao Pavilion, he had witnessed countless such events. The cultivation world was fraught with peril and opportunity alike. Even so, he could not see through it, nor break free from his limitations—his own path of cultivation now stalled.

“Is he dead?” Ji Jiuxuan asked, still shaken, as if transported back to the moment she herself had fallen from a cliff and was shattered to pieces.

“Yes,” Hua Xu replied, keeping nothing from her. She was a promising talent for the Ancestral Dao Pavilion, yet he hoped she would not study Celestial Divination. This child was clearly sentimental; if she entered the pavilion, she might never find her way back out.

“Are the two tokens shrouded in mist my father and mother?” Ji Jiuxuan suddenly understood why they had brought her here, and the meaning behind the words exchanged earlier between her grandfather and Hua Xu.

She took the initiative to steer the conversation there.

“Yes,” Hua Xu confirmed with a nod. “Xiao Jiu, did you notice anything?”

Qi Shuoyuan watched her nervously, his eyes brimming with hope.

“My father and mother are not dead—there’s no danger to their lives.” For the first time, Ji Jiuxuan voiced her conviction before she had even begun true cultivation, risking being mistaken for a possessed or deviant soul. Yet this was what she sensed from the tokens—the abundant vitality meant they could not be in mortal peril. As for why they had not returned, that required further investigation.

She decided to take a gamble, trusting that neither of these elders would harm her.

Little did she know that with Celestial Divination, some gifted individuals could manifest abilities even before drawing spiritual energy into their bodies.

“They’re alive! Alive! Hahaha... wonderful, they’re alive!” Qi Shuoyuan burst into wild laughter, three years of pent-up gloom vanishing in an instant. His spiritual energy grew even denser.

Hope was the greatest news of all.

Hua Xu, for his part, was astonished. That fog was no ordinary phenomenon—when he had tried to peer into it years ago, it had blocked him completely. Only by resorting to forbidden arts had he caught a sliver of hope.

The little girl’s talent truly tempted him to bring her to the Ancestral Dao Pavilion, though the impulse was fleeting.

Suddenly, Ji Jiuxuan collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

Qi Shuoyuan caught her in alarm and, after a hasty examination, found that she had simply exhausted herself from prolonged exposure to the apparatus. He relaxed—she would be fine after some rest.

“I’ll take Xiao Jiu back first, and return later,” he said.

Hua Xu nodded, feeling a twinge of regret for having overlooked her condition.

Once more, Ji Jiuxuan was plunged into darkness. On the system’s light screen, the lottery interface appeared.

“Please proceed with your second draw,” intoned the familiar mechanical female voice, echoing through the blackness as the wheel began to spin automatically again.

After her previous stroke of luck, Ji Jiuxuan felt a thrill of anticipation—what would she win this time? She blew on her palm for luck, smiled, and pressed the button. The wheel slowed, finally stopping at a red lacquered wooden box.

“Congratulations, Host. You have obtained the second half of the Daoist attribute: ‘Spirit Platform Without Dust.’”

Drawing this prize left Ji Jiuxuan feeling as if she’d been hoping for a feast, only to be left drinking water to fill her belly. The complete Daoist attribute comprised two parts: ‘Resolute Dao Heart’ and ‘Spirit Platform Without Dust.’ In the cultivation world, many met their downfall due to an unsteady Dao heart, while ‘Spirit Platform Without Dust’ was more suited to Buddhist cultivators and was of little use to those on the path of immortality.

Why only half? Why ‘Spirit Platform Without Dust’ and not ‘Resolute Dao Heart’?

In frustration, she slapped the left hand she’d used to press the button.

She had expected the system to enter another update cycle, as it had before, but to her surprise, a third lottery followed immediately.

“Please proceed with your third draw.”

Despite her astonishment, Ji Jiuxuan refused to believe her luck could be so poor this lifetime—in her first draw, after all, she’d won something good.

She started the wheel and, switching hands, pressed the button again.

“Congratulations, Host. You have obtained the ‘Healthy Growth Protection Protocol.’ Before the age of sixteen, daily cultivation is limited to four hours. No single practice may exceed one hour per day. For every five days of cultivation, two days of rest are required. Holidays may be arranged freely. Any violation of these rules will result in system-imposed penalties.”

Ji Jiuxuan was utterly dumbfounded by this outcome.

In such a fiercely competitive world of cultivation, her system was telling her to slack off!

Defeated by her own abysmal luck, she asked, “What are the penalties?”

She was curious, even considering breaking the rules a little just to see what would happen, never expecting the system to actually answer her.

“If the time limits are violated, the host will be forced to rest. The more violations, the longer the enforced rest, with the duration doubling each time.”

Ji Jiuxuan dismissed this entirely—so what if she had to rest longer? That was no big deal.

“The time limit is the most common penalty. If it proves ineffective, the system will adjust the punishment accordingly.”

Ji Jiuxuan paid this no mind and, instead, asked curiously, “System, can you talk?”

She waited a long while, but no answer came.