Chapter 18: The Eighteenth Pig

Since the male lead woke up, Li Zhenzhen quickly ran out of resources and had to return to her old trade. Fortunately, the butcher had witnessed her single-handedly killing five Crane Guards and trusted her slaughtering skills, so he readily hired her.

Two days later, with December 12th approaching, Li Zhenzhen descended the mountain to visit Ah Heng.

Ah Heng was descended from an official family. Though his fortunes had declined, even a dying camel is bigger than a horse. Despite being bullied, his family still owned a three-room house with three courtyards.

His lowest point in life was probably when Li Zhenzhen made him sleep on the floor with the chickens.

All the servants had long since left, and Ah Heng, dressed in simple white mourning clothes, stood by the stove with his sleeves rolled up, serving Li Zhenzhen a bowl of noodles topped with two eggs.

He seemed to have adapted well to his fallen status.

Li Zhenzhen didn’t bother with formalities. When she finished eating, Ah Heng lowered his eyes and handed her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. “My ancestral home is still intact, sir. There are three acres of farmland behind the house where you can grow vegetables. If you want to raise chickens or ducks, there’s enough space.”

His features were gentle. “Though the roof is simple, it can still shield you from wind and rain. If you don’t mind, sir, you may live there.”

“Oh?” Li Zhenzhen took the handkerchief and wiped her mouth. “Your family once had a house and land, and perhaps some residual official prestige. Yet even so, Ge Huo schemed against you until your family was ruined. Now that you have nothing, how do you intend to keep your house and land?”

She didn’t look up, casually folding the handkerchief and placing it on the table. “If you want me to descend the mountain and help guard your property, just say so. I’ll help if I can.”

Ah Heng replied, “I never thought that way.”

“Is that so?”

He pursed his lips, then after a moment said, “Though my ancestral home is coveted by villains, the deed is still under my name. I can protect it.”

“But the wooden house on the mountain lacks a dragon vein. You are a woman and cannot endure the cold. You often wake up startled during the night. Five out of seven nights you can’t sleep well. I worry your health won’t hold up. I only want to…”

“Our agreement is simple: I save you, and at certain times, you play the role of Ning Songluo.”

Li Zhenzhen had no interest in conversations that solved nothing. Not wasting time, she stood up. “I came down this time for another matter.”

“On December 12th, the Human Sacrifice Ceremony will be held on Wuhuan Island. Are you aware?”

If not for Li Zhenzhen’s intervention, Ah Heng would have been on the list of human sacrifices this time.

He suppressed his feelings and said, “I know.”

Li Zhenzhen said, “I need you to disrupt the High Priest at the ceremony that day.”

Ah Heng was momentarily stunned, but quickly agreed, “Okay.”

She continued, “You’ll be thrown into the dungeon, maybe punished, but not to death. In the end, I will rescue you. Are you willing?”

Ah Heng didn’t ask why. He just looked up at her, “There’s no need to ask if I’m willing. As I said, I will do whatever you wish.”

“That’s good.”

After the brief instructions, Li Zhenzhen was about to leave when Ah Heng suddenly said, “Please wait, sir.”

She stopped.

After a moment, Ah Heng came out of the inner room carrying a basin of clean water and a tray with a new set of shoes and socks.

He knelt, holding the tray, and crawled to her feet, bowing deeply with his long hair spread across his back. “Your shoes aren’t good for walking. Luckily, I have some cloth at home, so these past few days I made some shoes and socks for you. Please try if they fit.”

Li Zhenzhen was speechless. This wasn’t just adapting well—he was overdoing it.

Did he really see himself as Ning Songluo?

And he made several pairs?

She felt like she was watching a beautiful woman in a drafty, barren house doing farm work in a short video—utterly absurd. She stood still without moving.

“You saved me,” Ah Heng finally said, unable to resist her coldness, his eyes trembling. “I’m afraid you’ll be cold. I want to serve you. I want to live with you… Is that wrong?”

“Saving you was out of necessity. You playing Ning Songluo is your repayment.”

Li Zhenzhen pulled her cloak over her head and avoided touching the shoes. “Our contract lasts only six months. After I finish what I need to do, you’re free to go wherever you want. No need for these extra things.”

She took two steps, then suddenly remembered and turned back. “By the way, what’s your surname?”

Ah Heng remained kneeling, quietly watching her for a moment.

Only when Li Zhenzhen looked down suspiciously at herself did he speak: “My surname is Heng.”

Li Zhenzhen: “…………”

---

Ah Heng said, “My full name is Heng Yu, courtesy name Mu Xue.”

—

On December 12th, Li Zhenzhen went about her usual pig slaughtering. When she returned, she found many people had suddenly gathered on the mountain.

This world was one of gods and immortals. Although the official faith on Wuhuan Island centered solely on the Lord of the Ghost Path, Cen Xueling, folk beliefs were rich.

The more desperate the times, the more people prayed to gods and Buddhas, hoping for a better next life.

Besides the temples of the Lord of the Ghost Path, the most common were those dedicated to the Supreme Immortal of Taiqing.

After all, he was the closest to a god in this mortal realm.

These mortals both despised cultivators and revered the strong.

Mentally torn between hatred and admiration, their behavior treated the gods like neighborhood gossip aunts.

If their hens stopped laying eggs, or the neighbor’s man cheated, or they had a stuffy nose since morning, or their son was too skinny to sell well—they would bring these petty grievances to the gods.

Li Zhenzhen often felt the divine statues bore the weariness of overworked office workers.

Today was the day to worship the Lord of the Ghost Path, Cen Xueling. Naturally, the Taiqing temple priests avoided showing themselves, retreating into the mountains.

Some who came even brought charcoal to sell.

Deng Xizhi opened her eyes amid her body’s pain and overheard Li Zhenzhen squatting at the wooden hut’s door, discussing religious philosophy with a passing temple priest selling charcoal.

Ning Songluo’s plan to disrupt the ceremony was in the afternoon; it was only ten in the morning—non-working hours.

Li Zhenzhen fiddled with the charcoal on the ground. “Why do you worship the Supreme Immortal of Taiqing?”

“There’s no reason,” a temple priest said dismissively.

This Taiqing temple was near the butcher’s shop. Li Zhenzhen had been there often recently, so the priests were quite familiar with her.

“There’s not a single good cultivator in this world besides the Supreme Immortal.”

“We can barely eat ourselves. We sell our children, and all the money we make is confiscated by officials to curry favor with the Immortal Sect… Over these years, only the Supreme Immortal’s Pavilion of Cold Snow has never demanded offerings from us mortals.”

“Indeed, the Supreme Immortal of Taiqing is the foremost among immortals, wielding the command of life and death over other immortals. Worshiping him surely works.”

“But don’t worship him for marriage matters! Definitely don’t. It’s guaranteed to fail.”

Though these temple priests were starving and emaciated, their gossip was unstoppable when it came to matchmaking, each voicing their opinions.

“The Immortal’s heart is as steadfast as a rock. The only woman who ever stirred his feelings in tens of thousands of years is probably the Immortal Ying.”

“Speaking of which, Immortal Ying has been waiting for the Supreme Immortal for nearly ten thousand years.”

“That’s right. You can say fate is unpredictable.”

Li Zhenzhen recalled this character, Ying.

She was the original story’s wicked supporting female. For some unknown reason, the male lead treated her differently.

Not only giving her everything she wanted, but personally refining her spiritual roots, searching heaven and earth for spiritual springs and treasures, forcibly raising Ying from a talentless mortal to a powerful figure at the Void Refinement stage.

He even promoted her entire family.

Originally, Ying was just the daughter of a minor mortal city lord in Wuxu Sea. Over ten thousand years, her family used the male lead’s influence to grow into a dominant cultivation sect.

The whole cultivation world awaited Ying becoming the Immortal Lord’s wife.

Ying herself was waiting.

She had long considered herself the Immortal Lord’s partner and could not tolerate the female lead suddenly appearing.

In the original tale, she single-handedly sowed misunderstandings between the male and female leads, causing the female lead great suffering and heartbreak. The couple drifted apart and back together repeatedly until the female lead left sadly, wandering abroad for five hundred years.

The male lead almost went mad, destroying his cultivation and using his soul to search for her, stripping the cultivation world bare in the process.

Readers in the comments gleefully called it a funeral pyre of emotions.

—

Thanks to oral tradition passed down through generations, mortals in this small world knew the gossip and deeds of the cultivation world very well.

Much like how the ancient Greeks knew about the many illegitimate children of the gods on Mount Olympus.

---

The Taiqing Immortal they spoke of was cold yet compassionate, lofty yet benevolent.

Completely different from the twisted, murderous man Li Zhenzhen knew who would behead and gut at the slightest provocation.

Li Zhenzhen selected some charcoal. “I see you don’t come here often.”

“Hey, that’s the Supreme Immortal of Taiqing!” one temple priest waved dismissively. “Common folk come to pray for more crops, for sows to have more piglets, for better fishing. But the Immortal personally slew the Lord of the Ghost Path. Half the people in Fengqi Town were saved by him. Who dares pester him with trivial things like old sows giving birth? That’d be ungrateful.”

“…”

Li Zhenzhen didn’t ask further.

She picked up a few medium-sized chunks of charcoal, dusted the ash from her hands, and took out four copper coins earned from slaughtering pigs, handing them over.

She didn’t want to spend that money, but there was no choice. Without charcoal in this temperature, they would die.

The basket of charcoal was half her height. The temple priest was about to help carry it when Li Zhenzhen lifted it with one hand and went inside.

The male lead sat by the fire, warming a pot of tea.

In front of him lay a teacup. His slender fingers held the bamboo stick Li Zhenzhen used to tend the stove, poking at the glowing embers.

Long lashes cast shadows beneath his eyelids. Strands of hair clung near his lips.

Pale skin, jet-black long hair.

Seeing Li Zhenzhen, the vermilion at his eye corners faintly appeared. He pushed a tea bowl on the wooden desk toward her.

The tea was infused with some flower, releasing a cold fragrance like mountain snow and icy streams.

Li Zhenzhen was indeed thirsty. She raised the cup to her lips, then paused.

Deng Xizhi asked, “What’s wrong?”

Li Zhenzhen put down the cup. “That’s your blood.”

There was no trace of metallic smell; she nearly didn’t notice.

“The bitter cold of winter is hard for mortals to endure. Just a sip of my blood warms in winter and cools in summer, extending life.”

He set down the teacup.

The faintly flickering embers cast shadows on his cold, handsome face.

“Isn’t that better than you wasting silver buying these useless things?”

… The male lead really is sick in the head.

“If you really want to help this home, chop the firewood outside or go earn some money. That’s better than anything else.”

Li Zhenzhen said this and without hesitation poured the cup over the charcoal.

The true immortal blood that drove the cultivation world mad and made everyone swarm was poured onto the fire with a sizzling sound.

She set the cup back on the table. “Eating raw meat and drinking blood is not my style. I’m a civilized person.”

Deng Xizhi: “…”

What is wrong with this generation of task givers?

Her colleagues had schemed to get blood and flesh from him with clumsy methods, looking like jesters.

Now it was handed to her, and she poured it away.

A gust of wind blew, the flickering embers reflected in Deng Xizhi’s eyes, trembling gently.

At that moment, a blood-red hourglass appeared before Li Zhenzhen.

[Mission Released] The female lead is about to disrupt the sacrifice ceremony. Proceed immediately to the site and ensure her safety.

[Current Progress] 0%.

Li Zhenzhen: “???”