As the saying goes, to gain something, you must first lose something.

In the cultivation of the Paths, this profound truth of life seemed to be perfectly embodied.

Setting aside the other bizarre restrictions.

Take the two Mystics, Zheng Xiu and Feng Bei, for example.

Feng Bei’s hands were like a curse—a bane to heaven, earth, friends, and family, with unrivaled destructive power. And yet, she couldn’t even do something as simple as touch another.

And Master Zheng had it even worse. He could create an Incarnation, soar through heaven and earth, and speedrun the Ghostly Realm. His consciousness was free, but his physical body was locked in a cage, devoid of freedom.

Talk about relativity.

Rest easy, Einstein. Your coffin lid is on good and tight.

According to Feng Bei, it was possible for a single person to cultivate multiple Paths.

As long as you had time and could manage it well.

Zheng Xiu, however, had no such plans at the moment. The Prisoner was a born Mystic. A single Incarnation was enough to hammer Dou Xie of the Scholars Path until he squealed. With further upgrades, he might even be able to string up a veteran Constellation like Yue Yan and give her a good whipping. The potential was clearly immense.

By staying near Feng Bei, the Evil Child could indeed ignore the distance limitations of Divine Travel.

Zheng Xiu felt some kind of faint, almost imperceptible connection with Feng Bei.

It felt just like entering the Ghostly Realm.

Zheng Xiu had wanted to ask about the Ghostly Realm, but after what he’d said, the sight of Feng Bei’s desolate back left him at a loss for words.

Perhaps the "desolation" was just something Zheng Xiu was imagining.

Feng Bei didn’t show any obvious change. After so many years, she was used to being alone.

But since Feng Bei had fallen silent, Young Master Zheng could only slink back to the carriage and make idle chitchat with Yue Yan.

They stopped twice along the way. Zheng Xiu didn’t waste the opportunity, spamming Taunt on Dou Xie to provoke him into attacking first. This allowed Zheng Xiu to fight back in "self-defense" and beat the guy to a pulp a few times.

Dou Xie was furious, but he seemed reluctant to use the killing moves he had transcribed into his books beforehand.

Zheng Xiu had figured out Dou Xie’s Restriction.

His Ability was derived from written words.

Words could be transformed into Abilities.

But these Abilities had to be transcribed in advance. Once expended, they had to be written down all over again.

After each beating, Dou Xie would unleash a flurry of miscellaneous characters, then, while crying with a bloody nose, he’d have to furiously scribble to catch up on his "homework." The scene inexplicably reminded Zheng Xiu of a bratty kid on the last day of summer vacation, staring at an empty workbook.

Aside from the slow-to-improve Intuition and the Coiling Dragon Eighteen Slashes he’d had no chance to practice, after several rounds of this "farming," the Evil Child’s other three Traits had all gained varying amounts of experience.

[Inspiration (Entry)], [Fist Skill (Entry)].

Best of all, with Dou Xie’s "help," Taunt broke through its bottleneck and reached the Masterful realm. The name alone sounded badass.

[Taunt (Masterful)]: Your words, actions, gaze, and even your appearance more easily provoke others, causing them to feel disgust, wariness, and anger toward you, potentially even inciting murderous intent.

Once upgraded to Masterful, Taunt no longer required pointless banter while the Trait was active. Even a simple glance could trigger it, making it extremely practical.

Yue Yan and Feng Bei also found it strange that Dou Xie would repeatedly "initiate provocations" against Young Master Zheng, only to be pinned to the ground and beaten senseless each time.

But they had seen with their own eyes how Dou Xie had swung his book and unleashed a Miracle Technique after Zheng Xiu had merely said, "I’m better looking than you." They clucked their tongues in amazement, ultimately concluding that the two just had clashing personalities and were the type who couldn’t become friends without fighting first.

’It’s the truth. What can you do about it, Young Brother Xie?’

When Yue Yan saw the two scuffling, she couldn’t be bothered to intervene, simply snacking on melon seeds and enjoying the show from the sidelines.

The horses ambled along, stopping and starting. On the other side of the mountains, the setting sun painted the sky with rosy clouds.

As planned, they finally neared their destination before nightfall.

The Immortal Maiden Temple was a local landmark, said to be nearly a hundred years old. It had been built in the mountains back when the Daqian Dynasty was founded.

The mountain was called Danglang Mountain.

At the foot of the mountain was a small town of over a hundred households, named Danglang Town.

When Zheng Xiu and the others arrived in Danglang Town, the sun had not yet set. They found an inn and stabled their horses. Feng Bei instructed the others, "Rest for a bit. We’ll head into the mountains in an hour."

Zheng Xiu clapped Dou Xie on the shoulder.

The latter jumped several inches, startled.

"Great work out there."

Zheng Xiu offered his kind regards.

Dou Xie himself found it bizarre. Why was it that the moment the other man spoke, he felt an uncontrollable urge to hit him?

And to make matters worse, he couldn’t even win.

Dou Xie had applied medicine to his face, and the swelling had subsided. He now gritted his teeth and forced out, "Thank you for your concern, Young Master Zheng."

"Of course, of course."

When it came to a quality source of wool to be fleeced, Zheng Xiu had always believed in the principle of sustainable development.

Leaving the inn, Feng Bei intended to run her errands alone, but Zheng Xiu shamelessly tagged along.

The Ghostly Realm surrounding Feng Bei didn’t have a large radius, so naturally, Zheng Xiu didn’t dare stray far.

Feng Bei simply assumed the young man was fearful and apprehensive, this being his first time out in the world, and thought nothing more of it.

After agreeing on a time to ascend the mountain, they split up in front of the inn. Zheng Xiu followed Feng Bei to a clothier’s shop.

’It’s not one of my family’s shops,’ Zheng Xiu thought, feeling a little unsettled.

Feng Bei entered the shop and picked out a few pairs of ready-made silk gloves.

Only when Feng Bei pulled a cloth pouch from an inner pocket—revealing stacks of identical black silk gloves neatly folded inside—did Zheng Xiu realize the true depth of her aversion to touching others.

Zheng Xiu, who knew full well about Feng Bei’s Executioner Path, pretended to be oblivious.

’But he found it strange. Could a simple pair of ordinary gloves really contain those hands?’

"Sister Feng Bei, I want to buy a saber!"

Zheng Xiu had no money on him, and this wasn’t the Zheng Family’s commercial turf. He had no choice but to swallow his pride and ask Feng Bei for money.

’There’s no shame in living off a woman if you do it with confidence.’

Feng Bei nodded, agreeing that it was a good idea for him to have a weapon for self-defense. She then readily bought a common long saber for him.

’Now I can finally grind the Experience Level for my Coiling Dragon Eighteen Slashes.’

The sun sank behind the western mountains, and the sky grew dim.

There was still a little time before they were due to meet, so Feng Bei, worried that Young Master Zheng was too weak, took him to a noodle shop for a meal.

The noodle shop was doing good business, bustling with locals coming and going.

The two found a corner to sit down. Soon, steaming bowls of sliced meat noodles were served, driving the chill from their table.

The waiter, a greasy sweat towel draped over his shoulder, turned to leave. Zheng Xiu stopped him and pointed to a strange statuette enshrined on a spirit tablet on the wall. "Excuse me," he asked, "what is that you’re worshiping?"

Zheng Xiu had actually noticed it the moment he entered the shop. He’d even secretly used his Inspiration ability on it, but had found nothing.

The waiter was the only one working, and he looked impatient. With a CLINK, Zheng Xiu placed the few bits of silver left over from buying the saber onto the table.

Feng Bei kept her head down, eating her noodles in silence.

"This young master must not be from around here," the waiter said, his tone much more confident now that he’d pocketed the silver. He rubbed his hands together with a grin. "I can tell you two aren’t locals. Do you know the name of this town?"

"Danglang Town."

"Then you’ve got it! See that mountain? It’s called Danglang Mountain. We here have worshiped the Dang Lang Immortal since ancient times. And let me tell you, the Dang Lang Immortal really works miracles, don’t you dare disbelieve. See, twenty years ago, bandits were rampant, the world was a chaotic mess! Back then, even our town master got scared and skipped town. But then an Immortal Lady came, said the Dang Lang Immortal had appeared to her in a dream and told her our town would be safe. Some people didn’t believe her and fled. But when peace was restored under Heaven, they saw it was true! A real miracle, I tell you!"

"That’s it?" Zheng Xiu stared. "That’s the miracle?"

The waiter had seen plenty of outsiders like Zheng Xiu. He scoffed, ready to mock him, but for the money’s sake, he offered some earnest advice instead. "Never mind that, I’ll tell you something I saw with my own two eyes." The waiter pointed to a vendor’s stall across the street. "See that couple over there?"

Feng Bei was still bent over her bowl, slurping her noodles down quickly.

Zheng Xiu followed the waiter’s gaze across the street.

It was a stall selling baked flatbreads.

The stall was run by a middle-aged couple.

Right then, the middle-aged wife was brandishing a stick, berating and striking her husband for being too slow. The husband took it silently, his eyes vacant, the very picture of a meek man.

A classic scene of a shrewish wife beating her Wimp of a husband.

Zheng Xiu looked back, puzzled. "Are you saying they’re like this because they don’t have the Dang Lang Immortal’s protection?"

"Quite the opposite!" The waiter chuckled. "When I first started working here, Old Qiu—that’s the husband—used to beat his wife. Every day, day and night, he’d beat her. His temper was absolutely explosive."

Zheng Xiu froze.

Feng Bei’s slurping paused for a moment.

The waiter continued, lost in his story. "Later, his wife couldn’t take it anymore. She went up the mountain and prayed to the Dang Lang Immortal."

"In just seven days, Old Qiu was like a changed man."

"Tsk, tsk. His explosive temper vanished. Now he just works obediently and never talks back when his wife scolds or hits him. See? His wife used to get beaten black and blue, and now the roles are reversed."

An inexplicable chill ran up Zheng Xiu’s spine.

The waiter grinned. "So, you tell me. This Dang Lang Immortal..."

"...is he miraculous, or not?"

Zheng Xiu was silent.

He looked again at the spirit tablet in the shop.

At the so-called "Dang Lang Immortal" they worshiped.

Its eyes bulged slightly, its cheeks were gaunt, and its back was hunched. Its two long arms were sharp at the ends, like blades.

It was, quite clearly, a praying mantis.