A Small Bet

The main body shares no memories with its puppets, nor do the puppets share memories with each other. The puppet guarding the Divine Palace doesn't even know how many puppets the main body has sent out into the world.

They never meet, so they never communicate, like countless parallel lines. The only constant is that they all eventually return to the main body.

This isn't because they dislike each other or are forbidden from contact; it's simply that there's no need.

The relationship between puppets is like that between the left hand and the right—until the brain, the main body, gives a command, they are just two parts attached to the same body.

So, as a puppet that was born without sight and never shared memories with any second party, it had never 'seen' anything.

To not see is simply not to see—a void, a nothingness. It couldn't even imagine what 'pitch black' looked like, let alone a human face.

Even though its fingertips traced from He Zhuoming's brow to her jaw, it still couldn't conjure an image of Xiao He's face.

It could only feel Xiao He's warm skin, the bones beneath the soft flesh of her cheeks, the sunken eye sockets, the strands of hair falling by her cheekbones. But it couldn't imagine what these things looked like.

A sliver of dissatisfaction slowly crept into the puppet's hollow heart. It suddenly felt that the main body had only a perfect shell, while his personality... was petty, selfish, and far inferior to its own magnanimous and pure nature.

Wasn't he the main body? Shouldn't the main body be flawless? How could he have such a major character flaw?

He was simply a jealous husband.

*

This morning's breakfast included a type of bun filled with shredded chicken and tofu skin—He Zhuoming had never tasted such buns before. She saved two, packed them in a small box, and put them in her backpack to share with Xu Feixian.

Xu Feixian had no match today; she had forfeited. She sat on the wall with He Zhuoming, watching the arena from a distance.

He Zhuoming: "Didn't you win yesterday? Why not continue fighting?"

Xu Feixian pointed to her calf: "My injury hasn't healed yet, and today's opponent is a core disciple of Yuqing Sect. He's already at the Spirit Transformation stage and won last match without a scratch. I can't beat him; it would only make my injury worse and add an extra medical expense. I'm broke right now."

"Anyway, I've already won two matches, and I'm the top of my sect, so I can get the sect leader's recommendation letter."

Xuanhua Cave was merely a subsidiary sect of Yuqing Sect. To enter Yuqing Sect's inner gate, one needed a recommendation letter written by an elder of the sect or the leader of a subsidiary sect—this was the reason Xu Feixian had gone through all the trouble to compete here and tolerate Huang Mibo's behavior.

Because Huang Mibo's father, Daoist Chiri, was the leader of Xuanhua Cave.

To endure fools appropriately for a necessary outcome and seek revenge later was one of Xu Feixian's principles.

He Zhuoming didn't dig deeper into this, only asked happily: "So you'll have nothing to do for the next few days, and you can keep me company copying scriptures?"

Xu Feixian glanced at the bun in her hand, thought for a moment, and nodded: "Yes."

He Zhuoming: "That's great! I was just thinking how boring it is going alone..."

Before she could finish, her words were drowned out by a huge cheer from the arena.

The sound was deafening, startling the nearby crabapple trees into showering petals.

He Zhuoming frowned and covered her ears, waiting for a long while until the crowd quieted down a bit.

He Zhuoming: "They're so loud. I feel like today is even noisier than yesterday and the day before..."

Xu Feixian swallowed the last bite of her bun and said: "Because today is the match of Zhang Wangshui of Taixu Temple, a popular contender. Hundreds of people have bet on him to win, and the total wager in spirit stones alone exceeds ninety thousand, not counting other bets in gold, silver, copper, etc."

He Zhuoming knew about spirit stones—in the world of "Asking the Way," cultivators still commonly used gold and silver as currency for daily transactions, and ordinary cultivators with less wealth still used copper coins.

Spirit stones were a metal ore rarer and more precious than gold. They could store spiritual energy of various attributes and could be used to forge weapons, so cultivators used them as a special currency, rarely circulating among mortals.

And yet, this rare metal ore had gathered over ninety thousand in just one gambling activity for a single match?

He Zhuoming was shocked: "Isn't it illegal to gamble in public here?"

Xu Feixian: "...There's no law that prohibits public gambling, is there? There are countless gambling houses everywhere."

At that moment, a girl who had been taught since childhood to stay away from vices felt her worldview shaken.

He Zhuoming gaped: "Do... do the sects under the True Deity actually lead this kind of thing?"

Xu Feixian shook her head: "It's not the big sects that take the lead. Many of the so-called 'righteous' sects that act as pillars do openly forbid their disciples from gambling—but a small bet for fun is fine, and if they play around privately, no one will bother."

"I heard that in previous years during the Day of Divine Celebration's arena matches, there was always betting on the contestants' wins and losses. It was either organized by a few medium-sized subsidiary sects or by some leading young disciples pooling together. But this year, the atmosphere seems exceptionally good; everyone is enthusiastic about betting, and the numbers and amounts are several times higher than in previous years."

Xu Feixian looked dismissive as she mentioned this.

He Zhuoming strongly objected, saying seriously: "What do you mean 'a small bet for fun'? That's all lies. Gambling is gambling. If you win a small bet, you'll want to make a big one, and if you lose a big bet, you'll become a gambling addict... You didn't bet too, did you?"

Xu Feixian was silent.

He Zhuoming: "You really gambled?!"

Xu Feixian coughed dryly and gestured a tiny amount with her fingers: "Just a little. I bet on popular cultivators, so I think I won't lose."

He Zhuoming: "...But you said you're broke!"

Xu Feixian lowered her hand awkwardly and said: "It's because I put money in that I'm broke now."

The two bickered for a bit, and He Zhuoming felt like she was talking to a brick wall, so she turned her back to Xu Feixian in a huff.

Xu Feixian touched her nose, feeling a strange sense of guilt. She wanted to say something to ease the tension, but she couldn't bring herself to speak.

After a while, another burst of cheers erupted from the arena in the distance.

Xu Feixian looked into the distance and saw the victor circling the arena, smiling broadly. She nudged He Zhuoming's dangling shoe tip and whispered: "The cultivator I bet on won. Once I get the money, I'll treat you to something to eat."

He Zhuoming refused with righteous indignation: "I have my own money, and I don't need you to treat me. If you still want to hang out with me, you have to promise me you won't spend money in that... gambling place again!"

Xu Feixian didn't understand why He Zhuoming was so persistent about this.

Whether among cultivators or mortals, it was common for arena matches—where lives were at stake on stage—to have bets on the outcome off stage.

But Xu Feixian wasn't really addicted to gambling anyway.

Compared to a fun little bet, her good friend He Zhuoming was more important. She weighed the pros and cons in her heart, turned her face to look at He Zhuoming, who was also looking at her.

Xu Feixian said: "Alright, I promise you."

The two reconciled and went out to eat some unhealthy street food, then headed to the temporary temple of the Dao Lord of the Two Principles.

He Zhuoming fished out the scriptures she had copied last night from her backpack and threw them into the furnace to burn.

The flames quickly devoured the paper, and heat radiated out through the furnace's slits. Summer was already hot, and with this furnace burning scriptures continuously, the entire hall was filled with the smell of incense.

He Zhuoming thought of her mother's collection of perfumes, some of which claimed to be the cool sandalwood of temples—she didn't know what sandalwood smelled like, but she could now be sure that if it was a temple smell, it definitely had nothing to do with "cool."

If she had to describe it, it would be "smoky and scorching"...

He Zhuoming sniffed the air and asked suspiciously: "Do you feel..."

Xu Feixian: "Hmm?"

He Zhuoming: "It's like there's a faint... flowery smell?"

Xu Feixian pointed to a small pond surrounded by a few people: "Lotus fragrance?"

In the pond bloomed a few sparse white lotuses—perhaps due to the excessive heat, those lotuses looked a bit wilted.

He Zhuoming wasn't sure; she wasn't good at distinguishing floral scents. But this wasn't really important, so she quickly put it aside, laid out her paper and brush, and joined the others around the pond to start copying scriptures seriously.

The sound of brushes grazing paper filled the area, and the sunlight shifted as the sun moved, gradually lengthening the shadow of the temple gate.

Xu Feixian suddenly tapped her finger on the paper He Zhuoming was copying, making He Zhuoming think she had made a mistake. She looked around, comparing the text on the paper with the scriptures.

Xu Feixian: "Look."

She lowered her voice and gestured with her eyes—He Zhuoming followed her gaze and saw a person slipping furtively through a narrow side door near the statue.

It was a girl about Xu Feixian's age.

That spot was in the shadows cast by the wall and the statue, dim and inconspicuous. The girl looked around, not noticing that among those copying scriptures in the distance, there were two acquaintances.

It was Huang Mibo—that arrogant girl with a bad temper who always targeted Xu Feixian.

In the shadows, Huang Mibo's face lacked its usual haughtiness. She seemed unwilling to draw attention, sneaking in alone, looking flustered. Her survey of the surroundings was hasty, just a quick glance, before she turned and walked behind the statue.

He Zhuoming whispered: "Is there space behind the statue?"

Xu Feixian: "There's a narrow door leading to a courtyard, but it's used to store offerings."

He Zhuoming: "No one guards it?"

Xu Feixian: "Who would be stupid enough to steal offerings from a True Deity? Want to end their own life?"

As she spoke, she quietly stood up—He Zhuoming rolled up her brush, paper, and scriptures into her backpack and quickly followed Xu Feixian.

The two tiptoed around the statue, and sure enough, there was a narrow door at the back. The statue was massive, and with the drapes on both sides, it blocked all the light from the main entrance, leaving only that narrow door bright.

He Zhuoming nervously clutched Xu Feixian's clothes, while Xu Feixian poked her head out the door to scan the area. After a moment, she frowned and walked in—He Zhuoming followed and looked around, stunned.

The courtyard was quite spacious, with a bare, withered tree in the center. Against the wall were piled various incense, candles, gold paper, and fruits, but there was no sign of Huang Mibo.

He Zhuoming was about to walk over to look—those offerings were piled so high, it seemed like they could hide several people.

But as soon as she took a step, before she could get close, Xu Feixian grabbed the back of her collar and yanked her away.

He Zhuoming started to protest, but Xu Feixian quickly covered her mouth.

The two returned to the pond where they had been copying scriptures. He Zhuoming rubbed her cheek, feeling that Xu Feixian had hurt her face.

She whispered: "Why did we run away?"

Xu Feixian said sternly, teaching her: "If a person inexplicably disappears in a temple, no matter whether the temple worships a True Deity or something else... you'd better leave quickly and not come near this place for a while."

Xu Feixian's advice was usually worth taking, and He Zhuoming noted it silently.

Since they were still in the temple, Xu Feixian's words were deliberately vague. And He Zhuoming's mind, which could be sharp when it needed to be, immediately understood what Xu Feixian implied.

When she turned back to look at the dignified statue in the hall, due to some psychological effect, she felt the statue wasn't so dignified anymore—it even seemed sinister.

The two mingled among the copyists, pretending to read scriptures while actually observing the small door by the statue, but even as the sunset's glow spread across the sky, Huang Mibo never came out.

He Zhuoming and Xu Feixian exchanged glances, and for the first time, they shared a tacit understanding. With palms sweating, they pretended nothing had happened, packed up, and walked out with the departing crowd.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, both broke into a run, sprinting without touching the ground until they reached the plaza in front of the main hall of the Divine Palace, where they stopped, leaning against a wall, gasping for breath.

He Zhuoming clutched her racing heart: "That scared me to death. I didn't dare look back, afraid something would... suddenly appear and chase after me."

Xu Feixian leaned against the wall, panting: "Same here."

He Zhuoming: "Since something like this happened, shouldn't we tell some reliable people to deal with it?"

Xu Feixian thought for a moment: "I'll go find Lin Qingyun later. He's an officer of the Demon Suppression Bureau, and this is exactly his kind of business."

"But for now, you'd better not go there. Copy the scriptures at home; it's fine as long as you burn them within ten days."

Xu Feixian obviously trusted this Lin Qingyun she knew, and her tone became calmer. Knowing that there was someone in charge who could handle it, He Zhuoming breathed a sigh of relief.

But she still felt a lingering fear, so when she got back to her room, she took out her wooden sword and practiced the sword forms seriously several times, slicing off several crabapple branches that had poked into the corridor.

He Zhuoming felt she had made some progress with her swordsmanship, and feeling reassured, she tucked the wooden sword behind her back and crouched down to clean up the broken branches and fallen petals on the corridor floor.

As she picked them up, she suddenly let out a small "oh" and picked up a fairly intact crabapple branch, examining it carefully.

*

Tang Shuyu walked toward the exit of the room for who knew how many times.

At first, he couldn't even get near the door because his mind kept being overwhelmed by the urge to leave, to go out and find He Zhuoming.

In the past, when he didn't have this urge, he could walk around the room without any problem. But now, even if he moved just a little, the countless red threads that filled the air would tighten and pull at him, almost slicing him into the same thin red threads.

Yet after many back-and-forth tugs, in the end, his body was stronger, and he managed to endure the red threads to reach the room's door.

The sound of light footsteps gradually approached, and Tang Shuyu's urge to leave dissipated along with the red threads—his exposed skin was covered in fine cuts from the threads, but no blood flowed.

Those wounds also disappeared rapidly with each breath.

The next moment, the crabapple tree outside the door rustled loudly as He Zhuoming emerged from the leaves.

Her hair was tangled by the branches, and her cheeks were flushed and slightly sweaty. She trotted up to Lin Qingyun—and came to an abrupt halt just before crashing into his chest.

Lin Qingyun crossed his arms, looking displeased: "You're late today..."

He Zhuoming: "Listen to me! I just discovered something! The crabapple flowers outside my bedroom and the ones outside your door are of different species!"

Her voice was excited and proud, as if she had discovered some great secret rather than just a difference in crabapple flower species.

Lin Qingyun's complaint was interrupted. He paused, then snorted: "That's it?"

He Zhuoming: "You didn't notice?"

Lin Qingyun: "I can't see."

He Zhuoming: "Back when we first came here from the teleportation array, didn't you see them then?"

Lin Qingyun: "...I wasn't paying attention."

He didn't really want to continue this topic; the lingering pain from the cuts made him restless.

I never went to the teleportation array.

I never came here with you.

I have to start making things up again, making up things I never did, and I can't even imagine what that scene would be like.

He reached up and pressed his eye sockets, rubbing them, causing the white silk to dent inward, forcing himself to shift his attention—suddenly a gentle breeze brushed his face, and a faint floral scent landed on Tang Shuyu's nose.

He was stunned, tilting his head in confusion.

It was He Zhuoming, who had whipped out a crabapple branch from her sleeve, the flowers brushing against Tang Shuyu's nose—the branch, like He Zhuoming herself, was warm and soft.

He Zhuoming happily shared with him: "It's okay! I brought it for you! This is from near my room. Smell it, the scent is different—it's very light, not as sweet, and the flowers are smaller and denser, pale pink rather than crimson..."

Tang Shuyu used the crabapple trees that were omnipresent in the Divine Palace as his antennae, knowing every corner of the palace.

But he himself had never stepped out of this room, not even approached the door.

Xiao He's voice was like a cheerful little bird, reminding him of the black-feathered bird that the main body never left without, although he had never seen the bird, never touched it.

He slowly raised his hand, lowered his head, and both his fingers and nose touched the crabapple branch that He Zhuoming had fussed over until it was a bit wilted—so this is what touching a flower feels like.