After Transmigrating Into A Novel, I Provoked The Obsessive Female Lead - Chapter 3

“You’re awake? Do you feel any better?”

A voice tinged with joy rang in her ear.

Song Wenqing blinked slowly; before her eyes lay pitch blackness, and she could see nothing. Recalling the flash of sword light that had pierced her eyes, her heart sank heavily.

“What… time of day is it now?”

Merely speaking pulled at her chest wound, and a metallic taste filled her mouth. Song Wenqing furrowed her brows; the injuries she had sustained were far more severe than she had imagined.

What time of day?

Yan Zhu glanced outside at the daylight; the sun appeared to have just emerged from the horizon. After thinking for a moment, she answered somewhat uncertainly, “Probably… the hour of Mao.”

After giving the reply, the other party did not speak again, and the surroundings plunged into silence once more.

Yan Zhu could not quite gauge the other’s thoughts, her body stiff and paused halfway, hesitating whether to take another step forward. Her heart was also piled with many questions; she wanted to speak up, yet feared she might offend the other person somewhere.

Song Wenqing’s eyes could not see, so she could not witness the bizarre sight of Yan Zhu standing stock-still in one place. Even if she had seen it, she would have found it hard to guess that this person could have so many eccentric and useless inner entanglements.

She was extremely grateful to Yan Zhu for saving her, but having suffered a great catastrophe, she dared not easily trust others, and could not help suspecting whether the other party harbored some alternative motives.

“Who else is there that I can trust?”

Song Wenqing could not help asking herself.

When the words “the hour of Mao” fell into her ears, the last remaining trace of tiny hope vanished.

Song Wenqing reached out to gently cover her eyes, her lips parting into a soundless smile.

How ironic the ways of the world are.

Those she had saved were the ones who injured her.

Those who were close to her were the quickest to abandon her.

The one who once respected her the most now loathed her the most and wanted most to kill her.

Song Wenqing remembered that when she successfully formed her golden core, the person most overjoyed by it was her eldest senior brother.

The person who shattered her golden core was also him.

And her eyes…

The sword Qi that slashed and blinded her eyes happened to be personally left behind by her master.

Thinking of it, it truly was laughable.

Song Wenqing’s eyelashes trembled, her palms gently brushed by something soft.

In truth, she had no memories prior to the age of six; she only remembered that the first scene she saw upon opening her eyes was a ground full of blood and corpses.

Someone descended into the world like an immortal, dropping down from the sky before her.

Immortal Heguang had worn a single set of white robes at that time, blindingly white amidst the bloody ground.

He ignored the kowtowing and pleading of the surrounding villagers, merely lowering his gaze to look at her with neither sorrow nor joy on his face.

“Would you be willing to enter the Linyun Dao Sect and become my disciple?”

His voice also seemed to come from a distant horizon.

Immortal Heguang embodied all of Yan Zhu’s initial imaginations of immortals; thus, she had once respected her master the most.

“We all thought Master would not take in any more disciples, yet we didn’t expect him to bring back a junior sister.”

Her senior brother had said these words with a smile upon seeing her for the first time.

From then on, doubts took root in Song Wenqing’s heart.

Later on, Song Wenqing learned from her fellow senior brothers and sisters that back then, her village had been massacred by demonic cultivators, and more than half of the people died. Her master happened to be the guiding elder responsible for leading sect disciples to a secret realm, and he casually saved her when passing by.

Yet no one could answer why Immortal Heguang had taken her as his disciple.

Until much later, many years later, Song Wenqing accidentally learned the reason from a casual conversation among the elders.

Because she was born with a pair of special eyes.

The last person born with these eyes was the founding patriarch of the Linyun Dao Sect. After that catastrophe a thousand years ago, he was the first and only person in the cultivation world in a millennium to successfully ascend and become an immortal.

Everything was because of these eyes.

They were called the Pupils of Seeing Through Falsehoods, ranked alongside the Innate Dao Body and the Seven-Orifice Exquisite Heart. Anyone possessing even one of these could be called a “Dao Seed,” a phenomenon encountered once in a millennium. Those who possessed them faced no obstructions on their cultivation path, and every single one of them was a brilliantly talented individual.

Song Wenqing had established her foundation half a year after entering the sect, and formed her golden core at the age of sixteen. Until three days ago, she was still that personal disciple of the sect leader praised by all the disciples.

At that time, everyone felt her future was so smooth and broad that one could see all the way to its end at a single glance.

Even Song Wenqing herself had thought so.

Smooth and broad…

Ah, how smooth and broad.

A life where one could see death at a single glance was naturally smooth and broad.

Therefore,

Who could she still trust now?

Song Wenqing tilted her head slightly, following her memory to look in the direction from which the other person’s voice had come when speaking.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Yan Zhu did not expect her to speak up so suddenly, and was slightly stunned upon hearing this.

The mindset shaped by long-term living in modern times made her subconsciously about to blurt out “You’re welcome.”

“No…”

Fortunately, just as the first word slipped out, Yan Zhu reacted in time and abruptly changed her wording. “No… there’s no need to be so polite.”

“You were injured very badly at the time, and I happened to see you; I couldn’t just watch you die with my own eyes. Even if… someone else had been present, they definitely would have stepped in to help.”

“Moreover, I didn’t really help much; I just brought you here…”

She explained the reason.

The logic of the matter was very reasonable to Yan Zhu, but it was not so for Song Wenqing, who had grown up in the cultivation world where the strong preyed on the weak and had recently suffered betrayal from those around her.

A very far-fetched reason.

She judged inwardly. If this person wasn’t a great philanthropist who loved doing good deeds everywhere, she must… harbor some alternative motives.

The former possibility was very small, but the latter wasn’t big either.

Song Wenqing fell into rare confusion; she unexpectedly could not guess this person’s intent.

The other party was full of mysteries everywhere.

Yan Zhu did not know that the young girl had developed suspicions toward her. She was feeling apprehensive due to the sudden silence, beginning to doubt whether she had said some inappropriate words that displeased the other party.

Fortunately, before long, Song Wenqing spoke up once more, though it was merely two brief words.

“Song Qing,” she said.

Yan Zhu was startled for a moment, and only then realized that the other party was telling her her name. As a matter of course, she ought to inform her as well.

“…Yan Zhu.”

Yan Zhu spoke with some hesitation. She did not yet understand this world, and therefore had not fabricated her background; she feared that the other party might ask about it later on.

Or… could I falsely claim amnesia and ask her for information about this world?

Once this thought popped up, it could not be stopped.

Telling a lie might be exposed, but the possibility of this lie being exposed was much smaller. Regardless of whether the other party believed it or not, they could not straightforwardly conclude that she was lying.

Moreover, this looked to be the fastest way to understand this world right now.

“Are you alright? Is there any part of your body feeling uncomfortable?”

Yan Zhu brewed for a moment, finally lifting her foot to walk toward the person on the stone bed.

“I’m fine.”

Seeing that her expression was devoid of ripples and completely showed no signs of severe injury, Yan Zhu set her mind at ease.

Having walked closer, she could finally clearly see her appearance; those eyes gazing at her were originally a beautiful amber color.

Only, they lacked luster. Seeming to sense her approach, the young girl slightly tilted her head and fixed her gaze in a single direction.

“You…”

Thinking of a certain possibility, Yan Zhu was so shocked that she even forgot the words she had repeatedly deliberated.

She raised her hand and waved it in front of her, but did not see the pupils within those eyes move along with the hand.

The conjecture was confirmed. Looking at the young girl before her with a pale complexion and some blood stains on her body, the pity already in Yan Zhu’s heart grew even heavier.

“You… can you no longer see?”

Her voice was very soft, as if the speaker feared startling something.

“Temporarily unable to see.”

Song Wenqing did not evade the question.

In fact, reflecting the light, she could still make out a little; she saw a vague, shadowy figure seemingly slowly approaching her.

Yan Zhu fell silent.

“You…”

The words slipped out and quickly deflated.

She unexpectedly did not know how to comfort her.

“Can it recover in a few days?”

“I don’t know.”

The other party’s tone was flat, returning merely three words.

But those three words seemed to strike Yan Zhu’s heart three times. Looking at the calm brows and eyes of the person before her, she suddenly wanted very much to ask what on earth she had encountered previously.

In her world, a young girl of this age would still be in junior high or high school, well-protected by parents, teachers, and elders…

Yet… it was too abrupt.

To her, she ought to be merely a passerby.

Inappropriate, inappropriate, inappropriate…

Yan Zhu recited it three times, reluctantly swallowing down the sourness rushing to her throat.

“Perhaps… it will get better after a period of time…”

Words of comfort appeared very pale before reality, and Yan Zhu gave birth to a sense of helplessness. She still wanted to add something more to comfort her, but saw the person before her slightly narrow her eyes and make a silencing gesture.

Something was approaching.

The surroundings were so quiet that a falling needle could be heard; Yan Zhu could hear her own light, shallow breathing.

Afterward came the gradually clearer sound of scales sliding and colliding against gravel.

The ground also began to tremble slightly, kicking up countless specks of dust.

Arriving before the “hissing” sound of intake was a fishy stench that made one want to cover their nose. Subsequently, a pair of cold, bright yellow vertical pupils appeared in her field of vision.

Yan Zhu’s heart was beating frantically; she was awestruck by this massive black python whose specific size was difficult to judge.

Its serpentine head was even too massive to reach into the cave. Consequently, it could only treacherously dart out its scarlet forked tongue, with foul-smelling liquid continuously dripping from the corners of its mouth.

Everything, absolutely everything, far exceeded Yan Zhu’s past cognition.

Her feet seemed to have grown roots, and she stood blankly in place for a long time, forgetting to move her body.

“Come here.”

A familiar voice exploded beside her ear, and Yan Zhu slowly turned her neck to look in the direction of the sound.

The young girl on the stone bed had already straightened her body. The sword she was gripping, which previously had dried blood stains on it, had now taken on a completely new look, flashing and emitting a glowing light.

For some reason, Yan Zhu felt that the sword seemed to be… happy…?

She cautiously glanced at the black python, gritted her teeth, and began dragging her weak legs to approach Song Wenqing.

Yet just as she had taken a single step, the black snake seemed to feel displeased. It opened its mouth and let out a roar; the fishy, foul wind blew so hard that Yan Zhu almost fell over.

And it was precisely at this moment that Song Wenqing unleashed her sword.

The wind blew her hair fluttering gently. Song Wenqing tilted her head slightly, a trace of an imperceptible smile appearing at the corners of her lips. She swung her sword, the sword light resembling a rainbow, accurately striking right into the black python’s wide-open mouth.

A single move, merely a single move.

The sword Qi leveled the mountain body above their heads, and the roaring sound of collapsing massive boulders overwhelmed the painful screeches of the black python. The giant body of the python subsequently collapsed, its head smashing a pit into the earth, while sand and soil flew about in an instant.

Yan Zhu covered her mouth and nose, coughing softly a few times.

Once the dust settled, the surrounding scenery also transformed into a completely different appearance.

The summit of the mountain had been sliced off, and the sun overhead generously shed its light onto the gloomy land that had not seen sunlight shine in who knew how many years.

The original cave entrance was blocked tightly by the black python’s mountain-like body. The blackish-red blood flowing from its body quickly gathered into a tiny stream, slowly flowing down into the lower-lying cave.

Yan Zhu stood blankly for a long time, finally remembering the “culprit” behind this matter. She turned her head to look at the young girl leaning weakly against the stone wall, suddenly unable to say a single word.

However, her complexion was noticeably paler than before.

Yan Zhu acutely noticed this point.

She cleared her throat, struggling to find her voice again, “…We cannot stay here for long.”

The other party gently nodded.

“However… right now it seems we can only go out from above…”

I don’t know how to fly.

Yan Zhu wanted to say, but she was beaten to it.

“How are your culinary skills?”

The young girl looked at her, still maintaining that cold-hearted and detached appearance. Her voice tone was also cold, and the words spoken seemed to be covered with a layer of frost.

Yan Zhu was stunned by this unrelated question, and after a moment she reacted. “Pretty… pretty good,” she answered.

In fact, quite good.

After her parents divorced, she lived alone in the spacious villa where her family used to live. Except for occasionally having a cleaner come by to clean and make a meal along the way, in most cases, she took care of herself.

Therefore, Yan Zhu had mastered a set of good cooking skills since childhood.

Seeming very satisfied with this answer, as the words finished, Yan Zhu saw the other party nod.

“Then let’s roast this Black Brocade Python and eat it.”

Roast and eat it?!

No… wait, the Black Brocade Python?!

Yan Zhu widened her eyes in astonishment, how could the name of this demonic beast be identical to the name of the black python snake she wrote about in her novel!