The Next Morning:
After breakfast, I decided to explore the city more thoroughly, feeling that there were corners left untouched. The streets were alive with activity as I walked, stopping occasionally to buy a few items—some I needed, others I might not. My thoughts wandered to the idea of getting a new storage ring, as the one I owned was too small. However, the glaring problem remained—I didn't have much money.
By midday, hunger gnawed at me, and I spotted a restaurant bustling with patrons. Upon entering, I saw the first floor packed, so I headed upstairs. As I found a seat among the few empty ones, I couldn't help but think, *This place must be thriving.*
I ordered soul beast meat and juice, deliberately avoiding wine. Wine dulls the senses, and I've always preferred to stay sharp. I wondered how *she* could enjoy it so much. I missed her. My thoughts turned inward: *Will she mourn me when she finds me dead?* Perhaps the only ones who would care were her, my aunt, and a handful of friends.
"I need to let go of the past," I muttered to myself, "but it's hard when you feel like a stranger in a world that isn't yours."
As I finished my meal, three people entered the restaurant. One of them, a young woman, caught my attention briefly, but I dismissed the thought. I had more pressing matters on my mind.
"What's the matter?" Yan asked, noticing Lina had paused.
"Nothing, just a strange feeling. Perhaps I'm imagining things," she replied.
"You're probably right. No one would dare mess with someone from the Soul Hall."
After lunch, I continued my exploration of the city, trying to shake off the annoyance and gloom that lingered over me. Eventually, boredom crept in, and I thought of visiting Qian Ren Xue to lift my spirits. I had enjoyed our last conversation, and the idea of talking with her again seemed like a good way to brighten my mood.
As I approached her residence, the guards at the gate recognized me and let me in without hesitation.
I found her sitting alone in the courtyard, tears streaming down her face. As soon as she sensed my presence, she quickly wiped them away and turned to face me, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration on her face.
"What are you doing here?" she asked in a tense voice, even though she had told me before that I could visit her whenever I wanted.
"I came to check on you, like you said I could."
"Well, you've seen me now, so you can leave," she responded coldly, trying to hide her emotions.
But I couldn't ignore what I had seen. "Who hit you?" I asked, even though I had a good idea of the answer, but I needed to hear it from her.
"This is none of your business," she muttered, clearly wanting to end the conversation.
"Didn't you call me your friend? Friends share their burdens," I said gently, trying to break through the wall she was putting up.
She sighed deeply before finally admitting, "I'm just sad, that's all."
"Sad? With a mark like that on your face?" I pressed, knowing there was more to the story than she was letting on. Even though we hadn't been friends for long, I couldn't just walk away without trying to help.
"In my family," I said, "tears are seen as a sign of weakness. We were taught that only the defeated shed tears."
"Shut up! You don't know anything!" she yelled, but I could tell her anger was a mask.
"True, I don't know everything. That's why I'm asking. When my father died, I cried endlessly. Then someone told me the same thing—crying is for the weak. If you have time to cry, use it to do something worthwhile, or be proud of what you've achieved."
I paused, the memory still fresh. "I didn't understand it then, but after my mother and my friends died, I learned. If I had trained instead of wasting time in sorrow, I might've been able to protect them. I wouldn't have..."
I trailed off, muttering the last part under my breath. She looked at me, astonished, her tears momentarily forgotten.
"You must have had a difficult childhood," she said softly.
"Sort of," I shrugged.
"You're right. I should be proud of what I have—my grandfather, my position. Compared to you, my problems seem small."
I smiled slightly. "That's the spirit. Now, will you tell me what's going on?"
After a brief hesitation, she began, "You already know I'm the young master of Wuhun Palace. My father, the former pope, is dead. My mother is the current pope, and my grandfather, well, he's a great worshiper. But my mother… she hates me. She beats me, and I don't understand why. Once, when my spirit awoke, I was excited to tell her. Instead, she tried to kill me. Can you believe it? A mother trying to kill her own daughter."
I frowned. "There's something you're not seeing."
"What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.
"No mother hates her child without reason. There must be something you don't know."
"Then why won't they tell me?" she asked, sadness creeping back into her voice.
"Maybe they think you're too young, or perhaps they don't want you to know yet."
"So, what should I do?"
"You have two options," I said thoughtfully. "The first is to stop caring about her altogether. If she doesn't love you, then live as if you have no mother."
She fell silent, absorbing my words. Then she asked, "What's the second option?"
"The second is to find out why she dislikes you. Once you know the truth, you can decide how to act."
"Thank you. I'll try asking my grandfather."
"Not today though. I came with a gift for you," I said, changing the subject as the weight of our conversation began to lift.
"Alright, follow me," she said with a faint smile.
As we spoke, we were unaware of the figure lurking in the shadows, silently observing.
---
Inside the palace's reception room, I sat with Qian Ren Xue, savoring the local fruits. I had to admit, the fruits in this world were far superior to those in my previous one.
"Now, tell me what the gift is," she asked, her tone light.
I pulled a book from my storage ring and handed it to her. She glanced at the title and smiled. "Thank you."
"Don't pretend," I replied. "I know you have a special meditation technique for the Angel Clan, but this one is even better."
She raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that. Our techniques have been perfected over thousands of years."
"Read it first, then we'll see."
She opened the book, her expression shifting from indifference to intrigue. After a moment, she looked up. "It's… remarkable. I didn't expect this."
"Now try it."
With a nod, she began her meditation, and I watched as spirit energy gathered around her. I had to acknowledge her talent. She succeeded on her first attempt, a feat that took me three days in my previous life, even with an age difference.
When she finished, her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Thank you. This is indeed a powerful technique. I feel like I'll break through to the next level with just half a day's meditation."
"You don't have to thank me. You've helped me a lot, and you're my friend. But you're the only one who should use this technique. No one else."
"Don't worry," she assured me. "I promise to destroy the book once I master the technique."
Unbeknownst to us, the figure in the shadows continued to watch, pondering their next move.