Chapter Seventy-One: No Such Thing as Ugly

A group of cultivators using their powers to rob a mere mortal—such a thing was far from honorable, whether judged by their so-called codes of conduct or their own reputations. Xu Nuo’s words left them all speechless, and no one dared make a rash move.

Agent 007 approved of the host’s actions—reasoning with others was the right way, and one should always try words before violence when trouble arose.

It was truly disgraceful for them to bully a mortal, but swallowing their pride was equally hard. Xu Nuo had dodged their overt threats of force, but she could not escape their persistent psychological attacks.

They circled around the issue, making oblique comments, all with the same underlying intent: Xu Nuo should hand over the herbs. They would not take them by force, but hoped she would be sensible and surrender them voluntarily—or else…

“Miss Xu, surely you can’t use all these herbs yourself. Why not trade with us?”

“I have here a superior-grade Marrow Cleansing Pill, capable of purging the impurities of mortal flesh and remolding the bones and sinews.”

Any ordinary person would have yielded, but Xu Nuo was far from ordinary. “No.”

They had tried every tactic, sweet words and harsh, but this girl wouldn’t budge, and their patience was wearing thin.

“Miss Xu, I have respected you as a mortal woman and had no wish to trouble you, but you have stripped the entire mountain of spirit herbs and refuse to share even a single stalk—are you deliberately making things difficult for us?”

Xu Nuo looked at them in feigned confusion. “I alone picked all the herbs on this mountain?”

“That’s the truth. Will you still deny it?”

“Then why didn’t you pick them yourselves?” Xu Nuo asked, making a show of counting their number. “One, two… thirty-seven. Over thirty people, and not one of you managed to collect a single herb?”

Only then did the cultivators realize the absurdity. With so many of them, how had they failed to best a mere mortal?

Xu Nuo sighed helplessly. “I’m just an ordinary person. How could I compete with you? Dozens of cultivators claim I monopolized all the herbs. Doesn’t that sound ridiculous?”

Ridiculous? It was beyond ridiculous—utterly absurd!

To be outdone in gathering herbs by a mortal—how could they face their teachers, or show their faces in the sect’s inner court?

The crowd fell silent.

Agent 007 had watched the scene unfold, uncertain whether to praise the host’s wit or to poke fun at her cunning.

The host had deliberately harvested every herb she could find. With her one-hundred-percent luck attribute, she always found herbs first, and with the spade gifted by her audience—though plain and unsuited for combat—it was unmatched for digging up roots. With such luck and efficiency, how could these disciples compete? If Xu Nuo didn’t intend to leave them a single sprig, what chance did they have?

Reflecting on this, 007 couldn’t help but think the host was a touch mischievous.

Xu Nuo herself felt wronged. “I never meant for it to come to this, but they were talking about me behind my back.”

So they had spoken ill of the host? Then they deserved their fate, and it was only fair they found no herbs. Upon hearing this, 007’s sympathies immediately shifted to the host.

On the surface, Xu Nuo did not appear forceful—if anything, she seemed gentle, and with her beautiful, harmless face, it looked for all the world as if she were the one being bullied.

Passersby who knew nothing of the situation began to whisper and point. The cultivators, both angry and frustrated, could only swallow their resentment and leave.

“Miss Xu? Are you all right?” Junior Sister Yan hurried over, anxiously looking Xu Nuo up and down, letting out a breath of relief when she saw she was unharmed.

“What brings you here?” Xu Nuo was surprised to see her.

“I heard you’d run into Senior Brother Wu and the others…” Junior Sister Yan explained that she’d come rushing over upon hearing that Xu Nuo was surrounded by a group of cultivators.

This little girl had a grateful heart, Xu Nuo thought. “I’m fine. But you still haven’t fully recovered—you shouldn’t be running around.”

“I’m really all right,” Junior Sister Yan said, though she instinctively hid her hand behind her back.

Xu Nuo’s sharp eyes caught sight of the marks on her arm. “What happened? Is it worse?”

After a night had passed, the wounds on her arm had not improved; in fact, they looked even graver.

Junior Sister Yan lowered her head and whispered timidly, “I scraped it by accident.”

Xu Nuo studied her for a moment, then simply said, “Come, let me apply some medicine for you.”

Junior Sister Yan was taken aback, almost flustered by the unexpected care. “Thank you, Miss Xu. I’m really troubling you.”

“It’s no trouble,” Xu Nuo replied.

When she rolled up her sleeve, Xu Nuo saw a web of angry welts—clearly the marks of a beating, each stripe red and raw. Fortunately, they were only surface wounds, sparing the bone and sinew.

Once the medicine was applied, Junior Sister Yan stood awkwardly for a long while, unsure what to say, before finally mumbling, “Thank you, Miss Xu. I will never forget your kindness.”

“Did someone bully you?” Xu Nuo asked, the words framed as a question, but her tone left no doubt.

“I… I just… hurt myself…” Junior Sister Yan faltered under Xu Nuo’s calm, searching gaze. “I… scraped it…” Her voice was barely audible.

“What stage is your cultivation now?” Xu Nuo asked.

“I just reached the Golden Core stage,” Junior Sister Yan replied.

Already at the Golden Core stage—for her age, an excellent achievement. She should have been a personal disciple of some elder, yet she remained just another face among the inner disciples. To have ended up like this was truly strange.

Such people were often meek and long-suffering, so when Xu Nuo insisted on treating her wounds and overseeing her recovery, Junior Sister Yan dared not refuse.

Nearly all the herbs Xu Nuo had gathered were used on Junior Sister Yan. The remainder she carefully stored for future use.

Junior Sister Yan, seeing the quantity of medicine needed, felt uneasy and said she could get some from the sect’s pharmacy.

“Do you know how to mix the medicine yourself?” Xu Nuo asked.

“I… I don't. I’d have to trouble the pharmacy master…” Junior Sister Yan admitted, uncertain.

“He’s no better than that senior sister of yours. He won’t give you any medicine,” Xu Nuo said.

Junior Sister Yan was astonished. “How did you know, Miss Xu?”

Because I’ve read the setting, silly girl, Xu Nuo thought to herself. Junior Sister Yan’s lack of treatment and eventual death from her injuries was clearly laid out in the background of the main plot. Her wounds now were almost certainly the work of that very senior sister, who vented her anger on her—how could she expect any help from the pharmacy?

“You’d better stay with me for a few days,” Xu Nuo suggested, “until you’re fully recovered.”

“But my senior sister…” Junior Sister Yan hesitated.

“I’m new to the sect,” Xu Nuo replied, “and not yet familiar with the place. I’m not used to living alone. Would you keep me company, Miss Yan?”

With such words, and already indebted to Xu Nuo, how could Junior Sister Yan refuse? She quickly nodded her agreement.

And so, for the next few days, Xu Nuo focused on caring for her wounded companion, drying herbs and tending her small plot of land in her spare time, leading a peaceful, contented life.

It all unfolded just as Agent 007 had anticipated—a gentle, healing tale of country living. But, host, have you forgotten something?

The main target of your mission is still suffering in the outer court.

That night, Agent 007 engaged in a heated debate with the host. “Dearest host, I suspect you of deliberate idleness.”

“It’s not as if I haven’t gone to see the target,” Xu Nuo replied. “Why the rush?”

“Please take this seriously,” 007 insisted. “Your main task is to win over the target, not to dote on background NPCs. You care more for them than for him.”

007 was a diligent assistant, analyzing the plot for the host: tonight, the target would suffer a severe setback—if the host appeared to save him now, the results would be twice as good for half the effort.

Nagged past endurance, Xu Nuo relented. “Fine, I’ll go.”

Leaping from the window, Xu Nuo gazed out at the moonlit courtyard. All was still; the cultivators were either resting or meditating behind closed doors.

She eyed the long-neglected flying sword in her bag with longing. “Xiao Qi, can I use the sword now?”

007 considered. “You may, but only if you aren’t seen.”

Who could resist the temptation of flying in the immortal world? Drawing her sword, Xu Nuo watched as it hovered before her. Lightly stepping atop it, she was instantly swept up by the wind.

Unlike her previous, desperate flight through shellfire, this time Xu Nuo drifted leisurely through the mountain mists, the world rich in spiritual energy and no worry of exhausting her reserves.

She made several circuits of the sect, taking in the sights, until the system’s impatient prodding finally drove her to the outer disciples’ quarters.

Lu Ciyuan—the target’s name in this world.

He was still a lowly outer sect servant, sharing a crowded dormitory with dozens of others. Xu Nuo peered in through the window, took a quick look, and turned away.

“Giving up already?” 007 was baffled.

“He’s not in there,” Xu Nuo replied.

“How do you know?” the system asked curiously.

“There are no ugly men among romance game targets,” Xu Nuo replied expressionlessly. “Everyone inside is a sorry sight.”

She added offhandedly, “I refuse to waste my feelings and time on an unattractive man. If I had to choose one of them, I’d rather forfeit the game.”

007’s heart skipped a beat. “What if—just hypothetically—the target is the kind who grows more handsome over time, though he’s unremarkable at first? Would you accept that?”

Xu Nuo sensed something was amiss. “What do you mean, ‘unremarkable at first’?”

“You’ll understand once you see him.”

She was about to protest when a commotion nearby caught her attention. The air carried a faint, metallic tang of blood.

Following the sounds and the scent, Xu Nuo saw a thin, blood-soaked youth with his back to her, pain etched across his face as he stifled a groan.

“Who’s there?” he wheeled around suddenly, a flash of cold light in those sharp, penetrating eyes.