Several days fell into a comfortable, yet intense, new rhythm. The sprawling pavilion, once a symbol of our bewildering new circumstances, had become our sanctuary and training ground. The world outside, with its politics, its looming plots, and its arrogant young masters, could wait. Here, we had work to do.
My mornings were dedicated to the "Soul-Guiding Hand." I would sit in the tranquil main hall, the Valeflora leaf glowing softly on the table before me, and I would practice. The initial connection, once a monumental effort, was now as simple as breathing. My control had grown from a clumsy 'touch' to a delicate 'guidance.' I could now will the pure, spiritual energy of the leaf to swirl into gentle eddies or pulse in time with my own heartbeat. It was a meditative, hypnotic process, and with each successful manipulation, I felt the connection to my more esoteric templates deepen.
[Synchronization with [Taigong Wang] has increased to 1.62%]
[Synchronization with [Tang Sanzang] has increased to 1.48%]
The progress was slow, measured in hundredths of a percentage point, but it was consistent. I was building a foundation, one brick at a time.
Ming's afternoons were a study in contrast. While my training was silent and internal, his was filled with a quiet, pent-up violence. He would stand in the center of the courtyard, a solitary figure in black, and practice his control over the Limitless. The invisible barrier of the Infinity was now second nature to him, a passive aura he could maintain with almost no conscious thought. His focus had shifted to a far more difficult task: Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.
He was trying to bring the concept of 'attraction'—of creating a negative space that the world would rush to fill—into reality. The results were, so far, unspectacular. He would hold out his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration, and the air before him would shimmer violently. A few pebbles might rattle and skip across the ground towards his palm, or a gust of wind would whip the leaves of the willow tree into a frenzy. Then the effect would collapse, leaving him scowling.
"It's like trying to explain calculus to a rock," he grumbled one afternoon, joining me in the hall and throwing himself into a chair. "I can see the principle with the Six Eyes, the mathematics of the universe bending to create a localized paradox. But making my Dou Qi do it… it's not cooperating."
"You'll get it, Ming," I said, offering him a cup of tea. Calling him 'Ming' felt natural now, a comfortable return to the easy familiarity of our past life, shorn of any awkward, new-world formalities. It was a partnership, and he was my partner.
"I know I will," he said, taking the cup. His confidence was unshakable. "It's just frustrating being this vessel of ultimate power and only being able to use it as a glorified bug zapper." He paused, a smirk returning to his face. "Though I have to say, your soul-petting thing is coming along nicely, Qing-er. You almost look like a proper mysterious immortal lady when you're doing it."
I rolled my eyes, but a small smile touched my lips. The playful banter was our anchor, a constant in a sea of overwhelming change.
Our quiet routine was broken on the fifth day. We had decided it was time to convert our market finds into actual, usable currency. Using my established identity as the reclusive Master Bai's daughter, I had a servant deliver a formal request for an appraisal to the Mitel Auction House, the establishment run by the powerful Primer Clan.
They responded with surprising swiftness. That afternoon, a representative arrived at our pavilion. She was a stunning woman in a tight-fitting red dress, her every movement exuding a sharp, professional charisma. I recognized her archetype instantly, a woman of beauty, intelligence, and ambition.
"Young Miss Bai," she said with a flawless smile, her eyes giving nothing away. "I am Ya Fei, chief auctioneer for the Mitel Auction House. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Ya Fei," I replied, meeting her smile with one of my own.
We presented the items: the lump of refined Star Iron and the various other herbs and cores. Ya Fei's professional demeanor cracked for just a moment as she examined the Star Iron, her eyes widening in surprise.
"This is… exceptionally pure for locally sourced ore," she commented, her tone impressed. "And these herbs... your family has a discerning eye for quality, Young Miss Bai."
She made us an offer. They could buy the items outright for a generous sum, or they could feature them in their upcoming major auction in three days' time. The commission would be small, and she guaranteed the final selling price would be significantly higher.
"An event of this size always draws wealthy buyers," she explained, her gaze lingering on Ming for a moment before returning to me. "It would be the perfect venue to maximize your profit. We would, of course, be honored to extend a formal invitation to you and your companion as our esteemed guests."
It was the perfect opportunity. We accepted, and Ya Fei left a short while later, leaving behind two elegantly calligraphed invitations and a new air of anticipation in the pavilion. We were no longer just planning; we were now officially on the path to the auction.
That evening, we sat across from each other once more, the formal invitations resting on the table between us. The time for quiet practice was over. We needed a concrete plan.
"Alright," Ming began, tapping a finger on the invitation. "We have our ticket to the show. What's the main event?"
I leaned forward, my expression serious. My meta-knowledge was our single greatest asset, and now was the time to use it. "The highlight of this auction, the item that will cause the biggest stir, will be three vials of Foundation Elixir."
"Tier 2 pills," Ming noted. "Useful for anyone below the Dou Shi level. A hot commodity in a backwater city like this. That's the stuff Xiao Yan buys, right?"
"Yes," I confirmed. "Yao Lao instructs him to buy it. It's not for his own cultivation. It's a key component in the plan to strengthen Yao Lao's soul so he can awaken fully."
"I see," Ming said slowly. He leaned back, a thoughtful, dangerous expression on his face. "So it's critical to the 'plot'."
I knew what was coming. I had been wrestling with it myself ever since we found the Valeflora leaf. My initial instinct, my ingrained love for the story, was to protect its integrity. "Yes. So we should avoid bidding on them. We can't risk interfering with his progress."
Ming was silent for a moment. Then he looked at me, his blindfolded gaze seeming to pierce right through me. "Why not, Qing-er?"
His question was soft, but it carried the weight of a physical blow.
"Why are we, two real people whose lives are on the line, prioritizing the plot of a book over our own strength?" he continued, his voice hardening. "You said it yourself, our primary goal is to get stronger. Those are Tier 2 pills. They could provide a tangible boost to our Dou Qi reserves right now. A boost we desperately need. We are operating at a fraction of our true potential. Why should we willingly pass up an opportunity to improve that?"
"Because of the butterfly effect!" I argued, my voice rising slightly. "If he doesn't get them, Yao Lao might not recover as quickly, his relationship with Xiao Yan might sour..."
"Or, he might be forced to find another, better way," Ming cut in, his logic as sharp and cold as ice. "Qing-er, you need to stop thinking of this world as a book. The 'plot' isn't some sacred, unchangeable destiny. It's a sequence of events and opportunities. We're here now. We're part of the equation. If an opportunity is on the table, it belongs to whoever is strong enough, smart enough, or rich enough to take it."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to an intense, persuasive murmur. "Think about it. Who deserves those pills more? The kid who is fated to stumble upon them through his plot armor? Or us, who have the foreknowledge to understand their true value and the will to actively seize them for our own survival? Why should we play by the rules of a story that is no longer just a story? The universe already killed us once by mistake. I'm not going to let it happen again because we were too polite to take what we needed."
His words hit me with undeniable force. Every part of me, from my own survival instinct to the ruthless pragmatism of the Taigong Wang template, screamed that he was right. My sentimentality for the story was a weakness, a luxury we couldn't afford. This wasn't about being heroes or villains. It was about being survivors.
I looked at the Valeflora leaf, still glowing softly on a nearby stand. We had already taken one piece of the protagonist's destiny for ourselves. What was one more?
My internal struggle must have been plain on my face. I let out a long, slow breath, the last of my romantic notions about preserving the plot evaporating with it.
"You're right," I admitted, my voice quiet but firm. "You're completely right. Our survival comes first. The plot can adapt... or break. It doesn't matter. From now on, our only priority is us."
A new doctrine was forged between us in that moment, a silent pact of ruthless self-interest. We would not go out of our way to harm Xiao Yan, but we would not step aside for his sake, either. We were no longer observers. We were competitors.
A slow, predatory grin spread across Ming's face. It was the smile of Gojo Satoru deciding to stop playing around. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
"Good," he said. "Then we have a new plan. We go to that auction, and we don't just watch. We compete. We'll take whatever we need."
I met his gaze, a flicker of my own newfound resolve in my eyes. The path ahead had just become infinitely more dangerous. By choosing to compete with the protagonist, we were risking making an enemy of the future most powerful being on the continent. But Ming was right. The strong take what they want.
And we were going to be the strongest.