Thanks to Tuo Sumò, Mu Bai was granted exemption from the medical skills exam for two days.

When the disciples of Qinglian Valley gathered in the forest of trees to await the test, he had just finished applying lip tint, tied his scarf, and stepped out of the treehouse door.

Inside the house were his men’s clothes and the costume for playing a ghost, so every time Mu Bai went out he would first hang the lock, then check everything once more before he could leave at ease.

Although Su Mo was under his nose every day, who knew whether he might secretly send two attendants to search the room.

Mu Bai was busy imagining all sorts of villainous deeds Su Mo might commit when he failed to notice a figure suddenly dart out from the side of the treehouse.

There was a dull thud.

A sharp pain exploded at the back of his head, then he lost consciousness and crumpled to the ground.

If she had been an ordinary woman, a blow to the back of the head like that would likely have knocked her out for a good while, but Mu Bai had studied some martial arts and his skin was tough; he was quite resilient to pain, and consciousness returned to him before long.

A dull ache lingered at the back of his head. He felt as if someone had slung him over their shoulder; his feet were off the ground and his whole body swung in midair, making him dizzy.

The world twisted before his eyes as the person hurled him onto the stone floor and clamped a hand around his throat.

Who is—

Mu Bai struggled to breathe, fighting to pry the hands off his neck, forcing his eyelids open to see a few whiskers and a shifty-faced, rat-eyed man.

It was the same man from the original story who had harassed the heroine out on the wasteland.

After Senior Sister brought him back to the valley, he was imprisoned and detained by the other disciples.

Qinglian Valley was a sect that practiced medicine and saved lives, so they naturally wouldn’t use torture; they planned to lock him up for a few days and then send him back down the mountain.

Who would have thought that this scoundrel, not yet sated with suffering, actually molested other female disciples along the road, was caught again, and taken back for the senior sister to deal with.

Today the guards were likely off taking their assessments, so the man took the opportunity to slip out.

“Little beauty.” The man clutched Mu Bai’s throat as he unfastened his belt.

“Cough, cough cough… you… let go of me, bastard…” Mu Bai’s hand veins bulged.

“Don’t struggle.” The man picked him up, forcibly turned Mu Bai’s face to look back.

A stretch of bare, broken cliff.

“Be a good boy, or I’ll throw you off.”

The man licked his lips and roughly tore away the teal scarf at his neck.

“Ssshh—”

The torn strip of cloth was tossed aside. The man stared, momentarily stunned, at the Adam’s apple protruding on the fair neck.

In that instant, the “little beauty” who had seemed to have lost strength suddenly sprang up, grabbed the man’s collar, and forcefully drove her forehead into his.

With a bang, stars exploded before his eyes.

Mu Bai, however, seemed not to feel the pain; he immediately flipped over, pinning the thug to the ground, clamped his hand around the man’s throat, and drove a fist into the philtrum, sending half a broken tooth and a spray of blood flying out.

“Warning! Warning! Do not act in ways that are inconsistent with the original character!”

The system’s voice echoed in his mind, and Mu Bai couldn’t concentrate. He shook his head and happened to catch sight of the man’s exposed penis as he took off his pants.

Mu Bai: “…Is that it?”

He fell silent for a moment, then turned and punched the other man in the abdomen.

“What are you showing off your needlework for with me here?”

Su Mo, upon hearing his subordinate report that Miss Xiao Bai had been kidnapped, immediately abandoned his wheelchair and rushed to rescue her.

He had just come out of the forest when he saw at the cliff’s edge Mu Bai pinning the villain to the ground and beating him, cursing and muttering things he couldn’t quite make out—phrases like “what a disgrace” and “go home and do your embroidery.”

The scene had been extremely bloody for a time.

Su Mo watched for a while, and seeing the villain beaten half to death, snapped his folding fan shut with a “pap” and leisurely walked away on the carpet of fallen leaves.

But he didn’t hear it; the system in Mu Bai’s head kept issuing warnings, loud enough to deafen him and split his skull with pain.

“Warning! Warning! The world line is about to collapse! Please—”

“Get lost.” Mu Bai spat.

No sooner had the words fallen than a sudden thunderbolt struck down from the previously clear, cloudless sky.

“Boom—”

The cliff was struck by lightning; the portion jutting out of the mountain split with a crack, collapsing toward the base of the precipice with Mu Bai and the half-dead man.

Plunging into the abyss.

–

When Mu Bai woke up, it was pitch black all around.

He tried to move his fingers; a sharp pain shot through them, but he could still muster strength.

There seemed to be something soft beneath him. Mu Bai felt around—his hands came away sticky, and a nauseating metallic stench filled the air.

He forced his mind back to the moments before he lost consciousness: it was as if he had been struck by a bolt from a clear sky and had plunged off a cliff.

As for the one beneath, used as a cushion… it was probably that scoundrel.

Mu Bai propped himself up with his hand, slid to the side, glanced at the mangled corpse, and didn’t look again.

That lightning was likely the system’s punishment for his defiance, for collapsing the worldline.

The system voice in his mind had already gone silent. Though his body was battered and he had fallen to the bottom of the cliff, Mu Bai felt that the fact he was still alive was a rare stroke of luck amid his misfortune.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious. His stomach was empty and the hunger gnawed at him; after sitting for a while, he got up to look for food.

The ground was uneven, and he kept kicking hard obstacles—likely the bones of those who had fallen from the cliff before him.

Mu Bai fumbled for a moment, then, bracing himself against the moss-covered rock face, he moved forward.

His whole body ached everywhere, so much so that Mu Bai himself didn’t know how many injuries he had; he dragged his leg forward for a while, then lost all strength.

He stumbled and fell to the ground, unable to get back up.

He knew his current situation was dangerous, so he didn’t dare collapse easily. Gritting his teeth, he braced his hand on the ground and crawled forward.

Suddenly, the rock wall to one side vanished.

Mu Bai peered toward that spot in the dim light; it was pitch black—indeed a cave.

Perhaps seeing a glimmer of hope had stirred a little strength in him; he mustered it and managed to crawl into the cave.

In the midst of darkness, Mu Bai groped and found something warm and rough.

He carefully stroked it and found it was a layer of straw spread across the floor.

He probed further in and brushed against the corner of a garment.

Mu Bai sucked in a cold breath, rubbed his eyes, and made out a person lying on the straw mat in the darkness.

The light was dim, her features indistinct—only the gray in her hair was discernible—yet in that darkness she stared with unblinking eyes.

Mu Bai quickly withdrew his hand.

He took a breath, then arranged his words and asked hoarsely, “Senior, what are you doing lying here?”

The other replied, “Dead.”

Mu Bai was puzzled: “Dead and still with your eyes open?”

“Dead but not at peace.”

“Then why are you still breathing?”

“I can’t swallow this breath.”

Mu Bai: “……”

A strange old man.

He fell silent for a moment, then asked, “Do you have any food here? Could you spare some for me? I fell off a cliff and I don’t know how long it’s been—I’m about to starve.”

The other party said coldly, “If you starve to death, then starve to death—what does it have to do with me?”

Mu Bai was stunned.

“Get out quickly, don’t die here and dirty my place.”

The other party’s attitude was so cold that continuing to stall would probably be pointless.

Mu Bai silently watched the man’s retreating figure for a moment, then turned, dragging his knees as he left: “This junior takes his leave.”

The white-haired woman snorted enigmatically, then turned away from him and fell silent.

Only when the rustling sounds faded into the distance did she turn her head to glance back, clicking her tongue: “They’re really gone?”

There were still trails of blood on the ground from where they had crawled; near the cave entrance lay an object with a faint sheen, seemingly dropped by that young man just now.

After leaving the cave, Mu Bai crawled forward aimlessly for a while. He couldn’t make out the direction and had no idea where he had ended up.

The bottom of the cliff was pitch-black and desolate, without a hint of life.

“Slap.” A cold liquid splashed onto her back, soaking a patch of her clothes.

It actually started to rain.

Yesterday, when it rained in the valley, he had been pushing Su Mo’s wheelchair, holding an oil-paper umbrella, strolling through the slanted rain in the bamboo grove. Now he was soaked head to toe like a drowned rat, unable to find even an eave to shelter under.

The rain pattered and drummed, growing heavier. Mu Bai’s hands were covered in mud, his vision blurred by wet black hair, and his eyelids felt so heavy he could hardly lift them.

He forced himself to crawl a few more steps, faintly hearing echoes in the empty valley, as if it were his senior sisters’ voices: “Junior Sister Xiaobai—”

“I’m here.”

Mu Bai weakly replied, then lost consciousness again.

–

The young man lying on the straw mat twitched his fingers and, with difficulty, lifted his eyelids.

“You’re awake?” The white-haired woman leaned in, bringing her face into his view.

“…” Mu Bai sat up, instinctively recoiling.

By the faint firelight in the cave he made out the woman’s face.

Though her hair was all silver, her features were not old—she looked only in her twenties or thirties.

The woman extended a hand tucked in her sleeve, and like a conjurer opened her palm to reveal a lotus-shaped jade pendant.

Mu Bai croaked, “That’s mine.”

“What is your relationship with Qin Lanyi?” the woman asked.

Mu Bai found the name somewhat familiar.

A brief recollection brought to mind that it was the name of the original novel’s heroine’s mother, the old master of Qinglian Valley.

It seemed the woman before him was very likely acquainted with the old master.

He thought for a moment and replied, “She is my mother.”

The woman blurted out, “Is she doing well now?”

“Uh.” Mu Bai scratched his head. “She’s already dead.”

The woman fell silent for a moment, then asked, “How did you end up here?”

“Didn’t I tell you? She fell.”

She stared at Mu Bai for a while, then sighed softly, “Very well, since you have come here, it must be fate that binds us.”

The woman stood up, walked to the back of the cave, rummaged through the pile of weeds, pulled out a book, brushed off the dust, and stuffed it into Mu Bai’s hands.

“Spend these days studying the sword manual to familiarize yourself with the moves, and heal your injuries.”

Mu Bai glanced at the sword manual, lifted his face and said, “Elder, you seem to be very formidable.”

“Something like that.” She put her hands behind her back, walked to the cave entrance, and said lightly, “Learn a move or two from me; from now on, no one in the jianghu will be able to touch you.”

That arrogant, huh?

Mu Bai half-believed it, rolled his joints, and found that most of his wounds had already healed.

He stood up and glanced at the dress that had been laid by the straw mat—the one he had originally been wearing over his clothes.

Mu Bai picked it up, walked to the corner, tossed it into the weeds, and exhaled triumphantly: “The dog system is finally gone, I never have to wear women’s clothes again!”