[Vol. 1] Chapter 7 - Save Point
How could Lin Zheng know that Xiaolan had a temporary soul-body link buff? In his view, it wasn't that Xiaolan was tough, but that Chen Mingyuan simply wasn't fighting seriously.
Fighting?
More like a lover's spat!
Mingyuan must be hitting her playfully because she accepted her confession… typical of a girl experiencing the first stirrings of love…
What the hell!
Lin Zheng was nearly exploding with anger.
Xiaolan, unable to hold on much longer, stumbled back from her grip on Chen Mingyuan.
"Good. Very good, Mingyuan. Since you've betrayed us, I don't need to be polite anymore. Today I, Lin Zheng, will clean up both of you right here. Charge!"
At Lin Zheng's order, everyone circled the two.
Chen Mingyuan wore the face of an asura, but her cold fury had now tempered into something focused and deadly. The effect of her heart-calming training had finally cooled her frantic emotions.
"Hmph." Since it had come to this, let it all be destroyed. She shot a final, fierce glare at Xiaolan, then slashed with her sword, aiming a sweeping blow at the surrounding crowd.
They scattered, dodging the arc of her blade. Her gaze swept over their focused, hostile expressions.
With a sharp whoosh, she used her qinggong to leap directly out of their encirclement, vanishing into the shadows of the surrounding trees.
Xiaolan's eyes remained fixed on her own feet, a faint smirk touching her lips. This was the exact moment. The system functions had finally activated.
The young masters and ladies swiftly raised their talismans and weapons, planning a clean, swift strike...not to kill, but to cripple. A method more cruel and vicious than a simple execution.
Just as they moved, Xiaolan looked up.
The air around her was now different… sharper, aggressive, and crackling with a domineering pressure that hadn't been there before.
Earlier…
The instant Chen Mingyuan's aura had erupted, Xiaolan had whispered a single word: "Save."
[Target (1000 Charge points) amount not met. Debt issued to restore Save attempt.]
[1 Save attempt restored and expended.]
[Charge points -100]
Blood trickled from her nose and eyes.
[Save points used: 2/2
Load points used: 2/2
Charge Points: 165]
Suddenly, a notification flashed before her eyes:
[Notice: Your future self is loading to this save point. Confirm? Y/N]
What? This amazing…
She swiftly answered, "[Yes]!"
The notification vanished. And in the space of a single, skipped heartbeat, the air around her changed.
Back to the present…
"Ah, it worked?" Xiaolan murmured softly. There was a new weight to her presence, startling the others before they could pull themselves together.
Just as she, the Xiaolan from the future, let herself feel a flicker of joy at the successful load although temporary.
Countless talismans flickered into existence before her.
"Hah!" She moved before the paper charms could detonate. A sharp pulse of her qi sent them flying back toward the group.
BOOM!
The explosion was loud. No screams followed. They had either escaped and were now waiting for a chance to lash out, or they'd been caught in the blast.
Before she could move again, Future Xiaolan felt a deep weakness settle into her limbs. Her expression darkened. "Just how weak was I back then?" she muttered, almost to herself.
Her gaze took in the familiar surroundings. For a moment, her eyes grew misty at the sight of the shimmering blue auras clinging to the trees before she shook her head with a soft chuckle. It's always you, Chen Mingyuan.
High in the branches of a spirit-sapping tree, Chen Mingyuan stood with her hand on her sword hilt. "Xiaolan," she scoffed, "she really can handle that lot."
A sharp thought followed. Did that mean she was holding back against me? Irritating. Xiaolan, I swear I'll make you pay.
"Azure mist, ice condense!" Chen Mingyuan chanted, her hands flashing through a series of seals.
The beautiful blue auras that had shimmered around the murky ponds and within the fog began to condense, hardening into solid ice with ruthless efficiency.
Xiaolan was still smirking. She dodged with a fluid step, her footwork almost dance-like
—a move that left Chen Mingyuan bewildered.
Azure Mist, Ice Condensation was something she'd created herself, a technique she'd never shown anyone. So how did Xiaolan know how to evade it?
"Chen Mingyuan, you're alive…" Future Xiaolan whispered. The whisper was thick with feeling before she forced herself to focus.
She made her move, plunging straight into the deeper fog. She was confident no one would follow.
And no one did.
—because behind her, everyone's feet and bodies were frozen solid to the ground. That was the level of power Chen Mingyuan's skills were.
"Where is it, where is it?!" Xiaolan muttered desperately as she ran deeper into the fog. "It must be here, around here somewhere!"
After running and searching for so long, the future Xiaolan trembled at the sight before her.
The ground was littered with shattered blue roof tiles and bleached stone pillars carved with faded dragon motifs—the sigil of the Lu family.
Among broken altars and scattered offerings, incense sticks lay like forgotten bones. Xiaolan coughed, blood flecking her lips.
"Ah! Not much time!"
The future Xiaolan had gotten what she needed. She broke off a branch from a nearby tree and wrote in the dirt, using modern Korean.
A script this cultivation world could not understand, meant only for one soul: Yonchae, the consciousness within Xiaolan herself.
Finally, with the last stroke complete, Xiaolan's body gave out, and the temporary possession by her future self came to an end.
Consciousness returned with a jolt, like slamming on the brakes. Xiaolan of the present slammed back into herself.
Sensation rushed in raw: the scrape of dirt under her nails, the iron tang of blood on her tongue, the ache in every muscle, nerve, and ending.
Her mind clawed its way to the surface, gasping.
Blurred vision sharpened, then lowered.
There, scored into the dirt before her, were sharp lines of modern Korean.
She trembled, and finally released a cry ripped from the pain and the panic she had bottled up.
The nauseating, breathless dread of a modern soul thrust into a world where hands are severed without warning. Ruthless was too soft a word.
After a moment, the storm inside her stilled to a strange, hollow numbness. Maybe she'd simply felt too much in a single day.
Her red-rimmed eyes, now clear, fixed on the message carved by her own future self:
"DON'T WASTE CHARGE POINTS.
A stable save point lasts 1 month.
After that, loading back costs more.
One month from now, I will load to this point.
You must grant permission.
DO NOT LEAVE THE MAIN PLOT.
SURVIVE."
Xiaolan's eyes narrowed, her mind racing as she pieced it all together. She had her own theories, and the message's bold emphasis on charge points only confirmed their importance.
And "a stable save point"?
Her gaze fixed on that line. That was critical. It meant not all save points were stable. So what made one stable?
She read further and locked onto a key restriction: Grant permission. That meant if a save point was unstable or was now a past moment, the past self could grant or deny the future self access to load back in.
"Just how far into the future was the version of me that loaded back here?" She shuddered, her eyes catching the dark traces of blood on the ground
—her own blood, coughed up during the possession.
From what she could gather:
- A save point was either stable or, if more than a month had passed, unstable. The unstable ones would likely cost far more charge points to access.
- There was a strict limit. If her future self wanted to load into a past save point, only the present or past self at that time could grant permission.
No loopholes. No overrides. Just a single, fragile thread of consent stretching across time.
"What was... 'I'... trying to find here?" Xiaolan muttered. If her future self had to load back to this point, then something here was important.
Why not just memorize it, then? She wouldn't have needed to return. But the thought died as quickly as it came...she was terrible at memorizing things.
With a helpless sigh, she turned toward the ruined structure. There was only one building: a medium-sized house, and a thoroughly dilapidated one at that.
So what was so important about it? There was only one way to find out. She would have to investigate, meticulously.