PlumBlossom - Surprisingly Enough(NOT), Common Sense Is Overpowered in Cliché Cultivation World

1.103 In which Ning understands himself~

"An unfamiliar ceiling," Ning mumbled as he opened his eyes to the white ceiling above him.

It was a classic line, one that carried quite a bit of weight.

It was practically mandatory whenever someone got isekai'd. Given the sudden genre shift from peacefully farming spiritual grain to fighting terrifying old monsters in the depths of a sealed prison, Ning figured his situation probably qualified.

But it also got used when a protagonist woke up in recovery after finally beating the big bad. Either way, this was exactly the kind of line one said after surviving a major arc, and Ning was using it mostly in the hope that invoking the trope properly meant he hadn't left any important pieces of himself behind.

Come on, cliché. Do your job. Ning cheered himself on internally.

Frankly, the fact that his mind was already this clear probably meant his brain hadn't taken serious damage. A little delirious, maybe, but Ning was willing to call delirium a respectable compromise under the circumstances.

Then he noticed a familiar shape perched in a patch of sunlight angled just right to catch its feathers and make them shine brightly.

Who else could it be but Fenghuang?

"Fenghuang," Ning called out softly.

The raven's head snapped toward him.

For one breath, his golden-white eyes widened.

Then he spread his wings and flew to the side of the bed, landing with far more grace than Ning could ever give him credit for.

Was Fenghuang also practicing the art of a graceful entrance? Knowing Fenghuang as he did, Ning would not put it past the bird.

Fenghuang's sharp gaze swept over him from head to toe, examining his face, his breathing, the bandages beneath his robe, and the faint medicinal glow around his body.

Then Fenghuang cocked his head. "Caw."

"Well, now you're just sounding judgmental."

Ning's White Flame Raven speak had already developed quite well, not only due to the sheer closeness with the bird but also because of the contract.

The contract gave the beast master a kind of intuition about what the spiritual beast was saying.

Hearing Ning, Fenghuang looked away. His feathers puffed up slightly, as if denying the accusation.

Ning smiled softly. "I missed you too."

Fenghuang turned his head even farther away, not dignifying a response.

Then he opened his beak and let out a clear cry toward the courtyard. The sound was not loud, but it carried sharply through the room, through the open window, and into the outer hall.

A moment later, hurried footsteps approached.

The door opened, and Ling Yinran stepped in.

She looked tired, but the moment she saw Ning awake, relief brightened her face. "Junior Brother. You're awake."

Ning turned his eyes toward her and gave a small smile. "Senior Sister. Thank you for taking care of me. I must have been quite a handful."

Ning understood the extent of his injuries; that was why he wasn't moving at all. Especially since he'd seen the panel and understood how much his body had suffered.

Ling Yinran walked closer and shook her head. "That's just my job as a senior sister."

Then she glanced at Fenghuang, who had already returned to his proud, unmoved posture beside the bed. "Besides, Fenghuang has been looking after you for the past three days."

Ning blinked. "Three days?"

"You were unconscious for three days," Ling Yinran said, her voice softening. "Fenghuang barely left your side after we brought you back."

The White Flame Raven immediately turned his head toward the window, as if whatever was happening outside was suddenly far more important than this conversation.

Ling Yinran smiled faintly.

"At first, during the chaos, he refused to leave your farm. No matter how loud the alarms became or how many beasts broke loose, he stayed there and defended the fields. Some corrupted spirit beasts tried to get in, but Fenghuang burned them back every time. Even when disciples came to evacuate the area, he wouldn't follow them."

Ning's expression softened.

Ling Yinran continued, "Only when we brought you back injured did he finally leave the farm. After that, he followed you here and stayed in this room the entire time."

Fenghuang gave a quiet huff.

Ning looked at the bird. The bird continued staring outside with intense interest, as if he had nothing to do with any of this.

Ling Yinran's eyes softened further. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Ning lay there in bed, body aching beneath the blankets, but his smile deepened slightly.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Me too."

Fenghuang shifted closer, his wings drawing nearer.

"Ah, you two are so cute." The sudden arrival was someone familiar.

Si Sihua, his long-time acquaintance from the General Affairs counter, a woman whose lifelong dream appeared to be becoming a salted fish with benefits, preferably one paid monthly and never asked to stand. Someone who just wants to drift through life.

She looked exactly as lazy as Ning remembered. By that he meant she was wearing plain clothes with no accessories. She truly understood the minimalist fashion.

Beside her came another woman.

In only a glance, Ning immediately understood their relationship. She had a face similar to Si Sihua's, though sharper and more mature. She wore pale green robes with white inner sleeves, and a jade case hung at her waist, carved with the emblem of a spiritual doctor.

The woman walked straight to Ning's bedside and pressed two fingers against his wrist before he could even speak. "You shouldn't move in your condition."

Ning blinked. "That was already my conclusion."

"Good. Keep being wise. There are plenty of idiots in the sect who trust their bodies too much and try to move the moment they get the chance." The woman closed her eyes and sent a thin thread of spiritual sense through his wrist, checking his innards. "Your body has suffered a lot from what you went through. Extreme qi exhaustion, multiple impact injuries, meridian strain, and traces of forced external energy flooding."

Ning stared at the ceiling. "That sounds about right."

The woman opened her eyes and gave him a flat look. "I also heard that the tower spirit forcibly channeled spiritual energy from the ritual into your body to support your technique."

Ning was silent for a moment. "Um, it was a very... particular situation."

In that moment, Ning had chosen to move for several reasons. One of them was that he didn't want to be sacrificed.

Now, the situation might have looked more troublesome for Xiao Fan, but that was only half true. Without Ning's support, Xiao Fan might have been briefly taken over by Lei Shen and killed him-the titular friend character-solely to give the protagonist the proper tragedy boost needed to gain the strength to defeat Lei Shen.

Of course, Ning wanted to avoid such a situation coming to pass, so he'd given it his all.

Si Sihua clicked her tongue from behind the doctor. "Tsk, tsk. This is what happens when people work too hard. If you hadn't gone to the tower and taken part in the trials, none of this would have happened."

The doctor slowly turned her head. "Sihua."

Si Sihua looked innocent. "Yes, Mother?"

Ning's eyes shifted.

As expected, she was Si Xun, Si Sihua's mother.

"You were the one who came running to my room and told me to hurry over when Ling Xin requested help."

Si Sihua nodded shamelessly. "Yes. That was me."

"You said, 'Mother, Ning is dying, probably, maybe, I'm not sure, but Senior Ling Xin looks like she's about to burn the mountain down, so please come before we all suffer.'"

Si Sihua gave Ning a thumbs-up. "You're welcome."

Si Xun sighed.

There wasn't even a hint of embarrassment on Si Sihua's face. Normally, girls her age would be embarrassed in such a situation, but clearly, shame was a burden Si Sihua had no desire to carry.

"I see," Ning said sincerely. "Thank you. When I recover, I'll bring you your favorites."

Si Sihua's eyes brightened. "I want ice cream, cakes, muffins, and a whole lot of goodies then."

Hearing that, Ling Yinran's lips twitched. "You certainly have a colorful group of friends, Junior Brother. Many people came to visit you as well, Zhang Feng, Wei Zhuang, Lang Ruolang, and others. They wished for your swift recovery and even brought presents to help you get well soon."

The moment Ning heard "gifts," his eyes brightened.

Currently, he was in a state of extreme poverty after the last battle, so hearing about gifts made him perk up like finding a really cool stick lying randomly on the ground.

"It's good to hear that." Ning smiled, then looked at Si Xun, who looked like she had long given up on correcting her daughter in public.

Ning paused, then asked carefully, "I will recover from those injuries, right?"

You know, getting a list of ailments with no talk of recovery was starting to make even him nervous.

Was he getting permanently nerfed or something? He hoped not.

"Don't worry, Ning. As long as Mother is here, you'll be taken care of quickly so you can fulfill my demands." Truly, that was Si Sihua, a woman with dreams of laziness and good snacks.

Ning could respect that, after going through the ordeal he'd been through.

"Your condition is generally stable. Your external injuries are healing quickly, especially the numerous cuts and scratches covering your body. As for your internal injuries, they're more troublesome, but with the pill Grand Elder Fu-your grandmaster-gave you, they won't pose much of a problem. You'll recover."

Ning relaxed slightly after hearing that.

Ling Yinran sat down beside the bed and reassured him. "Senior Xun is an accomplished spiritual doctor. If she says you'll recover, then you will recover."

Ning nodded.

He knew the profession, of course, though he hadn't interacted with spiritual doctors as much as with alchemists.

In the cultivation world, alchemists and spiritual doctors were often mentioned together, but they weren't the same.

An alchemist refined pills, extracted medicinal essence, balanced spiritual properties, and turned materials into stored effects that could be used later. Their work was fire, furnace, formula, timing, and material comprehension.

A spiritual doctor, on the other hand, treated the living body directly.

They read meridians, diagnosed qi deviations, restored damaged organs, guided medicinal power, soothed spiritual roots, stabilized souls, and prevented cultivators from turning one bad decision into a permanent tragedy. A good alchemist could provide the medicine that saved a patient. A good spiritual doctor made sure that medicine didn't save the patient's life while ruining their future cultivation path.

If alchemists were people who forged keys, spiritual doctors were the ones who knew which door inside the body those keys should open.

Ning had always respected them.

Mostly because, unlike many cultivators, spiritual doctors actually understood the meaning of "please don't make it worse", and he'd seen how his master healed people. Ning shuddered at the thought.

Si Xun withdrew her hand and took out a slim jade slip from her sleeve. "Your meridians are suffering from what we call Spirit Channel Overstrain. In ordinary terms, your channels were forced to endure more pressure than they were prepared to handle, especially with foreign ritual energy poured into them while your own qi was nearly exhausted."

Ning listened carefully.

Si Xun continued, "There are also traces of Meridian Heat-Fracture. Not actual cracks, fortunately, but the early state before cracking, where the spiritual channels become swollen and unstable. If you circulate qi carelessly over the next week, you may turn temporary strain into permanent scarring."

Ning immediately became serious. "Understood."

"Good. For seven days, don't cultivate forcefully. Don't use high-output techniques, and don't do anything that would result in greater strain on your body. Especially since, besides the wounds I found you'd sustained in battle, I also felt that your meridians were generally overworked. You should take care of having proper rest even in your day to day life."

Si Xun looked at him sternly.

Ning merely smiled back as the very picture of innocence. He even blinked innocently for good measure.

Si Xun's eyes narrowed.

Ning immediately straightened his expression.

"Understood."

Si Sihua leaned toward Ling Yinran and whispered, "That means he's absolutely not going to listen. He's just pretending."

"I can hear you, you know," Ning said, looking at the peanut gallery.

"That was intentional," Si Sihua replied without the slightest hint of embarrassment. "Someone has to stop you from overworking yourself."

"You should take things slowly, Junior Brother," Ling Yinran added gently. "Senior Si Xun is right."

"...Okay," Ning said after a brief pause. There really wasn't anything else he could say.

Si Xun continued, "You'll be in frequent pain for several days. Your meridians need rest. I'll leave Meridian-Soothing Paste, three bottles of Gentle Channel Pills, and a Soul-Calming Incense stick. Use them as instructed. If you feel stabbing pain in your dantian, numbness in your limbs, burning in your eyes, or any mental hallucinations, call someone immediately."

Ning blinked. "Is the last one common?"

"Well, that just means whatever you went through has sown the seed for inner demons. You do know what inner demons are, right?" Si Xun asked.

"Um." Ning smiled bitterly. Not only did he know about inner demons, he'd also experienced them firsthand, and the experience hadn't been pleasant at all.

Si Xun's expression softened slightly. "Fortunately, you practice a meridian-strengthening body technique. I examined the trace aura. Jade Skin and Icy Meridians, yes?"

Ning nodded. "Yes."

"That saved you considerable trouble. If your meridians had been ordinary, the ritual energy would have torn several of them open. The icy property helped reduce spiritual inflammation, and the strengthening effect kept the channels from collapsing under sudden pressure."

Ning felt sincere gratitude toward his past self.

Cultivating in the cold during the yin hour had been miserable, but at least it had saved his life. Truly, the way of grind continued to help him even now.

Si Xun then said, "There may even be benefits once you recover."

Ning's eyes moved. "Benefits?"

"Like being able to make me food," Si Sihua spoke up.

Si Xun ignored her daughter and looked at Ning.

"You know the different conditions of meridians, yes?"

Ning thought for a moment.

"Roughly. Ordinary meridians are the natural state. Reinforced meridians are strengthened through body cultivation or medicine. Spirit-tempered meridians can endure higher qi density and faster circulation. Elemental meridians carry a stable attribute, such as ice, fire, thunder, or wood. Jade Skin and Icy Meridians should be pushing mine toward ice-tempered reinforced meridians."

Si Xun nodded, approving despite herself.

"Correct enough. At higher stages, some people develop Crystal Meridians, where the channels become extremely pure and resilient, capable of carrying dense true essence without turbulence. Beyond that are rarer states like Dao-Patterned Meridians, usually formed only through special physiques, inheritances, or repeated tempering by extreme forces."

Ning listened seriously. As he had said before, everything in this world had a tier system.

Si Xun tapped his wrist lightly. "Your meridians aren't there, of course. Don't get excited."

"...okay." Ning just sighed.

What had he been expecting anyway? Suddenly getting a power-up like that was reserved for the protagonist.

But in the end, Ning quickly let go of that frustration. He was just happy that, while he wasn't getting some superpower, his body could recover healthily. One had to learn to be content with what one got.

Ning was greedy, yes, but his greed wasn't biblical. yet.

Si Xun continued, "However, after being overstrained and then properly healed, your meridians may become tougher than before. Think of it as dangerous tempering. Not recommended, not to be repeated, but since it already happened, we might as well make sure you gain something from the suffering."

"That's the most 'cultivator' thing I've heard today. As long as you suffer, you get better." Ning nodded.

"That's why I avoid working hard. The heavens clearly reward suffering, and I refuse to encourage such a bad habit."

Ning almost laughed, but his ribs warned him not to.

Si Xun's gaze shifted toward Si Sihua. "...speaking of avoiding work."

Si Sihua's smile froze.

"Mother-"

"You should learn from this."

Si Sihua slowly turned toward the door, clearly ready to escape.

Si Xun's voice remained calm.

"You have enough talent and are on the verge of breaking through to the seventh stage of Qi Condensation, yet you spend every day leisurely. You want to muddle through life, avoid responsibility, and retire before even achieving anything worth retiring from."

Si Sihua looked at Ning with pleading eyes.

Ning looked back at her, and then smiled.

And what a treacherous smile that was. Si Sihua's expression became one of deep betrayal.

Si Xun pointed at Ning.

"Look at him. He's younger than you, has achieved more than you, entered the inner sect, became a direct disciple, made a name for himself, fought enemies above his realm, and now half the sect is talking about him."

Ning spoke weakly. "In fairness, I'd like less of that last part."

Si Xun ignored him.

Si Sihua muttered, "Mother, I did defeat one of the criminals that came into the mission hall, though."

Si Xun just stared at Si Sihua blankly. "You used a second-tier talisman to evaporate some random mid-stage Qi Condensation cultivator without any care."

"Um, isn't it natural to use your strongest attack when you're up against an enemy? Not to mention, with that single move I was able to defeat the enemy with ease." Si Sihua grumbled. "Ask Ning; he'd approve of this."

Si Xun looked at Ning.

Normally, Ning would have withdrawn his support immediately. He'd just seen how scary spiritual doctors could be, okay? As long as they merely touched someone's wrist, they could understand everything about that person's body; making one an enemy sounded like nothing but trouble.

But Ning just said, "I'm just glad Senior Sister Si Sihua is okay."

The moment he said that, the trio of women fell silent.

Ning blinked. "What?"

"Damn it, your smoothness," Si Sihua said, breaking the silence first. "Ning, you really need to control that."

Ling Yinran finally understood why her junior brother had accumulated quite so many female friends.

Meanwhile, Si Xun just glanced at Ning, her thoughts unknown.

"But regardless, I do hope Senior Sister improves her cultivation as well. On this matter, I support Senior Si Xun," Ning said calmly.

Si Sihua stared at him in disbelief.

"Ning," she said slowly, as if she'd just watched him stab her in broad daylight, "I thought we were friends."

"We are."

"Then why are you helping my mother kill my peaceful future?"

Si Xun's eyes narrowed.

Si Sihua immediately corrected herself. "I mean, lovingly guide my peaceful future into a busier and more productive direction."

Ning looked at her with sympathy, but not enough sympathy to change sides.

"If you improve your cultivation," Si Sihua said, pointing at him with righteous accusation, "then maybe that's fine for you; you enjoy being dragged into danger, becoming famous, fighting old monsters, and being watched by half the sect. But if I improve mine, I'll have to worry about the yearly courtyard ranking challenges, promotion assessments, inner sect responsibilities, and Mother will definitely make me inherit part of the spiritual medicine business. Do you know what that means?"

"Greater income?" Ning asked.

"Work," Si Sihua said, voice heavy with grief. "It means work."

"Si Sihua," Si Xun said coldly.

Ning almost laughed, but his ribs gave him a sharp warning, so he turned the laugh into a cough and continued in a more serious tone. "Senior Sister, I understand what you mean. Have I ever said anything about your slacking off before?"

"Well, you're right." Ning was one of the few people who never thought her dream was a bad one. Si Sihua's expression softened at once.

Ning continued, "But the current sect is no longer peaceful enough for you to stay weak just because weakness lets you slack off."

Si Sihua's expression froze.

Ning looked at her steadily from the bed.

"The rebellion proved something very simple. When the sect is stable, being mediocre is a lifestyle choice. When the sect is in turmoil, being mediocre becomes a risk."

The room quieted slightly.

Even Si Xun's stern expression eased by a fraction. She let Ning continue putting some sense into her daughter.

Ning continued, his voice sincere. "Your dream is to be a salted fish who only wants to bask in the sun and drift through life, right?"

Si Sihua nodded cautiously. "Yes."

"Then be a strong salted fish."

She stared at him.

Ning said seriously, "A weak salted fish gets eaten, steamed, fried, or used as emergency rations. A strong salted fish lies wherever it wants, and when someone tries to disturb it, that person learns respect."

Si Sihua, however, looked deeply shaken.

"A strong salted fish…"

Ning nodded.

"The highest realm of slacking off isn't avoiding responsibility because you can't handle it. It's becoming capable enough that people hesitate before forcing responsibility onto you."

"..." Si Sihua seemed to be taking in this new concept.

In truth, being better would just give you more work. That was the same old scam pulled in corporate culture.

But Ning was trying to persuade her.

By any reasonable standard, Si Sihua was not incompetent. When she was energetic, she was sharp, efficient, observant, and good at handling people. She could manage counter records, read disciples' moods, remember complicated task details, and avoid responsibility with such precision that Ning sometimes suspected she'd accidentally comprehended the Dao of Evasion.

Her problem was laziness.

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but Ning didn't want his friend to get killed just for being weak.

Ning understood that unless he was the protagonist, he'd never be able to appear at the perfect moment to solve every tragedy. All he could do was prepare and make sure his friends were prepared too.

Only the people themselves could truly save themselves; otherwise, they'd always be stuck playing the damsel in distress.

"Thank you for teaching my daughter." Si Xun looked at Ning with a strange expression, then glanced at Si Sihua. "Your eloquence surprised me."

It was the first time she'd thought her daughter's laziness could actually be used to further motivate her.

Ning smiled faintly from the bed. "It's just what a friend does."

"Well, Sihua's made a good friend, then," Si Xun said. "After you're healed, come visit me; I'll prepare a proper meridian-strengthening prescription. That should help you go further along the path of meridian strengthening."

Ning blinked. "That's too generous."

"Just consider it thanks for saving the sect as well. Alright, it's time for us to go now." Si Xun broke her daughter out of her reverie.

Ling Yinran walked them to the door and bowed slightly. "Senior Xun, Junior Sister, once again, thank you for your help."

"That's just my duty." Si Xun nodded to Ling Yinran and Ning and prepared to leave.

Si Sihua pointed at Ning. "Get well soon, and don't forget the snacks. If you forget after convincing me to cultivate, our friendship will suffer a serious qi deviation, I tell you."

"I'll take responsibility."

"Good."

Si Xun caught her daughter by the back of the collar before Si Sihua could say anything else and dragged her out with practiced ease.

Ling Yinran watched them leave, then closed the door gently behind them.

For a moment, the room fell quiet again.

Ning let the silence linger for a moment before asking, "Where's Master?"

He had been wondering that for a while. Knowing his master, he'd fully expected her to burst through the door at any moment.

"We had to send her away," Ling Yinran replied with a helpless sigh. "She was... quite difficult to deal with. She insisted on feeding you pills she was absolutely convinced would heal you. Senior Sister Xun had to explain to her that she was only disrupting your recovery."

That was definitely another experimental pill, wasn't it?

Ning suddenly felt a surge of gratitude toward Ling Yinran.

"...Thank you, Senior Sister."

Ling Yinran accepted his thanks with a small nod.

Only she knew how difficult it had been to persuade her aunt.

"She's currently in seclusion."

Ning blinked.

"Seclusion?"

Ling Yinran sighed.

"Aunt was furious. When Senior Sister Xun confirmed how badly the ritual energy had damaged your meridians..." She paused, recalling the scene. "Her expression became... rather frightening."

Ning had a bad feeling about where this was going.

"...She didn't burn anything, did she?"

Ling Yinran coughed lightly.

"She burned a few criminals."

"..."

"It was only because several elders managed to convince her that the main culprits had already been captured, sealed, rendered unconscious, or placed under the Sect Master's supervision that she finally calmed down."

"...That sounds like Master."

Ning could picture Ling Xin doing exactly that.

"More than that, she was disgusted that the formation and ritual caught her unprepared. She said that as an alchemist, she should have had a pill prepared to protect a disciple's meridians from forced external spiritual energy, a formation to trap her attackers, and even some kind of tracking pill to reach you at once. So she entered seclusion. She said she'll refine something to make sure she's never blindsided like that again."

Ning wanted to feel warm at his master's concern; truly he did, but right now his master sounded very dangerous.

"Well, once you're awake, I've ordered your favorite spiritual dishes. Eat them and regain some strength. I'll bring them in." Ling Yinran spoke, then left the room.

"Okay."

For a moment, Ning lay in bed without moving. It was a quiet place, and Fenghuang simply nested at the side of the bed.

"Maybe I can bring music into this world too?" Ning pondered amid the quiet. Just like how he'd created a novel, music was one of the few things he could use without attracting unwanted attention. And the tower spirit had shown that there existed things that would help him with that.

Moreover, he had quite a bit of knowledge about it, since it had been so integral to his previous life.

Singing wasn't exactly his strongest skill, though he wasn't bad at it either. If he was honest, he was average-to-decent at most things. If there was one category he was genuinely bad at, it was probably dancing.

"Though with my current body control, maybe that's changed." His thoughts wandered further. "At the very least, I bet I could pull off a stylish moonwalk."

Fenghuang's head swiveled toward him mid-reverie, catching the exact moment his eyes went distant and unfocused.

Caw.

He got petted, hard, immediately after.

"Tsk. Ugh." Ning kept petting him anyway, chasing the small comfort of it. He'd been trying very deliberately to think about anything except what he'd actually gone through. "That shit was scary, okay."

His ribs answered with a dull throb, the kind that came whenever he breathed too deep or thought too hard, and for a moment in the quietness he could hear his own pulse, and feel exactly how much of his weight Fenghuang was still bearing against his side.

"Tsk. Ughhh." Ning petted the bird to find some comfort. He was just trying to think about anything other than what he'd gone through. "It was so scary."

In this arc, while he may have appeared to style on quite a lot of people, the inherent danger of it all wasn't lost on him.

Without a protagonist's halo to keep things on the same level as them, there might have been a fully-powered Foundation Building expert in that prison. Xiao Fan would have been safe through some plot armor; Ning would not.

There were so many ways things could have gone wrong that he didn't even know about. What if Mei Long had decided to power up first and tried to take him out without holding back? What if Lei Shen had possessed him instead? What if the white-haired girl had not appeared earlier, thwarting the Go lady?

The sheer amount of bad outcomes he could imagine was astounding.

Ning had never considered himself infallible.

That was the kind of mindset that got cultivators killed, especially in worlds where arrogant young masters could trip over one lucky protagonist and somehow turn a single restaurant argument into the extermination of nine clans, three sects, and a feud with some ascended immortal or another.

That was exactly why, however little he wanted to relive the experience, he forced himself to sit with it. Only by reviewing everything honestly could he actually improve.

Despite the ache it cost him, Ning petted Fenghuang a little harder.

Caw. He tilted his head at him.

"Nothing. Just glad we met, is all. You're so fluffy." Ning smiled at the bird, who made a token effort to pull away before giving up and settling back into the petting.

Fluff was the only reliable way he had left to unwind from any of this.

After all, in this arc he'd been the deuteragonist through and through, the character second only to the protagonist in narrative importance. He had realized it halfway through the ordeal.

In hindsight, matching Xiao Fan's record and staying one step ahead of him had clearly been an indicator of that. But at the time, Ning hadn't had much time or energy to think about the whole narrative structure; he'd simply been doing his best, and that happened to land him in that role.

"Not to mention, tournament arcs always introduce the big bad at the end," Ning thought, recalling another trope.

But this time, the tower had felt much less like a tournament arc, so it had slipped his mind.

So, what did Ning do when he realized he might be the deuteragonist of this arc? He leaned into it.

The moment he'd been thrown into the dungeon with Xiao Fan with no escape, there'd been a few ways he could package himself. First, as a mob character, just there to cheer the protagonist on while he did the heavy lifting. Second, as the deuteragonist.

If this were shounen, being that kind of mob wouldn't be so bad, but this was xianxia; he might get killed just to establish the stakes for the big bad. So while the deuteragonist might share a similar fate, at least they had some narrative protection.

That was the reason behind the things he'd done. From letting Xiao Fan go ahead to even announcing his supernatural power the way he had, it was all to improve his narrative importance.

Ning understood this kind of thinking might be wrong. Maybe there was no narrative structure at all. But he had to grasp at whatever straws he could.

And since he hadn't been killed, and had even picked up a few techniques along the way, Ning would call that a win. So maybe this kind of self-packaging did work.

This opened up possibilities.

Ning wasn't naive enough to think that staying near the protagonist's sect meant he wouldn't get roped into more shenanigans, especially now that he'd experienced firsthand what that was like.

He also understood how flawed it would be to think he'd be safe just by avoiding the protagonist, given the sheer scale of their impact, so he had to take that into account as well.

Overall, he wanted to find tricks, beyond raw strength, to help him survive all of it.

"Fortunately, this is a xianxia world." Xianxia was one of the few genres where only the protagonist's position was truly fixed; deuteragonists, even the female leads themselves, sometimes got left behind by the MC in later stages. By that logic, his stint as deuteragonist should end with this arc.

Then his thoughts drifted to Mei Long.

His first real kill.

"Nothing. All I feel is nothing," Ning mumbled. Now, he wasn't saying this in some edgy "killing is nothing" kind of way.

It was simply because Ning had been prepared. Most of the time, people feel guilt or an adverse reaction because their first kill was never really thought through; it happened on the spur of the moment.

Ning had been prepared. Not only was he desensitized to blood and gore from having been a hunter, but he also understood something deeper.

From the moment he'd truly understood that this was a cultivation world, not as entertainment, not as fiction, but as the life he now had to live, he'd known killing was inevitable.

So he had prepared his mind.

Not because he wanted to kill, but because he didn't want his first necessary kill to break him.

And Mei Long, frankly, had been a very considerate first entry into that category.

The man had practically walked onto the moral stage carrying a sign that read "unrepentant threat to everyone nearby."

So no, Ning didn't feel shattered.

But that didn't mean he could ignore what came next.

This was a world where killing was easy.

Too easy.

A world where strength could turn murder into a footnote, where elders could erase disciples, where young masters could slaughter servants over a matter of face, where protagonists could wipe out entire clans and readers would cheer because the clan had been rude first.

Ning had always found that part of xianxia disturbing.

Not the violence itself; violence made sense in a dangerous world.

The disturbing part was how quickly people became numbers.

From one to ten, ten to a hundred, a hundred to a sect, a sect to a nation, to entire worlds.

It wasn't even about moral sensibilities. It was simply wasteful, because this was a world where people had infinite potential.

Killing ended possibilities.

Sometimes that was necessary.

Sometimes leaving someone alive only invited greater disaster.

Ning wasn't naive enough to pretend mercy was always noble. In this world, sparing the wrong person could lead to revenge, ambushes, poison, dead friends.

Similarly, killing mindlessly would lead to killing a son, then a father, then a grandfather, then an ancestor, and who knew where it would end.

So Ning needed a line.

Not a soft-hearted line that made him hesitate when killing was truly necessary. But also not one that would make him emotionless.

He needed to keep a healthy mindset throughout it all.

"No wonder Dao Heart is considered so important." Ning got a headache just thinking about it.

Caw.

Fenghuang stopped rubbing his own head against Ning's, cawing at the realization that his human had suddenly slipped into a worse mood.

"It's nothing. I simply have to do what I have to do." Ning sighed.

That was the Dao of Grind, after all.

Not becoming perfect in one step.

Not freezing one version of himself in place and calling it enough.

Just improving, correcting, adapting, then improving again, over and over, without end, until even the person he was yesterday became another thing he'd already surpassed.

It was an endless journey.

...

Thanks for reading!~

A/N: Here's an alt picture of Ning.

I feel like this one makes him look a little too feminine, though. At this rate, Ning is never beating the jade beauty allegations.