After habitually ignoring the annoying narration from the “Trash Commentary,” Ji Yanqing propped his elbow against the ground, trying to lift his body, which had just been dragged back from the gates of hell.
But the moment he moved, a tearing pain in his muscles forced him to abandon the idea. Let alone standing up—just keeping his torso steady was already a daunting task.
“Lie down properly. You’re not allowed to move right now.”
Ji Qing scolded him gently. Her ink-black eyebrows furrowed slightly, adding a charming allure to her expression—one that stirred a man’s desire for conquest.
[You’ve spent so much time frequenting brothels and listening to music, you’ve grown tired of those docile, submissive women. They’re boring like house-kept lambs.
But Ji Qingyan, a young heroine fresh to the martial world, is a completely different flavor. Taming her must be thrilling.
Given your lifetime of experience both in reality and on that certain website that starts with a ‘P’, just one night is enough to completely corrupt her, making her fall head over heels for you…]
How dare you slander my name like that with baseless filth?!
Who visits that website?! Who frequents brothels for pleasure?! I only go to proper establishments to discuss vocal arts and appreciate musical talents with the ladies!
Do you want me to sue you for defamation, you wretched narrator?!
Ji Yanqing ranted internally, though he was feeling a bit guilty. But after all, that dancer sincerely invited him to admire the two cinnabar moles on her chest—it would’ve been rude not to “appreciate” them.
At this point, although his wounds had been treated with golden sore medicine and bandaged simply, he was still very weak and could barely sit up.
“Thank you for saving my life, Miss. I will repay you someday with deep gratitude.”
Ji Yanqing said softly, his voice barely louder than a mosquito’s buzz. All his strength had just been used up arguing with the trash narrator. At this point, he probably couldn’t even beat a goose.
“No need to thank me. I was only keeping my promise.”
Ji Qingyan sat by the burning campfire with a sheer veil covering her face.
Her legs were tucked in, arms wrapped around her knees, the black skirt of her hanfu falling to her ankles, revealing a glimpse of porcelain-white skin.
[The heroine’s feet are as delicate as jade, whiter than snow and frost. Seeing such beauty, you can’t help but imagine savoring an ice cream—slowly, bit by bit…]
Hearing such blasphemous commentary, Ji Yanqing hurriedly recited Buddhist scriptures in his mind, afraid that if he kept listening, he’d eventually be completely corrupted by the Trash Commentary’s influence.
“If thanks must be given—my father always taught me to be grateful and return kindness, unlike him, who often forgot favors and betrayed trust.”
Ji Yanqing said sincerely, his bloodshot eyes gazing at the flawless side profile veiled in sheer fabric.
After a while, the girl slowly raised her head, her misty eyes turning toward Ji Yanqing.
“My… my father said the same. But unlike your father, he lived a life of gratitude and honor, returning enmity with righteousness, following the teachings of sages… In the end, he didn’t even leave a whole corpse.”
They both fell silent, and the rain outside the temple grew heavier.
“Was it done by Prince Wei?”
After a long pause, Ji Yanqing cautiously asked.
“Mm.”
Suddenly—boom—
A flash of lightning like a silver blade tore through the night, illuminating everything inside and outside the temple. The demon-faced statues looked even more eerie.
The light was brief, but in that split second, Ji Yanqing caught sight of something outside the temple.
Several corpses of black-clad swordsmen lay scattered in the puddles, their blood turning the water crimson as it mixed with the rain.
There was no doubt—they had all been slain by Ji Qingyan.
And if his identity were to be exposed, his corpse would undoubtedly be among them—probably in an even worse condition.
Just like the 14th ending in the original novel, where a minor villain, having lost Prince Wei’s protection, encountered Ji Qingyan in a tavern. His lust rose again, and in a cliché move, he drugged her tea to try to force himself on her.
But before he could even make it to the bed, the drug-resistant Ji Qingyan used her sword [Chengying] to slice him into 99 precise pieces.
His corpse caused quite the headache for the coroner, who considered it one of the rare challenges of his career.
Damn it. Why does this plot feel so familiar?
Thinking this, Ji Yanqing couldn’t help but break into a cold sweat.
“Those men came to kill you. They weren’t just ordinary bandits—the techniques they used belonged to the Six Harmony Blade Style, from the Censorate.”
Ji Qingyan explained softly, the mist in her eyes fading, replaced by a rare sharpness.
“The Censorate?!” Ji Yanqing exclaimed in shock. He had vaguely suspected a high-ranking court official, but not that someone on the throne had sent assassins from the Censorate.
No—maybe not directly.
A certain Vice Commander surnamed Zhang in the Censorate was a trusted aide to Prime Minister Liu Sili. With his seal, a small squad could be mobilized.
Ji Yanqing had hidden his true abilities for years, meticulously playing the part of a spoiled, womanizing prince just like in the novel.
Such a crown prince should be exactly what the emperor and court officials wanted—a harmless fool. So why would anyone want him dead?
He couldn’t figure it out.
Could it really be because he called off an engagement at the Duke of Yan’s estate a few days ago? That seems unlikely…
“I find it strange too. You’re just a study companion. Why would the imperial guards risk entering the Ghostshadow Mountains to hunt you down? You’re not even Ji Yanqing—so why are you so important to them?”
Ji Qingyan looked at him with suspicion, her famed sword [Chengying] still beside her, fresh with blood.
Her sharp eyes studied him. Ji Yanqing’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to appear calm.
She’s testing me. She suspects my true identity—but not enough to act yet. Otherwise, she’d be using some sort of memory-recovery technique right now, not simply asking questions.
Under her scrutiny, Ji Yanqing replied evenly:
“They disguised themselves as black-clad bandits because whether the assassination succeeded or failed, the bigwig behind it didn’t want word to get out. Since I witnessed their crime, naturally I had to be silenced.”
Ji Qingyan blinked her enchanting phoenix eyes, her doubts easing. She softly sighed, “So the court is still as heartless and cold-blooded as ever.”
Having seen her entire family slaughtered in childhood, her hatred for the court ran deep. She believed any accusation against them—especially since Ji Yanqing was telling the truth.
“Miss Ji, we should get moving. Those guards haven’t reported back. Reinforcements will arrive soon.”
Ji Yanqing warned softly, still breathless.
“But your injuries…” Ji Qingyan said with concern, her delicate hand reaching out from her red sleeve, skin like creamy jade.
“It’s nothing. I’m just a lowly life. I can’t afford to drag you down. You’re like a noble lady from a wealthy family—not someone who should be wandering the martial world.” Ji Yanqing said earnestly.
Ji Qingyan, though a cultivator of transformation level, would likely perish if surrounded by elite Censorate night guards.
There were at least twenty such experts in the Censorate.
With her current strength, she could only manage a draw with one.
Hearing this, Ji Qingyan frowned and crossed her arms, firmly replying:
“Though I’m a woman, I have read the books of sages and understand a gentleman’s code. To abandon you would be against the code of the martial world.”
She placed her hand on her chest, eyes half-closed, soft but unyielding.
Truly worthy of the righteous and naive young heroine Ji Qingyan.
Even Ji Yanqing, a morally flexible prince, felt a flicker of shame under her radiant, sacred aura.
She placed a cushion at the door, knelt half-seated, eyes closed, sword ready to be drawn at any moment.
Ji Qingyan resembled a flawless statue, shielding the temple from the rain and darkness, giving a sense of calm.
Seeing this—
Ji Yanqing had no choice but to give up trying to persuade her. In the game, Ji Qingyan’s stubbornness was legendary—he couldn’t change her mind with mere words.
But one day, if she found out the man she protected tonight was the very crown prince she wanted to chop into pieces—what would she do then?
“Miss Ji, what brought you here tonight?”
Now that things had reached this point, Ji Yanqing could only gamble on the Ghostshadow Mountains’ complex terrain and many monsters delaying their pursuers.
And with a long night ahead, chatting with a beauty was far better than sleeping alone.
In The Record of the Divine Maiden of Canglan, Ji Qingyan’s character design was ridiculously attractive—perfect curves in all the right places.
Especially in the anniversary event’s swimsuit skin—black and red, tight-fitting, half-exposed chest, bare shoulders, long legs, creamy skin, and glistening water droplets on her thighs—peak seduction.
A shame about the 648 yuan price tag… but now that he had transmigrated into this world, there might still be a chance to see her wear it.
Thinking of that, he couldn’t help but glance at the red-clothed maiden beside him.
“My sect ordered me to retrieve an ancient sword from Devour-Heart Temple. It should be here, but I’ve searched for a long time and found nothing,” Ji Qingyan said with a hint of bitterness.
Ji Yanqing gave a soft “oh” and prepared to lie back down.
But a moment later—
He suddenly shot upright like a carp springing out of water, his eyes flashing with excitement, a true medical miracle.
“You said this place is where?!”