Chapter 12: “Could He Have Also Transmigrated?…”

The news channel quickly switched from the Kunpeng photo to another topic.

Lu Hui sat blankly for a long time, lost in thought. By the time she snapped out of it, the news had already looped back to the beginning.

“System, get out here.”

The system took a full two minutes to respond before replying, “Dear, System No. 666 is always at your service.”

Lu Hui took a deep breath. “Do you think Yan Zhao could have transmigrated too?”

System: “Dear, that’s impossible.”

Lu Hui: “Then what about Xie Ran?”

The system lagged for a moment before responding, “Dear, that was just a tiny accident.” It emphasized the point again, speaking with certainty, “There is absolutely no way it will happen a second time.”

“Then what about the Kunpeng photo? Other people captured it!”

Although the image quality wasn’t great, the massive fish soaring in the sky was unmistakably Yan Zhao’s mount.

The system explained, “Dear, it was probably photoshopped by some internet user just to stir up hype.” It firmly reassured her, “Headquarters has strict protection measures. A male lead transmigrating? If it happened once, it won’t happen again. You have to trust us, dear.”

Lu Hui barely believed it.

She frowned, hesitating for a moment. “Can you stop calling me ‘dear’? It sounds sleazy.”

“Okay, dear.”

“…”

Before going to bed, Lu Hui pulled up the photos online again, scrutinizing every detail with wide eyes, refusing to miss a single thing.

Her eyes became sore from staring, but she still couldn’t find anything conclusive. Maybe it really was a fake image. That was the only way she could comfort herself.

—

The next day, Lu Hui went to the set as usual. As expected, the number of obsessive fans lurking outside the hotel had significantly decreased. The few that remained only dared to watch from afar, standing timidly in the distance.

After witnessing Lu Hui’s cold and fierce side the previous night, they were afraid of her.

Lu Hui casually glanced in their direction. One of the young girls, feeling an overwhelming sense of fear, cautiously stepped forward, her face looking like she was about to cry. Trembling, she whispered, “Sister, our flight is tomorrow. We just wanted to catch a glimpse of Yu Li from afar one last time. After tomorrow, we promise to be rational fans.”

Lu Hui had no idea why they felt the need to explain this to her, but she nodded blankly. “Oh.”

Before getting into the car, she added, “Stay safe and know your boundaries.”

“Yes, sister.”

The moment Lu Hui’s car drove away, the invisible pressure disappeared with it.

“Minmin, you’re so brave, actually daring to talk to Lu Hui.”

“I was so close to her just now. She’s so beautiful. How can someone have such a gorgeous face? Nuwa was totally unfair when molding her.” The girl named Minmin gradually came back to her senses. “And honestly, she’s kind of cute when she’s not angry.”

“I don’t like her, but I have to admit, that face of hers… Seeing her up close made my head spin.”

They were literally dizzy from her beauty.

The group continued chatting as they waited for Yu Li, who was scheduled to leave later. This time, they stood in an orderly line several meters away, quietly watching him without the usual screaming and chaos.

Yu Li’s driver, witnessing this rare scene, clicked his tongue. “If only they were always like this. Before, they would crowd around every day—too crazy. If it weren’t for the bad optics, I would’ve shoved them away myself.”

Yu Li remained silent.

The driver added, “Lu Hui is something else, huh?”

He used to just call her Lu Hui. But from today on, it was “Teacher Lu.”

A life-saving benefactor. A genius at handling obsessive fans.

Yu Li frowned. “I wonder if she got hurt last night.”

He had watched the videos. Of course, he also heard what the fans blocking the entrance had said. It was both embarrassing and concerning—was Lu Hui injured?

The driver waved it off. “Nah, judging by Teacher Lu’s swift and precise moves, she fights like a pro.”

Yu Li still felt uneasy. “I’ll check on her when we get to the set.”

—

That day on set, Lu Hui noticed that the crew was much warmer to her than before—especially the director, who pulled her aside and gave her a big thumbs-up.

Lu Hui was confused. “Director, we haven’t even started filming yet.”

Why the sudden praise?

The director crossed his legs and patted her shoulder. “Last night…”

As soon as he started, Lu Hui already knew what he was about to say.

“Director, I’m not usually like that.”

“Don’t worry! I’m not scolding you. I’m here to praise you. If I had known you were this capable, we wouldn’t have suffered through the past month. You have no idea how rampant these paparazzi are—trying to follow people into restrooms, leaking set photos every day. It’s a nightmare.”

“…Yeah, that does sound annoying.”

The director changed the subject. “How’s your prep for today’s fight scene? If you’re worried, we have a stunt double.”

“I can do it myself.”

“The scene requires you to dive from a height of over ten meters. You’ve never done wire work before, right? Why don’t you talk it over with your manager? Using a stunt double isn’t shameful.”

Lu Hui insisted, “I really don’t need one.”

The crew kept trying to persuade her.

“Teacher Lu, this sequence is difficult and highly dangerous. Maybe reconsider? This isn’t a joke.”

Yu Li also chimed in, “It’s pretty scary. For safety’s sake, let the professionals handle it.”

Lu Hui looked at them silently. Compared to them, she was much more stubborn. “I’m not as weak as you think.”

She wasn’t trying to show off, but… was ten meters even high?

She had flown through thousands—even tens of thousands—of meters in the sky. Compared to that, a ten-meter cliff was nothing.

The cultivation world had pushed her to the absolute brink, nearly breaking her. But she had gained real skills from it—monster hunting, demon exorcism, spiritual cultivation—she had mastered it all.

The director gave up, mumbling to himself. “Why is she being so stubborn again?”

Lu Hui put on the wire harness and was slowly lifted to the edge of the ten-meter-high cliff.

The director held a megaphone in one hand and placed his other on his hip. “Look down once. You sure you can handle this?”

Lu Hui made an “OK” gesture.

The director huffed, annoyed. “Fine, then let’s do it.”

Why were young actresses these days so obsessed with proving themselves? Being stubborn at the wrong time—if something went wrong, there’d be nowhere to cry.

Everyone watched intently.

“ACTION.”

A fierce wind blew, lifting the woman’s flowing gown. She staggered back in despair, loose stones tumbling off the cliff into the abyss below.

Though her face was calm, her dark eyes were filled with a lifeless sorrow.

The male lead chased after her, sword in hand, half his face shrouded in shadow. “You hurt her. I won’t let you go.”

She chuckled softly.

A powerful palm strike landed on her chest, sending her plummeting off the cliff.

Even as she fell, she refused to give in—dragging the man she loved into the abyss with her.

In midair, swords clashed in a dazzling display.

She moved with effortless grace—fluid, elegant, mesmerizing.

“CUT!”

The director, watching the playback, was beyond satisfied. The fight sequence was seamless, powerful yet beautiful. More importantly, every move flowed naturally, without stiffness.

He ran over, amazed. “You’ve really never done wire work before?”

Lu Hui shook her head. “Never.”

“What about fight choreography?”

Another shake. “Nope.”

She unbuckled her harness, eyes pure and sincere. “Director, was that supposed to be hard?”

…Was she showing off?

So cocky. But he loved it.

—

And so, Lu Hui wrapped up early for the day.