Chapter 3 Abandoned Great Formation: Sweet Poverty

In the Abyss of Emptiness, news of the death of the Nascent Soul Stage Heretical Cultivator Yuan Jingzhi spread like wildfire. But what stirred even greater panic was the revelation: the Great Demon had awakened.  

Old Ancestor Xu Yuan had not appeared for a full twenty years. So much so that the taboo against speaking loudly after nightfall—once a vital survival rule—had gradually faded into a half-forgotten legend.  

Yuan Jingzhi was a Heretical Cultivator who had risen to prominence during those two decades. He wasn’t unaware of the taboo—he simply hadn’t taken it seriously. And now, having coincidentally encountered the full moon night, his death couldn’t even earn the sympathy of the Abyss’s denizens.  

But as a Heretical Cultivator, who didn’t have some means of preserving their life?  

His body was obliterated without so much as a scream, but the Soul Suppressing Banner hidden in his mansion in Netherworld City managed to preserve the last wisp of his soul.  

Yet the first words Yuan Jingzhi uttered upon awakening were laced with venomous hatred: “That damned little Medical Cultivator!”  

He had originally planned to eliminate this thorn in his beloved’s side while also using the Cauldron to heal his lightning injuries. But now, having barely escaped with his life, his remaining soul was so fragile it could scatter with a mere gust of wind. His only path forward was Ghost Cultivation—not only would he lose his cultivation, but even his physical body was gone.  

With his schemes utterly shattered, how could Yuan Jingzhi not seethe with fury?  

Meanwhile, in the Crimson Flame Flower Sea, the very person he was brooding over—Shu Tiantian—sneezed and abruptly halted in her tracks. She lowered her head to scrutinize the “ground” beneath her.  

The Abyss of Emptiness was filled with Heretical Cultivators. A mere Qi Refining Stage Medical Cultivator like her wouldn’t survive out there. If Shu Tiantian didn’t want to become easy prey for the big shots outside, she had no choice but to stay put in this sea of Scarlet Flame Flowers for now. For the sake of her own life, she needed to figure out exactly what this “ground” was.  

Upon closer inspection, the patch of ground beneath her was actually a scale from some enormous creature—jet-black, adorned with intricate patterns, its sharp edges glinting coldly. It was so beautiful she couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and touch it.  

But the problem was, Shu Tiantian realized this single scale was twice the size of her head. Given her height, she couldn’t even begin to fathom the full scale of the creature it belonged to.  

She glanced around. The flower sea was surrounded by ruins arranged in some mysterious formation—at first glance, it resembled an abandoned array. But the design was far too esoteric for her to recognize.  

Further in the distance loomed towering mountain peaks, piercing the clouds like pillars holding up the heavens.  

Atop those peaks, faintly visible through the swirling black mist, were ornate pavilions and carved railings. According to the original records, that had to be the residence of Old Ancestor Xu Yuan. Beautiful as it was, it exuded an oppressive gloom, the same suffocating aura as those pale, elegant hands.  

By the time Shu Tiantian had painstakingly climbed to the top of the ruins, dawn had broken. The Abyss’s long night had finally come to an end.  

Shu Tiantian exhaled in relief and turned to gaze at the sea of burning flowers.  

The thick mist refracted the morning light, scattering fractured rays like crushed clouds across the ground. At last, Shu Tiantian could clearly see the colossal figure hidden beneath the blossoms. The moment it came into view, she sucked in a sharp breath—  

It was a Dragon.

The dragon’s body was entirely covered in black-gold scales, with white whiskers and majestic black-gold horns. Its massive, awe-inspiring form exuded solemnity and grandeur. The fractured sunlight scattered across its body, making it resemble a slumbering divine statue quietly coiled upon the crimson scorched earth.

It was so breathtakingly beautiful, as if crafted by the gods themselves. One could imagine that if this dragon were to awaken, it would surely carry flames to shift the stars and continents, rise through clouds from the sacred cauldron lake—its presence as oppressive as the towering peaks of a mighty mountain…

The most stunning dragons Shu Tiantian had ever seen in special effects paled in comparison to this divine creation, not even reaching a fraction of its magnificence.

Yet, this godly being was covered in wounds, its injuries appearing grotesque and horrifying under the sunlight. Its horns were broken; its shimmering, mesmerizing body and tail were marred by countless lacerations, blood seeping endlessly from the wounds. The once-glorious scales on its belly and tail were jagged and uneven, as if forcibly torn away. A massive piercing wound ran across its body.

From a distance, the ruins resembled an oval-shaped formation, as though an invisible colossal sword had pinned the dragon firmly at its center.

It must have lain there for years—spirit herbs had even begun to grow on its body, so much so that Shu Tiantian hadn’t initially realized she was standing on a dragon.

Under the sunlight, those golden specks of light, upon closer inspection, turned out to be droplets of dragon blood oozing from wounds that seemed never to heal.

Beautiful, grotesque, and saturated with bloody killing intent.

Shu Tiantian was so stunned she couldn’t snap out of it for a long while. Yet, as a medical cultivator, her first instinct upon seeing such injuries was to clean, stop the bleeding, and bandage them.

Coming back to her senses, she restrained her eager hands from reaching for her medicine pouch—treating the wounds might save the dragon, but it would cost her own life!

Gazing at the endless expanse of Scarlet Flame Flowers, Shu Tiantian suddenly recalled the sight of Old Ancestor Xu Yuan’s pale ankles dripping blood, from which these flowers bloomed. She turned her eyes back to the dragon: Could this be Old Ancestor Xu Yuan’s lifebound spirit beast?

In the novel *The Master Treats Me as a Substitute*, descriptions of Old Ancestor Xu Yuan were scarce. He mostly appeared as a murderous figure, an enemy of the entire cultivation world, constantly targeted by righteous factions seeking his demise.

The book never mentioned Old Ancestor Xu Yuan’s spirit beast, but it was obvious—with the demonic overlord’s residence nearby, this dragon must belong to him.

For a descendant of Huaxia, watching a traditional totemic beast on the verge of death and being unable to help was akin to witnessing foreign zoos mistreat giant pandas. But right now, she was like a clay idol fording a river—barely able to save herself. How could she dare touch the demonic overlord’s dragon?

Reluctantly, Shu Tiantian took one last look at the dragon before finding a hidden corner to sit with her back turned to it—out of sight, out of mind. She plopped down, opened her portable medicine chest, and began taking stock of her belongings.

During the sixteen years trapped inside her own body, Shu Tiantian had been unable to act but could still see and hear. Out of sheer boredom, she had learned everything—whether useful or not.

She had always believed that the version of herself before gaining control of her body was more like an amnesiac self, forcibly saddled with the dim-witted settings of an NPC.

Her own consciousness had been trapped and unable to move until a sliver of hope emerged just before death. By altering her doomed fate, she finally regained control of her body.

There was compelling evidence why Shu Tiantian firmly believed that the foolish white moonlight character was indeed herself—for instance, the set of traditional acupuncture tools in her medicine box, standard equipment for veteran Chinese medicine practitioners.

Shu Tiantian grew up under the guidance of her grandfather, a Chinese medicine expert. The old man would huff and puff while making little Tiantian work as a child laborer. By the time she was a few years old, patients already jokingly called her “Doctor Shu.” Later, she went on to study Western medicine, much to her grandfather’s fury—he’d call her three times a day to scold her.

Thus, the versatile Little Shu could both perform surgeries and wield acupuncture needles with equal skill.

But this cultivation world had no such thing as acupuncture.

Here, Medical Cultivators followed a vastly different path from other cultivators. While all cultivators drew spiritual energy into their bodies and studied their sect’s techniques and methods, others learned combat skills, whereas Medical Cultivators specialized in healing and pill refinement.

When her Revered Master hastily sent her away in this life, Shu Tiantian had been treating a junior disciple, so she instinctively brought her medicine box along.

Apart from the custom-made acupuncture tools inside, the box contained very few ready-made pills—just one bottle of Qi Replenishing Pills and one of Mind Cleansing Pills. However, there was an abundance of wound-healing powders.

Shu Tiantian rummaged through the box, desperately hoping to find a few Spirit Stones, but the sight was heartbreakingly bleak.

In the original story, to emphasize the female lead Ling Ruoshui’s special status, Medical Cultivators were portrayed as highly esteemed.

They were exceedingly rare in the cultivation world, and villains like the Great Demon who kidnapped Medical Cultivators were practically unheard of. Consequently, Medical Cultivators were also extremely wealthy. For example, Ling Ruoshui could sell a single batch of refined pills for astronomical prices and never lacked money even at her lowest point.

So why did Shu Tiantian, the original story’s dazzlingly talented white moonlight who overshadowed Ling Ruoshui, have to carry a patched-up medicine box? The answer was now clear—she was simply poor.

Unpleasant memories surfaced.

Why had Shu Tiantian labeled her current self as foolish? Considering how beloved she was in the Celestial Mystery Sect—to the point of casting a shadow over the female lead—the worst assumption was true: she treated patients for free.

How could such a living bodhisattva not be the white moonlight?

After searching high and low, Shu Tiantian managed to scrape together two Spirit Stones and also found a bottle of Grain Avoidance Pills.

She poured out the bottle with hopeful anticipation—only to count a single pill.

Her vision darkened.

At the late Qi Refining stage, she couldn’t yet abstain from food. This lowest-grade Grain Avoidance Pill would only stave off hunger for three days.

With her head drooping, Shu Tiantian finally found what she had been longing for—a Communication Talisman. She fervently hoped it would summon her scoundrel of a Revered Master immediately, freeing her from this sea of poverty within three days.

Closing her eyes, she attuned herself to the spiritual energy of the world. The air was thick with abundant spiritual power, endless green specks flowing toward her. It felt as comforting as basking in sunlight.

She channeled the energy to her fingertips and infused it into the Communication Talisman. But after glowing for just a second, the talisman dimmed.

She repeated the same method several times, but all attempts sank like stones into the sea. Her hopeful expectations turned into bubbles, vanishing without a trace. Clearly, the Abyss of Emptiness lived up to its name—ordinary communication methods were utterly useless here.

Shu Tiantian’s small shoulders sagged under the weight of two life-defining burdens: poverty and survival.

The Abyss of Emptiness had three major cities. Though relatively isolated from the outside world, there were still ways to purchase goods or send messages—provided one had the means. But with her low cultivation level, the ever-lurking Heretical Cultivators outside, and Yuan Jingzhi, who likely harbored hatred toward her… neither sending messages nor surviving would be easy.

However, with her Grain Avoidance Pills running low and her Communication Talismans rendered useless, she had no choice but to find a way out—at least before the pills ran out.

Once Shu Tiantian made up her mind, she hesitated no longer.

Instinctively, she reached for the little bell on her wrist, only to find it empty. There was nothing there.

In this life, Shu Tiantian was an orphan, adopted and raised by the Red Cloud Immortal Lord in the Celestial Mystery Sect.

The little bell had been with her for as long as she could remember. She initially thought the Red Cloud Immortal Lord had given it to her, only to later learn he knew nothing about it. It was likely left on her by her birth parents when she was still a baby.

As an infant in this life, Shu Tiantian had needed to touch the little bell every night to fall asleep. Even as she grew older, whenever she felt uneasy, her fingers would instinctively seek its comfort.

But now, the bell was gone. She guessed she must have lost it in the small thatched hut where she woke up in Black Valley. A faint sense of loss lingered in her heart.

Still, survival came first. She could search for it later if the opportunity arose.

Since she had resolved to leave before her Grain Avoidance Pills ran out, she needed some means of self-protection.

Shu Tiantian had only ever studied cultivation techniques theoretically while trapped, never putting them into practice. That was why even her Light Body Technique had been clumsy earlier. She had to quickly adapt to her body and master a few life-saving spells.

Following the instructions in the manual, she sat cross-legged in meditation, guiding spiritual energy through her meridians in cycles. At first, the flow was sluggish and awkward, but with repeated attempts, it gradually became smoother.

Yet just as she tried channeling spiritual energy into her feet to practice the Light Body Technique, an intense cold suddenly seized her heart.

It felt like being doused in a bucket of ice water and then thrown into a blizzard at minus forty degrees. She was so cold she couldn’t move, her entire body wracked with bone-deep chill.

This episode was even more terrifying than the last.

The Heavenly Yin Constitution was exceedingly rare. Without the nourishment of Heavenly Fire, it was like a fish out of water—deprived of its lifeline.

Shu Tiantian’s consciousness blurred from the cold. Instinctively, she knew she needed a heat source—anything, even the slightest warmth.

Not far away, the Dragon suddenly radiated an irresistible allure—like a freezing person spotting a warm cabin. Even knowing it might be perilous inside, no one could resist.

In the vast, silent hall, the pale young man sat with his eyes closed, his brows furrowed with restless irritation. Propping his chin on his hand, he seemed to be enduring something, his strikingly handsome yet icy features tinged with a hint of violence.

Just as those soft hands barely managed to wrap around the Dragon’s head—

The long-abandoned formation, thought to have lost its function ages ago, suddenly blazed with light.

The next second, the long-haired youth’s golden eyes snapped open.