Although she had once again been painfully reminded of her lowly status, Le Gui couldn’t deny that having fresh fruit to eat was a blessing. She lazily leaned against the Shui Ling, peeling an orange with a satisfied smile.

“I gave my storage pouch away when I arrived, so I don’t even have a single fasting pill on me. I thought I’d have to go hungry tonight. Good thing you’re here, Shui Ling.”

Saying that, she peeled off an orange segment and fed it to the creature.

The Shui Ling normally disliked the tartness of citrus peels and rarely ate oranges. But since someone was feeding it, it took the piece without hesitation. Having learned its lesson from being smacked on the head earlier, it was careful not to bite her hand this time.

Even after an entire day, the bite mark Shui Ling left on Le Gui’s hand was still faintly visible. But considering that it had taken her in and shared its food, she decided that, from now on, Shui Ling was officially her best colleague on Diyun Peak.

“I don’t have much to offer in return, but I can at least give you a proper name,” Le Gui mused, rolling over to sit upright. She studied Shui Ling thoughtfully. “You like grass and apples, so how about… Grass… Apple? Grassple? Pfft—”

She suddenly burst into laughter, unable to hold it in. Shui Ling gave her a lofty, disdainful glance before nudging her for more orange slices.

“Alright, alright, that was just a joke. Naming is a serious matter. We have to take this seriously and think of a proper, auspicious name,” Le Gui said, wiping away her tears of laughter. She picked up another orange and fell into deep thought.

Three seconds later—

“Since you like oranges so much, I’ll call you Juzi^[1]Orange in chinese.”

“Hah.”

Three meters away, perched atop a towering tree, a man let out a quiet chuckle.

The sound took even him by surprise. He glanced up at the clear night sky, just about to tear open the void and leave when his hand paused midair. His gaze shifted back toward the lakeside, where a girl and a Shui Ling sat together under the moonlight.

Le Gui also heard the faint rustling in the trees. Her instincts as a fragile, weakling mortal screamed that something was wrong. Before she could react, the Shui Ling had already sprung up, dashing into the nearby underbrush.

Le Gui was still in a daze when the Shui Ling suddenly bolted. Without thinking, she instinctively followed. Just as she managed to hide, a middle-aged man sneaked up to the lakeside. Under the moonlight, she got a clear look at his face—he seemed oddly familiar.

[Ah, isn’t he one of the four who brought the fruit earlier?]

Le Gui blinked and turned to see the Shui Ling lying flat on the ground. Its neck and jaw were pressed tightly to the earth, and its eyes were fixated on a small gap in the grass—just enough for it to observe everything outside while remaining hidden.

[…Quite the professional.]

Speechless for a moment, Le Gui quietly pushed aside some of the grass blocking her view and mimicked Shui Ling’s position, peeking out as well.

The man, after confirming that no one was around, cautiously approached the lake. He scooped up a handful of water, sniffed it carefully, and then took a tentative sip.

“…What is he trying to do?” Le Gui whispered.

The Shui Ling, unable to answer, simply continued watching intently.

Le Gui huffed lightly, about to make another comment when the man suddenly burst into laughter. His voice was wild with excitement.

“I knew it! I knew it! That beast has never drunk Wanghuan Spring water, yet it has lived for thousands of years. There must be something strange about this lake!”

[…Brother, have you forgotten that you’re a thief right now?]

A flock of crows suddenly took flight, their hoarse cries echoing through the silent forest. The man shuddered at the sound, finally remembering to keep a lower profile—though not by much. A full-grown man abruptly dropped to his knees at the lakeside, gulping down water like a desperate animal. He even let out a series of unsettling moans as he drank, making Le Gui’s skin crawl.

The night deepened. A thin veil of clouds gradually gathered, obscuring some of the stars.

Le Gui watched in silence as the man’s belly swelled larger and larger. Just when she thought he might drink himself to death, he suddenly got up, formed a hand seal, and sent a burst of spiritual energy straight into the ground, blasting open a deep hole.

[Wait… he can use spiritual energy?!]

“As I suspected!” The man’s eyes gleamed with a crazed light. “Wanghuan Spring doesn’t just extend life—it enhances cultivation! I’ve only drunk a little, yet the restrictions of Wuyou Palace can no longer suppress me. If I can drink this entire lake dry, even Di Jiang will no longer be my match!”

[Impressive, brother. The bigger your dreams, the bigger your stage. But drinking an entire lake? That seems… ambitious.]

Resting her chin in her hand, Le Gui was eager to see how he planned to pull off such a feat. However, the man clearly knew when to quit while ahead. After restoring the ground to its original state, he clutched his bloated stomach and stumbled away.

Silence. Absolute silence. The moonlight was now dimmed by the hazy mist that had gathered around the lake.

Le Gui crouched in the grass for a long time. Just as she was about to doze off, the Shui Ling suddenly stood up and, as if nothing had happened, strolled back to the lakeside to continue eating fruit.

“…This must not be the first time someone has tried to steal your water,” Le Gui chuckled, amused by its complete lack of concern.

The Shui Ling cast her a haughty glance and continued chewing. After finishing its fruit, it leaped into the lake and began to leisurely swim.

Le Gui followed, watching its carefree movements with a sigh. “I always thought you stayed young because, like everyone else in the palace, you drank a daily cup of Wanghuan Spring water. But clearly, I underestimated you. You’re not just drinking a cup a day…”

Back at Bi’an Terrace, the daily ration of Wanghuan Spring water came from a single gourd. Each of the three thousand demon peaks under Wuyou Palace had such a gourd, all connected to the true Wanghuan Spring. The supply was strictly controlled, with each person allowed only one cup per day.

Everyone in the Three Realms knew that Wanghuan Spring was the only artifact capable of defying aging, and everyone assumed Di Jiang guarded it carefully. But few would have guessed he had left it right here on Diyun Peak—where a Shui Ling spent its days swimming and rolling around in it.

The Shui Ling continued to float in the water, its hooves occasionally kicking off to propel itself further. It seemed perfectly at ease. Le Gui crouched at the lake’s edge, dipping her fingers into the water. The crystal-clear liquid trickled down her skin as she studied it, completely unaware of the darkening sky above her.

Gods, demons, and mortals alike—so long as they were born in the Three Realms, they could not escape the cycle of life and death. The harder they tried, the more they desired to. No one was an exception. Greed was an entertaining spectacle, but after witnessing it for so long, even the most dramatic displays became tiresome.

Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance. Leaning against a tree, his red robes blending with the night, Di Jiang gazed down at the woman playing with water. Slowly, the boredom in his eyes returned.

A faint flash of lightning split the clouds, momentarily brightening the lake. Le Gui glanced up at the rapidly changing sky, then looked back at the Shui Ling, who was still enjoying its swim.

“…So, all this time, those people have been drinking your bathwater?”

Di Jiang froze and lifted his gaze to her.

“This is unbelievable… Wait, you don’t actually—” Le Gui recoiled. “You don’t poop in the water, do you?”

Rubbing her hands against her clothes as if trying to rid herself of invisible filth, she continued, “I mean, sure, the water looks clean, but drinking it straight from the lake without boiling it first? There must be so many parasites. That’s disgusting. Good thing I never drink it.”

The Shui Ling cast her a sideways glance and gracefully rolled onto its back in the water.

Le Gui took a few steps back. Looking up, she noticed that the stormy sky had suddenly cleared up again. She muttered, “Diyun Peak… what a bizarre place.”

The night deepened. When the Shui Ling finally had enough of swimming, it slowly made its way to the shore, shook off the excess water, and—without hesitation—collapsed onto the ground and fell asleep.

Le Gui rubbed her drowsy eyes. “Juzi, where do you usually sleep?”

As if answering her, the Shui Ling simply nestled into the grass and snored.

Le Gui stared at its peacefully sleeping face. After a long moment, she sighed in resignation and lay down beside it.

It was the first time since arriving in this world that she had to sleep under the open sky. She thought she’d struggle to fall asleep, but the moment she lay down, exhaustion took over, and she drifted off instantly—without even dreaming.

Though she had spent the entire day drifting like a rootless weed, a good night’s sleep did help ease the burden of her forced servitude.

Unfortunately, at the stroke of midnight, the bells of Diyun Peak rang as scheduled.

In the Demon Realm, hearing the bell toll from over nineteen hundred mountains away was one thing, but experiencing it up close was an entirely different matter. The deafening sound echoed from above, jolting Le Gui awake. She shot up in shock, only to collapse back onto the grass moments later, her mind still dazed.

Dong—Dong—

The bell tolled again and again, its reverberations shaking her to the core, as if even her soul was trembling. She turned to glance at Juzi, only to find the creature sleeping like a log, completely unfazed. It even had the leisure to roll over in its sleep.

[Is this the composure of a veteran employee?]

Le Gui wanted to cry. She endured until the bell finally stopped ringing, but by then, she was wide awake with no hope of falling back asleep. Staring blankly at the sky, she waited. She waited and waited, until the first light of dawn peeked through the horizon. Just as drowsiness finally crept in, a chaotic melody blared from Cangqiong Palace, shattering the silence.

Expressionless, Le Gui picked up Juzi’s head and shook it. The creature was rudely awakened and snorted in displeasure, looking as if it was ready to fight her.

“I want to quit,” she said, her face cold. She didn’t care whether Juzi understood or not. “This work environment is unbearable.”

Did she quit?

Of course not.

Some jobs required financial compensation to resign from, while others—like this one—could cost a person their life. Le Gui wasn’t stupid. As much as she despised the midnight alarms and the daytime noise, she wasn’t about to storm into Cangqiong Palace and confront the boss himself. Besides, aside from these nuisances, her life was much easier now compared to when she was stationed at Bi’an Terrace.

Di Jiang seemed to have forgotten about her existence. Since their first meeting, he had never appeared again. She spent her days with Juzi, had fresh fruit for every meal—though never quite enough to feel full—and enjoyed a life free of work and responsibilities. The middle-aged man who had once vowed to drink the entire lake dry never returned. Compared to the struggles of a laborer, Le Gui felt more like a left-behind child.

Not bad.

As time passed, she realized human adaptability was boundless. At first, the endless noise had driven her to the brink of madness, making her want to barge into Cangqiong Palace and pick a fight with Di Jiang. But gradually, she got used to it. The tolling of the bells no longer disturbed her sleep.

Only the bizarre music still grated on her nerves.

One evening, dark clouds loomed over the sky. Thunder rumbled and flashes of lightning streaked across the heavens, signaling an impending storm.

Juzi was happily swimming in the crystal-clear waters of Wanghuan. After a while, it quietly climbed ashore, sneaking behind Le Gui. Without warning, it rammed her with its horned head.

Splash!

Le Gui tumbled straight into the lake. Water splashed everywhere as she surfaced, sputtering in rage. “You little beast! How dare you ambush me!”

Juzi’s only response was to leap back into the water, sending another wave crashing over her.

Le Gui burst into laughter and retaliated, splashing water at it. Juzi, not one to back down, kicked the water back at her.

They were having the time of their lives when suddenly, a figure in red appeared on the shore. His expression was dark as he gazed at the two figures in the water.

The weak shared a common trait—a sharp sense of danger. Before either of them even realized someone was there, their instincts had already kicked in. Both Le Gui and Juzi froze, sinking lower into the water until only their heads remained above the surface.

Le Gui slowly turned her head, locking eyes with Di Jiang.

[What do I do now? Should I greet him?]

Di Jiang stared at the two pitiful heads bobbing on the water, his gaze unreadable. Then, in a flat voice, he said, “Little beast, come here.”

Both Le Gui and Juzi flinched.

Juzi reluctantly trudged onto the shore, and Le Gui quickly followed. She was debating whether to approach him and offer a formal greeting when, without warning, Di Jiang slapped Juzi across the head.

Le Gui: “?”

Le Gui: “……”

Di Jiang, his face practically screaming displeasure, shifted his gaze to her.

Le Gui forced out a stiff smile. “Greetings, Your Lordship…”

[He hit Juzi, so… he won’t hit me, right?]