Lu Ziqian never would have thought he'd run into this Fairy twice in a single day!
The long needle in his hand was still pressed against the hem of his robe, the fine stitches lining up in a neat row. Bathed in the warm light streaming through the window, his head tilted downward, teeth about to bite down on the black thread—when his eyes locked with a pair of clear, luminous ones.
Those eyes carried surprise, disbelief, pity, and sympathy all at once.
In an instant, the back of Lu Ziqian's neck, his ears, even the skin peeking from his collar, flushed red like a blazing sunset.
"F-Fairy!" he yelped, tumbling from his wooden chair and crashing to the ground.
The thud of his body hitting the floor snapped Yao Ranran from her daze. She leapt in through the broken window, hurriedly hauling him up.
"Are you alright?" Yao Ranran asked with concern.
Lu Ziqian scrambled back, waving her off, trying to shove the corner of his robe behind him as if to hide what she had just seen. "I-I'm fine!"
Yao Ranran's gaze lingered for a moment before she deliberately pulled her eyes away, choosing to ignore the pair of pale hands that had just been sewing so delicately. She spoke in a steady tone.
"I went out today and brought you back a few books. If you're bored, you can read them. Painting can't be rushed. It's about patience, step by step, letting it flow naturally."
She opened her storage pouch and unloaded a stack of books onto the table. The pile fanned out with such force that the wind swept away his sketches.
Lu Ziqian darted forward like lightning, clutching the scattered papers to his chest. Then he froze, staring wide-eyed at the mountain of books nearly reaching the roof.
Yao Ranran tilted her head back to look at the top of the stack, nodding in satisfaction. "That should keep you busy for a few months."
In the cultivation world, mortal goods were dirt cheap. A single spirit stone could buy a mountain of storybooks. Far too good a bargain!
Lu Ziqian's eyes widened further. "All… all of these are for me?"
Yao Ranran patted the books. "Of course. They're all yours. No need to pay me. Well then, I should be going."
She turned, leapt back out the window, and flicked her fingers. Two rays of spiritual light stitched the torn paper window shut as if it had never broken.
Only after she had gone did Lu Ziqian slowly push himself up from the floor. He looked at the broken thread in his hand, his face heating again and again.
Why did Fairy Ranran have to walk in at that exact moment…
Night had not yet grown deep.
Yao Ranran summoned her portable smithy and laid out the damaged Water Zhi Liu Flowing Silk Skirt, along with a spread of dazzling materials. She studied the torn spot on the violet garment for a long while. Then her eyes hardened with determination as she raised her hammer. In the glow of the forge, she struck blow after blow, sparks leaping with each impact.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
An hour later, both the Water Zhi Liu Flowing Silk Skirt and the Lotus Petal Cloud-Stepping Boots looked brand new.
Remembering her lessons from before, Yao Ranran reflected on the ranking she had earned in the secret realm. She had considered her speed decent, yet she had only placed at 10,990. With so many formidable rivals ahead of her, even gaining An Xiaolin's recognition in the end did not mean she was truly outstanding.
Especially when the so-called rewards from Shu Xi Palace had been nothing worth boasting about.
And then there was the glimpse she'd seen in the cycle of reincarnation—a shadow of the female lead, along with the vanished Spirit of the Fixed Mirror in the Eastern Wasteland secret realm. A lingering unease gnawed at her.
In the book's timeline, Pei Xianqiao should not even be in the Eastern Wilderness at this stage. So was what she'd seen in reincarnation an illusion?
If it was an illusion, did it mean her own heart feared the female lead would seize the Spirit of the Fixed Mirror?
But if it was real, then that meant the female lead had already obtained it—and Yao Ranran had all the more reason to prepare herself.
Which was why she reforged her one and only defensive robe.
Normally, a seventh-rank robe bore a single protective shield. Once that barrier was shattered, any strike would land directly on her frail mortal body. For a cultivator who had never trained her physique, such a blow would be fatal.
But with the layered-armor technique, she corrected that flaw and even added a counterstrike effect.
She extracted the essence of the Bloodcry vines that grew in the Abyssal Prison and fused them into the garment. Pale violet vines lined the robe's edges, sharp thorns weaving themselves along the lotus-pattern trim. At a glance, it looked simply more luxurious than before, with no other change.
Yet if anyone attempted to ambush her from behind, the Bloodcry vines would writhe violently, returning a quarter of the incoming attack and draining the enemy's blood through the thorns to feed back into the robe.
With this cycle, the garment would no longer consume her own spiritual power to maintain its shield. The drawback, however, was that she herself could not sense the vines' activation—unless she was watching with her eyes or probing with her divine sense.
It was a small flaw, and for now, one she could accept.
After all, who gets ambushed without realizing it?
Yao Ranran chuckled softly and put the thought aside.
As for the Lotus Petal Cloud-Stepping Boots, this time she focused only on repairs and slightly increasing their speed. Nothing more.
The leftover materials, however, were perfect for crafting magic tools to sell.
"Hopefully I get lucky and forge an actual treasure this time," Yao Ranran muttered as she hefted her hammer again.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The rhythm rang through the night. Xiao Rong and Tang Xiangyin, long accustomed to the sound, slept peacefully in the room next door.
The next morning, Yao Ranran handed over the seeds she had bought from the marketplace.
Though Xiao Rong and Tang Xiangyin were confident in their ability to farm, Yao Ranran trusted them less and found their confidence strangely misplaced.
Two people who normally did nothing but eat, drink, and play claiming they "liked farming"? Hardly believable.
Still, the two made no objections to her instructions. They obediently went to plant the seeds.
Yao Ranran circled the area a few times, then made her way to Biliu Sect to meet Zhou Lili.
Coincidentally, Xiang Yin's friend Pu Yehai was there as well.
She wasn't familiar with him. Since returning from Shu Xi Palace, they hadn't crossed paths. Meeting him now felt oddly foreign.
But why did his gaze carry a strange familiarity, almost like he was meeting an old friend?
Puzzled, Yao Ranran sat down at Zhou Lili's warm invitation.
"Fairy Ranran cultivates with such diligence. All this time, and this is my first time sitting face-to-face with you," Pu Yehai said, turning his head slightly as he coughed, a faint smile on his pale lips.
"My talent isn't much. I can only rely on hard work," Yao Ranran sighed.
Compared to the female lead with her grand destiny, she was still far behind.
She did not realize that her words left the two across from her exchanging peculiar looks.
Pu Yehai's eyes darkened as he hid a sharp gleam in their depths. He covered his mouth and coughed softly.
Within ten miles, among female cultivators, she had the highest cultivation. The one who had slain his younger brother Ding Ping had left traces leading here. Who else could it be?
Yao Ranran. She was the murderer!
Beneath the table, his veins bulged as his hands clenched into fists, hidden beneath the wide sleeves of his robe.