Chapter 60: The Rising Wind (VI)

Baize suddenly closed in on Longyin, and Longyin’s heart was seized with terror, forcing him to retreat sharply.

“What are you doing?” Longyin exclaimed in alarm, for he saw Baize’s hand reaching for his mask. As he raised his hand to block, Baize clamped his wrist and shoved him forcefully, sending Longyin crashing into the wall. Baize pressed closer, trapping him in the center, pinning him against the wall. The pain was utterly real—so much so that Longyin felt dizzy, cursing silently. Damn it, for the sake of his other identity’s card-making requirements, he needed to experience everything with absolute realism. The person before him was like a human beast.

Longyin’s physique was simply no match for Baize, who possessed an SS-level constitution. The mask was torn away, leaving Longyin glaring at Baize, “What madness is this?”

“It’s quite ordinary,” Baize replied, “You changed your appearance?” He then tugged at Longyin’s cheek, pulling so hard it hurt. As the dizziness faded, Longyin abruptly shoved Baize’s hand aside, and with a swift kick aimed for Baize’s most vital spot below. Baize blocked with his hand, a flash of ruthless intent in his eyes, and countered without hesitation, his thigh slamming into Longyin’s stomach. Longyin grunted, biting his lip, pain etched deep across his face.

“Answer me!” Baize lifted Longyin’s chin. Longyin’s eyes narrowed, and he curled his lips into a smile—a smile that, on his delicate face, added a hint of dazzling allure. Baize was momentarily stunned, then frowned, “What are you smiling at?”

The angrier Baize became, the more charming Longyin’s smile grew. “I’m laughing at you—for being stupid!” To provoke him again and again—Longyin was not one to let things slide. He repaid all debts, and never let a slap to the face go unavenged. This repeated provocation had thoroughly enraged him.

Baize was momentarily distracted by Longyin’s stunning smile. Longyin’s breath was fragrant, his manner seductive as he asked with a sly smile, “Did you set your pain sensitivity to one hundred percent?”

Baize found it odd, but nodded anyway.

“One hundred percent?—That’s perfect!” In a flash, Longyin’s vast spiritual power split into thousands of fine, needle-like threads, stabbing toward Baize. No matter how skilled Baize was, he could not withstand the onslaught of thousands of spiritual filaments. Longyin didn’t target Baize’s mind specifically, instead treating him as a whole receiver—the impact of these spiritual threads was deadlier than any ancient hidden weapon.

This time, Baize had truly fallen into the trap. Despite his SS-level physique and brilliance, he was no match for Longyin’s calculated outburst. Calculated against unprepared—success was inevitable. Moreover, this attack of thousands of spiritual threads was accompanied by a surprising increase in Longyin’s control over his spiritual power, fueled by his rage.

Even Baize, with his endurance, fell to the ground, pain flickering in his eyes. Longyin, seeing this, felt invigorated. He squatted, patted Baize, “Well? Enjoying yourself? I told you not to provoke me. Why are you so stubborn?”

Longyin’s laughter was genuine this time. Baize stared at him, emotions roiling in his eyes—this person dared… The shock was immense. Longyin seemed not to notice Baize’s shifting mood and gradually composed his features. “In the future, don’t provoke me. You walk your path, I’ll walk mine. I don’t care what you think, but I want no further ties with you. The Blood Clan may be an opportunity for others, but for me, it’s nothing but trouble!”

Playing hard to get? Baize couldn’t help but wonder, only to be thrown off by Longyin’s next words. “You are you, I am me. I will never submit to you, nor do I care to be your vassal, or covet any resources of the Blood Clan. To prove my resolve, I will destroy my personal network terminal and never again log onto the Federation’s network. From now on—we will not meet again!”

Longyin swiftly logged off, leaving Baize stunned. Without hesitation, he deleted his “Silver” identity from the network, rubbing his aching stomach. Though he’d suffered some pain, he could finally rid himself, at least temporarily, of that Blood Clan brat. Switching between identities was always troublesome, and he lacked the energy to deal with that proud little troublemaker. So, upon seeing Baize’s strange reaction, Longyin decided, with a furrowed brow, to break off completely and rid himself of this nuisance.

How long he could avoid it, Longyin didn’t know, but at least for now he could focus on more urgent matters. He never expected that this minor episode would someday cause a pivotal change in his fate.

Longyin, having deleted his alternate identity, promptly logged back in and arrived smoothly at the ninety-ninth floor of Cardless World. He opened his personal panel, teleported to the ninety-eighth floor, and transformed it into his own exclusive card-making studio. Spending a hundred million gold coins, the room instantly resembled his familiar old workspace—such was the power of the virtual network. Looking at the familiar furnishings, Longyin felt a complex emotion, calmer now than before. He’d recreated the old setup not out of sentiment, but for convenience, hoping perhaps to rekindle his former passion.

Longyin had many thoughts now. Though his enthusiasm for card-making remained undiminished, the thrill of first creation was gone. In our youngest days, there is always something precious—the passion of the first time.

He took a deep breath, standing quietly at the center of the card-maker’s station. In his mind, the novel card-making systems he’d envisioned began to unfold and evolve. Even in reality, he’d experimented and crafted a few innovative cards, but those were only a small fraction of this new system, barely scratching the surface. This time, Longyin planned to use the abundance of practice in the network to accumulate experience for reality. Though there might be some discrepancies, he believed the benefits of such intensive training were beyond measure.

As Longyin exhaled softly, he opened his eyes, a sharp glint flashing across them. He raised his arm, gripping the card-making pen. With a movement of his left hand, a blank card appeared on the table. He surveyed the prepared medicinal ingredients with focused eyes, dipping the pen tip into the trays—sometimes lightly, sometimes deeply. Unlike before, where ingredients were measured out in advance, this was a bold experiment. The waste caused by such trials made Longyin realize he needed the virtual Federation network to assist.

He began, with a humble and careful stroke—no longer casual, but cautious and precise. Even in the network, Longyin handled every step with care, for every flow of energy could trigger unimaginable changes. He wanted these cards to be born in the Federation, in the hands of countless card-makers—not just for himself. Through countless repetitions, he sought to understand the flow of energy: at which point to draw, how much force to use. Every detail demanded his full concentration to perceive and summarize.

Before beginning, Longyin shut off the communicator—no one could disturb him. Once he started, he was wholly immersed in the marvelous card-making system, his spiritual power meticulously tracing the patterns thousands upon thousands of times. Each repetition deepened his insight into the system, building and overturning, again and again, as if there were no end. To prevent any break in the experience, he maintained a balance between the consumption and regeneration of his spiritual power. Though the load was heavy, he discovered that with each cycle, his spiritual power became more refined—a discovery that delighted him. Spiritual power could be honed this way. At a certain moment, Longyin paused, struck by sudden clarity—it was as if enlightenment had dawned upon him. He realized that breaking through from SS-level to SSS-level spiritual power was not only a matter of quantity but also of quality.

To achieve an SS-level breakthrough to SSS-level, he must continually purify his spiritual power. The true benefits would only be felt once he returned to reality. Now, excited, he carefully maintained the consumption, pouring himself into the exploration of energy structures.

Longyin had no idea how long he’d been at it. When he finally awoke, Yuan Shaolin seemed to exhale in relief. “You slept for two weeks! No matter how we tried, you wouldn’t wake, so I had to give you IV nutrients.”

Removing the IV, Yuan Shaolin said, “I made some porridge—eat a little first.” Longyin was still groggy but obediently took the spoon, sipping the soft, mushy rice. As the porridge settled in his stomach, he jolted awake. Only after finishing the bowl did his mind clear.

“I…” Longyin started to speak, but was overwhelmed by the stench of sweat on his body. Forgetting everything else, he rushed into the bathroom, scrubbed himself thoroughly, brushed his teeth twice, and finally emerged refreshed. Looking around, he saw that Yuan Shaolin had already changed the bedding.

His Highness truly had the qualities of a virtuous spouse!

Longyin sank into the sofa, appearing lazy, but Yuan Shaolin caught the occasional flash of excitement in his eyes. The past two weeks had worried him deeply, and now curiosity burned, “What happened these last two weeks?”

Longyin had no intention of hiding it. A joyful smile blossomed on his face. “I’ve found a shortcut to breaking through to SSS-level spiritual power!”

Yuan Shaolin was momentarily stunned. “Breaking through to SSS-level?”

Longyin nodded with a smile. “Yes.”

Yuan Shaolin drew in a sharp breath—the significance was immense. In history, every card-maker recorded to have reached SSS-level spiritual power had undoubtedly ascended to the pinnacle—the rank of Divine Card-Maker!

Realizing the gravity, Yuan Shaolin lunged at Longyin, covering his mouth. “Never say such a thing again!”

“Mmm, mmm!” Longyin nodded innocently, prompting Yuan Shaolin to release his hand, his face a mix of surprise and fear.

Longyin shifted Yuan Shaolin’s sword hilt aside and sprawled across him, grinning. After a few minutes, Yuan Shaolin finally peeled him off, “Are you part snake? If you’re not boneless, sit properly!”

Longyin sat obediently, sensing that Yuan Shaolin’s next words would be serious.

“You slept for two weeks.”

Longyin nodded. Though it was a long nap, he felt it was worth every moment given the gains. “Did anything happen?”

Yuan Shaolin’s grave expression deepened. “In three days, the Card-Maker Academy’s off-campus training begins.”

“Oh!” Longyin nodded, having been prepared for this two weeks ago. Now that the time was near, he felt no ripple of emotion.

“Do you not care about anything else?” Yuan Shaolin asked, puzzled.

Longyin turned, looking completely justified. “With you all here, why should I worry?”

Yuan Shaolin could only smile wryly, his feelings mixed. “Are you overestimating us?”

Longyin shrugged. “Let’s have a meeting tonight.”

Yuan Shaolin nodded. “I’ll notify everyone.” He turned and left, as if arguing further was pointless. In truth, it wasn’t meaningless. Catching a glimpse of Yuan Shaolin’s reddened ears, Longyin sighed—how shy his Highness was.

Longyin stood, stretching his slender frame, bones cracking. After two weeks of sleep, his joints were stiff—painful, yet strangely enjoyable.

When a polite knock sounded, Longyin paused, smiling as he walked to the door. He wasn’t surprised to see Jian Zhen. The little girl wore her hair in long braids draped over her chest, dressed in a sleeveless white dress and matching white sandals. She was adorable, though her expression was far too serious. Longyin thought so, then patted her head, “Did your brother send you to find me?”

She nodded, curiosity in her eyes. Two weeks of sleep seemed to have made her regard him as a monster. Longyin didn’t explain, but gently said, “Jian Zhen, you’re still young—such a serious expression doesn’t suit you. Smile for me—yes, lift the corners of your mouth, good. Remember, always smile like this.”

Jian Zhen was unaccustomed, rubbing her face, but under Longyin’s gaze, she managed to smile. Though her clever mind saw nothing to be happy about, her brother’s command was instinctively obeyed, so even in the room, her mouth stayed upturned. Seeing this, Jian Ming was taken aback, then smiled himself. The next moment, his eyes grew moist. Looking at Longyin, he said, “You always do so easily what I cannot!”

Longyin smiled, saying nothing. “People can be sad sometimes, but never forget how to smile—it’s the most direct way to express happiness. Even if there’s nothing funny, if you keep smiling, the sadness seems to fade.”

Jian Ming, eyes brimming with warmth, looked lovingly at the little girl’s smile and nodded, “You’re right. Thank you for making Jian Zhen smile.”

Longyin shook his head, “Such gratitude is embarrassing. But enough—why did you send Jian Zhen to me?”

Jian Ming took a deep breath, speaking solemnly, “Jian Zhen is suited for underground work. Could she follow His Highness?”

Longyin looked deeply at Jian Ming, then glanced at Jian Zhen. When he raised his head again, he said coolly, “Is it because of her ability?”

Jian Ming’s mouth fell open in shock, disbelief on his face. Then, suddenly, he smiled, and as he smiled, tears flowed. His voice was self-mocking, “So the family secret is nothing after all…”

Longyin spoke gently, “I don’t know what secrets your family has. I just thought, if you want your sister to join His Highness’s team, she must have some special ability.”

Jian Ming wiped his tears and shook his head, “To some, secrets are never secrets. I just felt suddenly sad. Boss, you’re right—my sister has a unique ability. She can see into people’s hearts, sensing who is good and who is bad. In such circumstances, His Highness surely needs someone who can help him judge people. So…”

“Good!” Longyin interrupted, nodding with a smile at Jian Ming’s surprise. “Since Jian Zhen has such a wonderful talent, there’s no reason to waste it.”

“But…” Jian Ming frowned, “Don’t you suspect us siblings? Don’t you think I’m following Uncle Ke, and letting my sister follow His Highness, for ulterior motives?”

Longyin shook his head, smiling. “Employ those you trust, trust those you employ! Since I’ve chosen you two, I don’t fear betrayal. If I’m not worried, why should you be? In these two weeks, you must have learned something about Cardless World. Apart from a few people, most are untrustworthy, with questionable motives. If I kept doubting, I’d accomplish nothing! Do you understand?”

Jian Ming nodded, admiration shining in his eyes. “Boss, you always surprise me!”

Longyin smiled, waving his hand. “Keep your heart steady. You’ll find what you want to do—with the platform I give you, it’s just a step forward. Meeting tonight—don’t be late!”

Longyin closed the door and left, leaving Jian Ming staring at the ceiling. A cool little hand wiped the tears from his face. Jian Ming turned to the owner of the hand, asking, “Little Zhen, can we really do this?”

Jian Zhen carefully wiped his tears, her braids swaying, lips tinged with a smile and eyes sparkling. Jian Ming stared for a long time, then murmured, “Little Zhen, we absolutely can!”

At that moment, the girl looked at Jian Ming, then rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes and listening to his heartbeat. Her smile grew more genuine, and Jian Ming, seeing this, struggled to raise his hand and placed it gently atop her head. She nuzzled against him, her smile becoming ever more real.

“Little Zhen, your brother swears—no one will ever hurt you again!”

The little girl clung to Jian Ming’s hand, quietly savoring its warmth.

As Longyin left, he glanced back at Jian Ming’s room, checked the time, and set out to find someone—a person whose profile had long weighed on his mind. Opening the door, he saw Yuan Shaolin slip out. “Where are you going?”

“To see someone you don’t want to see.”

Yuan Shaolin paused, his expression changing as he guessed whom Longyin meant. “Why see him?”

“That’s not for me to say. Uncle Ke asked me to go—he said you could come along or not, but I must go and talk to him. I can’t refuse!”

Suddenly, Yuan Shaolin kicked a hole in the wall, his eyes reddening. “You’re not allowed to go!”

“No!” Witnessing Yuan Shaolin’s greatest outburst ever only strengthened Longyin’s resolve. “I must go!”

With that, Longyin opened the door and walked out, ignoring Yuan Shaolin’s murderous gaze. Yuan Shaolin seemed to struggle to contain his rage, breathing heavily, fists clenched, his eyes bloodshot. As Longyin’s figure retreated, Yuan Shaolin swung a fist, smashing the wall with a thunderous crash, lips pressed tight, anger in the corner of his mouth, a cold glint in his eyes—but in the end, he followed.

Longyin deliberately slowed his pace, relaxing when he sensed Yuan Shaolin behind him. Why did his heart ease? He didn’t know, but somehow felt things would be better with Yuan Shaolin along.

He waited at the roadside, watching for the figure in the distance. When he spotted that cold silhouette, Longyin’s eyes brightened, and he greeted him with a smile, “Mentor Ronghua! Uncle Ke sent me to speak with you!”

Ronghua, seeing Longyin from afar, was surprised. He’d intended to nod and pass by, but Longyin’s words froze him in place. When he caught sight of the gloomy, icy figure in the distance, Ronghua’s heart seemed to drop into an ice cellar, his face turning pale. But after years of stoic endurance, he nodded stiffly, “Come with me.”

When Longyin entered Ronghua’s residence, he was startled by its extreme simplicity. It was utterly empty—not even a table. Longyin looked up in confusion at the famously cold mentor, “Mentor Ronghua, have you always lived like an ascetic?”

Ronghua said nothing, glancing at the person not far from the residence. Then, silently, he pulled out a bamboo mat from the corner and spread it out. Longyin glanced at the doorway, then suddenly let out a piercing scream, startling even Ronghua. A shadow flashed inside, and Longyin quickly shut the door, grinning at His Highness, “A cockroach scared me just now!”

Yuan Shaolin’s face was cold. Now that he was inside, he had no intention of leaving, standing silently in the corner’s shadows, radiating chill.

“Mentor Ronghua, could you sit down? Standing makes my neck sore!” Longyin’s words snapped Ronghua out of his daze, still staring at Yuan Shaolin.

Ronghua turned, nodded, a flash of gratitude in his eyes, and sat cross-legged opposite Longyin.

Longyin propped a knee with one hand, chin with the other. “Mentor Ronghua, whose side are you on now—the Yuan family or the Ji family?”

Such directness made Ronghua’s face pale. He glanced at Yuan Shaolin, a hint of sorrow on his stern features. “I was never one of the Yuan family.”

“So you’re from the Ji family?”

Ronghua lowered his head, giving a bitter smile. “I’ve already been cast out of the Ji family.”

Longyin’s eyes flashed in surprise. He straightened, looking intently at Ronghua. “Uncle Ke asked me to ask you—what really happened all those years ago?”

As soon as he spoke, the vast space was filled with the sound of heavy breathing from the shadowed corner.