Chapter Forty-Two: Unaware of Warmth and Cold

Countless threads of fortune in the world converge, melding into a roaring, endless river. This is the River of Destiny for this realm—its very Heaven’s Law.

The river flows unceasingly, indestructible and unbreakable. As long as its roots remain, so long as this world is not obliterated into dust and nothingness, it stands undefeated. Even if it dwindles, there will come a day when it revives and grows strong once more.

Heaven’s Law possesses a hint of self-awareness, yet this consciousness is bound by its own rules, unable to transcend them. Thus, even knowing that Liu Ping is a lucky seed from another world, it cannot directly descend to crush him with its might.

In truth, it could cooperate with the Celestial Court, and in but a moment, Liu Ping would be reduced to ashes. But mortals are mortals, and Heaven’s Law is Heaven’s Law; it knows neither compromise nor cooperation. So, seeing that the calamity of the Three-Colored Solar Fire could not harm Liu Ping, it relented and withdrew the flames.

Passing through this ordeal, just before losing consciousness, Liu Ping vaguely sensed certain mysteries. He understood why such an unexpected turn had occurred during the trial by solar fire.

Yet… even knowing this, what could he do? This Heaven’s Law is the world itself. Should he really cry out, “It’s not me who’s wrong—it’s this world!” and declare a rebellion against Heaven, Earth, and the gods?

Or perhaps utter those grandiose phrases, “Let this sky not obscure my eyes, let this earth not bury my heart,” and the like?

No matter how impressive or ostentatious such words might be, were he to utter them, the so-called gods three feet above would surely know in moments, and he’d suffer dire consequences.

Thus, after cursing Heaven’s Law fiercely upon sensing its mysteries, he slipped uncontrollably into a deep sleep.

How long he slept, he knew not. When he finally squinted his eyes and awoke, the room felt familiar—it must be the same chamber he’d retired to that night.

“Ah… ugh! Such pain!” Opening his eyes, he felt an unbearable agony in his head, as though it might explode. He couldn’t help but cry out in pain, immediately noticing how hoarse his throat was.

“Did my soul suffer harm during the calamity…” He pressed his temples hard, feeling weak. Though his physical state was quite good, his spirit was poor, leaving him uncomfortable.

Resting on the soft couch for a while, the door swung open, and a small figure slipped past the screen, coming to stand before Liu Ping.

“Uncle, you’re awake!” Flower looked at the newly conscious Liu Ping, her joy evident.

Liu Ping managed a weak acknowledgment and instructed, “My throat’s dry. Pour me some tea.”

“Alright.” The little girl nodded, quickly running to the room’s side chamber, fetching a cup of tea and returning to feed it to him.

Her attentive care softened Liu Ping’s impression of her somewhat, though the tea was rather scant. Just as he was about to say something, Flower smiled and asked, “Uncle, would you like more water?”

“Mm.” Liu Ping nodded, “You really are clever.”

“Hehe, of course I’m very clever!” Flower replied smugly, then brought several more cups of tea, feeding them to Liu Ping one by one.

This tea was no ordinary brew; a faint golden hue shimmered in the liquid, spiritual energy overflowing, the fragrance pure and intoxicating. After several cups, the splitting headache and hoarseness eased considerably.

Yet he remained weak—the damage to his soul could only be mended through cultivation. External remedies could only assist, not cure directly.

Liu Ping asked, “Little Flower, how long was I unconscious?”

---

Flower replied, “Uncle, you’ve been unconscious for a whole day. It’s morning now—I just finished breakfast and came to check, not expecting you to have woken up already.”

“A whole day? That’s not too long, really.” Liu Ping was surprised, recalling the perilous ordeal before fainting. He couldn’t help but feel a quiet relief—had he faltered or lost the will to survive, his soul would have been scattered long ago.

Flower said, “Right, since you’re awake, I’ll go inform Master and the others, and bring you some Eight Treasure Porridge.”

Liu Ping nodded, “Alright, go ahead.”

With that, Flower dashed away, and soon Drunken Dust arrived with Flower and Leaf in tow.

“Junior Brother, you’re finally awake! I’ve been so worried.” Drunken Dust smiled, seeing Liu Ping looking reasonably well.

“I’ve troubled you, Senior Sister.”

“Mm, have some porridge to nourish yourself,” Drunken Dust said, then turned and left.

Seeing his senior sister leave after such a brief greeting, Liu Ping couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

He sighed slightly, falling into a quiet gloom. The two young girls beside him found it odd but said nothing.

Flower tried to feed Liu Ping again, but he refused.

When he’d just awoken, his body was so uncomfortable that he accepted her help. Now, having recovered somewhat and able to move, further assistance felt unnecessary.

“I can manage myself, Little Flower. Don’t trouble yourself.”

Flower didn’t insist, instead sitting on the couch and chatting idly with Liu Ping. Her lively, adorable demeanor lifted his spirits.

Leaf, meanwhile, couldn’t find an opportunity to join the conversation and grew frustrated. After a while, she huffed and left.

Flower’s mind was less burdened than Leaf’s, so it was easy to glean information from her.

Still somewhat dissatisfied, Liu Ping asked about Drunken Dust’s attitude during his coma, and Flower readily replied that she’d been quite concerned. This eased his gloom a bit.

But Flower was no fool—indeed, she was clever and mischievous. Observing Liu Ping’s expression after answering, and connecting it with her master’s earlier sighs, she suddenly understood and whispered with a grin, “Uncle, do you like Master?”

As Liu Ping slowly ate porridge and sipped tea, he nearly choked, almost spitting out his drink.

He coughed repeatedly, glaring at the girl, “What nonsense are you spouting?”

Flower only smiled slyly, her expression saying, “I know everything,” which left Liu Ping even more vexed. What a cunning little thing.

Afterwards, Liu Ping rested quietly. At noon, as he was eating, Flower returned again.

The meal was still Eight Treasure Porridge and small dishes. Liu Ping paid it little mind, but when night came and Flower brought the same porridge and dishes, he couldn’t help but ask, “Is all we have Eight Treasure Porridge and small dishes?”

“Yes,” came the straightforward reply.

“But the side dishes do change now and then,” Flower added. “Anyway, isn’t Eight Treasure Porridge delicious? Why complain, Uncle?”

“Only Eight Treasure Porridge…” Liu Ping muttered, “Though it’s sweet and tasty, eating it constantly—aren’t you all tired of it?”

---

Flower answered, “I do get tired of it sometimes, but Leaf cooks, and she likes these dishes, plus she’s only good at making them. So we’ve always eaten them. Only when Master goes out and brings back something do we get a change of flavor.”

Liu Ping sighed, “That’s really hard on you. Once I recover, I’ll cook for you, so you can taste real delicacies.”

Flower clapped with delight, “Good! I’m looking forward to it. Uncle, you’re so nice. Master is much lazier, never cares about these things.”

“Did you dare call me lazy?” Suddenly, a figure approached from behind, snorting and patting Flower’s little head.

Flower jumped in alarm, quickly protesting, “I wouldn’t dare! I didn’t say anything! You must have misheard—it was Uncle who said it!”

Liu Ping could only smile wryly—this little one had just called him good, and now sold him out in an instant.

Drunken Dust’s face showed signs of fatigue, but her spirit was strong. She smiled, “I heard you speaking ill of me, trying to blame your uncle? You’re bold, learning to slander others now?”

At last, his senior sister appeared. But Liu Ping was surprised—why did she look so weary?

He couldn’t help but ask, “Senior Sister, why do you seem so tired?”

Drunken Dust looked at him, smiling, “Naturally, I had something to do.”

Liu Ping didn’t press, waiting for her to explain.

“This is for you.” With a flip of her hand, Drunken Dust handed him a small box.

Liu Ping quickly took it. The box was heavy, made of redwood, exquisitely crafted with carved flowers and plants—an impressive feat of artistry.

Opening it, he found a green pill inside.

“This is the Spirit-Calming Azure Pill. Your soul was damaged; refine this, and it will help restore it—nothing could be better. I spent all yesterday gathering the ingredients, barely managing it, and as soon as you awoke, I hurried to refine it. Only now did I succeed…”

Drunken Dust smiled as she spoke. Her words struck Liu Ping’s heart, sending tremors through him. Seeing her exhausted face, he was moved, and could not help but feel guilty for his earlier complaints and loneliness; thinking back, it was laughable.

“Thank you, Senior Sister!”

His near-tearful expression startled Drunken Dust. She asked, “Is something wrong?”

Liu Ping looked into her eyes and smiled, “Nothing is wrong. Just, I’m so moved by your kindness that I lost composure.”

Drunken Dust didn’t avert her gaze, only smiled softly, “You’re my junior brother, and we share a bond. This is what I ought to do. There’s no need for all this emotion.”

Liu Ping said, “Tomorrow, I promise you a surprise.”

Drunken Dust laughed, “What surprise will you give me?”

Liu Ping replied, “You’ll see tomorrow.”

Drunken Dust was helpless. Liu Ping’s fate was chaotic and obscure—impossible to divine. Though she couldn’t control him, she didn’t dislike the feeling; in fact, she looked forward to it. “Then I’ll wait.”