Chapter 661: Doctor, Save Me! (Please Refresh)

The Water Mirror Peak originally had only one floating island, but after Su Lin got drunk, it became seven, and later increased to double digits.

Now, it can already be considered a group of floating islands.

After centuries of transformation, though mostly idle, they are all in a directly usable state.

On the immortal peak, all facilities and architectural styles can be freely modified.

For example, the one owned by Lu Mingfei: the roots of the World Tree twist and entwine, surrounding a large building constructed in the style of the Cassell College.

“Senior Xiao Ying.”

Lu Mingfei, who was touring the sect with his family and introducing teaching facilities to Anhe, nearly went numb hearing that title.

“Don’t call me senior—you’re my senior.”

Lu Mingfei had already left the escort industry; yet this unprincipled young man, Huai Shi, kept adding honorifics like “senior,” “forebear,” or “xianbei.”

Could he really be considered a senior?

In cross-dressing, you’re clearly stronger than me now!

“Didn’t you go home?” Lu Mingfei suddenly remembered: “Did you come to enroll?”

“No, I just crashed my car and am lying low here.” Huai Shi looked melancholy.

He had successfully escaped the rain-soaked night, enjoyed his showy exit—but now he had no idea what to do next.

That heartless bitch Tong Ji was still leisurely browsing the marketplace via the Universal Communication Tablet, saying if things got bad, she’d just freeze herself in Hell.

Huai Shi tapped his cigarette pack, pulling out a Liqun and putting it between his lips.

He clicked the lighter twice—still marked with the hotpot restaurant’s name and number—but not even a spark emerged.

Lao Tang saw this and snapped his fingers.

“Thanks.” Huai Shi inhaled deeply and sighed: “Change isn’t always good.”

“True,” Lu Mingfei strongly agreed, but after thinking, added: “Even my world’s geopolitical situation is a mess—but not entirely bad.”

Good?

At least I snatched a kill from Ai Qing.

But what about the future?

Wouldn’t my remaining event-limited golden card in the Ten Thousand Ages Deck turn from [King of Danbo · Huai Shi (Leader)] into [Pastoral God-Chosen · Huai Shi (Apocalypse)]?

The crow, the original instigator, was also a mess.

Huai Shi suddenly recalled Lu Xun’s saying: “Running away may be shameful, but it’s useful.”

“I often feel lonely, standing on the rooftop with that cold, isolated feeling of being too high up.”

Huai Shi set down his cigarette and said: “Could you check me? Maybe I’ve got some Blood Sorrow too.”

Feeling lost about the future, he began considering moving somewhere else.

“That’s just lack of love and middle-school angst,” Lu Mingfei couldn’t help saying: “Bro, the era of tragic youth literature is over.”

You can only get reemployed in Gao Tian Yuan, and you still have the Seat Whale’s number saved in your phone.

“Mingfei, why don’t you two chat first?” Anhe’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly, then he glanced aside.

“It’s fine—I’ve got nothing else to do,” Huai Shi said.

“Is that so?” Anhe drew his folding knife and smiled:

“Then join the class. But I can sense you’re an excellent warrior—beyond swordsmanship, you might learn little from me.”

Lu Mingfei froze; all of them simultaneously turned their gaze toward the entrance of the floating island building.

Four figures, wearing crowns, white robes, and carrying swords, staggered up the training ground’s steps.

Their skin still bore residual gray scales, branches, and feathers—distorted mutations—and they could barely stand, yet clung to consciousness by sheer will.

Wu Mengqi leaned on the sword gifted by Yan Sen, gasping: “Is the second class held here?”

“Just some monsters—no big deal,” Ran Zihao raised his four arms to show he could still fight.

Lu Mingfei felt like he was seeing those overachievers from high school.

Even if Keen had held back, Yan Sen’s disciples truly had unusual traits.

“Then, Headmaster, we leave this to you.”

Lu Mingfei activated his improved alchemical matrix, turning the area into a mana-dead zone.

“I’m not headmaster anymore—I’m just a teacher now.” Anhe drew his folding knife from the sheath on his wrist and glanced behind: “Mingfei.”

“Thank you.”

In a flash of blade, the century-old man exploded forward with speed utterly defying logic, attacking Wu Mengqi and the others.

First class: Close Combat Techniques, Instructor: Hilbert Jean Anhe

Huai Shi crumpled the cigarette butt into a tissue and shoved it into his pocket, watching the scene, eyes lowered.

“Everything that happens is for my benefit.”

He thought of that phrase—though as an art student, his high school grades weren’t great, his humanities scores were decent.

Why follow the chessboard step by step? This unexpected plot twist might change the ending.

Huai Shi idly scanned Lu Mingfei’s surroundings: Fenger cheering for Anhe, Chu Zihang expressionless beside his Dragon King girlfriend and Dragon King brother-in-law, Lao Tang playing a mobile game while hugging Konstantin.

One step at a time.

Huai Shi scratched his head, watched for a while, then silently left.

From another angle, unexpected events didn’t matter.

“You can give yourself a mental massage—sister is pleased.” The crow had landed on Huai Shi’s shoulder, holding a flyer in its beak.

“What’s this?” Huai Shi cared more about his wallet.

He’d already fled the moment he realized this wasteful woman planned to shop online.

“Let me be clear—I’m broke.”

“Sister just found a way to compensate you.”

The crow blocked Huai Shi’s head with its massive wing and said: “Have you heard the story of the wealthy woman and the escort? She compensated him for all his past birthdays.”

If you mean that married woman who gifted 28 presents to please a 28-year-old escort—

Huai Shi had heard it from Liu Dongli, but he didn’t believe this wicked woman had that much conscience.

With a rustle, Huai Shi unfolded the flyer:

[Heaven-Shrouding Forge: Collection of Rare Materials Across the Multiverse.]

[Dan Alliance: High Salary Hiring for New Pill Testers.]

[Masked Fool’s Association of Oblivion: Seeking Life Experience Officers (Roleplay as Believers, Xin Pan, Envoys).]

[Temporary Heavenly Soldier Patrol: South Heavenly Gate—50 Imperial Coins per Day (Daily Pay).]

Huai Shi stared at the information, silent.

“Sister recommends the first one—Ash of Ruin qualifies as a rare material, and we set the price.” The crow whispered in his ear:

“Go sell your blood—produce Ash of Ruin, gather a few hundred tons. When sister has money, I’ll pay you back.”

“Then we’ll order a squad of god-demon-level Didi drivers, go straight back, smash the Continuity Institute, and kidnap the White Emperor’s Son to warm your bed—how’s that?”

“Intrigued? Heh, men.”

Huai Shi turned his head, gazing back at the direction behind him.

He still felt these changes—

Blood loss.

The next day, morning.

Disciples of the Heavenly God Sect struggled to walk across the immortal peaks; some fell behind and crawled on all fours.

Wu Mengqi, Sun Xiaolu, and others had lost the determination from yesterday; Yan Sen’s assigned lessons and visits to subject teachers had only reached the third class.

Half the class went insane in the first class.

The second class was manageable—they learned many combat techniques from Teacher Anhe.

The third class, taught by Zhongli, was temporarily canceled; instead, the Toa Dragon King substituted with practical training, requiring them to use techniques from the previous class.

“Use techniques on that thing?”

The sect’s guardian beasts, An’an and Ningning, were delighted—seeing fellow demon-immortals, they ignored the students entirely and went off to play.

That was bad enough.

The real issue was this place, Heavenly Will Sect—on the surface calm, but beneath, spiritual energy explosions erupted constantly, and the phantom of the Dao River surged through.

Half the students were unreachable; Teacher Yan Sen had vanished too.

Now, they had to follow their individual schedules, finding each immortal peak to complete all classes.

“Lucky we met you two—I’d have been lost without you,” Wu Mengqi sighed:

“Yu Feng, Congniang, do you go through this every day?”

Congniang rubbed her face in embarrassment—she was here to water the herb garden with diluted Green Liquid.

“It’s fine,” Yu Feng floated in midair, playing on his phone:

“So you must understand—there are no stats, only effort and sweat.”

“Big brother, have some dignity,” Congniang said.

Soon after, the exhausted group arrived at Sword Peak.

“Alchemy instruction?” Sun Xiaolu checked her schedule.

Sword Peak Elder · Alchemy Instructor: Emiya Shirou (Note: When this teacher jumps, close your eyes immediately.)

“Even a warning like this?” Yu Feng exclaimed:

“Let me add some more taboos for you.”

Do not touch the Propagation Stele at the entrance of the Heaven’s Dao Library; there is no instant enlightenment that grants sudden ascension. If you see a glowing bronze automaton in the herb field, run immediately; Interior Elder Zhongli is a good man, but refuse his invitations; do not pluck spiritual or immortal fruits casually, especially not in front of an ordinary, unassuming person.

“Is this a school rule?”

“No, it’s a survival guideline.”

Yu Feng said: “There are many more. For example, if you see someone wearing a monocle and calling themselves a classmate, stay far away from them.”

What kind of sect is this even supposed to be?

Wu Mengqi’s lips twitched, then she saw a red-haired young man, shirtless, training beneath the mountain gate not far off.

His muscles were sharply defined; as he moved, their contours flickered beneath his skin, revealing the beauty of raw power.

His long sword swung, sweat flying in droplets.

Some girls blushed; a couple of boys swallowed hard.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about when you’d arrive, so I started training.” Weigong Shirou’s divine energy surged, evaporating his sweat as he quickly dressed himself.

“I’m supposed to teach others, but I’m not very good at it either. Please follow me for now.”

Weigong Shirou turned and walked into a newly opened space.

“Xiao Lu, stop zoning out.” Sun Xiaolu waved her hand in front of Wu Mengqi’s face and smirked:

“Even if he looks about our age, has a baby face, and is ridiculously good-looking, you still can’t disrespect your master~”

“No.” Wu Mengqi stared blankly at her own trembling sword hand.

When he trained with his long sword just now, she had faintly heard the sound of tidal waves formed by sword qi—as if her soul was being washed clean, shattered by the blade’s radiance.

If Yan Sen’s sword was exquisitely precise, severing all things, then the illusion she perceived was sword qi like a shimmering glow, transforming into infinity.

She forced a faint smile, her eyes alight with excitement and curiosity, and stepped first into that space.

A rich aroma rushed toward her.

“?”

“The rice is done, classmate—help me hand out bowls and chopsticks.”

Weigong Shirou glanced back and said: “Wait a moment—the sea beast in the oven isn’t cooked yet. By the way—”

“Does anyone want to learn cooking from me?”

Everyone stared, then slowly shook their heads. Weigong Shirou sighed and withdrew his gaze.

[Task (Remember Your Original Intent): Given the host’s excessive use of high-end ingredients recently—not only exceeding your own capability, but also detecting external interference and auxiliary plugins.]

Therefore, the system has issued a special task: create a new dish using ordinary ingredients and earn the satisfaction of diners.]

‘Maybe I should just let Ma Xianhong substitute for me.’

Weigong Shirou believed he could not match Ma Xianhong in the study of artifact forging.

When it came to crafting weapons, he mostly just visualized their shapes in his mind, then skipped all intermediate steps and projected them directly.

It had become a conditioned reflex due to his work.

Let me think… what’s the basic requirement for forging a magical artifact? Start hammering bare-chested?

No, no, no—I’m not Qianzi Cunzheng.

Better ask Zhongli via the chat group.

Weigong Shirou, realizing he was utterly unfit for this role, opened the chat group.

Su Lin: “Everyone on Water Mirror Peak, lie down!!!”

Huh?

A flash of white light, embracing all things.

With a thunderous crash, waves of light surged upward.

It seemed like an ocean swallowing the heavens, carrying countless laws—vague yet real, ever-fusing, condensing into layered universes.

Su Lin floated within it; in a daze, Weigong Shirou thought he saw incomprehensible lights being born.

Then a hand reached from the void and struck Su Lin’s chest—the layered universes instantly curled inward, collapsing into a single point.

Su Lin fell from the peak of Water Mirror Mountain; purple light rippled, condensing into a magnificent purple imperial robe.

Weigong Shirou swallowed hard and kept reading the group.

Weigong Shirou: “What just happened?”

Zhongli: “Yan Sen just tried using his created multiverse as a vessel for Su Lin’s spiritual will, but it seems…”

Yan Sen: “Even embedding a multiverse didn’t work?”

“Why would you think it would?!!! I nearly exploded! My Heaven’s Dao nearly went berserk too, you damn idiot!” Su Lin shouted from the ground.

If given another chance, he would never choose to be Yan Sen’s test subject.

This isn’t healing at all?!

[Don’t go!]

“I won’t leave, I won’t leave!” Su Lin hastily soothed the Heaven’s Dao, which had invisibly wrapped him tightly:

“Truly! Even if I abandon this body, I won’t leave—don’t hurt him!”

The Heaven’s Dao, who had already eaten and fallen asleep, had awakened due to Yan Sen’s attempt and now transmitted urgent, agitated thoughts to Su Lin.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Yan Sen mused.

“From my observation, Su’s Heaven’s Dao laws, though incomplete and inconsistent, also possess a remarkable capacity for inclusion.”

“Then why do the laws I transmit trigger rejection?”

Su Lin weakly lifted his hand: “I think I need a proper doctor.”

“A proper doctor?”

Kaguya thought for a moment, then replied: “I happen to know one.”

Not far away, Song Shu, leaning against a wall and gasping, shouted: “I need a doctor too!”

A flash of blade light—head severed, blood splattered across Zhang Chulan’s face.

On the streets of New York, a dense army of undead, alongside a dozen skeletal Death Gods in traditional black cloaks, raised their scythes toward this place.

Roar—! The Death God who had severed Song Shu’s head pointed at Kaguya; all the bizarre entities surged forward.

“I want to go home,” Zhang Chulan murmured.

This was supposed to be a rule-based dungeon—why are the Death Gods fighting personally? Did something go wrong?