Futile Devices Scans

Wenren Li drew Chen Yixin tighter into his embrace.

There were words he had never spoken aloud. Partly, he had wished for Chen Yixin to remember on his own… but truthfully, he had also been afraid—afraid that Chen Yixin would resent him.

“A-Rong… I’m sorry. I made you wait all these years.”

Whether it had been helpless circumstance or sheer inability, this apology was a debt he owed.

Chen Yixin’s body stiffened for several breaths. In that instant, even he could not tell whether he felt joy or anger, sorrow or relief.

A-Hua had not died.

Wenren Li… was A-Hua.

They had fallen for each other once more. They had found their way back together.

Wenren Li lowered his gaze to Chen Yixin’s conflicted expression, yet he had no intention of allowing him time to dwell. With a light tap of his finger against Chen Yixin’s brow, he directly transmitted the memories of their past acquaintance into his mind.

“Oho, you even know how to dodge?”

A youth clad in white crouched before the lone sapling in the courtyard’s tiny nursery patch. One finger wasn’t enough—both hands came into play, poking left and right, thoroughly amused.

“Looks like you’ve awakened spiritual intelligence… Come, let’s chat about the Xiguang Plains… You don’t know? Then how about some gossip—Old Lin next door and his wife, how long have they known each other…?”

Chen Yixin chattered on endlessly, utterly unwilling to spare the little sapling that had already turned its back to him.

“Hey—if you don’t respond, I’m plucking that bud of yours.”

He spoke with a grin, then suddenly lowered his head and planted a kiss on the tiny bud.

Before the naked eye, the emerald-green sapling flushed pink in an instant.

“Hahaha—!”

His bright laughter echoed through the courtyard.

Chen Yixin remained in the small yard for over half a month. Each day, he wandered about the town—and when he returned, he would inevitably tease this bashful little sapling.

Two days later, he abruptly packed his things to leave. Yet after stepping out of the courtyard, he paused… then turned back toward the nursery.

“This town is too strange. If you stay here, who knows when you’ll be devoured. Come with me.”

The sapling, as always, turned away in refusal.

Chen Yixin fell silent for a moment—then acted.

From his storage pouch, he took out a weathered, gray earthen pot and forcibly transplanted the sapling into it.

“This was my prize for first place in the sect tournament—picked it from the treasury. Thought I’d struck a bargain… who knew a grand immortal sect would pass off a fake pot? Can only use it for planting flowers…”

He had studied the pot carefully; aside from growing plants, it seemed to serve no other purpose.

He despised it.

Yet the sapling—Wenren Li’s spiritual form—was utterly stunned.

For two thousand years, he had been rooted here. Many had entered this place by chance; many had tried to take him away. All had failed.

This earthen pot… was anything but ordinary.

By the time Wenren Li finished pondering, he had already been tied to Chen Yixin’s waist and carried out of the town.

“Beneath the town god’s temple lie countless bones. I suspect… none of the townsfolk are human.”

Only after they had gone far did Chen Yixin explain.

If not human, then surely man-eating fiends or bloodthirsty spirits. That was why he feared this newly awakened little being might be devoured.

He glanced down at the trembling bud and gently stroked it.

“Don’t worry. If we can’t fight them, we can still run. When our cultivation is strong enough, we’ll return and deliver them.”

Chen Yixin had never suspected the sapling of being something sinister.

Aside from possessing a supreme single ice spiritual root, he also bore an exceedingly rare constitution—one sealed since birth within the Chen Clan of Zhenhai.

During this crisis, he had unsealed one layer. Even that alone allowed him to sense anomalies—the town’s strangeness, and the sapling’s pure spiritual essence.

As he walked, Chen Yixin examined the one-third fragment of an ancient jade pendant he had retrieved from beneath the temple.

“Looks like part of a map… pity it’s incomplete.”

He poked the sapling again.

“A-Hua, why are you sleeping? Sleep again and I’ll start touching you.”

At once, the drooping bud perked upright.

Chen Yixin curved his lips, suppressing his laughter.

Night had fully fallen. The winds of the Xiguang Plains howled unpredictably; flying here was tantamount to courting death—they could only proceed on foot.

He walked from night until dawn. Endless yellow sands stretched around him, indistinguishable from before.

Finding a sheltered spot, he spread silk cloth from his storage pouch and sat.

“My master has a fist-sized Weaving Cloud—soft as can be. If it were bigger, I’d have brought it as a cushion…”

Alas, he could only sit upon silk over sand.

He removed the sapling from his waist, cradled it, and began to meditate.

Moments later, the jade pendant at his neck floated up. A pale-blue stream of light poured into his brow—another seal undone.

His appearance remained unchanged, yet his entire aura transformed.

Radiant as divine light—like an immortal descended to the mortal realm.

A pillar of light almost surged skyward—yet the sapling swayed lightly, suppressing the phenomenon entirely.

Two hours later, Chen Yixin opened his eyes.

A trace of awe-inspiring brilliance lingered—then softened.

He lowered his head, stole another kiss from the sapling, and smiled—mischievous, yet striking.

“I’ve found a lead. Looks like we can enter the Burning Heaven Nether Palace ahead of time.”

He tossed the jade fragment; a black-red glow emerged, guiding their path.

As he rose, intending to carry the sapling, it suddenly moved.

The earthen pot shrank rapidly, perching atop the bud. Roots curled around his robes, climbing laboriously up to his shoulder.

Chen Yixin raised a hand and caught it, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh? Not bad—you even know how to dislike me now?”

Thus far, he had only ever teased this leafless sapling—and now it dared show disdain.

With a flick of his finger, the pot lifted slightly. He opened his mouth and took the bud between his lips.

There was no particular taste—just the fresh fragrance of vegetation.

Not bad.

After a few steps, he released it. Seeing the roots flush pink, he smiled in satisfaction.

“I’m your savior. You can dislike anyone—but not me. Understood?”

The sapling fell utterly still.

Even Chen Yixin’s special constitution could not sense its emotions—only emptiness, as though deeply shaken.

I only licked it once…

He checked the bud, then replaced the pot. The sapling remained pink and dazed—for three days before recovering.

From then on, Chen Yixin learned its temperament. He softened his teasing, though the urge never fully left him.

“Here.”

After ten days across the desert, he found a small mound.

Spreading silk once more, he sat and directed his spirit sword to dig while chatting.

“A-Hua… I was wrong, alright?”

His expression was solemn, his tone sincere.

The roots tapped his shoulder thoughtfully—then, at last, nudged his neck in agreement.

For the sapling, the earthen pot was of utmost importance. For its sake alone, it would not oppose him.

Chen Yixin’s brows lifted; his seriousness vanished.

He scooped the sapling up and ran his hands over it.

“Cool to the touch… A-Hua feels so nice.”

Notoriously fastidious, he rarely found anything to his liking—even his master, Yun Yazi, had been driven to exhaustion trying.

Yet this shy, amusing sapling… he genuinely adored.

The sapling blushed again, but grew far more compliant.

They remained there as he dug for an entire month, carving out a narrow tunnel beneath the mound.

Afterward, he stored his belongings, placed the sapling on his shoulder, and entered.

“Being this shy won’t do. I’m your savior—whatever I do to you is only natural.”

His tone was utterly matter-of-fact.

He had uprooted it, carried it away—and now claimed a life-debt it could never repay.

“If you don’t understand, just remember it.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing the earthen pot. With a faint grimace, he muttered:

“Still, A-Hua is better to kiss…”

The sapling swayed as they advanced. Half an hour later, before reaching the true entrance, it shrank the pot further—leaving only a tiny tip atop the bud exposed.

Chen Yixin leaned in and kissed it again.

“Good A-Hua.”

The sapling flushed pink once more—but did not resist.

Compared to letting Chen Yixin kiss the earthen pot, it would much rather he kissed its flower bud.

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