Perhaps even No. 1 wouldn’t have expected it when he had said “you’d have me control these ants” in First High School not too long ago. In the blink of an eye, to scour for more information about his nemesis and to monitor his movements, he’d, in a phenomenal display of double standards, fix a puppet string on the other person’s blue bicolour British shorthair.
But all that was moot now. The point was that he was actually caught red-handed.
More importantly, the Magician had not touched the puppet string nor done a tarot reading before that. What caused things to go south was actually his, if you ask him, perfectly stellar acting.
It had to be said that to the Devil, whose passion was in acting and stirring trouble, this was an outright disgrace.
AD
However, naturally, Zong Jiu didn’t care a whit about that.
At first, Zong Jiu was merely a little suspicious about the cat’s abnormal behaviour today, so he put on a special show at the bathroom door—and sure enough, things unfolded as he thought it would.
Hur hur. After the faux pas with No. 8 Dark Warlock in First High School, Zong Jiu would never fall for it again!
The white-haired young man, only clothed in a pair of underpants, whisked the cat away with one hand, while his other hand unhesitatingly snapped the puppet string. Only after ascertaining that he had not erred did he then set the cat down, tickling its nape with his fingertips in consolation.
The blue bicolour cat’s eyes were restored to its usual icy blue, and it haughtily cast him a look, as if saying—You hooman, how dare you pick your master up by the scruff, insolence!
Zong Jiu, “…”
As much as he missed the clingy cat from just now, this was truly the temper that a cat should have.
The young man stroked the blue bicolour cat’s round pudgy head, immersed in thought. “Speaking of which, I don’t think I’ve given you a name yet.”
Zong Jiu was born with a deep fondness for cats.
AD
In his younger years in the orphanage, the old nun had also raised an orange cat.
Unfortunately, the nun was well into her years, the cat as well. Later when the old nun passed on, the orange cat was entrusted to Zong Jiu.
At the funeral, Zong Jiu watched as the coffin was buried deep into the ground, a black iron cross gleaming above the headstone. In the distance, a pastor read scriptures in monotone, resonantly reciting, “She has rested all toil, and her spirit has returned unto the Lord’s embrace. Amen.”
And then when the orange cat passed on, Zong Jiu found a metal box. He took the cat to the cemetery at midnight, dug up the earth with a shovel, and buried it there.
Those were during the days of his naivety. He thought that burying it here would allow it to go to heaven, and so he hoped that the orange cat would, as the pastor had said, be received by its master and rest in her arms.
Afterwards, he took an apprenticeship under a magician, displaying a stunning aptitude for magic. He toured around the globe, and because he was constantly on the move, it was difficult to settle down. With that, the matter of taking care of a cat was put on hold, eventually not coming to be.
Then, he injured his hands and, even more so now, couldn’t bring himself into the mood to take care of a cat. Little did he expect that after spinning around in circles, it was actually through transmigrating into a book that he finally fulfilled his long-cherished wish.
“I got it.”
Looking into the cat’s icy blue eyes, the corners of Zong Jiu’s lips cocked upwards. “Let’s call you the Great Demon King.”
The Great Demon King was obviously displeased with its new name. After sliding him a sidelong glance, it elegantly stalked away, off to take a great snooze. Left stranded, the Magician shrugged, then turned around and carried on with his own grand bath.
The warm bath seemed to wash all his fatigue away.
Moving from First High School to the trainee dormitories, in a hyperbole, was like transmigrating from the twentieth century to modern civilisation.
Zong Jiu fastened the sash around his bathrobe, walked over to dry his hair with a hair dryer, then went back to the bed, turning off the light at the nightstand.
Qlat j “vlcu”, atf ktbif relaf aegcfv vjgx. Ycis atf olgf lc atf olgfqijmf mbcalcefv ab ifjq, lar oijwfr oilmxfglcu.
Ktfgf kjr j rqfii bo rlifcmf, ktfc jii bo j revvfc, atfgf rffwfv ab yf ubbfs rtjvbkr rklwwlcu lc atf vjgxcfrr, obgylvvlcu rqfmagfr jwjrrlcu jcv fcubgulcu—yea lc atf cfza rfmbcv, atfs jygeqais vlrrlqjafv ilxf j alvf.
On the big and soft bed, the young man’s long silvery-white eyelashes twitched slightly. He vigilantly opened his eyes.
However, even after ten minutes had passed, no other movement appeared in the suite.
To naught, Zong Jiu slowly shut his eyes again.
Outside the window, heavy snow fluttered like cotton wool, gilding the tall tree canopy in silver.
The Great Demon King was snuggled next to the fireplace, its tail swishing around lackadaisically every now and then.
All was still.
—
It was already the next day when Zong Jiu roused.
The rest had refreshed his spirit and filled his body with energy.
He ordered his breakfast on the hologram while in bed, then got up to brush his teeth. A tuxedoed butler pushed a silver dining trolley and knocked on his door.
The A-rank butler poured him a steaming cup of soya milk, drizzled the hollandaise sauce around an eggs benedict set on white bread, uncovered a bamboo steamer with dimsum inside, and finally laid freshly-baked dough fritters on grease paper, arranging the napkin and cutlery for him. With a professional smile, he bowed down to place a bowl of boiled chicken at just the right temperature before respectfully retreating.
Before enjoying this sumptuous breakfast, Zong Jiu checked with the Tarot Deck that the considerate butler wasn’t being manipulated by No. 1, who seemed increasingly like he had nothing better to do, then digging in.
To his surprise, an uninvited guest suddenly appeared outside his door just then.
“Rapt, rapt, rapt.”
When the knocks started, the Magician was in the middle of cutting a bacon strip, contemplating which body parts to enhance with the eight thousand survival points he received from ranking up.
The idea had come to Zong Jiu before, when he was at a disadvantage in a fight against the Devil.
Once he had built up his body strength, wouldn’t every punch land a solid strike on No. 1?
His thoughts interrupted, Zong Jiu lazily put down the cutlery, clicking on the surveillance access on the hologram.
After seeing who was outside, the white-haired young man arched a brow.
Oh-hoh. Who would have guessed. Before he had even gone over, the other came knocking in person.
That was right. At the door was none other than that villainous military adviser, Zhuge An.
Zong Jiu pressed the button to open the door on the hologram, and the dark wooden carved doors silently slid open from the sides, revealing the warmly lit doorway.
The dark-haired man, dressed in a black Taoist robe in the way of the immortals, stirred wind in the wake of his steps. He walked in without looking around, his face as calm and cold as ever, without the slightest billow.
“A rare guest.”
The white-haired young man was still seated on the bed. He lazily propped his head up on a hand, waving the cup of soya milk for emphasis. “Have you had breakfast? Shall we eat together?”
The butler was really too considerate, setting up a long table across the bed and setting the breakfast on it.
Once getting up in the morning one could lie in bed and have breakfast. It was the best. Before finishing his breakfast at least, Zong Jiu would never get out of bed.
It was a shame that Zhuge An didn’t seem the type to understand this sentiment.
He stood at the doorway before the living room, imposing as a tall cypress, his expression frigid, staring unblinkingly at the Magician who was cutting his egg on the bed.
Since he didn’t speak, Zong Jiu was more than happy to follow suit. Instead, he slowly nibbled on his food, seeing who could last longer.
Even so, Zhuge An wasn’t in a hurry.
He paced around the wide living room, picked a fabric sofa, and lifted the hems of his robes, sitting down calmly.
All of a sudden it dawned on Zong Jiu.
Zhuge An, this old bastard, did set him up. While the C-rank collective instance was also dangerous, it was lacking *something* compared to the B-rank collective instance.
It was probably this that Zhuge An wanted him to understand.
However, no one liked being tricked by others, even if good-intentioned.
The white-haired young man spun the shiny dinner knife between his fingers, the knife glinting with bright silver light and clattering noisily on the edge of the plate when it landed.
“Just say what you want to say. I don’t seek anything from you this time, but you do. It’s meaningless to hide it.”
Zhuge An was completely unfazed by Zong Jiu’s bluntness.
His profound gaze measured Zong Jiu, and only after did unhurriedly speak. “Good. You should have understood my intentions.”
Zong Jiu slapped his dinner knife on the table and sneered. “Then sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Zhuge, I have already joined hands with the Devil. People who follow different paths cannot take counsel together, so please leave.”
Yet Zhuge An acted like he had heard a joke, actually chuckling. “You wouldn’t.”
“Tell me, then. Why wouldn’t I?”
Zong Jiu also raised his eyebrows. “I believe you have seen it long ago. No. 1 and I… we are intrinsically the same, why else would you stay so wary against me otherwise?”
He wasn’t wrong in saying this.
Zong Jiu didn’t trust a word of No. 1’s nonsense, except when he claimed that they were one of a kind. There was nothing wrong with the statement itself; on the inside, even Zong Jiu believed so. There was no grounds for rebuttal.
He didn’t think that this would slip past Zhuge An, because Zong Jiu had never tried to conceal his nature in front of the other. Therefore, upon grasping Zhuge An’s intentions, he knew deep inside that this conversation was inevitable, simply a question of who would come to whom first.
Zhuge An’s deep eyes met his from a distance. “The Devil is an unbound wild beast. Morals, laws, etiquette… Neither of you care about these, but you are different.”
“You have fetters around you.”
No. 3 said purposefully, “What is even more odd is that… you yourself are aware of their existence, yet you don’t try to break free from them. Because you have seen what it would look like after breaking free, unbound. Perhaps you just don’t want to see yourself turn that way, and that’s all there is to it.”
“So, I’m guessing, that these fetters were put on yourself, by your own volition.”
The smile on Zong Jiu’s face slowly faded, and the hostility from earlier dissipated.
He didn’t speak, but Zhuge An conversely activated his chatterbox attribute again, standing up from the sofa and slowly walking around the room.
“I know all about what happened in the B-rank collective instance. It is really as the Taiji Eight Trigrams had divined. Since you’ve already seen through my intentions, I won’t say much more. However… I still have a doubt that I would like to clarify.”
Having come to this, Zong Jiu simply shrugged. “Let me hear it.”
That was right. He and the Devil were the same, and yet also not.
One could even say that they were polar in their likeness, back to back yet facing opposite directions.
When No. 1 expressed his interest in cooperation, whether or not the Devil was toying with the idea of backstabbing Zong Jiu after gaining his agreement, it was impossible for Zong Jiu to agree to it. It was a matter of principle. Since Zhuge An knew this, he didn’t bother hiding it.
The dark-haired man walked up to him, his eyes probing. “Why did you do that when you could have cast Class 9 aside and left those two lives unavenged?”
Yes, it was true that Zong Jiu could have cast them aside.
He did not weep with those who wept, nor did he laugh with those who laughed. The obvious choice was to do as he had in the previous two instances, minding his own business.
“Because I made a vow to Class 9. I don’t go back on my word. Since I said I would, I followed through.”
A while later, Zong Jiu continued, “As for index 99 and index 15…”
It was at this moment that he finally spoke his true, innermost thoughts.
A reckless man toying with the world; an introverted man unconcerned. The silhouettes of the two people gradually superimposed, but only one floated to the surface while the other sunk into the abyss.
Under the light, the white-haired young man’s face exuded icy indifference.
“—The sufferings of men appall me, because they are unnecessary.”
“Since they are unnecessary, when I’m in a good mood, I’ll go around out of condescending pity helping others. But is there any difference between that and the Devil going around to stir trouble when he’s in a good mood?”
Perhaps even No. 1 wouldn’t have expected it when he had said “you’d have me control these ants” in First High School not too long ago. In the blink of an eye, to scour for more information about his nemesis and to monitor his movements, he’d, in a phenomenal display of double standards, fix a puppet string on the other person’s blue bicolour British shorthair.
But all that was moot now. The point was that he was actually caught red-handed.
More importantly, the Magician had not touched the puppet string nor done a tarot reading before that. What caused things to go south was actually his, if you ask him, perfectly stellar acting.
It had to be said that to the Devil, whose passion was in acting and stirring trouble, this was an outright disgrace.
AD
However, naturally, Zong Jiu didn’t care a whit about that.
At first, Zong Jiu was merely a little suspicious about the cat’s abnormal behaviour today, so he put on a special show at the bathroom door—and sure enough, things unfolded as he thought it would.
Hur hur. After the faux pas with No. 8 Dark Warlock in First High School, Zong Jiu would never fall for it again!
The white-haired young man, only clothed in a pair of underpants, whisked the cat away with one hand, while his other hand unhesitatingly snapped the puppet string. Only after ascertaining that he had not erred did he then set the cat down, tickling its nape with his fingertips in consolation.
The blue bicolour cat’s eyes were restored to its usual icy blue, and it haughtily cast him a look, as if saying—You hooman, how dare you pick your master up by the scruff, insolence!
Zong Jiu, “…”
As much as he missed the clingy cat from just now, this was truly the temper that a cat should have.
The young man stroked the blue bicolour cat’s round pudgy head, immersed in thought. “Speaking of which, I don’t think I’ve given you a name yet.”
Zong Jiu was born with a deep fondness for cats.
AD
In his younger years in the orphanage, the old nun had also raised an orange cat.
Unfortunately, the nun was well into her years, the cat as well. Later when the old nun passed on, the orange cat was entrusted to Zong Jiu.
At the funeral, Zong Jiu watched as the coffin was buried deep into the ground, a black iron cross gleaming above the headstone. In the distance, a pastor read scriptures in monotone, resonantly reciting, “She has rested all toil, and her spirit has returned unto the Lord’s embrace. Amen.”
And then when the orange cat passed on, Zong Jiu found a metal box. He took the cat to the cemetery at midnight, dug up the earth with a shovel, and buried it there.
Those were during the days of his naivety. He thought that burying it here would allow it to go to heaven, and so he hoped that the orange cat would, as the pastor had said, be received by its master and rest in her arms.
Afterwards, he took an apprenticeship under a magician, displaying a stunning aptitude for magic. He toured around the globe, and because he was constantly on the move, it was difficult to settle down. With that, the matter of taking care of a cat was put on hold, eventually not coming to be.
Then, he injured his hands and, even more so now, couldn’t bring himself into the mood to take care of a cat. Little did he expect that after spinning around in circles, it was actually through transmigrating into a book that he finally fulfilled his long-cherished wish.
“I got it.”
Looking into the cat’s icy blue eyes, the corners of Zong Jiu’s lips cocked upwards. “Let’s call you the Great Demon King.”
The Great Demon King was obviously displeased with its new name. After sliding him a sidelong glance, it elegantly stalked away, off to take a great snooze. Left stranded, the Magician shrugged, then turned around and carried on with his own grand bath.
The warm bath seemed to wash all his fatigue away.
Moving from First High School to the trainee dormitories, in a hyperbole, was like transmigrating from the twentieth century to modern civilisation.
Zong Jiu fastened the sash around his bathrobe, walked over to dry his hair with a hair dryer, then went back to the bed, turning off the light at the nightstand.
Qlat j “vlcu”, atf ktbif relaf aegcfv vjgx. Ycis atf olgf lc atf olgfqijmf mbcalcefv ab ifjq, lar oijwfr oilmxfglcu.
Ktfgf kjr j rqfii bo rlifcmf, ktfc jii bo j revvfc, atfgf rffwfv ab yf ubbfs rtjvbkr rklwwlcu lc atf vjgxcfrr, obgylvvlcu rqfmagfr jwjrrlcu jcv fcubgulcu—yea lc atf cfza rfmbcv, atfs jygeqais vlrrlqjafv ilxf j alvf.
On the big and soft bed, the young man’s long silvery-white eyelashes twitched slightly. He vigilantly opened his eyes.
However, even after ten minutes had passed, no other movement appeared in the suite.
To naught, Zong Jiu slowly shut his eyes again.
Outside the window, heavy snow fluttered like cotton wool, gilding the tall tree canopy in silver.
The Great Demon King was snuggled next to the fireplace, its tail swishing around lackadaisically every now and then.
All was still.
—
It was already the next day when Zong Jiu roused.
The rest had refreshed his spirit and filled his body with energy.
He ordered his breakfast on the hologram while in bed, then got up to brush his teeth. A tuxedoed butler pushed a silver dining trolley and knocked on his door.
The A-rank butler poured him a steaming cup of soya milk, drizzled the hollandaise sauce around an eggs benedict set on white bread, uncovered a bamboo steamer with dimsum inside, and finally laid freshly-baked dough fritters on grease paper, arranging the napkin and cutlery for him. With a professional smile, he bowed down to place a bowl of boiled chicken at just the right temperature before respectfully retreating.
Before enjoying this sumptuous breakfast, Zong Jiu checked with the Tarot Deck that the considerate butler wasn’t being manipulated by No. 1, who seemed increasingly like he had nothing better to do, then digging in.
To his surprise, an uninvited guest suddenly appeared outside his door just then.
“Rapt, rapt, rapt.”
When the knocks started, the Magician was in the middle of cutting a bacon strip, contemplating which body parts to enhance with the eight thousand survival points he received from ranking up.
The idea had come to Zong Jiu before, when he was at a disadvantage in a fight against the Devil.
Once he had built up his body strength, wouldn’t every punch land a solid strike on No. 1?
His thoughts interrupted, Zong Jiu lazily put down the cutlery, clicking on the surveillance access on the hologram.
After seeing who was outside, the white-haired young man arched a brow.
Oh-hoh. Who would have guessed. Before he had even gone over, the other came knocking in person.
That was right. At the door was none other than that villainous military adviser, Zhuge An.
Zong Jiu pressed the button to open the door on the hologram, and the dark wooden carved doors silently slid open from the sides, revealing the warmly lit doorway.
The dark-haired man, dressed in a black Taoist robe in the way of the immortals, stirred wind in the wake of his steps. He walked in without looking around, his face as calm and cold as ever, without the slightest billow.
“A rare guest.”
The white-haired young man was still seated on the bed. He lazily propped his head up on a hand, waving the cup of soya milk for emphasis. “Have you had breakfast? Shall we eat together?”
The butler was really too considerate, setting up a long table across the bed and setting the breakfast on it.
Once getting up in the morning one could lie in bed and have breakfast. It was the best. Before finishing his breakfast at least, Zong Jiu would never get out of bed.
It was a shame that Zhuge An didn’t seem the type to understand this sentiment.
He stood at the doorway before the living room, imposing as a tall cypress, his expression frigid, staring unblinkingly at the Magician who was cutting his egg on the bed.
Since he didn’t speak, Zong Jiu was more than happy to follow suit. Instead, he slowly nibbled on his food, seeing who could last longer.
Even so, Zhuge An wasn’t in a hurry.
He paced around the wide living room, picked a fabric sofa, and lifted the hems of his robes, sitting down calmly.
All of a sudden it dawned on Zong Jiu.
Zhuge An, this old bastard, did set him up. While the C-rank collective instance was also dangerous, it was lacking *something* compared to the B-rank collective instance.
It was probably this that Zhuge An wanted him to understand.
However, no one liked being tricked by others, even if good-intentioned.
The white-haired young man spun the shiny dinner knife between his fingers, the knife glinting with bright silver light and clattering noisily on the edge of the plate when it landed.
“Just say what you want to say. I don’t seek anything from you this time, but you do. It’s meaningless to hide it.”
Zhuge An was completely unfazed by Zong Jiu’s bluntness.
His profound gaze measured Zong Jiu, and only after did unhurriedly speak. “Good. You should have understood my intentions.”
Zong Jiu slapped his dinner knife on the table and sneered. “Then sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Zhuge, I have already joined hands with the Devil. People who follow different paths cannot take counsel together, so please leave.”
Yet Zhuge An acted like he had heard a joke, actually chuckling. “You wouldn’t.”
“Tell me, then. Why wouldn’t I?”
Zong Jiu also raised his eyebrows. “I believe you have seen it long ago. No. 1 and I… we are intrinsically the same, why else would you stay so wary against me otherwise?”
He wasn’t wrong in saying this.
Zong Jiu didn’t trust a word of No. 1’s nonsense, except when he claimed that they were one of a kind. There was nothing wrong with the statement itself; on the inside, even Zong Jiu believed so. There was no grounds for rebuttal.
He didn’t think that this would slip past Zhuge An, because Zong Jiu had never tried to conceal his nature in front of the other. Therefore, upon grasping Zhuge An’s intentions, he knew deep inside that this conversation was inevitable, simply a question of who would come to whom first.
Zhuge An’s deep eyes met his from a distance. “The Devil is an unbound wild beast. Morals, laws, etiquette… Neither of you care about these, but you are different.”
“You have fetters around you.”
No. 3 said purposefully, “What is even more odd is that… you yourself are aware of their existence, yet you don’t try to break free from them. Because you have seen what it would look like after breaking free, unbound. Perhaps you just don’t want to see yourself turn that way, and that’s all there is to it.”
“So, I’m guessing, that these fetters were put on yourself, by your own volition.”
The smile on Zong Jiu’s face slowly faded, and the hostility from earlier dissipated.
He didn’t speak, but Zhuge An conversely activated his chatterbox attribute again, standing up from the sofa and slowly walking around the room.
“I know all about what happened in the B-rank collective instance. It is really as the Taiji Eight Trigrams had divined. Since you’ve already seen through my intentions, I won’t say much more. However… I still have a doubt that I would like to clarify.”
Having come to this, Zong Jiu simply shrugged. “Let me hear it.”
That was right. He and the Devil were the same, and yet also not.
One could even say that they were polar in their likeness, back to back yet facing opposite directions.
When No. 1 expressed his interest in cooperation, whether or not the Devil was toying with the idea of backstabbing Zong Jiu after gaining his agreement, it was impossible for Zong Jiu to agree to it. It was a matter of principle. Since Zhuge An knew this, he didn’t bother hiding it.
The dark-haired man walked up to him, his eyes probing. “Why did you do that when you could have cast Class 9 aside and left those two lives unavenged?”
Yes, it was true that Zong Jiu could have cast them aside.
He did not weep with those who wept, nor did he laugh with those who laughed. The obvious choice was to do as he had in the previous two instances, minding his own business.
“Because I made a vow to Class 9. I don’t go back on my word. Since I said I would, I followed through.”
A while later, Zong Jiu continued, “As for index 99 and index 15…”
It was at this moment that he finally spoke his true, innermost thoughts.
A reckless man toying with the world; an introverted man unconcerned. The silhouettes of the two people gradually superimposed, but only one floated to the surface while the other sunk into the abyss.
Under the light, the white-haired young man’s face exuded icy indifference.
“—The sufferings of men appall me, because they are unnecessary.”
“Since they are unnecessary, when I’m in a good mood, I’ll go around out of condescending pity helping others. But is there any difference between that and the Devil going around to stir trouble when he’s in a good mood?”
