They walked for three consecutive days. Li Simin never uttered a single word of complaint. Though her cultivation was low, she was still a cultivator who had refined Qi into her body; her constitution was far superior to that of a mortal.

  However, she would frequently glance back at Gensheng, who walked empty-handed behind her, a trace of worry hidden in her eyes.

  While resting by a mountain stream that day, she finally couldn't help herself. She spent a long time rummaging through her faded cloth bundle before pulling out a few yellow paper talismans with crooked, jagged runes.

  "Senior Brother." She handed them over, looking embarrassed. "I don't have anything valuable. These Blazing Fire Talismans and Vajra Talismans were drawn by my own hand. They aren't very powerful, but if we encounter trouble on the road, they might offer some protection."

  Gensheng took them. The paper was coarse, and the spiritual energy in the cinnabar ink was faint—clearly the work of an amateur apprentice. He looked at her face, which was filled with nothing but sincerity.

  "Thank you." He tucked the talismans into his sleeve.

  This girl truly is a fool. I wonder if I’ll become a fool too if I eat her.

  They continued their journey. After another five or six days, the scenery grew increasingly desolate. The main roads were swallowed by wild grass, and abandoned villages began to appear along the wayside.

  At the entrance of a place called Dry Riverbed Village, Li Simin stopped.

  The village could no longer be called a village. Most of the mud walls had collapsed, and the thatched roofs were riddled with gaping holes. A smell—a mixture of despair and death—swirled in the dry, sweltering air. A few emaciated villagers leaned against the corners of walls like pieces of withered wood, their eyes hollow as they watched the two strangers pass. A child lay on the ground, sticking out its tongue, fruitlessly licking the cracked earth.

  Li Simin pulled a water-blue talisman from her bundle.

  "Junior Sister Li," Gensheng said. "If you plan to provide disaster relief with your spiritual energy all the way, you won't make it to Yuexi Town."

  Li Simin gripped the talisman and shook her head. "I’ll be fine after a short rest."

  Without further hesitation, she chanted a clumsy incantation and tossed the talisman into the air. The paper ignited without fire, turning into a wisp of green smoke. Above them, a small cluster of dark clouds gathered out of thin air, slowly squeezing out a fine, dense mist of rain.

  The rain wasn't heavy—just enough to cover a small portion of the village. The numbed villagers froze at first, then erupted into ecstatic cries. They scrambled into the rain, opening their mouths to let the earthy-scented water fall onto their faces and into their throats.

  Li Simin’s face grew visibly pale, beads of sweat forming on her brow. Gensheng stood beside her, watching motionlessly.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  He watched her exhaust her meager spiritual reserves. He watched those mortals kneel and kowtow for a few mouthfuls of water.

  It was a meaningless waste. By saving them, she gained no spirit stones, nor did she increase her cultivation by a single shred. When the rain stopped and the clouds dispersed, Li Simin’s body swayed. Gensheng reached out a hand to steady her.

  "Why?" he asked.

  Li Simin leaned against his arm, panting for a few breaths before recovering. "They were dying."

  "If they die, what does it have to do with us?" Gensheng pressed. "You’ve drained your energy. If a demonic beast appears ahead, how will we respond?"

  Li Simin looked up at his handsome yet strangely vacant face. She thought for a long time before finding the words. "My father was in the army. He said that if a comrade-in-arms is dying of thirst, even if you only have one bowl of water left, you must share half. Otherwise... a barrier will form in your heart that you can never cross for the rest of your life."

  Gensheng fell silent.

  A barrier in the heart.

  This human heart in his chest—aside from beating, what else was it capable of?

  He looked at the villagers surrounding them, kowtowing incessantly to Li Simin, and then at the pale, weakened girl beside him. He suddenly felt that those three hundred spirit stones could perhaps wait a little longer.

  They left Dry Riverbed Village. The villagers followed them for a long distance, kowtowing until their figures vanished from sight.

  Li Simin’s spiritual loss was severe, making her steps light and unsteady, but a sense of fulfillment shone on her face. Gensheng supported her slowly, a sour feeling brewing in his chest.

  That emotion rising from his heart was peculiar. This human shell was modified by the Insect Demon from an anonymous corpse; the flesh, blood, and bone were all human. Humans have seven emotions and six desires; it wasn't surprising they would feel pity.

  But the root of Chen Gensheng’s soul was a cockroach—a scavenger that had survived in the dark corners of an alchemy room. A cockroach’s instinct was to seek gain and avoid harm, to devour anything that allowed it to survive. The corpses of its own kind, the dung of spirit beasts, the flesh of cultivators... as long as it made him stronger, everything was food.

  How can an insect feel pity?

  Was this emotion a lingering instinct of the skin he wore, or was it Chen Gensheng’s own? If it was the former, it meant this human body was not pure—it hid risks he didn't yet understand. If it was the latter...

  Gensheng stopped walking. He looked down at the hand supporting Li Simin.

  This hand could tear a cultivator’s throat without hesitation, or refine pills from dross. Slaughter and creation resided in a single thought. Yet now, it was being used to support a burden that was utterly useless to him.

  "Senior Brother, what is it?" Li Simin noticed him stop and asked timidly.

  "Nothing." Gensheng released his grip and continued forward.

  He remembered Lu Zhaozhao asking something similar in the dream. She had said, "Husband, a heart is made of flesh; why are you always so cold?"

  He hadn't understood love then, and he likely never would. Now, this heart of flesh seemed to have grown something it shouldn't have. He disliked the feeling. It was like his six hands—if one didn't follow orders, it wasn't an asset; it was a flaw.

  "Senior Brother," Li Simin caught up and walked side-by-side with him. "That poem you recited... 'Pity the bones by the bank of the River Without End, still the men of dreams in the ladies' chambers'... did you write it?"

  "No."

  "The person who wrote it must have understood people like my father very well."

  "I don't know."

  He didn't understand. He only knew that the "bones by the river" were excellent fertilizer for his wasps and the soil. The "men of dreams" had the most fragile souls, perfect for an Illusion Dream Silkworm to enter and drain of everything.

  Li Simin’s act of kindness was, in her eyes, about the barrier in her heart. In Gensheng’s eyes, it was an act of supreme stupidity.

  Yet, why did this "stupidity" shake his insect heart, which should have been as hard as iron? Was this human body playing tricks, forcing him to think like a human?

  They walked for another half-day as the sky darkened. The mountains ahead began to grow treacherous, and the air grew thick with a damp, fishy stench.