’They are projecting so hard they’re basically IMAX theaters,’ Ji’an shrieked in her mind. ’I cannot deal with this! I cannot deal with being the object of affection for both the male AND female demographics of this entire continent!’
Ji’an whispered to herself, sliding down the petrified-glass wall until she was sitting on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. "I’m going to lose my mind. I am going to pack my woks and walk into the ocean."
She had to shut it down.
She had to be brutal.
As if the universe had decided that her suffering was not yet complete, the heavy glass doors of the dome slid open again.
Ji’an looked up, hoping for a distraction.
Instead, she was greeted by a procession of the highest-ranking, most terrifying, ancient poison masters of the Azure Dragon Sect.
Elder Viper led the group, flanked by Elder Hex, the strict array master she had humiliated days prior, and three other venerable alchemists.
Normally, these elders radiated an aura of lethal, untouchable superiority.
They were beings who could wipe out entire cities with a flick of their wrists.
But as they approached Ji’an, they did not look like terrifying assassins.
They looked like a group of overly doting, deeply sycophantic grandparents approaching their favorite, impossibly talented grandchild.
"Vanguard Leader Lin!" Elder Viper hissed, though the hiss lacked any venom, sounding more like an excited chirp.
He hobbled over to where Ji’an was sitting on the floor, entirely ignoring the three maidens aggressively pounding dough in the background.
"We noticed you had vacated the VIP pavilion," Elder Viper smiled, his emerald scales practically glowing with obsequious joy. "We feared the ambient temperature was not to your liking. Elder Hex has personally recalibrated the thermal vents to ensure your delicate... ah, your formidable constitution is not discomforted."
Elder Hex, the woman who had literally wept when Ji’an destroyed her array, stepped forward.
She wasn’t angry. She was holding an incredibly ornate silver platter with both hands.
"Martial Uncle Lin," Elder Hex bowed, her severe face twisting into an unnatural, desperate smile. "We have prepared a small offering. Recognizing your unparalleled mastery of the culinary arts, we dispatched our fastest scouts to the deepest, most restricted caverns of the Southern Basin. We have procured for you the legendary Sapphire-Lotus Truffles."
She pulled the silver cloche off the platter.
Resting on a bed of crushed ice were six glowing, crystalline truffles that radiated an immense, pure spiritual energy.
They were ingredients so rare that emperors waged wars over them.
"We thought you might enjoy them as a light afternoon snack," Elder Viper beamed, looking at Ji’an’s flawless, silver-haired face with the absolute, starry-eyed reverence of a devoted fan. "Or, perhaps, you might deign to demonstrate how to slice them? We have assembled a thousand of our outer disciples in the main plaza, just on the off-chance you might hold a knife-skills seminar."
Ji’an stared at the priceless truffles.
She stared at the terrifying elders who were currently treating her like a cross between a Michelin-star celebrity chef and a divine idol.
She looked past them, through the glass walls of the dome, toward the mud pits in the distance, where the eighty male prodigies were still doing one-armed pushups, screaming her name.
She looked at Fairy Xue, who was still maintaining intense eye contact while pounding mochi.
The entire sect had been infected.
"Put the truffles on the table," Ji’an whispered, her voice completely dead, her eyes devoid of light. "Just... leave the truffles. And go away. Please. I am begging you. Just leave me alone."
"Of course, Vanguard Leader! We shall not disturb your genius!" Elder Viper bowed frantically, slapping the back of Elder Hex’s head to make her bow lower. "We shall retreat! We shall wait in the shadows until you require us to peel your garlic!"
The elders scurried out of the dome like frightened, eager mice, leaving the silver platter behind.
Ji’an let her head fall back against the glass wall.
’I am the most powerful cultivator in my generation,’ Ji’an thought miserably. ’I have an infinite thermal core. I have a cast-iron spatula. But none of it matters. I am drowning in a sea of simps. There is no escape. The exams are in two days. If I don’t get off this mountain soon, I am going to become the despotic ruler of a cult.’
***
Just as Ji’an was preparing to surrender to the void, the doors of the dome opened one final time.
Ji’an didn’t even look up.
She just buried her face in her hands, preparing for another wave of courtship or sycophantic worship.
"Ji’an!" a bright, cheerful, entirely unburdened voice echoed across the garden.
Ji’an peeked through her fingers.
Walking toward her, oblivious to the intense, borderline-erotic dough-pounding happening to his left, was Shen Zechuan.
The abyssal prodigy was wearing his usual, slightly rumpled white robes.
His dark hair was a mess.
He was holding a large, steaming, half-eaten sticky-rice bun in his left hand, and a strangely shaped, jagged gray rock in his right.
He didn’t drop to his knees, recite poetry, or blush, stammer, or stare at her silver hair with starry-eyed reverence.
He just walked up to her, tilted his head, and blinked his wide, innocent, dark eyes.
"Why are you sitting on the floor?" Zechuan asked, taking a large, messy bite of his bun. "The floor here is very damp. Your red pants are going to get soggy. If you want to sit down, I can open a void-portal and bring you a chair from the dining hall. Do you want the velvet one or the wooden one?"
Ji’an stared at him.
She looked for the micro-expressions.
She looked for the hidden possessive yandere glint, or the fanatical devotion.
There was nothing.
Zechuan was looking at her the same way he had looked at her when she was wearing a gray apron and covered in soot on the Drunken Peak, the same as any normal time.
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