The Galgame Martial Saint

Two days later.

High in the sky, the brilliance of the Yin Yang Twin Fish Array suddenly exploded. The black and white airflows no longer circulated gently but transformed into two roaring dragons, wildly churning the energy of the entire Hongchen Mountain.

At the same time, a surging tide of red dust aura erupted from every corner of Hongchen Mountain, as if countless pink torrents were bursting their dams simultaneously. It had begun; Yun Ni had made her move.

On the training grounds, the sword of a girl who had been practicing suddenly froze.

The clarity in her eyes was like clear water into which ink had been dropped, rapidly becoming turbid and spreading until it was replaced by a strange peach-pink hue. The long sword in her hand fell to the ground with a clang, but her lips slowly curled into an ecstatic, hollow smile.

Under the corridor, an outer sect disciple who was sweeping suddenly threw away his broom.

As if he had seen some incomparable beauty, he reached out foolishly to scratch at the void, murmuring unintelligible words of love. Even though he had collapsed onto the ground, a hair-raising smile of happiness remained on his face.

One, two, ten, a hundred…

This transformation spread like a plague, rapidly sweeping across the entire Hongchen Mountain with an unstoppable force.

No one resisted, because they didn’t even realize they were being attacked.

Their reason was stripped away, their divine souls locked. Only their most primitive and pure desires were infinitely magnified. Thousands of disciples were like marionettes, either standing frozen in place or slumped in corners, everyone maintaining the same posture—

With their heads tilted back, their eyes stared blankly toward the mountaintop, toward the array core that was about to consume everything.

Their self-awareness was sinking into darkness, while the red dust aura surging within their bodies was being greedily extracted, converging into invisible rivers racing toward the same destination.

Gu Chengming didn’t have time to think. His figure shot out, racing at full speed toward the direction where the red dust aura was most concentrated.

The protection of the Yin Yang Fish allowed him safe passage throughout, but even this protection was becoming shaky now. This was because the Yin Yang Fish itself was enduring immense pain, and the power it could spare for Gu Chengming was becoming less and less.

Finally, he reached that place.

The place where the red dust aura was most dense.

This area was several times larger than the underground lake he had seen in the forbidden area. The ceiling was covered in dense, ancient runes, and in the very center of this space, a giant fish-shaped spiritual object was tumbling and struggling in mid-air.

That was the true body of the Yin Yang Fish.

Unlike the phantom he had seen in the forbidden area, the true body of the Yin Yang Fish was far more massive than Gu Chengming had imagined.

Its body spanned most of the underground space, its black and white scales reflecting a profound luster under the lights, and its giant fish eyes swirled with chaotic light.

But currently, it was bound by countless pink chains. Those chains were not physical objects but were condensed from the most concentrated red dust aura—the collective desires of all living beings.

The surging emotions erupted by the thousands of Hehuan Sect disciples under the catalyst of the red dust aura—everyone’s desires, obsessions, cravings, and greed—were at this moment guided and gathered by Yun Ni, turning into shackles that locked the Yin Yang Fish.

Directly beneath the Yin Yang Fish, Fu Xiaoxiao was suspended in mid-air.

Her body was surrounded by a blinding layer of black and white light; her face was pale, and her eyes were tightly closed.

She was carrying the process of the Dao Throne transformation.

On a high platform further away, Yun Ni sat cross-legged, her hands forming a complex seal, her body surrounded by red dust aura so dense it was almost physical.

Before her floated an ancient bronze mirror. The reflection in the mirror was not her face but the figures of the thousands of Hehuan Sect disciples.

Those were the people who were unknowingly having their desires extracted.

Seemingly sensing the newcomer, Yun Ni did not stop her movements; she didn’t even open her eyes.

“Gu Chengming of the Night Guard Division, is it?”

Her voice was calm, carrying no surprise.

In fact, from the day Li Suizhuang brought him, Yun Ni had already harbored faint suspicions.

The chief physician of the School of Medicine personally stepping out, bringing an ‘apprentice’ of unknown identity, and arriving exactly as the sect was closing its mountains… it was simply too much of a coincidence.

Yun Ni also knew about his meeting with Fu Xiaoxiao.

But she hadn’t stopped them. On one hand, she felt guilty toward Xiaoxiao; on the other, she did not wish to make an enemy of Daqian or the Night Guard Division. After all, this matter was essentially an internal affair of the Hehuan Sect.

“I was hopeful. I thought that since you are a member of the Night Guard Division, you would choose to return to the capital to report after learning the truth, letting the Night Guard Division dispatch higher-ranked cultivators to handle this.”

Going and coming back would take at least several days. By then, the Yin Yang Fish would have already been converted into a Dao Throne, and the problem of the yin and yang imbalance would have been resolved.

The previous influence on the capital could be settled by compensating some spirit stones. Daqian wouldn’t break relations with the Hehuan Sect over a sect’s internal matter that had already been settled.

“But you didn’t leave. I cannot understand why.”

He was just a Second Realm sword cultivator. Even if he had some tricks up his sleeve, even if he had killed a spy from the Longevity Sect—at this moment, in this place, what he faced was the collective desires of the entire Hehuan Sect and a primordial spiritual item about to return to its Dao Throne form.

What could he possibly do?

Gu Chengming ignored Yun Ni’s words. His gaze passed over her and landed on that small, constantly trembling figure in mid-air.

Fu Xiaoxiao’s eyes were tightly shut; she didn’t know he had come.

Or perhaps she knew but could not respond—at this moment, her entire consciousness was enduring the massive impact brought by the Dao Throne transformation. She had no energy left to perceive the outside world.

“Senior Banner Gu.”

Yun Ni’s voice pulled his attention back. She didn’t strike any aggressive pose, nor did she even release her aura. She just stood there plainly, looking down at him from above.

“I have no intention of making an enemy of you, nor do I wish to harm you.”

“But since you have chosen to stay, I should at least let you understand that what I am doing is not as contemptible as you think.”

She raised her hand and gave a light wave.

Gu Chengming’s vision underwent a drastic change in an instant.

The dense red dust aura surrounding him suddenly turned into countless lights and shadows, weaving a grand and breathtaking scroll before his eyes.

He saw the collective desires of all living beings.

The inner worlds of the thousands of Hehuan Sect disciples unfolded before him—not in the form of words or sounds, but through the most direct images and emotions.

Someone longed to stand at the peak of cultivation; someone longed for a person to cherish them with all their heart; someone longed to break free from the sect’s constraints; someone longed for peace.

A thousand people, a thousand faces; a thousand thoughts, a thousand emotions.

These desires intertwined, gathering into a vast sea of red dust.

At the end of this ocean was a world where everyone was smiling.

There was no pain, no struggle, no torment of unfulfilled longing. Everyone was immersed in the purest happiness; all desires were satisfied, all cravings were answered, and all loneliness was filled with warmth.

“The state of ultimate bliss, where everyone is happy.”

Yun Ni’s voice sounded in his ear, carrying a touch of the tenderness she rarely showed.

“The Hehuan Sect practices the great dao of red dust. Do we not practice for the sake of the joys and sorrows of all living beings? If we can make it so that everyone only has joy and happiness left, isn’t that the pinnacle of the red dust path?”

“It is indeed beautiful.”

Gu Chengming stood within that illusion woven from the collective desires. He smiled.

“But I do not agree.”

Yun Ni felt helpless; it seemed there was no other way.

Since she had become the Grand Elder, not a single thing had gone according to her wishes. No one agreed with her, and no one understood her.

But she was the Grand Elder of the Hehuan Sect. Even if she had to bear everyone’s misunderstanding, she had to ensure the Hehuan Sect’s survival for the next millennium.

She sighed and raised her hand. That massive red dust aura began to surge toward Gu Chengming under her guidance.

It wasn’t an attack, but an assimilation.

She wanted to incorporate Gu Chengming into that system constructed by the collective desires, letting his desires also become fuel to push the Yin Yang Fish’s transformation.

This was the gentlest way to handle it—without taking his life, it would simply let him fall asleep in ultimate bliss, to be woken up once everything was over.

The red dust aura surged like a tide, then abruptly stopped three feet away from Gu Chengming.

That was the protection of the Yin Yang Fish.

Yun Ni’s movements halted. She remained silent for a long time, and then she laughed.

In that laughter was bitterness, relief, and a kind of resignation that whispered, ‘as expected.’

“So you are the final life-saving straw for the Yin Yang Fish?” She looked directly into Gu Chengming’s eyes, her tone calm.

“Then let me see exactly what methods you have.”

As the proxy of the Yin Yang Fish, he naturally possessed the qualification to stand on equal footing with her within these collective desires.

But he was still only in the Second Realm. Whether it was his understanding of love and hate or the seven emotions and six desires, his comprehension of the red dust aura could not be deeper than hers.

And she had spent three years constructing this system of collective desires. How could he possibly dismantle it?

Gu Chengming did not speak. At this moment, the power of the Yin Yang Fish poured into his body like a tide, perfectly merging with the “Yin Yang Creation Strategy.”

His perception was magnified to an inconceivable degree in an instant—he could sense the existence of every single cultivator on Hongchen Mountain, the flow of every wisp of red dust aura, and the veins of every karma line.

The collective desires, the desires, emotions, obsessions, and cravings of the thousands of Hehuan Sect disciples, gathered together to form a torrent powerful enough to shake the heavens and move the earth.

Yun Ni had spent three years guiding this torrent, condensing it into the shackles that bound the Yin Yang Fish.

This power was too immense—so immense that it was impossible for Gu Chengming, with his Second Realm cultivation, to confront it head-on. Yet, he smiled.

The reason was simple: everything happening now was exactly as he had anticipated. Even the method the Yin Yang Fish was guiding him to use was identical to what he had in mind.

What Yun Ni saw were the “collective desires”—a massive, chaotic, and indescribable whole.

But that was not what Gu Chengming saw. He saw individual people.

When his perception followed the veins of that red dust aura back to their source, those so-called “collective desires” were no longer a blurred torrent but were deconstructed into hundreds and thousands of clear, independent, and distinct emotional lines.

At the end of each line was connected a specific person.

A living person with a name, a past, fears, and longings.

Gu Chengming opened his eyes. In his vision, the world had changed.

Countless dialogue boxes emerged before him.

One after another, layer upon layer, they were dense and overwhelming.

Each dialogue box was labeled with a name at the top and listed several options at the bottom.

Some of those names he had seen; others he had never heard of.

But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that every dialogue box corresponded to a Hehuan Sect disciple who was being swept up by the collective desires.

And every option was a path leading to the depths of their hearts.

【The “Yin Yang Creation Strategy” let out an exclamation of surprise in his sea of consciousness: This is…!】

[It saw it.]

【All the techniques saw it.】

Gu Chengming didn’t explain, because there was no need.

He was a galgame player.

A veteran who had cleared countless routes, completed the routes of countless characters, and made countless decisions before countless options.

In those games, he had learned one thing:

There are no so-called “masses,” only one “you” after another.

Every person is unique, every person deserves to be treated seriously, and every person’s story should not be simplified into a label of “desire.”

And what Gu Chengming had to do was very simple.

—To truly see them, one by one.

His hand was raised.

The first dialogue box appeared at the very front.

It was an outer sect disciple, twenty years old, with a cultivation of only the First Realm. Her desire was very simple.

She wanted to become stronger, to be recognized by the sect, to prove that she wasn’t a waste.

There were three options.

Gu Chengming did not hesitate and reached out to click one of them.

In that instant, a tiny wisp of red dust aura flowed from his fingertip, following the karma line to reach that outer sect disciple’s heart.

‘I see you. Your hard work, your frustration, your longing—I see them all. You are not a waste.’

The outer sect disciple’s eyes turned slightly red in her sleep. That hollow, numb heart filled with desire cracked open a seam after that resonance.

The first red dust chain broke.

Yun Ni’s brow furrowed slightly.

But before she could react, Gu Chengming had already reached out with his second hand simultaneously.

The second dialogue box, the third, the fourth, the tenth, the fiftieth, the hundredth—dialogue boxes surged wildly before him, the number so great it almost obscured his entire field of vision.

Countless names, countless stories, countless options.

Someone needed encouragement, someone needed understanding, someone needed to hear “it’s okay,” and someone needed silent companionship.

One person’s heart-knot lay in a cruel word from childhood; another’s obsession stemmed from a heartbreaking parting. Someone was simply afraid of being alone, while another had lost themselves in the long years of cultivation.

Everyone was different; everyone needed a different answer.

And Gu Chengming gave them those answers.

He was completing hundreds and thousands of routes simultaneously!

Yun Ni’s expression finally changed. She saw those red dust chains she had carefully constructed, which condensed the desires of thousands of disciples, were disintegrating at an incredible speed.

They weren’t being broken by violence; they were being dismantled from within.

Those disciples bound by the chains were “waking up” one by one—not from sleep, but from the dream-haze of desire.

Their desires didn’t vanish, but those desires were no longer a chaotic, blind torrent driven by instinct. They turned back into warm, directional emotions belonging to each individual.

“This is impossible…” Yun Ni murmured.

The system of collective desires she had spent three years building was being dismantled by a Second Realm cultivator in a way she completely could not comprehend.

When the final red dust chain snapped, the Yin Yang Fish let out a long cry.

That sound pierced through the entire Hongchen Mountain, through the Yin Yang Twin Fish Array. Those emotions liberated from the collective desires did not dissipate but transformed into a warm, bright power carrying the warmth of a thousand people and faces, slowly flowing back into the Yin Yang Fish’s body.

It wasn’t desire; it was love.

It was the truest, softest, most private emotion in everyone’s heart.

Someone loved a family member far away; someone loved the fellow disciple beside them; someone loved this land beneath their feet; someone loved the bright moon above their head.

A thousand people, a thousand loves; ten thousand thoughts returning to one.

“Cough—!”

Yun Ni coughed up a large mouthful of blood, her purple court attire tearing inch by inch in the violent air currents.

Immediately, her aura withered rapidly. Her divine soul, under the backlash of the collective emotions, fell into complete self-sequestration. She was like a bird with broken wings, falling dejectedly from the high platform, severely injured and unconscious.

With Yun Ni’s fall, the red dust aura within the underground space began to fluctuate violently.

The Yin Yang Fish let out one last, long cry.

Its massive body was no longer hidden but transformed into a rotating black and white wheel of light, and the surroundings turned into a chaotic space of the purest yin and yang qi.

…

Within the space where the yin and yang qi met, before her consciousness sank into darkness, Fu Xiaoxiao perceived everything.

When the torrent of collective desires was churning within her, although her divine soul was suppressed to its limit by the impact of the Dao Throne transformation, as the Fish-Managing Elder, her connection with the Yin Yang Fish had never been severed.

Among all the complicated red dust aura, within the torrent woven from thousands of karma lines, she still identified that aura instantly.

—It was Gu Chengming’s aura.

The moment this realization surged into her mind, Fu Xiaoxiao’s consciousness did not become clearer because of it. Instead, as if grabbed by something, she began to fall uncontrollably into a deeper place.

She remembered things from many years ago.

Exactly how many years ago, she could no longer clearly remember. Back then, she was very small, having just entered the Hehuan Sect. Her cultivation was only at the First Realm, and she couldn’t even sense the most basic red dust aura.

The Hehuan Sect had never placed many restrictions on newly initiated disciples. Her master told her to go and live in the town below Hongchen Mountain for three months.

No cultivation, no training—just simply living in the world of mortals.

“The great dao of red dust has its roots in the red dust,” her master had said.

“If you don’t even know what the mortal world looks like, how can you practice the red dust?”

Thus, the little Fu Xiaoxiao was tossed into Huanxi Town, staying in the home of an old couple who ran a general store.

The old couple treated her very well. They made delicious food in different ways every day, and in the evenings, they would tell her stories in the courtyard.

Stories like the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl, Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai, the White Snake and Xu Xian—all of them were old, clichéd tales that had been circulating in the mortal world for untold years.

Fu Xiaoxiao had snorted in disdain as she listened.

Although she was young then, she already vaguely knew she was a cultivator. For a cultivator, living for several hundred years was a common thing. Those stories about undying love and following each other in life and death seemed laughably short to her.

A mortal’s lifetime was but a hundred years. Those heart-wrenching loves and hates, when placed on the time scale of a cultivator, were just the span of a short nap.

But there was one story she remembered.

It wasn’t told by the old couple but was a dusty storybook she had found in a corner of the general store. The pages were yellowed and brittle, and the writing on the cover was so blurred it was almost illegible.

The story was simple, speaking of a time long, long ago, before the Hehuan Sect was established.

Back then, Hongchen Mountain wasn’t called Hongchen Mountain; it was just an ordinary barren hill. At the foot of the hill was a small village, and in that village lived a girl.

The girl had no remarkable background; she wasn’t the descendant of an immortal, nor was she some child of destiny. She was just an ordinary mortal who didn’t even have a spirit root.

But she had one special trait—she could see the colors of the hearts of others.

Happy people were warm-colored; sad people were cold-colored; angry people were red; and fearful people were black.

In that era where monsters ran rampant and cultivators were like gods, the lives of mortals were very bitter. She was very sad.

So she started doing a foolish thing—she visited every household in the village to listen to everyone’s story.

When someone lost a relative, she would cry with them. When someone lost their livestock, she would help find them. When someone fell seriously ill, she would stay by their bed and care for them night after night.

Later, monsters attacked the mountain, and the village faced a catastrophic disaster.

The cultivators were busy protecting themselves; no one cared about this insignificant little village.

The girl stood at the village entrance, facing those massive creatures capable of crushing everything. She had no spirit root, no magic power, and not even a decent weapon.

But she still stood there.

Not because she thought she could win, but because the people behind her—the people she had spent her life listening to, accompanying, and loving—were all there.

Just such a story. There was no rising and falling plot, no soul-stirring ending, and even the girl’s name wasn’t left behind.

After Fu Xiaoxiao finished reading, she closed the book and threw it back into that dusty corner.

“Lies,” she muttered.

A mortal with no spirit root and no magic power—how could they do such a thing? With a burst of hot-bloodedness? With a heart full of naivety?

How could there be such a good person in this world? How could there be someone who would risk their life to love others?

Fu Xiaoxiao snorted in disdain and then forgot about the matter.

Then she returned to the mountain, began to cultivate, and began to grow stronger.

Her master said she was a genius, that her talent was rare in a century, and that as long as she practiced the Red Dust Technique step by step and performed normal dual cultivation and harvesting, she could reach levels others couldn’t even dream of.

She didn’t listen. The red dust she practiced wasn’t the mutual reliance of romantic love, nor was it the blending of the bedchamber, nor was it the ‘attaining the dao through desire’ that Hehuan Sect disciples always talked about.

What she practiced was the mortal world—it was the laughter lines at the corners of an old man’s mouth as he rubbed his hands and stomped his feet in the cold wind while selling sugar-coated haws; it was the longing in the eyes of a woman waiting for her husband in a deep alley as she repeatedly looked out the door; it was the lights of ten thousand homes on New Year’s Eve; it was the paper money for the deceased during Qingming; it was the first cry of a newborn; it was the hand gripped tightly as an old person passed away.

She practiced the true red dust.

People in the sect said she had taken a wrong turn, that the Hehuan Sect practiced the great dao of passion and desire—how could one attain the dao without dual cultivation?

Some laughed at her for being pretentious, saying that a Hehuan Sect disciple refusing to dual cultivate was as absurd as a sword cultivator refusing to draw their sword.

Fu Xiaoxiao didn’t bother with them.

She proved everything with her strength: Second Realm in ten years, Third Realm in thirty years, peak Fourth Realm in several hundred years. She was the most brilliant genius of the Hehuan Sect in a thousand years and had never dual cultivated with anyone once throughout the entire process.

She even once felt that she had proven that path was correct.

Until that day the group of disciples was surrounded by the Fifth Realm great demon.

She stood there, facing an enemy she couldn’t possibly defeat, with a group of shivering junior sisters behind her.

In that moment, she suddenly remembered that story—that nameless mortal girl with no spirit root, that figure standing at the village entrance facing the monsters.

It turned out she had always remembered it, even if she said she didn’t believe it, even if she said those stories were lies, even if she said there were no people in this world who would risk their lives to love others.

But in her heart, she had actually always believed. From the first moment she read that story, she had believed.

She believed there would be such people in this world.

That was why she had taken this path—no dual cultivation, no harvesting, only using those purest aspects of mortal life unrelated to desire to practice the great dao of red dust, because she wanted to become that kind of person.

Are there no people in this world who would risk their lives to love others?

Then she would be that person.

So she had reversed cause and effect without hesitation, using a Fourth Realm body to strike a Fifth Realm great demon, even if the price was a shattered dao base and a wasted rest of her life.

She had never regretted it.

But occasionally, when she sat alone late at night, she would think: if only there really were such a person.

Not herself, but another person.

A person who, like the girl in the story, would still be standing there when everyone else had turned to leave.

A fool who, regardless of the consequences and without seeking reward, would set themselves on fire to light the way for others.

She thought such a person wouldn’t exist in this world.

Because she had searched for hundreds of years and hadn’t found a single one… right?

Her consciousness gradually sank.

After an unknown amount of time, Fu Xiaoxiao’s consciousness rose and fell within the torrent of memories, and then she heard that voice.

It was far away, yet very close.

But it reached her ears clearly.

“—But I do not agree!”

Then came more voices.

They weren’t spoken with words but transmitted through the red dust aura.

That shadow that had been blurred in the darkness for hundreds of years—the nameless figure she had read about in a tattered storybook as a youth—at this moment, took on a solid form.

It slowly merged with the silhouette of a person: the young man she had pulled aside on the School of Medicine’s corridor to test his Red Dust Technique; the silly boy who had asked “What does this mean?” with a face of ignorance after being hit by her technique; the idiot who had been stuffed with a bunch of things before leaving and foolishly thanked her.

That liar who said “I understand” but didn’t leave at all.

—Gu Chengming.

…

Fu Xiaoxiao slowly opened her eyes. What entered her sight was a face inches away.

She stared at this face for a long, long time…

Long enough that Gu Chengming thought she hadn’t fully woken up and was about to call her name when—

“I already told you to leave.” Fu Xiaoxiao’s voice was so soft it almost didn’t sound like her own, but that tone of annoyance and anger was exactly the same as before. “You idiot.”

Gu Chengming was stunned for a moment, then he smiled.

“Senior Sister is awake? How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?”

Fu Xiaoxiao wanted to struggle to sit up, but her body was simply too weak. After struggling for a long time, she only ended up rubbing against his chest and eventually gave up, lying there grumpily.

“There isn’t a single place on my body that doesn’t hurt. My meridians feel like they’ve been burned by fire, and my dantian is so empty I can’t even squeeze out a wisp of spiritual power. How do you think I feel?”

“And you—”

She reached out, using all the strength in her body to strike Gu Chengming’s chest once.

That strike was soft, like being scratched by a cat’s paw.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave? Didn’t I tell you to go back to the capital?”

By the end, that facade of false bravado could no longer be maintained. Her voice became smaller and smaller, more and more muffled, until finally only a faint, blurred hum from her nose remained.

Fu Xiaoxiao didn’t make a fuss for long.

She quickly quieted down. The hand that had struck his chest somehow turned into a grip on his lapels, her knuckles turning white with effort, as if she were afraid he would disappear the moment she let go.

The two of them stayed like that in silence for a while.

The surrounding space was very quiet.

Currently, they were inside the body of the Yin Yang Fish—more accurately, it was a temporary space the Yin Yang Fish had constructed using its own power during the process of restoring its balance.

Above their heads, black and white airflows circulated slowly, with tiny fragments of light occasionally sparking at their intersection, like stars in the night sky.

Her voice carried a trace of accusation.

“Did you never intend to leave from the very start?”

Gu Chengming was silent for a breath. “Yes.”

Fu Xiaoxiao’s hand gripping his lapel tightened even more.

“You bastard, you liar.”

After the scolding, she stopped talking again. After an unknown amount of time, Fu Xiaoxiao finally raised her head from his chest.

Her eyes were still red, and the tip of her nose was red too. Her entire person looked extremely disheveled, not carrying a hint of a Hehuan Sect elder’s dignity.

“Gu Chengming.”

“Yes?”

Fu Xiaoxiao looked at him, as if there were a thousand words stuck in her throat, and she didn’t know which one to start with.

But in the end, she said nothing. She raised her head, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him.

The kiss was so short that before Gu Chengming could even react, Fu Xiaoxiao had already pulled back.

She didn’t look at him, her cheeks turning red at a speed visible to the naked eye—from her ears all the way down to her neck. She shrank back into his chest, burying her face once more.

“…You promised me.”

Her voice was so small it was almost inaudible.

Balance would still take some time.

“Once your cultivation is successful, you must provide yang qi for the Yin Yang Fish,” she murmured, her voice muffled in his lapels, sounding vague.

When the Yin Yang Creation Strategy reached completion, it required dual cultivation to harmonize yin and yang. Providing yang qi for the Yin Yang Fish was just a condition he had once accepted while practicing the Yin Yang Creation Strategy, but at this moment, coming from Fu Xiaoxiao’s mouth, it took on a completely different meaning.

Gu Chengming looked down at the tiny elder in his arms who was burying her face so deeply and whose ears were so red they were practically bleeding.

In his sea of consciousness, the reactions of the techniques varied, with the Yin Yang Creation Strategy naturally being the most intense.

The yin and yang energies above their heads were indeed still in a state of imbalance, with the black yin energy clearly exceeding the white yang energy. Although it was no longer as violently turbulent as before, if they wanted to completely restore it—

And Fu Xiaoxiao was not wrong—he had indeed accepted such a condition when he practiced the Yin Yang Creation Strategy.

【The “Yin Yang Creation Strategy” kept popping up windows in red text: Yes yes yes yes yes!!!】

【Wisdom Eye activated.】

[Option 1: Dual Cultivate]

【Option 2: Dual Cultivate later】

Looking at the two options that popped up before him, Gu Chengming smiled and said, “Alright.”

Then he took the initiative to lean down, and a soft, startled sound echoed through the silence.

—The flow of yin and yang settled here.

【Fu Xiaoxiao CG Unlock】