Transmigrating into the world of Jade Dynasty, I was targeted by the female lead in a reverse romanc

"Little master..."

"Little master..."

The voice was so soft, yet so clear, as if it struck the very depths of the soul.

"You're such a troublemaker."

"...Is it worth it?"

The voice asked, but no emotion could be discerned.

I was just curious, yet it felt like I already knew the answer.

Is it worth it?

Whoever has the final say, I just want to have a clear conscience.

"For these...ordinary people."

Ordinary people.

Yes, just ordinary people.

They can't fly or disappear into the earth; they live for a few decades, experiencing birth, aging, sickness, and death, like grass, one crop after another.

But even grass has roots, anchored in the ground.

Even if the wind blows it down or the rain beats it down, as long as the roots are still there, it will sprout again in the spring.

They are the grassroots.

Jiang Xiaochuan, what kind of immortal is he?

The fifth level of Jade Purity might be considered impressive in the Azure Cloud Sect or among the younger generation of cultivators, but here it's utterly useless.

But he stepped forward.

It wasn't because he was so great, it was simply because he saw it.

If you see it, you can't pretend you didn't.

"well……"

The voice sighed softly, like a feather falling on the water.

Almost inaudible.

Jiang Xiaochuan seemed to sense that something was watching him.

It's not the eyes, it's something more direct.

He scanned it inch by inch from top to bottom.

"A severed hand, a severed foot, bones shattered into pieces... a punctured lung, and one of his eyeballs was ruined."

He paused, seemingly also finding it a bit tricky.

"My heart... oh, my heart is gone."

His tone even carried a hint of... strange appreciation?

"Even in this state, you're still clinging to life. Young master, those little modifications I made back then have paid off."

Changes? What's going on? What changes?

"Those guys up ahead... seem like they're all going to die again."

Jiang Xiaochuan seemed to be able to see several villagers supporting each other under the eaves not far away, holding hoes and sickles, trembling uncontrollably, yet still stubbornly blocking the path leading into the depths of the forest.

Behind them were more elderly people, women, and children huddled in the shadows.

Puzhi staggered toward them.

His palm was still smoking, but this injury seemed to have little effect on his madness.

He made a hoarse sound in his throat, and raised his other hand, which was surrounded by black mist.

The hoe was raised, the sickle was raised.

Arms were shaking, legs were shaking, but no one backed down.

Jiang Xiaochuan wanted to shout, wanted to move.

His body felt like it no longer belonged to him; it was cold and heavy, and only his consciousness was still burning with resentment, searing his very soul.

"Never mind..."

"I'll help you this once."

Just once.

The words were spoken.

Jiang Xiaochuan felt something cold flow in through the gun barrel that had pierced his abdomen.

It was like a ray of light, a tangible light that was both heavy and light.

It burrows into the skin, through bones and muscles, squeezes into the meridians, and travels upwards, straight to the head.

boom!

It felt like someone who was suffocating in the deep sea was suddenly pulled out of the water by a huge force and slammed hard onto the shore.

All the pain disappeared instantly.

No, it didn't disappear, it just became separated by a layer.

He could tell how badly his body was broken, but the excruciating pain became distant and blurry, as if it were happening to someone else.

Control, control over the body, is gone.

He became an observer of his own body.

Then he "saw" himself move.

He raised his right hand and gripped the gun barrel that protruded from his back.

The movements were very steady, without the slightest tremor.

Grip it tightly and pull it outwards with a sudden jerk!

puff.

There was no excruciating pain as I had expected, only a strange, grating sensation of something detaching from my body.

The dark red gun, still covered in blood and bits of flesh, was completely pulled out and held in "his" hand, the tip still dripping blood.

"Self" looked down at the large hole in his abdomen, which was open from front to back, then at his limp left arm and his right leg twisted at an odd angle.

"Tsk."

"That's really tragic."

"Myself" raised his head and looked at the villagers who were preparing to die.

His gaze swept over their terrified yet stubborn faces.

He didn't say anything.

He simply held the gun, hovered it in the air, and casually swept it across.

There was no light, no strong wind.

The villagers seemed to be lifted up by a gentle, irresistible breeze.

They screamed and flailed their arms and legs as they drifted toward the woods behind them.

It drifted further and further away, until it disappeared from sight in the blink of an eye.

Puzhi stopped in his tracks.

He slowly and stiffly turned around.

That eerie face seemed to show some confusion, and some... surprise.

How is he still alive?

He should be dead, so why is he standing up? And something feels wrong.

Puzhi tilted his head.

He planted the God-Slaying Spear into the mud beside him, the shaft sinking half a foot into the ground, standing there, trembling slightly.

Then, "itself" moved its neck, twisted its shoulders, and swung its legs, its movements clumsy and not quite used to this broken body.

"trouble!"

He muttered to himself in a very low voice.

Then, "itself" moved.

There was no mishap, no magical light.

It's just a simple push of the foot.

The mud and water exploded!

"Self" is like a stone in a catapult, tearing through the rain curtain with an extremely domineering momentum, rushing straight towards Puzhi.

Puzhi instinctively raised his hand to block.

boom!

It didn't sound like fists and feet hitting flesh; it sounded more like a heavy hammer hitting rotten wood.

Puzhi's blocking arm bent at an odd angle, and he flew off the ground, crashing through a section of earthen wall and being buried in the rubble.

"...So weak?"

His voice was filled with undisguised doubt and disappointment.

It's unclear whether they're referring to this body or the divine monk from Tianyin Temple opposite.

Puzhi suddenly emerged from the pile of stones.

His broken arm hung limply at his sides, and the dark aura on his face surged even more intensely.

He roared, his aura surged, and one hand, with fingers curled into a claw, reached out to grab "his" crown with a whooshing sound!

The black energy at his fingertips solidified, hissing as it did so.

Quick, accurate, and ruthless.

But "he" merely tilted his head slightly, and the fatal blow grazed past his ear, shattering the raindrops and tearing the air apart.

too slow.

In one's own eyes.

This movement is as slow as a snail.

"Self" turned to the side, reached out with his right hand, and grabbed Puzhi's wrist.

Click.

The sickening sound of bones cracking.

Puzhi's roar got stuck in his throat, turning into a hoarse, gasping sound.

"She" didn't stop, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into her arms, then raising her left knee and slamming it hard into his abdomen.

Puzhigan's thin body was hunched over like a shrimp, and his eyes bulged out.

"Self" let go, and before his body could fly away, he clenched his right fist and punched him in the chin from below.

Puzhi's head snapped back, and several bloody teeth flew out with saliva.

Then came the third, the fourth...

It was completely haphazard, just the most primitive and brutal punching and kicking.

His fist slammed into his chest, making a dull thud.

The sound of bones breaking was clearly audible as the toe struck the back of the leg.

Puzhi was like a broken sack, being picked up and beaten by "himself," powerless to fight back.

The black energy was struck and then gathered again, gathered and then scattered again.

He tried to struggle, and a faint golden light emerged from his fingertips, but before it could take shape, it was shattered by a punch.

"He" punched him in the left eye.

puff.

The murky red light went out, leaving behind a bloody hole.

"He" stepped on his right knee.

Click.

The lower leg bends at an incredible angle.

"She" grabbed his left arm and twisted it in the opposite direction.

Boom.

……

Puzhi lay on the ground, unable to make a sound.

His crazed eyes began to show large swathes of confusion.

The black aura has faded considerably, and the madness has lessened considerably.

The expression that belonged to "Puzhi" was gradually emerging as he struggled.

She crouched down and looked at him.