Chapter 40
Chapter 40: All Is Mortal Dust
Song Jiu Lai was so excited she could barely sit still.
Ever since the day she arrived, her routine had been the same: grind through miserable cultivation, then kill time by reading books about yun zhou continent. But what passed for entertainment here couldn’t compare to modern life—not even close.
Before she transmigrated, she’d still been chasing a drama. Several episodes left. Unwatched. Unforgiven.
Song Jiu Lai all but bounced. “Hurry up, hurry up. I want to see what the internet over there looks like right now.” She could already multitask—farm materials off demon beasts while chatting with the System in her head without missing a beat. Watching a show should be easy.
The System opened a channel for her.
It was limited—only this side’s internet—but the moment the familiar interface loaded, something in her chest loosened. She went straight to the weibo hot searches.
Holy crap.
It was popping off.
“System, do you see it? I’m trending!” the System said flatly, “…I don’t need to look.”
Song Jiu Lai clicked in and realized the trending topic was Han Tian’s handiwork.
“Insane. A million to hit number one—worth it. Is that where my energy comes from?” She scanned the list. Several topics about the game were exploding. And then she remembered the System’s earlier prompt: Detected additional energy.
Attention?
Song Jiu Lai leaned back, eyes narrowing. “So getting on weibo brings attention, and attention helps the game?” the System replied, “Probably.”
“Probably? Aren’t you the System? You don’t even know?” Song Jiu Lai snapped.
The System sounded almost offended. “All of my task prompts are factory-installed. To you, I’m basically an AI customer service rep. If something isn’t explained internally, I can’t explain it either.”
Song Jiu Lai huffed. “You don’t feel like an AI.”
“Then what do I feel like?”
“An artificial idiot.”
“…”
Since it was stuck with this host for life, the System decided it hadn’t heard her.
Song Jiu Lai kept scrolling, thinking hard. “So from now on, I need to manufacture hype. More hype means more attention. More attention means more energy. More energy means I can roll for more slots.”
For longevity sect, the logic was simple: the more people, the better. The System could control every player anyway. Anyone who crossed the line could be banned on the spot.
The only problem was the slots. They were like spirit roots—random, untouchable, impossible to hand-pick. If she could choose, she’d grab a whole squad of max-talent players and let them carry her to the skies.
Her own name flashed again on the screen, and it tugged something loose inside her.
“Ah… come to think of it, back in the modern world, I actually had two friends.” Not close, not the kind you bared your soul to—but if she wanted to eat, she could usually find a buddy.
Song Jiu Lai was an orphan. Her whole life had been lonely in ways she’d learned not to talk about. Friends or no friends wasn’t the point. Just staying alive had already taken everything she had.
Maybe the System caught that thought, because it said, suddenly and quietly, “It’s fine. From now on, you have me. You won’t be lonely.”
Song Jiu Lai blinked. “Yeah? You’re… kind of nice.”
“I’ll love you like a dad and mom.”
“…Are you taking advantage of me?”
“If you think so, then sure.”
Song Jiu Lai cursed at it a couple of times, then slapped the desk. “No time like now. While this hype is hot—release twenty slots.”
“I don’t recommend it,” the System said. “You’ve already cleared out most of the mid-slope for longevity sect. If you keep letting people in, you’ll run out of land. flying sparrow sect will notice sooner or later.”
Song Jiu Lai frowned. “Fair. But I’ve got an idea—later on, what if I merge flying sparrow sect into us? You think they’d agree?”
“Does flying sparrow sect know about your vicious ambition?” the System said. “They gave you territory, and you’re plotting to swallow them. Is that something a human does?”
“Shut up.”
“Your strength isn’t enough yet,” the System continued. “Don’t expose your goal too soon.”
Song Jiu Lai planted her hands on her hips. “Then what’s your brilliant plan? The first fifty players all got land. If I don’t give land to the ones who come later, they’ll say I’m unfair, playing favorites. And more people are going to keep coming. One mountain isn’t enough for players to tear apart.”
“There is another way,” the System said. “If you can accept it, yun zhou continent won’t care.”
Song Jiu Lai’s eyes sharpened. “Say it.”
“As the player count grows, taking only mountain peaks won’t be enough,” the System said. “And you know how much chaos players can cause. So don’t keep them all on the mountain. Let them live among mortals. Ever heard of the countryside encircling the city? Start by claiming land around wangan county. Grow step by step. Once you’re big enough, wangan county becomes yours naturally.”
Song Jiu Lai’s heart lurched despite herself. “But wangan county is under flying sparrow sect, isn’t it?”
“It’s not that the sect controls mortals,” the System replied. “It’s that mortals need the sect. Look at first mountain—an ordinary cultivator could spend a lifetime and still never walk out of it. Mortals can’t get out even more. They don’t even dare step beyond wangan county.”
“If they’re born here, they need cultivators’ protection because demon beasts are everywhere outside. flying sparrow sect only handles major demon beast invasions. They don’t interfere with how mortals live. They believe cultivators meddling too much in the mortal world disrupts karma.”
The System paused, voice turning strange—cool, distant, almost philosophical.
“But tell me—what counts as the mortal world? Cultivators and mortals… what’s the real difference? I’m the System. To me, you mortals and cultivators are the same kind of life-form.”
Song Jiu Lai went still, as if something had clicked into place.
Whether someone was a cultivator or a mortal didn’t seem to matter much to the System. It could forcibly open spirit roots. That alone meant the rules of yun zhou continent weren’t rules to it at all.
Song Jiu Lai didn’t fully grasp the deeper meaning. But cultivation had sharpened her mind, and she could feel the logic in what it said.
“So if I station players around the area,” she asked, “flying sparrow sect won’t interfere even if they see it?”
“They won’t,” the System said. “They think living among mortals stains you with mortal dust and harms cultivation. But if you’re not at ascension, don’t worry about empty purity. As long as you’re in yun zhou continent, cultivators can’t avoid mortal dust. Every blade of grass, every mountain and river—everything is mortal dust.”
Song Jiu Lai scratched her head, half-amused, half-impressed. “Fine. I take it back. You’re not an artificial idiot. You really do sound like an AI.”
“…”
“That still wasn’t a compliment, was it?” the System muttered.
Song Jiu Lai stared at the screen a little longer, then murmured, “You feel like intelligent life made by a higher civilization.” A mind that could think, interpret, reason.
The System stayed silent.
Core secrets. No answers.
But Song Jiu Lai had her conclusion. She sat up straighter. “Alright. Open the slots. I’ll have Han Tian take them to scout land around wangan county. He helped me a lot this time… I’ll figure out how to reward him.”