Chapter 86: Transformation Technique, Get!
Gu Qing Yi turned her head and saw Chen Yan standing at the doorway. Her slender frame stiffened for a brief moment, and for the span of two heartbeats, she was utterly motionless.
Finally, she cast a calm gaze at him, her voice composed and steady.
“Hmm. You’re back.”
With that, she nonchalantly powered off her phone and set it gently on the couch, as if nothing had happened.
However, the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed the ripples in her heart.
Chen Yan observed his young Honored Stepmother with an amused glint in his eyes. Ah, so she was going to force her way through this charade?
Chuckling inwardly, he stepped forward, carrying his bag inside.
Gu Qing Yi maintained her indifferent air, her tone light and unbothered.
“Have you eaten yet?”
Chen Yan checked the time on his phone and answered, “It’s only 3:40 in the afternoon.”
Gu Qing Yi’s expression stiffened for a second time.
Chen Yan smirked. “Actually, I also enjoy watching dance videos on That Certain Short-Video App. You don’t have to—”
“You saw nothing just now.” Gu Qing Yi’s eyes locked onto his, her voice serious.
“But I clearly—”
Her brows furrowed, her voice dropping into a softer, deadlier whisper. “I will beat you. And it will hurt. A lot.”
Chen Yan, at the ripe age of twenty-two, possessed a deep understanding of survival instincts. His tone turned equally solemn. “I saw nothing.”
Having settled that matter, he turned his gaze to the coffee table—and what he saw nearly made his knees give out.
A mountain of empty snack wrappers towered before him—ten, no, perhaps twenty bags of demolished potato chips, remnants of pistachios, almonds, sunflower seeds, and peanuts strewn about like fallen warriors. A whole case of cola had been reduced to half its original strength. And most egregiously, the chocolate wafers he had hoarded for New Year’s—the ones he cherished the most—had been utterly obliterated, leaving only a pathetic, thin layer of crumbs at the bottom of the box.
Chen Yan inhaled sharply, staring at Gu Qing Yi in disbelief.
“…You devoured all the snacks I bought for the New Year?!”
Gu Qing Yi kept her face perfectly still, remaining silent for several seconds. Then, ever so slowly, she raised a single finger and intoned:
“Wu—?”
“Huh? What did you say?” Chen Yan blinked, unsure he had heard correctly.
“Xiang—?”
Oh no.
Chen Yan’s legs nearly gave out beneath him.
Laughing heartily, he waved his hands in surrender. “What’s done is done! Food is meant to be eaten, after all. Honestly, I thought I didn’t buy enough New Year’s snacks anyway. I’ll head to the market tomorrow and restock.”
Gu Qing Yi cast him a deep, evaluating look, then finally lowered her finger and turned away.
Chen Yan wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
Fine. It was Dragon Nation’s long-standing tradition to respect one’s elders.
Besides, his young Honored Stepmother, at the age of twenty-one, was more than capable of wielding the Mother’s Blade Talisman—a weapon that wasn’t solely reserved for cutting down enemies.
Should he push her too far, he feared it might become the Mother’s Blade Talisman, Illegitimate Son Edition.
——
Once he calmed down, he noticed something else—there were no takeout boxes or food wrappers anywhere in the house.
So… this girl had been surviving solely on snacks for the past two days?
Fine, fine. She was a Celestial, immune to mortal ailments. But still.
Chen Yan rubbed his stomach. He was actually starving. He had eaten breakfast at He Family’s residence, but then halfway through the day, You Su Yi had called him to the mountains to hunt down a White Fox Demon. That business had taken time, and by the time he made it home, it was already past three in the afternoon.
That Old Fox had a strong sense of honor and gratitude but was utterly clueless about common courtesy—he didn’t even offer a meal before sending him on his way.
Chen Yan sighed.
Returning from a battle and still having to cook his own meal—how pitiful.
Too lazy to order delivery, he strode into the kitchen, pulled out some fresh greens from the fridge, and began washing them.
Once the water boiled, he tossed in a handful of noodles, cracked two eggs, and finally dropped the vegetables in at the perfect moment.
While the pot simmered, he finely sliced some preserved mustard greens, setting them aside to enhance the flavor of his dish.
Finally, he poured the steaming broth, noodles, eggs, and greens into a bowl, the aroma of the mustard greens awakening under the heat.
A simple yet satisfying meal—done.
Just as he was about to dig in, he turned his head and saw…
His twenty-one-year-old Honored Stepmother standing at the kitchen doorway, her head tilted as she stared at his bowl, eyes gleaming with undisguised hunger.
…Was she swallowing her saliva?
Sigh.
This girl had indeed been surviving on junk food alone.
With the resignation of a true Great Philanthropist, Chen Yan grabbed an extra pair of chopsticks, scooped up another bowl of noodles, and wordlessly handed it over.
Gu Qing Yi maintained her serious expression, but as she took the bowl, a flicker of light appeared in her eyes. She sat down at the dining table without a word and began devouring the meal.
Chen Yan smirked, shaking his head. He returned to the kitchen, made another bowl for himself, and sat across from her.
And thus, the twenty-one-year-old Honored Stepmother and the twenty-two-year-old Illegitimate Son sat face to face, their chopsticks moving in perfect harmony as they slurped their noodles in unison.
Once she finished her meal, Gu Qing Yi let out a long breath, the tension in her brows easing slightly. She idly poked at the last bits of mustard greens with her chopsticks, then lifted her gaze.
“Tell me about your trip.”
Chen Yan recounted everything—the visit to He Family, the Old Fox’s request, the battle with the White Fox, and the rewards he received. He also shared what the Old Fox had told him about Chen Jue.
As the story unfolded, Gu Qing Yi’s expression grew more serious, her grip on her chopsticks tightening.
By the time Chen Yan finished relaying all the information about Chen Jue…
Gu Qing Yi’s gaze sharpened.
“Chen Yan, you must bury this knowledge deep within your heart.” Her voice was low, carrying an undeniable weight.
Chen Yan nodded. “Understood.”
“To shroud the heavenly secrets—such a method must surely involve a Great Heavenly Venerable.” Gu Qing Yi’s tone was grave. “I cannot fathom why one of such stature would move against Chen Jue… but you are his son. It would be wise not to let others know what you have uncovered.”
“You fear that the Great Heavenly Venerable will turn their wrath upon me?”
Gu Qing Yi nodded solemnly, concern flickering in her gaze. “You must never, under any circumstances, set foot in the Domain Realm.”
Chen Yan exhaled sharply, determination gleaming in his eyes. “Fear not. If I must die, I will perish in our own world! Not even death would drag me to the Domain Realm!”
A sigh of relief escaped Gu Qing Yi’s lips. “It is good that you think this way.”
Chen Yan frowned, his gaze shifting to Little Madam Gu. “And what of you?” He studied her closely. “You are to wed Chen Jue… After the ghost marriage, you will be his wife. With such profound secrets and karmic entanglements upon his soul, not to mention the involvement of a Great Heavenly Venerable, are you not concerned that once you return to the Domain Realm, the title of ‘Chen Jue’s wife’ will bring disaster upon you?”
Gu Qing Yi shook her head. “Death settles all debts. Chen Jue is no longer among the living. Even if the Great Heavenly Venerable once opposed him, it is a past grievance, not a present one. There is no reason for them to come after me.”
She paused, her gaze unwavering. “Besides… my marriage contract was penned by a Great Heavenly Venerable. My actions align with the will of the heavens. Even one of their rank would have no justification to trouble me.”
Hearing this, something stirred within Chen Yan’s mind.
“There are two Great Heavenly Venerables in the Domain Realm. The one who sought to eliminate Chen Jue… and the one who wrote your marriage contract… they should not be the same person, should they?”
Gu Qing Yi pondered for a moment before shaking her head. “I do not know… but likely, they are not.”
With the matters of the He family resolved, their conversation drifted to lighter topics. The two shared idle chatter, and soon, Gu Qing Yi began voicing her grievances.
“The Spring Festival Gala of your world is becoming more unbearable with each passing year,” she lamented. “After the passing of Old Madam Zhao, there was still Old Man Zhao to watch. But once he stopped performing… there was nothing worth seeing! Those final years of the Gala? Hah!” She shook her head, a single comment summarizing her thoughts: “Useless!”
Chen Yan chuckled, leading her back to the main hall. He picked up the remote and switched to a selection of variety shows—Talk Show Gathering and the Annual Comedy Tournament.
“Try these instead. Far more entertaining than the Gala.”
Gu Qing Yi pursed her lips. “You’re not setting the bar very high. I wager any show would be better than the Gala.”
Despite her grumbling, she still clutched the remote and settled onto the couch.
Meanwhile, Chen Yan descended to the underground training chamber. Taking a seat, he placed the White Fox Inner Core in his palm, infusing it with his vital energy.
Moments later, a surge of enlightenment filled his mind. The incantation of a Divine Ability surfaced within his consciousness—
In the span of an hour, he had mostly grasped the essence of the White Fox’s Innate Divine Ability. It was, in truth, a technique already embedded within the inner core itself, requiring neither arduous study nor years of cultivation. Mastering its activation was enough.
However, given his current cultivation level, he estimated his transformation could only magnify his size up to three times his original form. Dreaming of turning into a behemoth towering over skyscrapers? Impossible.
As for shrinking, the smallest he could manage was the size of an ant.
This Art of Transformation bore a particular requirement: one must vividly envision the form they sought to assume. To become an ant, one must conjure every detail of an ant’s shape within their mind. To assume another’s likeness, they must meticulously recall their features.
This visualization technique was known as Observational Focus.
Yet, at its initial stage, the transformation was merely skin-deep. Assuming the form of a bird, for instance, would not grant the ability to fly. To soar through the skies, one would need a precise mental reconstruction—not just wings, but hollow bones, the very aerodynamics of flight.
The more precise the visualization, the more abilities of the target could be replicated.
Failing that, a transformed spider could not weave a web, nor could a fish breathe underwater.
Chen Yan sighed. “This divine ability is far more complex than I imagined.”
With that, he picked up his phone and sent a message to Zhao Shan He, the so-called “King of Campus Odd Jobs.”
A reply came swiftly.
Zhao was already home for winter break, having taken a few friends to Hengdian Studios for some fun as extras in period dramas, earning pocket money in the process.
Chen Yan typed another message:
“Didn’t you mention before that you had a high school classmate at Jin Ling Agricultural University?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I need a favor. Ask their biology department for a full set of animal anatomy textbooks and study notes. The more complete, the better.”
A long silence followed before Zhao finally responded. This time, instead of text, it was a voice message.
Chen Yan played it and was met with Zhao’s nervous tone. “Bro… are you planning to kill someone? Studying how to dismember bodies?”
Chen Yan scowled and fired back, “Shut it! If I wanted to kill someone, you’d be first on my list.”
Zhao laughed heartily but agreed to help. He mentioned that graduating students often sold off their textbooks and notes, making it relatively easy to acquire what Chen Yan needed. Once he got them, he’d send them over.
Chen Yan put down the phone, nodding to himself. Zhao Shan He was a man of reliability.
The phone rang again before long. This time, it was Hu Shang Ke, the real estate agent known for his sycophantic tendencies.
Hu Shang Ke called to inform Chen Yan that the matter of compensation for the collapsed house had been settled. The landlord, unwilling to go through the trouble of rebuilding, had agreed to a sum of thirty thousand taels—no, thirty thousand yuan.
“The price isn’t rock bottom,” Hu Shang Ke admitted, “but it’s close. That old house sat in a remote corner, with barely any land to its name. Even if you put it on the market, you’d be lucky to get twenty thousand.”
“If you think it’s too much,” he continued, “I can negotiate further. Maybe press it down another three to five thousand. Any lower than that, though… not likely.”
Chen Yan pondered for a moment before speaking. “No need. Thirty thousand it is.”
In truth, the landlord was an innocent casualty in all this.
There was no way he could claim compensation from the authorities for earthquake damage. The imperial courts—no, the government—rarely granted reparations for ruined dwellings unless the calamity was of catastrophic proportions. Only when a great disaster shattered the land would the officials deem it necessary to launch reconstruction efforts, allowing those affected to rebuild their homes.
But a minor tremor? A mere 3.8 on the Heavenly Richter Scale? That barely warranted attention.
At most, for houses affected by small, non-destructive earthquakes, the authorities might offer a pittance—a ‘relief grant’ rather than ‘compensation.’ And the process for even that was excruciatingly bureaucratic. First, officials would conduct an on-site survey to confirm the house had indeed been ruined by the quake. Then, after issuing an official assessment, it would take an eternity—an arduous, paper-laden journey through the maze of red tape—before a meager sum was finally approved.
And that sum would never match the house’s worth.
Had Chen Yan chosen to wash his hands of the matter, the landlord would have been left with nothing but ruin.
But he was no rogue. He knew full well that it was his own tribulation that had called forth the wrath of Heaven. If not for the calamity that had pursued him, the house would still be standing. It was his own actions that had brought misfortune to an innocent man.
And so, with an easy flick of his fingers, Chen Yan transferred the thirty thousand yuan to Hu Shang Ke. The matter was settled.
Hu Shang Ke, however, had more news to share. His voice, barely containing his excitement, carried through the receiver. “Brother Chen! I have something extraordinary to tell you!”
“Hm?”
“The villa you rented—the Great Lord of the Villa, the true master, sent someone to see me! He said I handled the rental deal with great efficiency, praised my abilities, and—get this—entrusted me with all his other properties! I’m talking about a whole clutch of prime estates! And he made me his exclusive agent! No one else can interfere!”
Hu Shang Ke let out a giddy chuckle. “I’ve made it big overnight! The shop manager treats me like royalty now, afraid I’ll defect to another firm. Even gave me a raise on my base salary.”
Then, after a moment’s pause, his voice grew sincere. “Brother, if you think about it… this all started because you rented that haunted house. Without that, I never would’ve met such a powerful benefactor. You’re my lucky star!”
“Anyway,” he continued with an earnest laugh, “when do you have time? I owe you a feast!”
Chen Yan smirked knowingly. Fang Da Hai, the true master of the villa, was behind this.
So, he’s currying favor with Hu Shang Ke because he’s my classmate?
And perhaps… he also wishes to learn more about my temperament, my habits?
Such was the way of the world. A single man’s ascent could uplift even those around him.
Still, though Hu Shang Ke had a dog-like eagerness, he wasn’t bad at heart. He truly believed he had been recognized for his abilities, never suspecting that Fang Da Hai’s kindness was merely an extension of Chen Yan’s own significance. And despite this misunderstanding, he still thought of repaying his friend with a meal.
That was respectable.
[Perhaps I should call him something else besides ‘Bootlicker Hu’ from now on.]
“I’ve got my hands full with year-end matters,” Chen Yan replied with a chuckle. “Let’s save the feast for after the New Year.”
“Deal! I’m heading back to my hometown soon anyway. I’ll find you in Jin Ling after the holiday. We’ll have a drink then!”
The next morning, Little Zhao demonstrated his astonishing efficiency. He had managed to procure an old set of anatomy textbooks and notes from the School of Life Sciences, and had even arranged for same-day delivery through a local courier service.
That morning, he called Chen Yan. “Brother! That address you gave me—it’s a freaking villa! Damn! You’re living in a mansion?!”
Chen Yan raised a brow. “Didn’t I tell you my address before?”
“When?”
“Before New Year’s.”
“Ahhh, that explains it. I lost my phone around then. Had to get a new one. Must’ve missed your message.”
Chen Yan was about to ask more when Little Zhao hurriedly cut him off. “No time, bro! The director’s calling for background extras to take their places! Gotta run!”
As soon as the call ended, a faint sigh of relief came from the living room, where Gu Qing Yi had been sitting quietly, watching television.
[Thank the heavens… He didn’t find out.]
She couldn’t let Chen Yan know she had once worked in an internet café to make ends meet. If he discovered how destitute she had been, he would understand that she, too, was bound by the rules of this world—that even a so-called Celestial could struggle to survive, that she had once been so broke she had to steal his family-sized bucket of fried chicken.
She had cornered Chen Yan into acknowledging her as his legitimate mother and agreeing to oversee her ghost marriage by promising him protection—that she could guarantee his safety, allow him to move unhindered through the mortal realm.
But if he ever realized she had been bluffing…
[No, no. The ghost marriage is soon. I just have to keep up the act a little longer.]
[Once it’s over, I’ll leave this realm and return to the Domain Beyond.]
By afternoon, the courier arrived, delivering the textbooks and notes—treasures of knowledge salvaged from the archives of Jin Ling Agricultural University.
With these sacred tomes in hand, Chen Yan wasted no time. He carried them into the training chamber, where a lone laptop had already been set up, waiting for him.
His cultivation of knowledge was about to begin.
Chen Yan sat cross-legged, his gaze fixed on the instructional texts before him. The light of the screen flickered faintly, connecting him to the boundless sea of knowledge. At his fingertips, information flowed freely—bone structures, muscle compositions, the intricate mechanisms of movement. He delved into the anatomy of various beasts, absorbing their essence as if committing martial techniques to memory.
That night, beneath the moon’s pale glow, he stood in the courtyard. With a subtle incantation, his form wavered and shifted, feathers sprouting in place of flesh. He had become a sparrow. In his mind, he reconstructed the avian form—the slender bones, the taut muscles primed for flight. Then, he leaped.
His first two attempts were clumsy. One saw him barely clearing the villa walls before careening into a tree. The second sent him plunging into the artificial lake of the estate, wings flailing against the water’s surface. But failure did not deter him. With each setback, his control refined, his understanding deepened.
At last, he soared. The night wind carried him as he cut through the sky, tracing unseen currents with newfound grace. When he finally returned, shifting back into human form before the villa’s entrance, he was greeted by Gu Qing Yi. Arms folded, she watched him with a smirk.
“Your transformation technique is remarkable,” she mused, her sharp eyes scrutinizing him. “Even my cultivation level cannot discern your true form. As expected of the innate divine gift of the Fox Clan.”
The next morning, Chu Ke Qing visited once more. This time, she arrived bearing a wooden chest, its contents meticulously arranged. Bundled in small, labeled parcels were medicinal ingredients, carefully measured and prepared according to the prescription he had given her. Alongside them, she had included a complete set of brewing tools—thoughtful, precise.
“Senior,” she greeted, bowing respectfully. “I’ve gathered all the herbs for your prescription.”
Chen Yan regarded her, taking in her usual form-fitting qipao, exuding both elegance and maturity.
“And the funds?” she continued, her voice measured. “I transferred them yesterday—did you receive them?”
Chen Yan nodded. “I received them. You have my thanks.”
Indeed, the bank had notified him of the deposit—a sum nearing twenty million. It wasn’t long before his phone rang with an eager customer manager on the other end. Courteous flattery followed, accompanied by an insistent push for investment plans, exclusive products, and generous gift offers.
Growing impatient, Chen Yan deflected their advances with a simple excuse: he intended to purchase property soon, and the funds would not remain idle. As expected, the manager’s pitch shifted immediately to real estate loans.
Chu Ke Qing did not linger long. After exchanging a few words, she excused herself and departed.
Chen Yan wasted no time. Entering the kitchen, he set to work brewing the medicine. He followed the precise method given by Old Deng from next door—three bowls of water simmered down to one. When the dark, murky decoction was finally ready, he pinched his nose and drank it down in a single gulp.
He had tested the process beforehand. The day prior, he had brewed a lesser batch using over-the-counter herbs, feeding it to Gui Geng, the old turtle dwelling in his courtyard’s formation hub. He observed for a full day—no visible side effects. Only then did he dare consume the stronger brew Chu Ke Qing had procured.
Yet within half an hour, his face paled. His stomach churned violently, and with a flash of Command of Evasion, he vanished, reappearing in his bedroom before bolting into the washroom.
Seated on the porcelain throne, beads of cold sweat dripped from his forehead. His legs trembled, his insides roared like war drums. For an entire morning, he remained trapped there, as though locked in a battle he could not escape.
“Damn it…” he muttered hoarsely, his body weak from the ordeal.
Yet he dismissed the notion of treachery. Chu Ke Qing had no reason to poison him—she had been nothing but respectful. That left only one possibility.
[That damn Old Deng!]
In the neighboring villa, Old Deng stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his hands clasped behind his back. He sighed, shaking his head, having long withdrawn his extended hearing technique.
“That brat… He really doesn’t know his limits,” he muttered.
His prescription had been calculated for the common herbs found in ordinary pharmacies, accounting for their diluted potency. Who would have thought that Chen Yan would go and procure a batch of high-grade, aged medicinal ingredients?
The enhanced potency had multiplied the effects several times over.
“Well… At least it’s only the first few days. The side effects will wear off soon.” Old Deng mused. “The efficacy, however, remains intact.”
Just as he was thinking this, he caught sight of movement below. Chen Yan stormed out of his villa, rage smoldering in his eyes as he strode toward Old Deng’s courtyard.
But then, barely ten steps into his march, his expression twisted. He clutched his stomach, his face contorted in agony—before he spun on his heels and bolted back inside at full speed.
Old Deng chuckled. “Serves you right.”
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation