Rainwater relentlessly battered the surroundings, falling from the sky onto the girl's red umbrella and then cascading down its edges, forming a curtain of rain.

Beneath the umbrella, the girl's smile was as radiant as a flower.

Intelligent women are perhaps only foolish when facing the men they love.

Clearly, the old Daoist before her was not one of those men.

And facing the girl's rebuttal,

the old Daoist merely smiled.

He lowered his head,

his shoe splashing in a puddle, sending water spraying.

"Why did you come?" the old Daoist asked.

The girl didn't answer.

"It seems your father is truly prepared to sacrifice family for the greater good?"

The girl still didn't answer.

The old Daoist scratched his already soaked hair, took a step, and continued walking forward.

The girl continued to hold her umbrella, walking in her own direction.

The distance between them hadn't widened much when

the old Daoist stopped and waved his hand, saying:

"Do you understand him well?"

The girl stopped.

Truthfully,

she didn't understand him very well.

If she truly understood him,

she wouldn't have been ruthlessly rejected by that man twice,

and ultimately,

wouldn't have emerged from her resting place with a life already marked with a countdown.

Whether it was before on Mount Emei, or recently in front of the bookstore, she had lost both times, not only lost but suffered severe losses.

Each time, she had sacrificed most of herself.

After repeated sacrifices, she was almost completely gone.

But, fortunately, she didn't have much time left anyway.

That sword was already hanging before that man; the time it would fall was just tonight or tomorrow morning.

She estimated that

this rain, this typhoon,

hadn't ended, hadn't left,

and this sword

would fall.

Next would be her; little time plus little time didn't exactly equal a positive outcome, but many things could be considered meaningless.

"More than you, I suppose."

"Really?" A smile appeared on the old Daoist's face.

"Really."

"Then tell me, will he die?"

"He will die."

The girl didn't hesitate, answering directly.

The old Daoist licked his lips; he wanted to use himself as an example, but as the girl had said, he didn't count as an example at all.

This feeling was unpleasant; he had clearly succeeded, yet he hadn't received the flowers and applause a victor deserved.

Instead, he felt like Kong Yiji,

surrounded by people laughing at his demise,

no matter how many coins he presented or how many ways he could write the word "death,"

it was useless.

Perhaps

the biggest problem was

he himself might have been wavering.

"You won't live either," the old Daoist said with emotion.

The girl ignored him, continuing to hold the umbrella and walking on.

"I am his daughter."

"But he is the Lord of Men!"

The old Daoist immediately turned to look at the girl's back.

His shout sounded fragmented in the typhoon rain.

"He is the Lord of Men, he established this rule for the human world. Why are you women always so naive?"

Perhaps it was his last bit of unwillingness, or perhaps a final question.

The old Daoist seemed to have lost his former composure, but he really couldn't care less and didn't plan to dwell on these things anymore.

Earlier, at the moment of his great success, Dizang had shown off in front of him.

Just now, on his way back home, this girl had stabbed him again!

Everyone, whether human or ghost, was showing off, while only the Lord was being beaten!

How could the old Daoist possibly maintain inner peace?

Besides, he was never someone with inner peace to begin with.

"He will die, but that 'he' will live on." The girl turned her head, looking at the old Daoist in the rain. "If he lives, it will be easy."

The old Daoist was stunned for a moment.

At their level,

many words,

were understood instantly.

Under the Xuanyuan Sword,

the Eight Immortals cross the sea, each displaying their unique abilities.

What you can think of, others have probably thought of; what others have tried, you have probably contemplated deeply.

After all, it concerned whether they would continue to exist, so no one dared to take it lightly.

The "he" and "he" the girl spoke of referred to Ying Gou and "Zhou Ze," respectively.

Ying Gou would die,

but in all likelihood,

Zhou Ze would live.

And the girl's target was Zhou Ze.

She was following behind Zhou Ze,

waiting for that sword to fall,

waiting for that sword to kill the man she loved and hated most in this life,

and then,

she would pick up the survivor from under the sword.

You could say he was a piece of armor, or you could say he was a piece of clothing;

what she needed to do

was simply wear him on her body.

The Xuanyuan Sword was her father's sword;

Zhou Ze was the one who had just survived the sword;

She currently didn't have a true physical body; as one of the first zombie ancestors, whether or not she had a physical body really wasn't important to her.

The physical body was just a shell.

Her father's sword, plus Zhou Ze's physical body and soul, which had just survived the sword.

With these two things in hand,

her chances of surviving would be greater.

You could say this was wishful thinking, but it was indeed a method.

It wasn't that no one had thought of this method before, but even if they had, it would be useless,

because there was a key point that only she could satisfy,

and that was

she was the daughter of the Yellow Emperor!

You could say this method was laughable, because it wasn't guaranteed to succeed, but under the Xuanyuan Sword, no one had the right to laugh at anyone.

"Can I be... instead?"

The old Daoist pointed to his face.

The girl held the umbrella and laughed, as if she had heard the biggest joke in the world.

"I said, you are already... dead."

The old Daoist also laughed,

simply squatting in the puddle,

like a senile old man.

He slapped the puddle with one hand, like a mischievous child playing despite his mother's future scolding, and laughed:

"How can you be sure that bookstore owner will survive?"

Hearing this,

the girl fell silent.

Not only silent, but her face also turned icy cold.

The old Daoist had asked her before if she understood him.

In fact, she really didn't understand him.

But she could use repeated bloody failures, repeated pale, heart-wrenching experiences,

to prove one thing,

to prove what Zhou Ze's position was in that man's heart.

This was based on a woman's intuition; women were born with this intuition.

She could clearly sense who her competitor was.

Ying Gou,

would let him live.

She firmly believed it,

she was certain of it!

"He will live."

And Ying Gou, that man, would die.

Ending his magnificent life.

And once that man died, the remaining person named Zhou Ze,

after losing Ying Gou's power,

what

would he be?

An ordinary person?

To put it nicely, a zombie?

But what was a zombie in her eyes?

"You want to stop me?"

The girl asked the old Daoist.

The old Daoist shook his head and said, "My debt to him is cleared."

In other words, he wouldn't interfere.

"Good."

The girl continued to walk forward with her umbrella.

The old Daoist sat down, leaning against the telephone pole, since he was already soaked, he didn't care anymore.

After the girl's figure disappeared into the rain ahead,

the old Daoist chuckled again.

"Everyone thinks they are so smart."

After sighing,

the old Daoist raised his head.

The light of the street lamp was a bit dazzling, and the heavy rain around it made the light scatter, creating an effect similar to a lunar halo.

In this hazy scene,

the old Daoist seemed to see many people, but he didn't allow his thoughts to linger there.

He reached out and patted his jaw, then pushed himself up from the ground and stood up again.

He began to walk back.

On this road,

some were walking forward,

while he

was going in the opposite direction.

The living go forward, the dead go backward;

Fortunately, after walking for so long, the Late Night Bookstore was finally in sight.

Through the glass, Lawyer An saw the old Daoist in the rain, and he immediately rushed out with an umbrella to shield the old Daoist from the rain.

The umbrella completely covered the old Daoist, and Lawyer An's shirt was already soaked.

The old Daoist didn't rush inside, but looked at Lawyer An and asked:

"Did you ever hold an umbrella for your old man?"

"Never." Lawyer An seemed very honest.

In his previous life, he was a wealthy young man in Guangzhou, busy with leisure and play, indulging in extravagance. It wasn't until his father passed away and his family declined that he understood the principles of life.

But it was truly a case of wanting to care for his parents, but they were no longer there.

The old Daoist nodded.

Lawyer An added, "Isn't this just to make a living?"

Flattering was for survival; after all, probably no one in this world was truly born with a cheap bone, liking to flatter others.

The old Daoist's gaze swept over everyone in the bookstore, and finally landed on Lawyer An's face again.

He placed his hand on Lawyer An's shoulder and patted it.

Lawyer An felt his bones go weak.

Immediately afterward,

the old Daoist turned his head again, looking at the dark rain curtain behind him,

and said:

"Your boss, went that way."

"Mm."

The old Daoist reached out and touched his face, then finally pushed the door open and walked in.

Everyone in the bookstore was there, except for Yingying, who had gone out with the boss.

When the old Daoist came in, everyone's eyes naturally followed him.

The old Daoist didn't care that he was already soaked; of course, the bookstore employees wouldn't mind him dirtying the floor either, allowing the old Daoist to shuffle through the water stains and walk to the painting again.

The old Daoist's hands caressed the painting.

His lips were a little chapped.

Dizang had given him a blow when he ascended;

The girl earlier had also given him a blow;

The Xuanyuan Sword had also given him a blow.

But…

"I'm not dead!"

The old Daoist suddenly let out a deep voice!

This voice

shook everyone in the bookstore, their faces turning pale; the Lord's aura, even for them, was too much to bear, even though the Lord wasn't intentionally targeting them.

Immediately afterward,

the old Daoist let out a sigh,

as if the previous splendor was just the last bit of unwillingness being vented, like… a final burst of glory.

"Alas,

I just,

miss you all…"