She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar-Chapter 110

Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang were soon to turn eighteen.

Yan Luoyue’s ability to continuously retrieve materials from the "void" left the members of the Free Alliance utterly stunned.

Even though Cen Mingxiao had already explained it, many still found it hard to believe.

"You still claim you’re not divine envoys from the Celestial Realm? Retrieving items from thin air without a storage pouch—how could such a power exist in this world?"

"Not the 'Celestial Realm,' but the Demon Realm," Cen Mingxiao corrected matter-of-factly. "As for these two divine envoys..."

Hearing this, Yan Luoyue silently plucked a mole from her hand.

In an infomercial-like tone, she pitched: "Portable, stick-on decorative mole with storage function—lightweight, hassle-free, and easy to carry!"

Everyone: "...Oh."

The storage mole was a fascinating novelty, and people lined up to examine it.

But compared to storage pouches, they still preferred the latter.

The reason was simple—when people in this world underwent spiritual transformation, all their belongings would drop to the ground.

Storage pouches were larger and easier to find afterward. A tiny storage mole like this? A gust of wind could blow it away, and then where would they look?

Yan Luoyue: "..." That did make sense.

In truth, all the items Yan Luoyue retrieved came from her innate backpack.

The storage mole was just a cover to explain how she produced things.

While ordinary members of the Free Alliance accepted this explanation without question, Cen Mingxiao seemed to have his suspicions.

Once, Cen Mingxiao casually remarked to Yan Luoyue, "That storage mole of yours... seemed a bit empty at the time?"

Yan Luoyue looked at him in surprise, wondering how he had noticed.

After all, storage pouches and moles usually had binding properties—unless the previous owner died, outsiders couldn’t even open them.

For ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‍Cen Mingxiao to vaguely sense the contents through a spatial artifact was something Yan Luoyue had never heard of before.

Cen Mingxiao explained, "You know, we spiritual transformers can pass through all objects."

Like ghosts in Harry Potter, spiritual transformers could phase through walls, rocks, and even human bodies.

Passing through a wall meant moving from the outside space into the interior; passing through a rock meant entering the garden from outside...

In a way, all spiritual transformers shared a peculiar connection with space.

If not for the fact that storage pouches couldn’t hold living beings, they could theoretically even hitch a ride inside one.

And Cen Mingxiao was exceptional even among spiritual transformers.

He hadn’t meant to pry, but after observing Yan Luoyue’s storage mole for a while, he could sense the "emptiness" within.

After mentioning it offhandedly, Cen Mingxiao quickly added,

"Given that, does it mean I have some talent?" He grinned. "That 'network'—do you think I could phase through it? If I qualify, count me in for the offensive roster."

Yan Luoyue pinched her chin and mused, "So incredible—no wonder they say spiritual transformers can even phase into networks—Wait, no! I’ve told you so many times, Manshuang and I aren’t from the Demon Realm, and I’m definitely not the third-generation 'divine envoy' here to recruit elites!"

Seeing through his roundabout probing, Cen Mingxiao didn’t seem embarrassed at all. Instead, he laughed heartily.

"What difference does it make?"

His eyes—wild, dark, and free like a leopard’s—met Yan Luoyue’s gaze openly.

Cen Mingxiao spread his arms, gesturing to the land behind him.

"What difference does it make—when you’ve already given us so much?"

Behind him, the spiritual transformers of Baolan City, who had once had their limbs severed, now stood in orderly lines.

The Free Alliance distributed medicine, recorded by Wu Manshuang, in quarter-pill portions to each citizen.

Noticing Yan Luoyue’s gaze, Wu Manshuang looked up, met her eyes, and smiled naturally.

They both knew that after today’s medicine distribution, whether it was teaching artifact forging, formations, or alchemy and talismans, they had a solid foundation—and a smooth start was all but guaranteed.

At first, Wu Manshuang and Yan Luoyue had felt the pressure.

After experimentation, they confirmed that while ordinary spells were manageable, most of their core cultivation techniques couldn’t be used by spiritual transformers in this realm.

That was because spiritual transformers lacked clear meridians in their bodies—only key "nodes" existed.

After worrying over this for a while, Wu Manshuang suddenly looked up.

Slowly, he uttered two words: "Ghost Cultivators."

—A rare type of cultivator in the cultivation world who existed solely as souls, requiring special artifacts like Soul-Nurturing Pearls in their early stages.

But they had their own unique cultivation methods, and Wu Manshuang happened to know the specifics.

This was thanks to Chu Tiankuo and Song Qingchi.

Though Tao Tao’s body had remained preserved after her death, it would still take time before her soul could return.

Just in case, the two brothers had gone to great lengths to acquire several Ghost Cultivator manuals.

Later, Tao Tao’s soul recovered well, and these manuals went unused.

But Wu Manshuang, ever the avid learner, had taken them along to study.

Who would have thought they’d become the training materials for spiritual transformers today?

As they say, sometimes the seeds you scatter unknowingly grow into forests.

...

Days passed in a flash, and Yan Luoyue had already settled in seamlessly among her "students," bonding with them like siblings.

Her and Wu Manshuang’s first batch of students were the Free Alliance members who had fought alongside them in the city lord’s residence.

Since cultivators weren’t affected by heat or cold, Yan Luoyue happily adapted to local customs—wearing fewer clothes.

However, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the local women’s layered, flowing gauze attire.

So she sketched a design and took it straight to Wu Manshuang.

Having lived in solitude and self-sufficiency for years in his youth, Wu Manshuang was quite skilled at sewing.

Following Yan Luoyue’s suggestions, he crafted a light-gray batwing-sleeved top and a pair of white athletic shorts in just the time it took an incense stick to burn.

Now, Yan Luoyue wore this outfit while chatting and laughing with students during breaks.

"Kang Fei, your idea is solid."

"Mi Fei, the pill you refined earlier was potent."

"Xian Fei, you’ve got this!"

Not far away, Wu Manshuang sat with his arms crossed.

He watched as someone cracked a joke, sending Yan Luoyue into a fit of laughter.

"Ha ha ha ha, sure, the next imperial friend shall be granted the title of 'Beloved Concubine'—pfft ha ha ha, everyone is a Beloved Concubine, all Beloved Concubines!"

Wu Manshuang: "…"

His fists clenched. They clenched so hard that he was tempted to ask the person cracking the "Beloved Concubine" joke just what flavor of poison they’d prefer!

Just then, a figure quietly took a seat beside Wu Manshuang.

Wu Manshuang glanced sideways and saw it was Cen Mingxiao.

Ever since that night when the two had openly discussed topics like "Divine Messengers," "Divine Kingdom," "the realms of demons, humans, and spirits," and their "shared enemy," Cen Mingxiao seemed to have unlocked some profound understanding.

He now grasped the subtle distance Wu Manshuang had previously maintained.

The next time Wu Manshuang instructed him on cultivation techniques and politely suggested, "If you want to practice this technique, it’s best to wear more layers," Cen Mingxiao looked at him with a knowing, perceptive gaze.

With an exaggerated nod, his wild eyes flashing with a playful glint like a leopard about to splash in water, Cen Mingxiao said, "Alright, I believe you."

Then, the next time he met Yan Luoyue, he draped an additional sheer outer robe over himself.

Yan Luoyue’s assessment of this? "Half-hidden, half-revealed, like a pipa veiled behind silk—absolutely exquisite!"

Wu Manshuang: "…"

According to Yan Luoyue’s later recollection, if someone had taken a photo of Wu Manshuang at that moment, it would’ve been the perfect meme—Added to the secret assassination list overnight.jpg.

Still, even Wu Manshuang had to admit that Cen Mingxiao was a reliable ally. Whether it was his talent, comprehension, stance, or competence, he was someone worthy of trust.

If one ignored his penchant for bestowing ridiculous "concubine titles," Wu Manshuang and Cen Mingxiao could coexist quite harmoniously.

—Mainly because everyone in the spirit realm dressed like this anyway.

So after seeing it enough times, Yan Luoyue had long since become desensitized.

Thus, the biggest potential trigger for conflict between Cen Mingxiao and Wu Manshuang simply didn’t exist.

Seeing Cen Mingxiao sit down, Wu Manshuang silently shifted aside to give him more space.

Cen Mingxiao asked, "I never asked before—how long do you plan to stay here?"

"At least three years."

"Three years…" Cen Mingxiao mulled over the timeframe.

"At our current pace, the first batch of solid-core cultivators will be equipped with talismans and artifacts, becoming warriors capable of facing demons. Meanwhile, our spirit-refined cultivators will master dozens of techniques, advancing further in demon combat."

Wu Manshuang gave a slight nod.

Cen Mingxiao studied him seriously. "But our spiritual energy here is thin. Won’t that hinder the progress of your esteemed siblings?"

Wu Manshuang shook his head lightly.

"Luoyue brought rare treasures to aid our cultivation. Though the environment is harsher, our progress won’t be delayed much."

At the mention of this, the corners of Wu Manshuang’s lips lifted slightly.

Not because of Cen Mingxiao’s concern, but because he had naturally thought of the person referred to in his words.

Cen Mingxiao noticed this detail but didn’t call it out. Instead, he chuckled softly, lowering his head.

"Speaking of which, I once got curious and asked Yan Luoyue about what 'spirit manifestation' actually is."

Wu Manshuang replied matter-of-factly, "Then Luoyue must have demonstrated for you—when we spirits manifest, our clothes transform with us."

Just from that sentence, it was clear how deeply ingrained the image of spirit cultivators’ clothes-disappearing transformations was in Wu Manshuang’s mind.

"True," Cen Mingxiao mused. "But I’d never seen Yan Luoyue’s spirit form, so I asked her what her race should be called."

"What did Luoyue say?"

Cen Mingxiao grinned. "She said—when combined with you, the two of you form the 'Black Tortoise.'"

After a pause, he deliberately pressed, "Wu Manshuang, between you and Yan Luoyue, who’s the 'Black' and who’s the 'Tortoise'?"

"...That’s not how it works. It’s related to a legend from our world," Wu Manshuang said softly.

Yet, strangely, the furrow in his brow smoothed out, and his eyes softened like a spring stream.

From then on, Wu Manshuang’s tone when speaking to Cen Mingxiao lost some of its polite restraint, gaining a touch of familiar warmth.

After explaining the legend of the Black Tortoise, Wu Manshuang took out paper and a brush from his storage pouch, sketching a few demonic script characters to ask Cen Mingxiao about.

At first, he extracted a few phrases from the middle of the mermaid-silk letter.

Cen Mingxiao glanced at them and answered directly, "Lang Xi, Qiu Liang, Hua Jiajia… these are all names."

"Aside from names, are there no other meanings?"

"None."

Wu Manshuang pondered this, then picked out a few words from the letter’s opening and closing sections.

"This word means 'list.'"

"This phrase is 'humbly prostrate in gratitude'—a fixed closing formula in our letters."

"These two words mean 'remaining' and 'all'..."

Throughout this, Wu Manshuang mixed in several characters not from the letter.

Through his piecemeal questioning, he finally confirmed that the mermaid-silk message delivered by the demons was, in fact, a lengthy list.

The letter was written by a demonic settlement, using mermaid silk and clam-blood ink, addressed to their kin in the cultivation world—and to anyone who might read it.

Its contents weren’t critical intelligence but something far simpler, even brutally so—

"To inform all: Our Mad Sands Tribe originally numbered 3,291. Now, we are 284. For three thousand years, we have guarded the Moonfall Tree without retreating a single step. Today, the demons come with ill intent. We shall soon return to the Moonfall Tree, leaving our names behind as a record. May all take heed."

The long stretch of uneven handwriting that followed, with characters of varying sizes, was the signatures of every remaining member of that tribe.

And this single strip of mermaid silk was but a glimpse of the demons’ three-thousand-year struggle.

After deciphering the letter’s contents, Wu Manshuang fell silent for a long time.

His gaze drifted toward the sky, fixed on the direction from which demons had repeatedly breached the spirit realm throughout history.

Wu Manshuang was born in the demon realm. He knew well that its sky wasn’t blue, nor did it have a sun.

The demon realm’s sky was often pink, purple, crimson, or the burning red of flames, staining its rivers and lakes a blood-like hue that chilled the heart.

And those surging scarlet waves seemed to mirror the blood of heroes who had fought and fallen for three thousand years—

Still staring at the spirit realm’s sky, Wu Manshuang murmured, "They say the demons invade the spirit realm every twenty to thirty years. How long do you think it’ll be before the next invasion?"

Cen Mingxiao smiled bitterly. "If past patterns hold, likely within the next two years."

"But if they never come, then that would mean..."

Wu Manshuang finished the thought: "They’re sharpening their blades, biding their time to strike at the cultivation world."

Cen Mingxiao revealed a bitter smile of shared understanding: "If it's not you, then it's us. No matter who it falls upon, there's only the order of sequence—no one is lucky enough to avoid calamity."

This was why the two realms had to form an alliance—and why they absolutely must unite.

After a brief pause, Cen Mingxiao adjusted his tone, adopting a lighter manner. "Sister Yan has already adapted to local customs and changed her attire, but Brother Wu, why are you still..."

He gave Wu Manshuang a teasing once-over from head to toe, "—so... earnest?"

At the mention of this topic, Wu Manshuang finally smiled.

He stood up, shook his head, and cast Cen Mingxiao a meaningful look. "You wouldn’t understand."

Cen Mingxiao blinked. "...I wouldn’t understand?"

The next moment, Wu Manshuang began undoing the clasps of his cloak.

He removed the pitch-black outer garment and casually draped it over a chair, revealing a moon-white robe embroidered with silver threads, as if he had tailored a piece of winter moonlight to wear.

When Wu Manshuang, dressed like this, walked through the crowd, passing by the local spirit cultivators who wore nothing more than thin gauze, it was like watching a clear glacier traverse a fiery desert beneath the boundless blue sky.

"Luoyue," Wu Manshuang called softly.

Yan Luoyue turned her head, saw Wu Manshuang, and her eyes instantly lit up.

"Manshuang!" She admired his rare attire for a moment, then tugged at his sleeve, pulling him along. "Come help me—I knew it! You look especially striking and handsome in light colors!"

Wu Manshuang let Yan Luoyue lead him by the sleeve, only turning back to glance at Cen Mingxiao just before their figures disappeared into the crowd.

His gaze seemed to say plainly—See? I told you, you wouldn’t understand.

Cen Mingxiao: "..."

Whatever was going on between those two, he truly didn’t understand!

...

Time flowed swiftly, and in the blink of an eye, seven years had passed.

Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang were now on the verge of turning eighteen.

Over these seven years, Yan Luoyue’s health bar had only changed twice—yet her spiritual energy bar had increased a full seven times.

In the first year, when her spiritual energy grew while her health remained unchanged, Yan Luoyue had assumed her life force had reached its limit.

Though slightly disappointing, a health pool of 10 to the 11th power was more than enough.

The second year, her spiritual energy rose again, while her health stayed the same.

But when the third year arrived, Yan Luoyue was stunned to discover that her total health value had gained yet another "0" at the end!

Yan Luoyue: "!!!"

At first, with so many zeros already, she thought she might have miscounted.

But the sudden tenfold expansion of her health bar, now stretching endlessly beyond sight, couldn’t be an illusion.

After some contemplation, Yan Luoyue had an epiphany.

—If she wasn’t mistaken, the length of her health bar must be tied to the growth of the Moonfall Tree’s true form in the demon realm.

In other words, for every year the Moonfall Tree aged in the demon realm, a zero would be added to her health bar.

This realization even allowed her to confirm that the time flow in the spirit realm was three times faster than in the cultivation world—an unexpected bonus.

Meanwhile, the length of her spiritual energy bar was linked to Yan Luoyue herself.

Because between Yan Luoyue and the Moonfall Tree, the conscious mind capable of thought clearly resided with her, and "spiritual energy" was inherently tied to consciousness.

As for the Moonfall Tree... it was probably just idling in the background.

Yes, after years of steady spiritual energy growth, Yan Luoyue could finally voice the long-held suspicion aloud.

She turned to Wu Manshuang and said, "Manshuang, I have a feeling... maybe I am the Moonfall Tree."

The moment the words left her mouth, her spiritual energy bar abruptly shrank by a segment.

Yan Luoyue quickly amended, "Scratch the 'maybe.'"

Wu Manshuang: "..."

Wu Manshuang said, "Then I..."

He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

After all, whether it was the innate power flowing in his veins or the profound sense of kinship between them—as if they were two halves of a whole—everything confirmed the truth.

—So, from the dawn of creation, before these lands had even borne life, they had already been companions.

...

Just before Yan Luoyue’s eighteenth birthday, a spatial rift tore open in the sky.

The news spread through the city like wildfire.

Everyone realized that the demonic invasion, originally expected two or three years earlier, had finally begun anew.

This time, however, the unified Thirteen Cities had long been prepared.

Yet, defying expectations, the rift only gaped open briefly—just enough for a small horde of demons and one peculiar figure to tumble through: a humanoid creature with emerald-green eyes and translucent, pale green wings.

Then, the rift was forcefully sealed shut, as though someone had hurriedly closed a door left ajar.

The demons were nothing new, but the winged stranger...

No one in the spirit realm had ever seen depictions or statues of such a being.

Yet, those familiar with history couldn’t help but wonder:

"Is that... a Divine Emissary from legend?"

"...Has our Emissary descended again?"

The figure lay motionless, eyes shut tight.

Outwardly, there were no wounds, yet anyone who tried to probe his meridians collapsed into unconsciousness within seconds of touching his skin.

As the crowd debated what to do, a wisp of fresh, green mist began seeping from his body.

The sight was like a lightbulb flicking on in everyone’s minds.

—Of course! Fetch Wu Manshuang!

If this stranger emitted mist, he was practically Wu Manshuang’s long-lost kin!

Wu Manshuang arrived with Yan Luoyue in tow.

She took one look at the figure and instantly recognized him.

"He’s a demon—a Nightmare, to be precise. Those translucent wings are their hallmark."

Staring at the scene, Yan Luoyue felt a flicker of déjà vu.

After a moment’s thought, she recalled a famous dungeon from the Worlds United game: "The Nightmare’s Riddle."

Its final boss was a Nightmare demon.

In the dungeon, the Nightmare’s true body slumbered deep underground, while every monster fought, every NPC spoken to—even the Nightmare "defeated" in the final battle—was part of an elaborate dreamscape he wove.

When the dream ended, players would hear the boss sigh: Please, take a message to her—

As for who "her" referred to, the player base never reached a consensus.

Some say "she" is the beloved woman of Nightmare, while others claim "she" is the sister Nightmare once wronged.

But in this moment, Yan Luoyue suddenly understood.

Who Nightmare wished to send a message to didn’t matter. What mattered was that this dungeon had imprinted one crucial detail in Yan Luoyue’s mind: "Nightmare delivers dreams as letters."

As the crowd in the Spirit Realm buzzed with speculation, Yan Luoyue stepped forward.

"I’ll take it," she said. "This is a letter sent to me from the Demon Realm."