I Just Wanted To Live but I Somehow Became Better Than the Protagonist

A low-level soul imprint merely controlled spirit pets, while a high-level soul imprint could share certain opportunities with them.

“You all have established high-level soul imprints with Yong’er, correct?”

“I’m not sure about high-level or not, but after establishing the soul imprint with the master, I did break through once, though not as dramatically as this time.” Hua Ningyan answered truthfully, then suddenly grew anxious: “Is something wrong with the master?”

Lin Wei shook her head. “Even troubles can be blessings.”

— Forbidden Grounds of the Southern District, Imperial Palace of the Great Zhou Dynasty;

Zhou Yunqi gazed at Ye Yong, who stood before her, faintly glowing with a holy light, and she was certain that the poem was his creation.

After all, the Heavenly Path had acknowledged him as the first to voice it; it could not possibly be an act of theft, could it?

“My apologies, I was suddenly inspired, and I must have embarrassed Sister Yunqi,” Ye Yong said, clad in white, reflecting the sunlight, completely oblivious to the peculiarity around him.

Even the guards of the forbidden grounds had not noticed; there was no fluctuation of spiritual energy, and the light was too faint, only discernible upon close inspection.

“Your Excellency Ye Yong is not a literary cultivator; it is truly a pity, a great loss to the realm of literary cultivation,” Zhou Yunqi found herself unconsciously using honorifics again. There was no helping it; she could not compose such poetry, at least not in her current state.

The poem just recited should, under normal circumstances, be the work of someone in their twilight years, still harboring grand ambitions. Yet Ye Yong, so young, possessed such vision—how could she ever compare? As a literary cultivator, she felt a genuine respect for Ye Yong’s talent.

“Sister Yunqi, you flatter me,” Ye Yong replied, unable to accept the praise comfortably, for it was not his own. He could not emulate certain protagonists from novels who claimed the works of the ancients as their own. Ye Yong had a clear understanding of himself; no matter how many timeless poems he recited, he remained merely a transporter of foreign culture, sitting in the shade of trees planted by predecessors.

“No, not flattery at all; it is the truth,” Zhou Yunqi insisted, interpreting Ye Yong’s modesty as humility.

“A fine saying: ‘Though the divine turtle lives long, it still has its end.'” At that moment, an elderly man with white hair appeared behind them, as if summoned by fate.

—

57. Old Guo

The old man emitted no trace of spiritual energy, appearing as an ordinary mortal. His skin looked relatively youthful, and his eyes sparkled with vitality, a fitting description of a youthful visage despite his age.

Ye Yong was quite surprised; he had not expected this old turtle to truly manifest, as he had approached the situation with a mere sense of trial.

Though Zhou Yunqi had never seen the “Ancestor of the Zhou Family,” she was not foolish. Given her status, even ministers would address her as “Your Highness,” yet the old man did not even spare her a glance. Excitement bubbled within her, but with the ancestor remaining silent, she felt it prudent to feign ignorance.

“May I ask who this venerable elder is?” Sometimes, asking a question one already knows the answer to is necessary, serving as an opening line. As an outsider, Ye Yong should play the part of the unknowing.

“Just a guard of the forbidden grounds,” the old man replied, turning his gaze to Ye Yong. “I am quite curious, young friend, how did you come to compose such a four-line poem? There are neither divine turtles nor soaring serpents here, not even a horse…”

You have no horse.

Ye Yong silently mocked himself for his reckless thoughts, then replied with a serious face, “Elder, do not focus on the front, but rather on what lies behind.”

Ye Yong gazed at the guards within the forbidden grounds, a mix of old and young: “If I am not mistaken, those chosen to be guards here, barring any unforeseen circumstances, will remain inside until retirement. As cultivators of the dynasty, there must be some who yearn to step onto the battlefield, to slay enemies and bring glory to their nation. Such aspirations do not wane with age; rather, they grow ever stronger.”

The elder nodded. Having spent thousands of years here, he had indeed witnessed many ambitious cultivators, in their middle to later years, petitioning the emperor for a chance to fight on the front lines. Not everyone craves comfort; some possess lofty ambitions and wish to fulfill them, even if it means dying on the battlefield, rather than living a mundane life.

“Even if we cultivators possess the lifespan of a divine turtle, able to ride the clouds like a soaring serpent, we ultimately cannot escape decay… This poem was merely a sudden inspiration upon seeing the guards; I wonder if the elder finds any fault in it.” Ye Yong could never admit that he had deliberately chosen a poem featuring turtles to catch the elder’s attention, knowing the elder’s true form was that of a turtle.

“No fault at all; this poem is quite excellent.” The elder had briefly suspected that Ye Yong had discovered his true identity. While it was no great matter for his true form to be known, he would certainly be puzzled as to how an unfamiliar outsider had uncovered it.

Now relieved to find it was a false alarm, the elder no longer dwelled on whether the divine turtle in the poem held any deeper meaning. He scrutinized Ye Yong from head to toe: “Truly remarkable. Though I am but a humble Yuan Ying, I cannot see through your cultivation, young man.”

“Because I have inadvertently mastered a profound breath-holding technique, allowing me to conceal my cultivation, making enemies hesitate to act rashly.”

“As a young man, you are unlike others who flaunt their abilities, eager to let everyone know how talented they are.” The elder stroked his white beard: “May I ask your name, young friend?”

“I am Ye, with the single character Yong.”

“Ye Yong…” The elder pondered for a moment. “I seem to have heard that name before.”

“Perhaps it is a case of sharing the same name.”

“You are too modest. In response to the elder, he has recently accomplished many significant deeds; surely you have heard of him from other guards.” Zhou Yunqi, who had remained silent, observing the elder’s temperament while he conversed with Ye Yong, finally seized the opportunity to speak.

“Now that you mention it, I do have an impression.”

“Just a hollow reputation.” Ye Yong smiled slightly and bowed to the elder. “May I ask how to address you, elder?”

“If you don’t mind, just call me Elder Gui.”

“Very well, Elder Gui.” Both Ye Yong and Zhou Yunqi lowered their heads in respect.

In truth, Ye Yong knew the elder turtle’s full name: Gui Lingao.

As a spirit turtle, such a name seemed somewhat inappropriate, but there was no helping it. A millennium ago, before it had transformed into a human, its cultivation was low, merely a decorative spirit pet raised by the emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty, who had a fondness for turtle jelly, hence the homophonic name. After the emperor’s death, the new emperor dared not neglect the turtle pet left by his father, and the new new emperor was even more so; after all, it had seen off many generations of emperors, its seniority growing ever greater.

The slight awakening of its Xuanwu bloodline had also granted it greater talent than the average spirit turtle, breaking through to the Dongxu realm thousands of years ago, supported by the entire Great Zhou Dynasty. However, due to the scarcity of its Xuanwu bloodline, reaching the early stages of Dongxu was already its limit, and for the past millennium, it had not advanced further. Yet here in the Eastern Continent, such a Dongxu cultivation was sufficient to uphold a dynasty without being looked down upon.

“What does Elder Gui think of the current state of the dynasty and the reigning emperor?” Zhou Yunqi inquired with a respectful demeanor.

Had such words been spoken by an outsider, they would surely be deemed a harbinger of rebellion. Yet, as the daughter of Zhou Suren, a princess of the dynasty, she could not be misinterpreted. The reason for her inquiry lay in the fact that even her father, the king, could not easily summon the elder for a meeting.

The elder’s thoughts on the state of the dynasty and the current emperor were of great significance. Once she received an answer, she could relay it to Zhou Suren, allowing him to heed and amend the elder’s grievances.

“Thoughts?” Elder Gui replied, hands clasped behind his back, gazing into the distance. “No particular thoughts, all is well.”