Chapter 46

Chapter 46: Do You Ever Feel Lonely?

"Have you noticed anything unusual about your body lately?"

Jingliu dropped the matter of his inexplicable improvement and shifted to more practical questions.

Overthinking that stuff only gave her a headache. And certain thoughts she instinctively refused to entertain. Too difficult. Truly.

"I feel like my strength has increased a bit more. And it's not just strength — reflexes, endurance, even all five senses seem to be improving."

This full-spectrum enhancement seemed to happen daily. It might not be obvious during waking hours.

But in this consciousness training space — which perfectly mirrored his physical state — Wangshu could sense every fraction of his change with crystal clarity. Like a tree growing slowly, day by day more resilient... It felt incredible.

"That's normal." Jingliu nodded slightly, unsurprised by the baseline improvements from fusing with the Propagation remnants.

Then... she pivoted: "Do you ever feel lonely?"

Wangshu: ...

?

Seeing the genuinely blank confusion on the boy's face, Jingliu nodded again. Her tone was flat as she explained: "That means the Propagation remnants haven't affected you yet. Once the fusion reaches a certain threshold, loneliness will slowly devour your heart."

"So before that happens, you must continuously strengthen your spirit. You absolutely cannot be consumed by that loneliness."

Wangshu half-understood. The Sorrow of Blood — wait, had they jumped genres into dragon-clan territory?

He remembered this lore. The Propagation Aeon Tayzzyronth's original path to godhood was born from loneliness. But after the Amber King hammered Them to pieces, who knew what was left.

"Maybe because the fusion progress hasn't advanced much yet, you can't feel anything."

She added, then paused: "You're sure?"

"Absolutely sure."

Wangshu's answer was steel-firm.

"Oh. Then your luck is decent — the fusion is genuinely slow, giving you enough time to prepare."

Jingliu looked away, her tone unreadable.

How was this brat's luck so good?

Wangshu's lips moved, as if wanting to say something but hesitating.

"Speak if you have something to say." Jingliu caught the hesitation and cut straight to it: "Fate brought us together here. We're... friends. No need for reservations."

She'd lived nearly two thousand years. Seas had turned to mulberry fields and back again. What hadn't she witnessed, what hadn't she endured?

Barring something as pointless as romance, absolutely nothing could faze her.

"Well, I was just curious — is there a possibility that... and I'm saying possibility!"

Wangshu kept emphasizing, inoculating the senior with caveats while stacking disclaimers for himself.

"That the Propagation remnants are already taking effect, but the loneliness They bring... has been completely dispelled by the people around me?"

Little Jingliu, chattering away beside him every day — sometimes contrary, sometimes warm. Friends in the group chat who, despite their varied quirks, always came through with help or laughs.

Not to mention an actual Swarm Lord hanging around, and his morning stall to run. Wangshu felt these few days had been more fulfilling than the past several months.

Loneliness? That seemed pretty far away.

Jingliu: ...

The fingers gripping her sword hilt tightened by an almost imperceptible fraction.

Was this brat roundaboutly mocking her for having no friends?

"Good for you." She took a deep breath. "If you're not confident in your own willpower, then find your anchor quickly. At least in the early stages, it'll prevent you from slipping into self-imposed silence."

Jingliu forced her expression into one of fair, professional advice.

"An anchor, huh..." Wangshu smiled, his tone certain. "I think I found mine a while ago."

"Not bad." Jingliu replied offhandedly. But barely a moment later, her gaze snapped back, crimson eyes boring straight into Wangshu. "Who?"

Wangshu blinked.

Jingliu fell completely silent. She looked at the pocket watch set to the side. She didn't reach for it with flashy swordsmanship — she simply bent down, picked it up, and brushed away nonexistent dust from the cover with her fingertips. She gently clicked open the clasp.

The photo inside appeared to have been swapped. In her memory, this should have been her mother's photograph.

But now, the watch held a picture of a girl with a silly, beaming grin — crimson eyes bright as the rising sun. Always smiling.

Jingliu gazed quietly at the familiar yet unfamiliar smiling face. Not a single flicker of emotion crossed her own.

"Do you ever feel lonely, Senior?"

Wangshu's voice sounded softly beside her, carrying curiosity and a touch of concern.

"No."

Jingliu's tone was ice-cold — like a mountain spring. Pleasant to hear, but chilling to the bone.

"Understandable. After all, it seems like everyone in the group is chatting around the clock. Ahem — maybe I should say everyone's together around the clock?"

Wangshu nodded, trying to make his words sound more reasonable.

Probably. He genuinely liked this group chat. First, it was his cheat. Second, everyone was truly easy to get along with.

Jingliu. Asta.

The second batch of recruits he'd rather not discuss — that Friendliness Level 2 recruitment had left him speechless. The newcomers didn't feel friendly at all.

Jingliu's fingers clenched and released. Her crimson eyes locked onto Wangshu until she'd confirmed the brat probably hadn't meant it as mockery. Only then did her slender fingers fully relax.

"Practice your swordsmanship. Your reaction speed is excellent and your physique is strong, but your fundamental sword forms still need work. Keep building the foundation."

She withdrew from the topic, her voice returning to the cold focus of training mode.

Then Jingliu looked toward Asta, who was doing her best to shrink her presence, and considered for a moment: "You practice too. You're still a bit short of being ready for sparring."

Asta nodded obediently. The training space had been warming gradually, and she'd mostly adjusted.

While swinging her sword, Asta waited until Jingliu wasn't looking, then whispered: "Is your talent really that good?"

"The Senior said so herself."

Jingliu had assessed Wangshu as a genius no less than herself — perhaps even more so.

Wangshu accepted it without question. He'd already transmigrated — what was wrong with a bit of talent?

Besides, maybe he'd always been a sword genius — just buried in his original world.

Like how, across thousands of years of history, who knew how many esports prodigies had gone undiscovered... Ahem. Just a joke.

Asta: ...

Wangshu was surprised: "You forgot?"

"I didn't." Asta's face was blank. She'd assumed they were comrades in misery, with plenty of shared ground. "I just thought it was lip service... After all, you're over there taking care of the Senior's younger self."

In Asta's view, Wangshu was working hard looking after young Jingliu — a few words of praise and confidence-building from the Senior seemed perfectly reasonable.

In her mind, she silently slapped an entire scroll of resentful labels onto Wangshu: Traitor! Spy! Warlord! Counter-revolutionary! Careerist! Bully! Capitalist roader! Surrenderist! Revisionist!