Chapter 85: Selfishness
Yu Shenwei’s mind was so entangled with inner conflict that she experienced a brief moment of blankness.
And in that fleeting blankness, almost subconsciously, without realizing it, she blinked three times.
A crisp, girlish laugh echoed in her ears, carrying with it a temptation she couldn’t resist.
“Alright, our cooperation is officially established. Tomorrow, I’ll take you back there—to take back what’s yours.”
“Oh, right.”
The girl’s tone suddenly changed. “Although I do think you’re the most loyal follower I’ve ever seen, and I pity you—that’s why I want to help you—I’m not wrong about you, right?”
“You’re not… that loyal to it, are you?”
It sounded like an offhand remark, but to Yu Shenwei, it was like a bolt of lightning.
She panicked and shook her head. She clearly felt like she was exerting great effort, yet it only resulted in the faintest movement.
She wanted to say no, that she was absolutely loyal to it, completely unwavering—that Xu Zhi hadn’t misunderstood.
But she couldn’t say it.
Partly because she physically couldn’t speak, and partly because her frantic, urgent denial felt suspiciously like she was hiding something.
“Alright, I believe you.”
Xu Zhi patted her arm in a soothing manner, but instead of feeling comforted, Yu Shenwei was overcome by a faint sense of guilt. She didn’t know where that feeling came from—after all, she was truly loyal to it.
Suddenly, a sense of unease crept in. She felt she couldn’t keep thinking about this. If she continued down this train of thought, something fundamental inside her might break. Better to stop thinking entirely.
Her head was still spinning, and moth-like shapes occasionally flickered before her eyes. Yu Shenwei simply closed her eyes again and slipped back into unconsciousness.
Seeing her adopt this “shameless but effective” strategy of avoidance, Xu Zhi didn’t get angry. On the contrary, she smiled meaningfully.
To make someone betray, you must first encourage their selfishness.
Yu Shenwei’s problem was that she had none. Ever since she had awakened as a “Saintess,” it was as if her personal will had been erased and replaced by the Saintess’s identity. Even when treated cruelly, she had shown no signs of wavering.
But how could that be real?
It was simply that her original self had been completely suppressed. What Xu Zhi was doing now was awakening the part of her that was still human.
And at this point, Yu Shenwei’s behavior proved it—she was beginning to waver.
Xu Zhi was quite pleased. Mainly, she was satisfied with her own plan.
“Am I… a genius at healing the heart too?”
In good spirits, Xu Zhi prepared to catch a believer and craft a voice organ for Yu Shenwei. After all, once they returned to the high-rank zealots’s place, she’d probably need to speak again. Casually, she took out a basic [Moth] core and fed it to the black cat. Not long after the cat took it from her hand and ate it, it fell asleep right in front of her—completely unguarded for the first time.
Xu Zhi didn’t believe this meant their bond had suddenly deepened. Grumbling, she picked up her game console. “So it finally leveled up?”
Looking at the screen—sure enough, it was upgrading.
“I’ve already fed it five cores… and now it levels up?”
What an appetite!
She couldn’t even imagine how many resources this cat would need after level 20.
[Don’t worry. This is just the beginning.]
Great. The narration wasn’t helping. The more she thought about it, the more irritated she felt.
“This won’t do. I’m too poor.” Xu Zhi fell into deep worry, and the more she thought about it, the more she felt justified in having set up the residential district early to milk resources.
Now, the weekly income exceeded a thousand basic cores. But as more of her followers surpassed level 20, the demand for basic cores decreased. What they really needed were high-grade attribute cores. Unfortunately, Cloud City’s overall power level still wasn’t high enough to hunt many of those.
Even though nearly three months had passed, and many transcendents had leveled up—some even gaining active combat powers—only a few well-coordinated teams dared to hunt high-level mutated beasts.
And even if they managed to get a high-grade core, they wouldn’t turn it in.
Xu Zhi thought it over and decided that once she got back, she’d set up an official residential district trading post—probably at the neighborhood committee building. Zhong Lingfan would run it, with Shen Jinwen supervising. As for the specific trading system, she’d discuss that with Zhong Lingfan later.
Xu Zhi also planned to start a one-way core exchange channel: others could trade high-grade cores for low-grade ones. The number of basic cores given would depend on the quality and type of the high-grade core.
This wasn’t an outlandish business model. At the current stage, for average transcendents, a single high-grade core was often less useful than a dozen basic ones. Plus, the core they acquired might not even match their own abilities.
Also, high-grade cores usually came from team hunts. How were they supposed to split one core among several people?
She was, in fact, helping them solve the problem of uneven distribution.
The reserve of exchangeable cores would be left with Shen Jinwen. At this point, Xu Zhi trusted her the most. And with Xu Zhi’s help, Shen Jinwen’s strength was among the top tier in the district—excluding Xu Zhi herself, of course.
Zhong Lingfan had also mentioned in her letters that spontaneous trade had started emerging in the residential district. Some residents with the [Forge] attribute, originally involved in manufacturing, opened a shop. They charged fees to craft weapons from mutated beast parts. However, the quality of the weapons was still very random.
There were now task and team halls in the district too. Some residents with powerful support abilities—like the rare [Heart] attribute—offered their services for hire. For safety, contracts could be signed under administrator supervision, and violators would face consequences.
Administrators even took a cut of the profits.
Xu Zhi read this and cursed them as little profiteers. Why didn’t I think of that?!
But Zhong Lingfan wasn’t hoarding the cores she earned. Everything she didn’t need went into posting more public tasks—most of which focused on building the district.
Seeing this, Xu Zhi felt genuinely gratified. Her judgment had been spot-on.
She’d once asked Zhong Lingfan why she was so “devoted.” Zhong had been honest: she wasn’t devoted to Xu Zhi, but to helping more people survive in Cloud City.
When it came to killing disruptive transcendents, Zhong Lingfan never hesitated. Cold and decisive, even Xu Zhi sometimes found her chillingly rational.
Yet Xu Zhi didn’t think she was emotionless.
On the contrary—her emotional side surpassed her reason. It was her empathy that made her want people to survive in Cloud City, and reason became the tool to achieve that goal.
She wasn’t loyal to Xu Zhi—but to the lives still surviving in the city.
And the day Xu Zhi was no longer the one in charge of those lives, Zhong Lingfan would no longer follow her orders.
But that wouldn’t be betrayal—because she had never sworn loyalty to Xu Zhi in the first place.
