6. The One Who Didn’t Die

With the old man Jiang having spoken, the matter of the eldest sister was considered settled, and no one mentioned it again.

The little darling had been frightened on the mountain, and Grandma Liu, unable to rest easy, stayed by the child's side the entire time.

Jiang Ruo also did not want to leave Grandma’s side, clinging to her like a conjoined twin.

After dinner, bathed in the family's care, Jiang Ruo returned to her room.

Grandma Liu watched her granddaughter go inside, sighed deeply, and then went back to her own room.

“Has the child gone to her room?” the old man asked.

Grandma Liu nodded, her gaze lingering on him as if she wanted to say something but held back.

“Old man, don’t you feel that the little darling is a bit different...?”

Although their own child had not been cared for much in her early years, ever since their son... these past years had been spent watching her grow up by their side. How could just an afternoon’s fright make her cling to them even more?

“Don’t overthink it. It’s normal for a child to change after being scared on the mountain,” the old man said, putting down his pipe and casting a sidelong glance at his wife.

“You’re right, she must have been frightened,” Grandma Liu smiled, turning to climb onto the kang bed to tidy up, unaware of the frown that creased the old man’s brow.

Unaware of their doubts, Jiang Ruo, now back in her room, took in the space that would belong to her from now on.

The first impression was darkness—pitch black. She fumbled to light the oil lamp, then took in the room’s full view.

Not large, just over ten square meters, but for a countryside girl, it was a rare privilege.

The walls were whitewashed with lime; by the window was a desk and chair, the curtain a piece of faded pink checkered coarse cloth. Next stood a large wardrobe, and beside it a slightly shorter dresser with five drawers. Opposite lay the kang bed, impressively spacious—rolling around while sleeping wouldn’t be a problem. At the foot of the bed were two wooden chests stacked with two quilts.

Simple, yet a room many girls would envy.

Her memories fused with this era, giving her a deeper understanding: many girls here might never have a room of their own, let alone one like this. Her gaze settled on the dresser.

There were biscuits, candy, shortening, and malted milk—items precious in this time. The old Jiang family truly cared for “her.”

She opened the wardrobe; the clothes inside were neither many nor few, neatly folded by season.

A pity—the original owner would never wear these again.

Thinking of the lonely “her” lying on the mountain, and the identical appearance, Jiang Ruo’s mood grew complex, her eyes briefly clouded.

She still could not understand how someone who should have turned to dust appeared in a strange land, a place historically similar yet different from her original country. Even if she appeared, it should have been the Death Valley of 2155, or the underworld.

The great revenge had been taken. Intentionally exposing a flaw, she was hunted and deliberately led her pursuers to the Dragon Kingdom’s Kun Nu Death Valley—one of the most perilous forbidden zones in the Dragon Kingdom. Anyone who entered the Death Valley had almost no chance of leaving alive.

Every year, countless adventurers ventured into Kun Nu Death Valley, but fewer than half returned.

Most never dared to venture deep, not even approaching the edges too closely. When danger arose, they wisely retreated, saving their lives.

Death Valley was a vast canyon shrouded in clouds and mist year-round, filled with ancient towering trees, dark rivers, and swamps. Yet these were not the most terrifying aspects—the worst were the toxic miasma and chaotic magnetic fields. Lightning struck unpredictably; thick black clouds frequently gathered, unleashing constant storms.

If one were caught in the midst of it, there was only one outcome...

Death.

Though the manner of death varied.

After killing her enemies at her parents’ and grandparents’ graves, the world held nothing left for “her.” The only reason for living a few more months was to drag down some foes before dying, as the Qin family relentlessly pursued her.

What she never expected was that the one personally chasing her would be him.

The man she had called “big brother” as a child, the one who nearly became her fiancé.

Their families were once close, two of Jiang City’s most prominent clans. Unfortunately, everything was destroyed when she was fourteen, ruined by her development of spatial leap technology.

As their son, it was only natural for him to bear the burden of repaying debts.

Sitting in her chair, Jiang Ruo’s mind replayed the thunderous skies of Death Valley, the scene of Qin Shuzhe turning to ash amid the lightning, and herself being swallowed by the storm.

“Father, Mother, it’s you, isn’t it?”

“Don’t worry, I will honor you and your share, as well as ‘her’ share, and I will take good care of Grandpa and Grandma, living properly.”

And “her”!

The “her” who was saved from the tiger’s jaws but still arrived too late; the “her” who died yet whose spirit lingered as a restless soul; the “her” who left her most precious memories before departing, along with her lingering attachments.

She carried those attachments and the responsibility to live well, for the grandparents and older brother he cared about most.

Yet, upon seeing the confused expressions of the elders in the chaotic memories, Jiang Ruo wept.

They were... Grandpa and Grandma.

Identical to “her,” identical grandparents, even the names were the same.

If anyone said there was no connection between the two, Jiang Ruo would not believe it.

At that moment of realization, the heavy cloud over her heart lifted considerably, leaving only one feeling—the urge to descend the mountain.

When she finally saw her grandparents alive as she came down the mountain, nothing could stop her from rushing into their arms. She just wanted to vent like when she was a child, carefree beside them. At that moment, nothing else mattered. Even if the world collapsed in the next instant, as long as her grandparents were there, nothing else would matter.

“Mom, Dad, you can rest assured now,” Jiang Ruo said quietly, gazing at the stars outside the window, her hand instinctively touching her chest.

Then: “...”

Why wasn’t it there?

Jiang Ruo panicked, looking at her chest, feeling her neck again and again.

Nothing. No matter how many times she searched, it was gone.

Where was her jade pendant?

Her mind raced—if she remembered correctly, when she charged into the thunderstorm, one hand was still tightly clutching it until the blinding white light appeared.

Wait, the blinding white light?

What was that?

Jiang Ruo finally sensed something was amiss.

How could such a dense white light appear amid the thunderous lightning network?

White light, white jade pendant? Emitted by her body?

She was stunned.

Even if she lost it, the Jiang family’s ancestral jade pendant could not be lost.

It was not only the last memento left by her grandparents but also the family heirloom passed down for hundreds of years, tracing back to ancient times.

Reflecting on her state after waking, when the remnants of the suspended vehicle “Black Sky” appeared in reality, her body was far more honest than her brain. By the time she realized it, the already fragile “Black Sky” had completely disintegrated, broken into pieces. Yet the outcome was nothing.

Nothing.

Had it been struck down by lightning?

No, impossible.

Jiang Ruo quickly discarded that thought.