CHAPTER 494: CHAPTER 494: ELIMINATE EMOTIONAL DISTRACTIONS — ESPECIALLY THE CYRUS-SHAPED ONES

A muffled scream came from under the fabric.

Then Isabella dragged herself back into sitting position, hair wild, face pure chaos.

"FINE. Continue."

Bubu nodded in satisfaction.

Rule Six: Do not force the qi. It responds to guidance, not aggression.

Isabella frowned. "But if I don’t force it, how do I MAKE it enter me?"

Glimora blinked.

Bubu blinked.

Isabella paused. "...that sounded wrong."

Bubu sighed dramatically.

Host... you were trying to force qi into your meridians like you were stuffing filling into a dumpling.

Isabella slapped her knee. "I WASN’T STUFFING—"

Host, your expression suggested otherwise. You looked... determined. Aggressively determined.

"YOU DON’T KNOW THAT—"

Host. I literally saw your facial expressions.

She choked again.

Glimora wiped tears from laughing.

Bubu pressed on:

Rule Seven: Eliminate emotional distractions — especially the Cyrus-shaped ones.

Isabella stiffened. "Don’t—DON’T BRING HIM INTO THIS—"

Host, your mind fluctuates the moment his name appears. Your qi flow collapses instantly.

"BU—!"

Host... your emotional instability is currently your greatest cultivation bottleneck. Until you resolve your attachment to Cyrus, your progress will remain at zero percent.

Isabella looked like she was on the verge of breaking into tears again — ironic, really, given the whole earlier meltdown.

Bubu’s tone became surprisingly instructional:

Rule Eight: Because you have no innate qi, you must absorb external qi. Your meridians were cleansed by the Moon Petal Lily. That means you technically have a powerful foundation. It should be EASY. Very easy. Laughably easy. A toddler could do this.

Isabella gritted her teeth. "Are you calling me STUPID?!"

Host. You are making it... difficult.

"YOU ARE CALLING ME STUPID."

Negative. I am stating a fact. Your emotional volatility is excessive.

Isabella gasped as if slapped. "I AM NOT DRAMATIC—"

Host, you kicked a man today because he stated an observation.

She shut her mouth.

Glimora nodded slowly, patting her leg again like: Yes mama... you did do that.

Bubu continued:

Host, your meridians are open, not charged. There is a difference.

Isabella blinked. "I THOUGHT my meridians already—"

Qi. Moonlight. Spiritual essence. Something. Host, you are sitting there with an empty container and wondering why it is not overflowing.

"WITH WHAT?!"

Qi. Moonlight. Spiritual essence. Something. Host, you are sitting there with an empty container and wondering why it is not overflowing.

Isabella screamed into her hands again.

Then exhaled.

Then inhaled.

She looked up tiredly. "So... what? I need moonlight? I need some spiritual fountain? I need some energy spring?"

Correct.

She stabbed a finger upward. "THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THIS FROM THE START?!"

Host... I assumed you knew that. Even toddlers in cultivation villages know this.

Her entire soul left her body.

Glimora gently placed a blanket over her shoulders like comforting a widow.

Bubu floated closer.

Host, now that you understand the basic rules, let me summarize:

— Calm your mind

— Focus on your dantian

— Breathe correctly

— Find an external energy source

— Absorb it gently

— Circulate, don’t force

— Expand your meridians slowly

— Repeat without having a mental breakdown

Isabella nodded slowly, face blank with exhaustion. "Okay... okay. I can do that. I just need to... find energy. Fine. Where do I get it? The moon is literally OUTSIDE. Should I just... go? Sit under it?"

BUBU paused.

Isabella blinked.

"...what?"

Then—

Host. Right now is not the best place to cultivate or try cultivating, since this mountain—except for that cave and a few other places—does not have another moon source.

Isabella just stood there, finger still pointed at the sky, breath shaking like a kettle about to explode, because she could not believe her damm ears.

Bubu’s last words floated around the tent like a death sentence.

Host. Right now is not the best place to cultivate or try cultivating, since this mountain—except for that cave and a few other places—does not have another moon source.

The silence hit first.

Heavy.

Suffocating.

The kind that slapped her ego, her ancestors, and her future children all at once.

Her finger slowly dropped.

Her eye twitched.

Her mouth opened—

—and then she remembered it.

That cursed memory.

Bubu... casually mentioning... MULTIPLE TIMES...

"Oh, Host, by the way, there is no moonlight here."

"Oh, Host, this place is spiritually dead."

"Oh, Host, your cultivation will not work here."

The little hints.

The little reminders.

The little "oh by the ways."

All the things she ignored because she was too busy thinking about killing Osiris, kissing Cyrus, and whether her future babies would inherit her eye shape.

Her soul deflated with a sad whistle.

Instead of screaming like usual, Isabella just let out the longest, most defeated exhale known to mankind.

A sigh so deep it echoed like her will to live was packing its luggage.

"...okay," she whispered, voice hollow. "Okay. Fine. Sure. Why not. Great."

She turned around like an old woman at the end of a tragic drama episode and trudged toward her bedding like she had aged forty years in three seconds.

Glimora watched her go, nibbling a berry with the face of someone witnessing a funeral. (She’s always eating something)

Isabella dropped onto her sleeping mat like a corpse being laid to rest.

Grabbed her blanket.

Pulled it over her head.

And buried herself so deep under the fabric she looked like she was attempting to tunnel directly into the afterlife.

A muffled, tortured scream ripped into the pillow.

"GGGGGGHHHHHHHHRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH——"

Glimora paused mid-nibble, tiny ears perked like she was listening to a tragic opera.

Bubu hovered there, completely unfazed, as if this was a perfectly normal human response to learning basic cultivation rules, and not the emotional collapse currently vibrating through the tent.

The screaming continued, echoing pitifully against the tent like a wounded spirit whale.

Another muffled shriek.

Then a violent flail under the blanket.

Then stillness.

Complete, eerie, spiritual-plane-level quiet.

Glimora slowly inched closer, tapping the mound of blanket with one tiny paw.

"...pip?"

No answer.

Just the quiet despair of someone reevaluating every decision they had ever made.

Bubu blinked.

Twice.

Then, voice dry and therapist-level unbothered:

Host. Very well. See you tomorrow.

With a soft pop, the hologram vanished.