Hu Tao Is Monetizing My Existence. [111]

Leaving the hilichurl cavern behind, Jiang Bai followed the narrow path upward. Icicles continued to fall from above—some landing on his umbrella, some smashing against the frozen ground, and some crashing right into the road ahead.

If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect these icicles were being aimed at him. The way they kept missing him by inches felt… personal.

Dodging what felt like nature’s hidden weapons, Jiang Bai finally reached the uppermost level of the cave and caught sight of the sky beyond.

But contrary to his expectations, this wasn’t the path to the summit. Instead, it opened up on the other side of the mountain—where the trail abruptly ended.

Exiting the cave, he found himself standing before what looked like an ancient altar. Strange symbols were drawn across the stone floor, their meaning lost to time. Around him were several fire pits, long since extinguished.

He circled the area and spotted a short stone stele.

Who knew how long it had stood here? It was almost completely buried under layers of snow, barely visible. Jiang Bai cleared it off and studied the inscription, piecing together what he could:

“…Tried to heal the leyline, but the tree has withered. After giving the princess a simple burial…”

Heal the leyline? But a leyline was more of a conceptual network… can it be corrupted?
And the tree—what kind of tree? Surely not just an ordinary one. Is it symbolic?
A princess… buried here? Which nation’s princess? And why a simple burial for someone of royal blood?

The more he read, the more questions piled up. Each line made sense on its own, but together they formed a riddle.

He left the stele for now and surveyed the area again.

Beyond this mountain hollow, there was no other road. Below him lay only a steep cliff.

Snow and wind blanketed the skies, cutting visibility to almost nothing.

He tried looking upward, but saw only the sheer stone wall covered in ice. Nothing above, nothing below.

Jiang Bai reached for the Four-Way Compass hanging at his waist. Its needle still pointed unwaveringly toward the summit. He still had a long way to go.

With the path blocked, he had no choice but to retrace his steps and look for another exit within the cave.

By the time he found a way out, the sky outside had already turned pitch black.

“It’s already this late?”

Wind and snow howled in all directions. There was no moon, no stars—nothing to help him tell the time.

“No wonder I kept feeling like something was missing—it’s a clock! I forgot to bring a clock!” He slapped his forehead in frustration.

Normally, he had Hu Tao with him—his living, breathing timekeeper. It had never even occurred to him to bring a proper timepiece.

Well, too late for regrets now. He returned to the wind-free cave, lit a fire, and settled down for a meal and some rest.

Seated cross-legged before the fire, watching the storm rage outside, he took a swig of liquor.

The world around him wasn’t quiet—not really. The wind whistled and moaned through the cave’s mouth, the firewood crackled and popped, the soup in his pot bubbled and steamed.

But even amid all that noise, he was completely alone.

Alone in the world. Just me.

Jiang Bai thought: if he’d never met Hu Tao, never joined Wangsheng Hall, maybe he’d still be wandering this world with no companions, no friends—lonely and aimless.

He took another deep drink, letting the burn spread through his chest and warm his limbs.

“Next time I go on a long trip, I’m dragging Hu Tao along. I don’t care if I have to beg or bribe her. There’s not even anyone to talk to here—it’s way too boring being by myself.”

He muttered under his breath, his cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol.

“Hu Tao… I’m so bored…”

—

Lying in bed, Hu Tao sneezed several times in a row.

“That has to be Jiang Bai talking about me!”

She sat up, peeking through the window toward the snowy mountains.

“He’s been gone almost two days now… Hope he’s doing okay. I didn’t think I’d miss him this much so suddenly.”

A little ghost floated out of her body, landing on her head like a fluffy white hat.

It looked like it missed him, too.

—

Morning came, though Jiang Bai had no idea when the sky brightened.

He climbed out of his coffin, stretching with a yawn.

The snow was still falling, though lighter than the day before.

After washing up and eating breakfast, he set out again.

It had been nearly two days since he left Liyue Harbor. This mountain… was truly enormous. Even with the compass guiding him, he still hadn’t found a path to the summit.

No wonder adventurers could spend years—decades, even—trying to map this place. Exploring it wasn’t something you could do on a whim.

He trekked along a winding mountain trail for who knew how long. Eventually, the blizzard eased, and his view opened up.

That was when he spotted it—something strange in the terrain. A shape that didn’t look like any natural formation.

He approached. What he found was a massive skeleton, sunken deep into the mountainside. Most of it had been buried by snow or fused with the surrounding rock, but the enormous ribs remained—jutting out of the ground at sharp angles, menacing and alien.

What the hell is that…?

Jiang Bai couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of creature could have been that huge.

Curiosity overtook caution. He found a plank of wood, fashioned a makeshift sled, and slid down into the valley formed by the colossal bones.

Inside, the skeletal remains looked even more staggering. Jiang Bai stood beneath one rib, arms outstretched—he couldn’t even wrap halfway around it.

What kind of monster dies here in the snow, and leaves something this gigantic behind?

He knocked on the bone. A deep, muffled sound echoed in return.

He followed the line of the skeleton, trying to imagine what this creature might’ve looked like in life. As he walked, he noticed patches of red ore embedded in the ground—stone he’d seen elsewhere in the mountain.

He’d once chipped off a piece. Aside from its faint warmth—like a natural handwarmer—it didn’t seem to have any other use.

Worse yet, the ore would dissolve if taken from its place, melting away like ice.

But here, the red crystals became more frequent. Against the snowy white landscape, they looked like spilled blood.

The deeper I go, the stronger this ominous feeling gets…

Jiang Bai continued in the direction where the crystals thickened, entering a small cave cloaked in ice and snow. The air was heavy, dense with a chaotic, corrupted aura.

At the far end of the cave… pulsed a massive, crimson heart—still beating.

And before it stood a lone figure. Upon hearing Jiang Bai’s footsteps, the figure turned around to face him.

—

This is a fan translation of 胡桃拿我冲业绩 by 余溯. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!