Hu Tao Is Monetizing My Existence. [89]

He couldn’t remember much anymore.

Only that he had longed to fly.

He remembered the first time he attempted swordflight at Jueyun Karst.

He had leapt from the highest peak, plunging through roaring winds with his greatsword underfoot, slicing through the clouds.

In that fleeting moment, he had felt like a bird soaring through the skies.

But then came the unmistakable sound of something snapping—his bones, his muscles—the pain searing into his mind.

He had failed, though somehow, he had survived.

Those who live upon the earth always dream of conquering the skies, even at the cost of shattering themselves to pieces.

He sold his sword, bought medicine for his wounds, and after years of preparation, acquired an even larger and broader blade.

This time, he went to Guyun Stone Forest.

But the result was the same.

The wind howled in his ears, dark clouds roiling overhead.

With his greatsword beneath his feet, he took off again into the violent gale—yet again, the wind failed to carry him. He plummeted from the sky, the sword embedding itself deep into the rocky ground of Guyun.

Perhaps it was his unwillingness to let go at the moment of death, or perhaps his soul’s unwavering obsession with flight, but his spirit did not cross into the afterlife.

Instead, it clung to that greatsword.

He didn’t even know what he was waiting for.

Maybe the chance to fly again.

Maybe just one more glimpse of the sky.

He held onto a single hope: that one day, he might truly take flight.

If that could happen, then death would be without regret.

“I don’t remember my name anymore… only that people used to call me Young Master of Swordflight…”

When his tale ended, both Hu Tao and Jiang Bai fell into silence.

Can humans soar through the skies?

Ask anyone now, and they’d answer without hesitation: Yes.

But in ancient times, what a difficult, almost unattainable dream that must have been.

And who could say that what he did was meaningless?

So many things that seem ordinary today were born of countless trials by those who came before.

Only through attempts can results be found, lessons learned, and progress made.

It was precisely that longing for the skies that eventually allowed people to fly freely with Wind Gliders today.

“…Where am I? What time is this?” the Young Master asked them.

“You’re at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. It’s been a thousand years since your time.”

“…A thousand years…” the spirit murmured in a daze.

He looked toward the windows and door, tilting his head to the sky beyond.

Dusk had fallen. Birds beat their wings in flight, herons glided through the air.

“A thousand years later… have humans finally conquered the skies?”

Hu Tao looked out at the birds too, her expression unusually solemn, her gaze gentle and full of light.

“Humans have wings now. No longer must we only look up longingly at the heavens.”

“…Then that is good.”

At those words, the Young Master’s brow relaxed. A smile slowly spread across his translucent face.

“I would like… to experience the feeling of flight just once before I leave. Would you help me?”

How could they refuse the final wish of a soul like this?

It was, after all, what Wangsheng Funeral Parlor existed to do.

That very night, Jiang Bai slung the Skyrider Greatsword over his back and climbed Tianheng Mountain with Hu Tao.

Tianheng Mountain lay northwest of Liyue Harbor. From the summit, one could see the entire city bathed in golden light.

The Young Master’s form appeared once more. He gazed down at the glittering lights of Liyue with deep emotion.

“Liyue… has truly flourished.”

It hadn’t been like this in his time. Now, its prosperity felt like another world entirely.

“With the Geo Lord watching over it, Liyue will always grow stronger.”

“That’s true,” the Young Master said with a quiet chuckle.

Waking up after a thousand years, he had little to worry about.

As long as the Geo Lord remained, Liyue would always be Liyue.

This was Jiang Bai’s first time atop Tianheng’s peak, and he took the chance to activate a few teleport waypoints along the way.

Today alone, he had already activated two leyline anchors in Liyue Harbor and passed his flying exam.

From now on, he could just teleport when needed.

Though with so many people in the harbor, he’d have to pick quiet, moonless nights if he wanted to avoid drawing attention.

The two of them stood at the summit, tiny as ants beneath the moonlight.

Hu Tao stretched out her arms into the wind, then let out a long howl over Liyue below.

“Get ready! Time to fly!”

“You got it!” Jiang Bai opened his glider wings as well.

The Young Master, tethered to the sword, trembled with excitement.

A thousand years of longing—how could he not be overwhelmed?

He let out a piercing cry, the sound echoing through the night, a release of all his pent-up emotion.

Hu Tao launched first. Jiang Bai followed, leaping with the greatsword strapped to his back. The wind caught him, lifting him into the air like a bird soaring through the night sky.

The Young Master spread his arms, closed his eyes, and let the rushing wind whistle past his ears.

He felt it—the sensation of flight.

He had waited over a thousand years for this moment.

And now, at last, it had come.

A soft smile formed at his lips. Still holding that skyward embrace, his form began to fade.

“Thank you, both of you.”

His final words drifted to them on the wind.

Jiang Bai looked up at the full moon and let out a soft sigh.

It should’ve been something to celebrate, so why did he feel a little hollow inside?

Sensing his melancholy, Hu Tao’s voice reached him.

“Parting and death are part of life. He simply went where he was meant to go. Since you’ve joined the funeral parlor, you’d best start getting used to this kind of thing.”

Her voice was calm—she had clearly experienced such moments more times than she could count.

“I know. I’m just… feeling a little emotional.”

Jiang Bai couldn’t even say what exactly he was feeling.

Maybe it was just that—he now knew the man’s story. Knew who he had been. Saw him vanish right before his eyes.

It left a strange ache behind.

“My grandfather used to say: ‘Be born at the right time, die at the right moment. Follow your heart, and do all you can.’

“We’ve already done all that we could. There’s no need to be saddened by another’s path. At least… he left with a smile. Isn’t that enough?”

“…Yeah.”

Jiang Bai turned to look at Hu Tao’s serious face—and smiled.

It wasn’t often he saw his director so genuinely comforting someone.

The two descended together, landing quietly at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, each returning to their rooms to rest.

Back in his coffin-bed, Jiang Bai found himself unable to sleep.

He sat up and rummaged through the Sanqing Bell, pulling out a crystallized core.

He had caught it while chasing butterflies in the mountains, intending to sell it—but had completely forgotten with all that had happened.

Under the lamplight, the core glimmered like a gemstone, clear and bright.

Since sleep wouldn’t come, he borrowed some tools and began to work.

He ground off the sharp tips, drilled a tiny hole, polished it until it gleamed.

Then threaded a cord through it and tied it off, forming a simple diamond-shaped pendant.

Holding the necklace in his hand, he looked in the direction of Hu Tao’s courtyard.

The next second, he gave himself a sharp slap and tucked the pendant deep into the Sanqing Bell.

—

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!