Chapter Eighteen: Aslan’s Past

In the midst of a busy life, unexpected events would occasionally occur.

“Ding. The intelligent attack shield wall you’re linked to has been given three days of confinement. The owner is forbidden from accessing the Net for three days.”

In the heat of battle, Sang Sang was suddenly ejected from the vast illusion and thrown back into the Star Network, where the mainframe’s voice echoed through her room. She rushed to the window, calling out to Little Gold among the greenery.

The tiny robot sat on a swing surrounded by flowers, its eyes dim and lifeless, unresponsive to her call.

Sang Sang turned to a butterfly perched on a small tree. “Black Butterfly, help me contact Atlantis. What’s the price to lift the confinement?”

Black Butterfly’s wings trembled, scattering starlit phosphorescence, and then the voice of Atlantis’ mainframe rang out: “Since this is a first offense, three days’ confinement can be exchanged for three hundred Faith Coins, and three days’ Net ban for one thousand Faith Coins. Pay at any time, and the ban will be lifted at any time.”

Sang Sang choked, then gathered all the faith she had accumulated over the years, forming a sphere of light in her palm. “How many Faith Coins can I get for these?”

Black Butterfly circled the sphere, and it shrank and solidified into a thumb-sized pearl, then vanished. “Five Faith Coins. After deducting one for refining and compression, you’ve paid four Faith Coins. Settle the balance at any time, and the ban will be lifted.”

Sang Sang clenched her empty hand. Years of collecting faith, and this was all she had. The gap was vast. There was money in Little Gold’s account, but it was frozen.

Should she really let Little Gold spend three days in confinement?

She pressed her lips together, closed her eyes, then opened them again. “Black Butterfly, help me contact Sena.”

As her temporary guardian, Sena had also been fined for negligent supervision, though she hadn’t shown it in front of Sang Sang, simply and efficiently paying the fine for her. “The little AI has been released. You can access the Net again.”

Sang Sang received the unblocking notification, along with a warning: “Cherish your intelligent being. Please restrain his actions. This is your responsibility as his owner.”

The little robot on the swing’s eyes lit with a melancholy blue, hugging his knees and curling into a ball.

Sang Sang smiled softly, sincerely thanking Sena. “Thank you so much. I’ll return the Faith Coins as soon as I can. Little Gold, has your account been unfrozen?”

Little Gold’s voice was muffled. “It’s unfrozen. I’ll transfer the money to him.”

“There’s no need to pay it back. From now on, you’ll receive five hundred points of pocket money each month, and the fines will be deducted gradually.” Sena paused, then sighed. “Attacking the Network Shield Wall is illegal, even among lower civilizations… If he’s important to you, don’t let him take risks.”

Little Gold curled up even tighter. After Sena left, he remained huddled on the swing, unwilling to lift his head. To be the God of the Net, yet get caught online and be confined and bailed out—he was mortified.

Sang Sang didn’t comfort him with their vast difference in levels. Instead, she gently stroked his head. “What information did you find?”

“You were targeted in the martial pavilion’s arena, so I investigated your challengers. I found they’re all connected to the Hundred-Flower Saintess in one way or another.” Little Gold’s gloomy voice grew more animated, his body relaxing as he swung his feet, the blue in his eyes shifting toward green.

“There are eight Saintess seats, one for each month. The Hundred-Flower Saintess holds the seventh, the Wood Seat.” Sang Sang recalled, “But she wasn’t among the invitations I declined, was she?”

“You didn’t offend her,” Little Gold explained. “Sena used to be the Hundred-Flower Saintess’s lover. They were together for two centuries, but then offended the Chief Void Son and had to break up, nearly being expelled from the temple. Now the Hundred-Flower Saintess is with the Chief Void Son.”

Sang Sang frowned. “Saint Sons and Saintesses can fall in love?”

Little Gold replied earnestly, “A Saintess is more like a celebrity—dating is allowed, but debauchery is forbidden. Your relationship with the Heavenly Emperor isn’t affected.”

“He and I are just companions,” Sang Sang clarified. “So you broke the shield just to dig up this gossip?”

“That was only part of it,” Little Gold countered. “I also found news about Aslan.”

Sang Sang sat down, preparing for a long talk. “About Teacher Aslan?”

“Yes. The Battle of Wei’an two centuries ago involved the former Chief Saint Son. The recording is B-level access—I found a loophole, but was caught as soon as I finished… No, actually, I was discovered as soon as I got in. The mainframe let me browse the details before locking my location. Regulations say I can only be confined if I benefit directly.” Little Gold’s eyes flashed a wary purple. “Entrapment! And they still fined me thirteen hundred points.”

“Look on the bright side. Thanks to this mishap, I’ve got pocket money now, which I’ll hand over to you for investment.” Sang Sang patted his head.

Little Gold covered his head. “Aslan’s original name is Arslan, which is why there’s no news of ‘Aslan’ online. But Arslan is famous—a once-in-a-millennium prodigy of the temple. Your purification record is the highest in two centuries, but he set the all-time record two hundred and eighty years ago at over eighteen times the norm.”

Two centuries ago, Arslan’s battle with the former Chief Saint Son shattered the Wei’an Secret Realm—the clash shook heaven and earth. The former Chief Saint Son’s physical body died, and his soul’s star core was collected by the elders of the Divine Court, still being nurtured for reincarnation. Arslan’s origin was destroyed and he was deeply cursed; to this day, he cannot re-form his star core, and is sheltered by Bishop Anthony, remaining as a nominal mentor in the academy’s elementary section.

Little Gold encouraged her. “We’re lucky—Arslan is a true genius.”

Sang Sang nodded, a frown between her brows. “A curse?”

“That’s right. There are many strong in the temple, but not even the archbishops can help him reform his star core. A cosmic-level expert said he’s cursed, and that only the extinction of the other’s bloodline will allow him to recover. But the former Chief Saint Son comes from a Divine Court family—their bloodline will never be extinguished.”

“It’s not a curse,” Sang Sang suddenly declared. She knew her conclusion sounded unbelievable, overturning the judgment of a cosmic-class expert. No one in the temple had been able to heal Arslan, and for someone of her humble level to say so would draw ridicule.

But Little Gold didn’t find it laughable. He crossed his arms and nodded solemnly. “Of course it’s not a curse. I suspect others are afraid of offending the Divine Court family and dare not heal Arslan. That cosmic-level expert is also related to them. After all, the former Chief Saint Son was only a profound-level cultivator—how could a cosmic-level expert fail to heal the damage? They must want Arslan to suffer, a plot straight out of heroic biographies.”

What project had Little Gold been working on lately, to reference heroic biographies?

Sang Sang wondered, but shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.” Remembering her first meeting with Arslan, a look of realization crossed her face. “I’ve always found Teacher Arslan to have a familiar air, but could never place it. Now I know where that sense of familiarity comes from.”

Little Gold jumped up. “What familiar air? Why didn’t you tell me? We promised—Sang Sang, the Heavenly Emperor, and Little Gold form the golden triangle. You can’t transfer your affections to anyone but the Heavenly Emperor!”