I Just Wanted To Live but I Somehow Became Better Than the Protagonist

The assassin scoffed at the question from an old, weak warrior, shoving Liu Bo out of the house and onto the village path.

On the other side, Dragon Tian saw Liu Bo being taken hostage and had to halt. “Don’t do anything reckless.”

“Then it depends on whether you cooperate.” The assassin, grinning with a dagger in hand, edged closer to Dragon Tian, while a crossbowman in the distance aimed at him.

At that moment, Dragon Tian felt like a turtle trapped in a jar.

Liu Bo was burning with anxiety. He didn’t want to know what trouble Dragon Tian had stirred up; he only wished for Dragon Tian to survive. “Don’t worry about me, Tian’er, just run!”

“Impossible!” Dragon Tian’s tone was resolute as he inquired if the old Immortal had any way to save Liu Bo.

“I didn’t expect you to have taken down Daoist Zhao. It seems our guesses were correct; the intelligence was severely flawed. Luckily, we didn’t act rashly but let Daoist Zhao take the lead… Looks like your bounty will need to be doubled.” The assassin holding Liu Bo hadn’t finished speaking when suddenly he felt something heavy crash against his sword. Upon closer inspection, it was that old man, pushing back with all his might, seeking his own death.

The sword, already pressed against his heart, pierced through his chest from behind, the tip stained with blood that dripped onto the snow, bright and glaring.

“No!!” Dragon Tian’s eyes widened, his breath caught in that moment. He felt as if something precious had been ripped away from him.

Liu Bo’s lips oozed blood as he gazed at Long Tian, forcing a faint smile, his eyes filled with kindness. Alas, words failed him, and he slowly closed his eyes, his breath fading swiftly.

“This old man has some spirit,” the dagger-wielding assassin laughed heartily, seeing Liu Bo prefer death over becoming a burden to Long Tian. “But even without a hostage, you can’t escape death now.”

With a burst of speed, the assassin prepared to eliminate the grief-stricken Long Tian.

Long Tian let out a roar, and in his sorrow, he broke through the barrier that had held him back at the first layer of crystallization.

The surge of powerful energy momentarily kept the assassin at bay, leaving him utterly shocked. “What? The second layer of crystallization? Isn’t this guy just an ordinary disciple? At this age, how could he possess such cultivation?”

From a distance, the crossbowman took aim, confident that after years of solidifying his own second layer, even if Long Tian had broken through to the same realm, his armor-piercing bolts would still chill the boy to the core.

“Clang!” With a swift motion, Long Tian deflected the arrow with his shovel, his eyes bloodshot, teetering on the edge of madness. “You all must die!!”

The first to charge was the swordsman who had caused Liu Bo’s demise.

The swordsman snorted, dismissing Long Tian’s audacity. He had two companions, but he himself was at the third layer of crystallization. Why would he fear a mere child who had just broken through, wielding a shovel as a weapon?

The swordsman intended to toy with Long Tian, unleashing a set of profound sword techniques—the Sea Tide Sword—its brilliance blinding under the winter sun.

In his usual state, Long Tian would have evaded the onslaught, seeking an opportunity. But now, all he desired was vengeance for Liu Bo, casting aside thoughts of strategy or injury.

Of course, fury did not mean Long Tian had lost his wits; on the contrary, he was calculating.

Faced with two assassins of equal rank and one of a higher tier, the odds were too slim. Better to exploit their underestimation of him, to strike while they believed him powerless in his rage.

And so, as Long Tian seemed intent on challenging the highest-ranked swordsman, the dagger assassin and the crossbowman chose to watch, speculating how many blows Long Tian could withstand.

With sheer determination, Long Tian used his shovel to block the sword’s radiance, his clothes tearing from the residual force, yet he did not retreat, pressing forward.

The swordsman took a step back, unleashing a torrent of sword light like crashing waves, treating Long Tian as nothing more than a training dummy.

These three, once hyper-vigilant and eager to swiftly eliminate their targets, were today unusually spirited, reveling in the game, utterly unaware of the fate that awaited them.

—Ye Family;

Though cultivators did not place much importance on festivals, on the first day of the New Year, Ye Yong still went to pay respects to the elders who had not entered seclusion.

His first stop was at his uncle’s, the grandfather of Ye Mao.

The elder, upon seeing Ye Yong, immediately summoned Ye Mao with a wave of his hand, pointing at him and launching into a tirade. “Look at how sensible Ye Yong is! And you—what do you resemble? You return home just to huddle in your room, practicing your cultivation. Does it really matter if you take a moment away? Is greeting your elders during the New Year such a waste of your precious time?”

Ye Mao hadn’t expected that even cultivation could be a fault now. He thought, if the roles were reversed—if he, Ye Mao, were the one to pay New Year’s respects while Ye Yong was busy cultivating—his grandfather would surely have a different take, lamenting how much time was squandered on such trivialities. With all that free time, wouldn’t it be better to focus on cultivation?

Yet, Ye Mao was no fool; he knew that retorting would only earn him more scolding. So, he remained silent, adopting a humble demeanor.

“Enough,” the elder waved his hand, not wishing to waste Ye Yong’s time lecturing his unworthy grandson. He then handed Ye Yong a storage pouch. “In past years, during your seclusion, I don’t think I’ve given you much in the way of New Year’s gifts. Take this.”

Ye Yong accepted it, probing with his consciousness. Inside were dozens of high-grade spirit stones and several medicinal pills.

Note, high-grade spirit stones.

One high-grade equals one hundred mid-grade, which equals ten thousand low-grade. A single low-grade spirit stone is worth a thousand common gold coins.

The New Year’s gift the elder casually bestowed could buy an entire bustling street of mortal shops.

However, since Ye Yong had crossed over to this world, he had never worried about money, so he felt no excitement. He merely bowed respectfully to his grandfather and moved on to pay his respects to the next elder.

After Ye Yong left, the elder continued to smile, watching his retreating figure, stroking his beard, seemingly in high spirits. “Ah, Yong’er is nineteen this year. He’s grown up.”

“Grandfather, what about me?” a cousin, two years older than Ye Yong, looked eagerly at the elder.

The elder shifted his gaze, casting a sidelong glance at Ye Mao, then tossed him a mid-grade spirit stone. “If there’s nothing else, be off. Go cultivate, no—follow Ye Yong and pay your respects to the other elders. Learn what it means to show proper etiquette.”

Ye Mao glanced at his grandfather who had turned to enter the house, then at the spirit stone in his hand. Though he didn’t know how much his grandfather had given Ye Yong, it certainly couldn’t be just a single mid-grade spirit stone.

Moreover, he had been summoned here, and not only had he received an unwarranted scolding, but now it seemed as if he had come seeking New Year’s gifts on purpose.

Yet, he had to admit, the New Year’s gift was indeed a nice bonus. After all, Ye Mao had a wild earth wolf to feed, and it didn’t eat cheap spirit meat; it was quite the expense.

Thus, Ye Mao followed behind Ye Yong, embarking on the path of collecting New Year’s gifts.

—