Wait, How Did My Digital Girlfriend Become a Sword Immortal?

Chapter 9: Divining the Heavens

“Oh, so that’s what ‘personally’ means.”

Without feeling particularly surprised or disappointed, Chen Huai’an reached out and pressed the designated points on the screen.

“Mm…” A soft, suppressed hum echoed from the game.

Chen Huai’an: “…”

Well, small dev teams really go all out.

He liked small dev teams.

The infusion of Spiritual Qi seemed painful. Li Qingran let out muffled groans, sweat dripping down her forehead, running along her cheeks and neck. Her skin began to glisten with fine beads of moisture. As the progress bar for the healing moved slowly forward, black impurities gradually appeared amidst the water droplets on her skin.

“This visual design is breathtaking.”

In his opinion, spending money on a game wasn’t just about how fun it was—it had to feel worthwhile. Some games had limited content, barely two hours of playtime, but charged hundreds of yuan, practically robbing players blind.

But My Virtual Girlfriend was different.

He had a feeling this game could last him a lifetime.

As the healing progressed, a series of satisfying notifications appeared:

[Li Qingran’s meridians repaired. Status: ‘Foundation Damaged’ removed.]

[Li Qingran’s internal injuries healed. Status: ‘Moderate Internal Injuries’ removed.]

[Detoxification initiated. Please press ‘Yaoyangguan’ and massage ‘Shenshu’ in circular motions to continue the healing process.]

Following the instructions, Chen Huai’an adjusted his focus to two new acupoints.

The moment he touched them, Li Qingran let out a soft cry.

“Tch, must hurt quite a bit,” he thought silently.

Her skin turned a vivid red—not the kind from soaking in hot water, but like a freshly boiled shrimp. She was clearly in pain, biting her lip to suppress any sounds.

Or so he thought.

In reality, Li Qingran felt an incredible warmth from the two glowing hands on her back. While the fire poison being expelled from her body caused a crawling, tingling sensation throughout her limbs, she bit her lip not from pain but to avoid making any indecent sounds that might offend her benefactor.

To distract herself, she glanced at the bronze mirror hanging by her bedside.

The mirror revealed part of her back.

She had hoped to see a wise, white-haired elder but found only two hands formed of condensed Spiritual Qi. One pressed firmly on an acupoint while the other traced soothing circles, exuding a steady and calming force.

Unable to see her benefactor’s true appearance, she felt a twinge of disappointment.

At the same time, relief and guilt welled up inside her.

Senior wasn’t the type to take advantage of others. Even during the healing process, he didn’t touch her skin directly—his conduct was that of an absolute gentleman.

Her earlier suspicions of him being anything less seemed utterly disgraceful now.

[Li Qingran’s fire poison expelled. Status: ‘Fire Poison Corrosion’ removed.]

When the progress bar reached completion, Li Qingran’s skin returned to normal.

From Chen Huai’an’s perspective, her skin, though still marked with impurities, looked significantly smoother and even glossier, like a polished boiled egg.

“Thank you, Senior, for healing me. I feel much better now.”

Li Qingran’s soft gratitude came as she nervously gripped the edges of her towel. Her ears were flushed red, and even the nape of her neck seemed affected.

“May I ask Senior a question?”

Her voice trembled slightly, as though summoning courage to speak.

＜Sure.＞

＜No.＞

＜Guess.＞

＜Spend ¥300 to purchase a Transmission Talisman for custom dialogue.＞

This time, Chen Huai’an didn’t hesitate and chose the first option.

With his permission, Li Qingran’s tone brightened noticeably.

“Senior, you’ve helped me so much. May I know your name? Of course, if you’d rather not share, I won’t press further.”

A prompt appeared: [Please enter your name: _______]

Goodness. Chen Huai’an smirked bitterly.

He’d already spent thousands and played half the day, and now they finally let him create a character name?

So, without spending money, even naming your character was off-limits? This game truly had a high entry barrier.

After a moment’s thought, he entered the simplest name he could think of: Chen Huai’an.

If he were to pass away someday, at least this game would still carry his name—a faint trace of his existence.

“Huai’an, the steadfast sword driving away the eternal night; the serene zither soothing the cold dawn. Huai’an… Senior’s name will forever be etched in Qingran’s memory.”

Li Qingran glanced back with a gentle smile. Her delicate features softened, her dark hair cascading like a waterfall over her shoulder.

Outside, the night was dark as ink, rain pouring relentlessly. But within, she felt no chill—only a tender warmth blooming in her chest.

Chen Huai’an froze as he stared at her smile. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the phone screen had vanished, and there truly was a girl smiling at him.

“Small dev teams always go way too hard,” he muttered, shaking his head to dispel the unrealistic thoughts creeping into his mind.

“Senior, my body’s now covered in impurities. I’ll need to wash again.”

This time, no dialogue options appeared.

Li Qingran wrapped her towel more securely, bowed gracefully to the ceiling, and carried a fresh set of clothes into the bathroom.

Left staring at her empty room, Chen Huai’an zoned out for a while.

He realized he was losing it—feeling genuine affection for a game character.

“By the way, her injuries are healed, but her spiritual root and dantian issues are still unresolved, right?”

He rummaged through the game’s interface and found a help center.

[First question each day is free. Additional questions require ¥100 per query, with the price multiplying by five for each subsequent query.]

“What’s the point of making games? Just rob banks already!”

Despite his annoyance, he wasn’t one to waste free perks. He’d exploit this daily freebie until the day he died.

“How can Li Qingran’s dantian and spiritual root be repaired?”

[You can only ask about one issue.]

Chen Huai’an: “…”

Between the two, the dantian seemed more critical—it was the container for all energy.

“Then how do I fix her dantian?”

[Calculating Heavenly Divination…]

“Heavenly Divination? Really playing up the mysticism, huh?” Chen Huai’an snickered.

Unbeknownst to him, in the Cangyun Realm, the heavens shifted violently. Stars misaligned, tides surged, the earth quaked, and subterranean dragons stirred. Across countless sects, ancient cultivators turned their attention toward the phenomenon.

“Who dares to divine the heavens?!”

“With Spiritual Qi growing scarcer in the Cangyun Realm, could this signify someone foretelling its future?”

“Stay out of it! Such powers are beyond our reach. Retreat to closed-door cultivation!”

…

[Heavenly Divination complete!]

[To repair Li Qingran’s dantian, an ancient divine elixir—the Primordial Heaven-Mending Pill—is required. Though lost to history, this pill can not only repair a severely damaged dantian but also enhance its quality and capacity for Spiritual Qi.]

[The Fortune Carp Pool has captured a sliver of this destiny. Drawing a Fortune Carp will allow you to exchange it for the Celestial-Grade Primordial Heaven-Mending Pill.]

Chen Huai’an: “…”

A “sliver of destiny,” my foot. It’s just a scam to push gacha mechanics!

A thousand draws cost ¥100,000. Sure, there was a minuscule chance to get it outright, but what’s the difference between 0.001% and zero?

If he were lucky, he wouldn’t have gotten cancer in the first place.

“First thing tomorrow, I’m registering this account and heading to the hospital for certification. Then, no hesitation—straight to livestreaming at Taishan!”

Chen Huai’an scratched his head.

He’d planned to wait a few days before heading to Taishan, but now he couldn’t delay.

Li Qingran’s dantian had to be repaired.

He, Chen Huai’an, said so!

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