Pay-to-Win Cultivation: I Get 10,000x Returns

Chapter 213: The Werewolf Incident Under the Moonlight

The girl slowly pushed herself upright. It was only then, as consciousness fully returned, that the memories of the slaughter flooded back into her mind.

She was an ordinary half-demon from the mountain ranges. She had a warm home, loving parents, and close friends to play with.

That life ended 3 years ago.

The [Hatred] had spread across the Western Region like a plague. The clan Elders had exhausted their lifeblood to activate the ancient protective formation, sealing the mountains and isolating them from the madness and carnage outside.

But a few days ago, a group of deranged cultivators found them. They began to hammer against the barrier with manic persistence.

Despair descended instantly. Just this morning, the great formation finally shattered. The massacre began immediately.

She watched her father blasted away by a single palm strike. She saw her mother shielding her with her own body, screaming for her to run. At the very last moment, a cold blade of light slashed down. She only had time to glimpse her mother’s despairing eyes before agony tore through her waist.

Darkness took her.

When she woke again, she was here—on this miraculous flying ship, facing the mysterious young man who had pulled her back from the edge of oblivion.

“Father… Mother… Sister…”

Immense sorrow washed over her like a freezing tide, drowning her in an instant. She bit her lip so hard it threatened to bleed, desperate to stifle the scream building in her throat.

She looked up at Zhang Xian, her voice trembling. “Benefactor… what about the others? My clansmen… my parents… how are they?”

Zhang Xian sighed inwardly. He sat up straighter, his gaze calm and unyielding.

“By the time I arrived, the battle was already over,” he said quietly. “Those cultivators were already clearing the battlefield. On the demon side… aside from you, there were no survivors.”

He paused, letting the weight of the words settle before adding, “As for your enemies, they were deeply corrupted by [Hatred]. Their minds were gone; communication was impossible. I have killed them all.”

Zhang Xian’s words struck like a heavy hammer, shattering the last fragile sliver of hope the girl had clung to.

Her legs gave way.

Thud.

She collapsed to her knees on the cold deck. Her body shook violently, and the dam broke. Tears gushed forth, and she began to wail, a raw, heartbreaking sound that didn’t stop until she was gasping for air.

The others stood in silence, watching the girl kneel on the deck, crying like an abandoned cub. An indescribable heaviness settled over them. Lin Xiaozhu’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she subconsciously hugged her little fox, Diu Diu, tighter against her chest.

Zhang Xian did not step forward to comfort her. He offered no platitudes. He simply watched, his gaze profound and quiet. He knew that words were pale and useless in the face of such loss. The pain of a destroyed home and slaughtered family could only be eroded by time. Right now, she needed to vent.

The girl’s cries gradually grew hoarse, eventually fading into silent, spasmodic sobs. She had exhausted every ounce of her strength. Her body went limp, and she slumped sideways, falling into unconsciousness once more.

An unknown amount of time passed.

She slowly opened her eyes.

Above her was a wooden dome carved with intricate, flowing patterns. Beneath her was a mattress of soft brocade that smelled of a faint, calming floral fragrance.

She blinked her amber eyes blankly, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling.

After a long while, she struggled to sit up and looked down at herself.

The tattered, blood-soaked animal hides were gone. In their place, she wore a set of elegant silk robes. They were a bit loose on her slender frame, but the fabric was exceptionally comfortable—a light, airy softness she had never felt against her skin before.

She tentatively moved her arm, then carefully touched her waist and abdomen.

Smooth.

The skin was flawless. There was no hideous gash, no scar—it was as if the fatal wound had never existed. Only then did the reality sink in: the person who saved her possessed methods that bordered on the miraculous.

She slid out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold, mirror-smooth floor. She looked around, wide-eyed. This single cabin was larger than her entire house back in the mountains.

Exquisite tables and chairs, shelves displaying strange and beautiful curios, wall lamps emitting a soft, warm halo—everything screamed of a luxury she couldn’t comprehend.

Sniff.

Her nose twitched. Her gaze locked onto the table.

On a fine porcelain plate sat several pastries, delicately shaped and emitting a rich, sweet aroma. Beside them were a few dishes of hot food, steam still rising from them.

Gurgle…

Her stomach let out a traitorous roar, and a wave of ravenous hunger hit her like a physical blow.

She pricked up her ears, listening intently. Silence. After confirming she was alone, she crept forward, reached out a trembling hand, and picked up a pastry. She took a tentative, small bite.

Sweet. Soft. Fragrant.

A flavor explosion detonated on her tongue. Her eyes lit up like lanterns.

Restraint vanished. She wolfed down the pastries, stuffing two or three into her mouth at once. Then she turned her attention to the hot dishes, attacking them with feral speed.

A whirlwind feast later, the plates were polished clean.

The girl licked a crumb from the corner of her mouth, satisfied. Her brownish-black wolf ears, which had been drooping with sadness, now stood perky and upright, twitching happily.

She rubbed her slightly bulging belly, and a mix of emotions swirled in her heart. The food was incredible—beyond anything she had ever imagined. She wished she could share just one bite with her parents, with her friends…

But they were gone.

The thought brought a fresh layer of mist to her amber eyes.

She stood up and began to wander the room, her curiosity temporarily overriding her grief. She touched the smooth wood, the cold porcelain, marveling at the novelty of it all.

She walked to the window. Through the clear crystal pane, she saw the deep night sky and clouds rushing past at dizzying speeds. She was finally certain: her savior was not just powerful. He was wealthy beyond measure.

After a long hesitation, she gathered her courage and gently pulled open the cabin door.

Outside, a maid stood quietly in the corridor. She wore a gentle, fixed smile.

“Ah!” The girl jumped back, startled. She sniffed the air aggressively.

Strange. There was no scent of life. No heartbeat.

“You are awake,” the maid said, her voice smooth and pleasant. “Did you rest well? Are you full?”

The girl nodded timidly. “I… I’m full.”

“Would you like to go to the deck for some fresh air? The Master is there.”

The girl thought for a moment, then nodded firmly.

Led by the puppet maid, she walked through the opulent corridors and stepped out onto the spacious deck.

It was deep night. A crescent moon hung high in the void, and beyond the ship’s barrier, the world was pitch black and silent.

Cool moonlight washed over the deck. Along the edges, embedded runes emitted a soft glow, illuminating the area.

She immediately spotted him.

Zhang Xian lay reclined on a lounge chair, his posture lazy and relaxed. He seemed to be admiring the stars, or perhaps just resting his eyes.

On the other side of the deck stood three others: the woman controlling the puppets with calm detachment; the beautiful sister holding a formation disk with focused intent; and the young man who spoke annoying words but seemed harmless.