"Huh? This guy actually knows danger when he sees it? Then why was he so reckless when gathering herbs to save people before?"

The audience couldn’t help but voice their surprise.

Host Bingbing said nothing. She knew everyone still seethed with reluctant fury over the diary’s account of its owner biting Liu Xiyun—the prodigy of martial arts. She’d wanted to pause the reading, but the station director’s orders left her no choice.

She turned the page.

The entry continued:

*[This weather really grates on me. Rain pours everywhere. Good thing I brought a bamboo hat, raincoat, and umbrella. Otherwise, I’d be drenched like a drowned rat again.]*

*[But this time, I shouldn’t be that unlucky. No way I’ll stumble on someone else… right?]*

*[Impossible. My luck can’t be that good. Doesn’t happen.]*

*[Hmph! Even if I did find someone, I wouldn’t pick them up. I swear!]*

"Pfft! He actually swore off meddling? Guess he’s been burned enough times."

"Last time taught him a lesson, but…"

Readers recalled how the diary’s owner always called himself "lucky" right before disaster struck. Their imaginations ran wild.

"But… he won’t actually find someone *right now*, will he?" someone blurted out.

"Nah," another countered. "How could it be that convenient? Goddesses don’t just litter the mountainsides."

Others disagreed: "He probably *will* find someone. Think about it—he skipped days of boring entries. Why write *this* day unless something huge happened?"

"Exactly! This is a *martial diary*! A warrior wouldn’t waste ink on meals and bathroom breaks. Only big events get recorded."

"I bet he finds someone again!"

"Whether it’s another genius like Xiyun? Doubt it. Goddesses aren’t exactly common."

"Makes sense," the crowd murmured, nodding.

Host Bingbing flipped the page.

*[Nope. Not happening. Seriously! Damn it—I’m starting to think my mouth’s cursed… I say ‘no one,’ and Heaven just dumps another body on me!?]*

*[You messing with me, you dog of a sky!?]*

*[CRACK! Lightning struck my umbrella—blew a hole right through it!?]*

*[Yep. Happened again. Found another living person. And me? Soaked. This hole… it’s huge…]*

"He actually found someone AGAIN!? Where’s that prophet now? Come take your L!"

"Legend! First time I’ve seen someone curse the heavens! We cultivators avoid oaths and mocking Heaven like the plague. This guy did both! Respect!"

"He swore an oath last time. But who is this person? He won’t take them home again… right?"

Curious eyes locked onto the projection screen.

The page turned.

*[This is a small hollow in the hills. Thick bushes surround it, with tall trees overhead—perfect hiding spot.]*

*[The person here? An old man with white hair and beard. He’s slumped against the slope.]*

*[I checked. He’s breathing. Alive. But his body… covered in wounds. Horrifying gashes. I could see exposed bones beneath!]*

*[That sight nearly made me jump out of my skin. Then—he opened his eyes. Stared right at me. Said one thing.]*

The entry ended. The audience’s eyes widened with shock.

"Not a goddess this time. An old man."

"Those wounds… clearly mauled by a beast. Bones showing? Brutal."

"White hair and beard? Feels like one of those immortal masters in distress…"

The reminder sharpened everyone’s focus.

"Exactly!" an analyst on the guest panel cut in. "A normal old man wouldn’t trek into mountains during a storm. With wounds like that? Still alive? Still *talking*? He’s no weakling—he’s a martial artist!"

"Hard to gauge his rank without seeing the full injuries…"

"But with this diary owner’s luck? This elder’s definitely special."

Host Bingbing’s eyes lit up. She flipped the page urgently.

*[Over a dozen horrific wounds! Ribs visible through his chest and back! Gaping holes on his arms and legs—just bone and sinew left! And—]*

*[A tree branch speared through his neck. Yet he’s not dead. Not only alive—he spoke to me!? Am I seeing ghosts, or did I find a monster!?]*

*[He told me: ‘Take me with you. I’ll reward you greatly.’]*

*[I looked at his near-corpse and nodded. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll deliver your body to the police. They’ll give your ashes to your family. Rest easy.’]*