"Pfft!"

"What the hell was that? What kind of monster? ‘Rest easy’? This is a martial arts powerhouse we’re talking about! The diary’s author is such a clown!"

"Who in their right mind would feel ‘easy’ after that?! Even if this old man were about to pass out, he wouldn’t dare trust you! He’d be scared you’d accidentally cremate him before he’s even dead..."

"Fifteen lethal wounds! His neck pierced clean through on the left! How is he still alive?! Not even unconscious—still talking! His strength must be at least Grandmaster Rank!"

"A Grandmaster?! Did the diary’s author really not save this senior? A Grandmaster! There aren’t many left in our country!"

Grandmaster!

Above the Heaven Tier of ancient martial arts, beyond the Grandmaster realm—those who reach this level can stride through the air as if riding invisible currents, like immortals from xianxia tales.

A Grandmaster’s vitality is terrifyingly resilient.

In our nation, one Grandmaster equals an army of tens of thousands.

Such human weapons of mass destruction are nearly impossible to eliminate.

The audience was stunned.

Who’d have thought the diary’s owner stumbled upon someone far more terrifying than prodigies like Liu Xiyun?

"Grandmaster! There were barely fifty Grandmasters nationwide during last year’s census! Each one a heavyweight elder! Who could this old man be?"

Curiosity gripped everyone. What happened next?

Host Bingbing flipped the diary eagerly.

Its authenticity was already confirmed. If the author had saved a Grandmaster too, this diary would become their show’s ultimate treasure.

The page turned.

The next entry appeared:

*[Sure enough, after I finished speaking, the old man strained to widen his eyes—signaling it was fine—before finally closing them. Watching him seemingly lifeless, I felt the weight on my shoulders grow heavier.]*

*[Heaven above, are you joking? I haven’t even gathered my herbs yet, and now I’ve got to drag a corpse back. Maybe… I’ll just finish collecting the herbs first, then haul this old man home later?]*

"Pfft! Oh no! This old man probably fainted from sheer rage at the diary’s owner! Instead of checking if he’s alive, this guy’s already planning his herb run?!"

"I’d rise from the dead just to strangle him! By the time you finish picking herbs, even a Grandmaster like me would be dead from waiting—not from wounds, but from your negligence!"

"Did the old man actually die? Host, flip the page!"

The screen flashed. A new page appeared.

*[Whoa! Scared the crap out of me! Just as I was about to leave for the herbs, the ‘dead’ old man suddenly opened his eyes and shouted at me! He swore he’d haunt me even as a ghost!?]*

*[I froze. Slowly turned back. This guy dared threaten me? It wasn’t my fault he got wrecked. Revenge doesn’t work like that. Like hell I’d indulge him.]*

*[I said, ‘Go ahead. Be a ghost.’]*

*[And so, under his furious glare, I slipped deeper into the mountains.]*

"He… he really didn’t save him. What a waste!"

The audience sighed in disappointment.

"A Grandmaster, fallen so pathetically…"

"Luckily his disciples don’t know. Otherwise, the diary’s owner would’ve been beaten to death."

"Keep flipping." A voice crackled in Host Bingbing’s earpiece—the director backstage.

She turned the page. Everyone leaned in. She finished reading and chuckled helplessly.

*[Damn! This old coot’s vitality is unreal! I waited minutes, and he still wouldn’t pass out. Testing my patience, is he?]*

*[Fine. I surrender.]*

*[If he holds on much longer, even an immortal couldn’t save him in this state.]*

*[No choice. I crawled out of the bushes to carry him home. But when I looked again—he’d finally fainted.]*

"Is he messing with us?!" the audience groaned.

Host Bingbing flipped the page, still smiling.

*[I struggled back home with the motionless old man. To keep his wounds from worsening, I gave him my bamboo hat and raincoat. Guess who turned into a drenched chicken again…]*

*[A certain King Qin once said: misfortune often walks hand in hand with good fortune. I’ll treat this as a good deed before my luck turns.]*

*[No herbs gathered today. Ran into a pack of blood wolves midway. Got injured protecting this ‘lucky’ old man—a claw slash across my chest. Hurts like hell…]*

*[But it’s alright. We made it home. Nothing comforts like a bowl of hot soup…]*