Mysterious Encounter

My stomach rumbled as I stomped through the rugged terrain, enduring the sun's harsh glare while heaving. I should not have come alone. My fucking mount running off was one thing, but trying to catch it without any cultivation was downright tortuous. So I'd just given up and walked toward the nearest town I could recall. The sun shone brighter than I'd ever expected it to shine upon these demonic lands, my limbs felt heavy due to all the walking I'd done so far, and the town I'd thought would be close seemed farther and farther away the more I walked.

I realized the distance appeared more now given I was not flying like the last time I'd been to this place. So, what I had expected to be an easy and fast journey had so far passed with nary a change in terrain, a key indicator that my destination was close.

Oh, how I wish I'd brought Biscuit with me… Sighing, I moved forth, putting some strength into my feet. Soon I felt the change in the environment and sucked in a breath of relief, it seemed that I'd arrived without any troubles.

Holy mother of Murphy… I sighed yet again. Please don't let this be a fucking Murphy trope.

A deep rumble reverberated through the ground and I cursed, of course, it was going to be a fucking trope. Grinding my teeth in frustration, I ran toward a boulder where I could hide from whatever this was. Thankfully, I reached there before whatever this rumble was, could arrive. I watched from afar, hiding behind the boulder as a huge worm sprouted out of the ground. What the fuck is that? I questioned myself before slumping on my ass, watching on as a cultivator arrived out of nowhere and started fighting this creature.

Ah, the 'introduction to another character'. With a deadpan on my face, I began thinking why this had started happening only now and not before. There had been several tropes I'd noticed in town, heck, my own fucking life. A System, my cat which could apparently kill a fucking snake bastard and my disciples and the like, but that was it. There hadn't been any other tropes there.

Could it be that it was related to the "narrative"? It was possible. Now that I was "moving from location A to B" the "plot" could progress. What was this? A novel? I groaned lightly, realizing that it very well could be a fucking novel and some schmuck somewhere could be chuckling in amusement at my thoughts.

Question is, why did this even happen? What was this world? Some kind of a story? A movie perhaps? How does that relate to me and reality itself, then? I had so many questions, but no one to answer said questions so I just stared at the cultivator as he—no, she, on further inspection—stood ready for a fight.

The worm was as big as a goddamn elephant, and had a thick, segmented body writhing and undulating with a grotesque rhythm. Its maw, lined with rows of serrated teeth, snapped open and closed as it lunged at the cultivator with saliva dripping around like crazy . The ground trembled under its immense weight and power.

Fair to say I wouldn't want to be where she was at the moment.

The cultivator, a woman with a determined expression, stood facing the worm. Her robes billowed around her as she faced the monstrous creature.

As the worm lunged at her, she sidestepped, her movements almost too quick to follow for my eyes now that I was a mortal. The sword in her hand glinted and she swung it. A streak of light sliced through the air and struck the worm's tough hide with precision. Sparks flew as the blade clashed against the creature's scales, leaving deep gashes in its wake.

The worm let out a deafening screech of pain that blasted through the air, causing a jolt of discomfort in my ears that made me wince. Its voice was so grating, it was almost unbearable.

Its body writhed in agony but the cultivator was unrelenting. She leaped onto the creature's back, her feet landing with a solid thud. Then, using ridges on its hides as a foothold, she darted around the worm's round figure, her sword slashing and hacking through its flesh. Blood spurted, marring her clothes and face in a disgusting shade of bluish purple.

The worm writhed in a frenzied attempt to shake her off its body, but she hung on resolutely, and it couldn't manage to dislodge her.

She was upon the worm's head already and she raised her sword, it glowed with a blinding light, and she swung. It connected, cleaving through the thick armor-like hide and sinking deep into the creature's brain as an electrifyingly eye numbing draconic visage flickered behind the woman briefly.

The worm shuddered violently, an electric shock sizzling through its body, its movements slowing until it finally collapsed on the ground with the loudest thud I'd ever heard, its body twitching and convulsing.

Whoa… Surprise washed over me, I'd never seen a cultivator fight—well, Ryujin's memories were there, but watching it in real in front of your eyes and watching in a movie-like state as you go through someone else's memories was very different.

My eyes wandered from the worm's head to the woman whose eyes surprisingly pierced right through mine. Fuck. Her expression screamed bloody murder and she stumbled her way toward me, though I was certain she hadn't seen me. I was worried she might attack me. She moved, and I ran. I didn't wait, I didn't see what was up, I didn't even stop to figure out her intentions—I just ran as if my life depended on it while cursing myself in my mind.

Fucking hell I should've ran instead of staying there like an idiot.

As expected, I didn't run far before she caught up to me.

I stumbled but saved myself from falling and then stared her right in the eyes, grumbling and complaining in my mind. Should I use the fucking trinket?

As I stood there, trying to catch my breath and my heart still racing from the mad dash, the woman's intense gaze softened, her brow furrowing with concern instead—an unexpected shift from what I'd expected.

"Are you alright, mortal?" she inquired, her voice surprisingly gentle and I stopped to look at her, fear crawling up my spine. Fucking hell, I'll skin her alive if I wasn't this pathetically weak—

Recoiling at my own thoughts that I blamed on Ryujin, I made sure my expression betrayed no emotion. Suppressing the unease that swirled within me and taking a breath, I steadied my gaze upon her. I forced myself to appear composed, my thoughts kept tightly under control. "Yes, I am alright," I replied, my words measured and devoid of emotion.

She seemed genuinely worried about my well-being. This was a side of her that didn't quite match the ruthless image of a demonic cultivator I had in mind. My expectations about what a demonic cultivator was supposed to be like had continuously been chipped away at and it seemed that this was a world where demonic cultivators weren't all that bad.

"Why did you run—nevermind, just be careful out there, there's some spirit beasts making trouble so you better get out of here quickly."

Not this… I cursed.

She looked at me oddly and for the first time I realized that she smelled worse than shit. The bluish purple blood on her clothes, face, and body all mixed into a nauseating sight. But then, her expression shifted. Her features contorted as if she was hit by a sudden wave of dizziness. The world around me seemed to sway for a moment and I realized her Gu had gone a bit haywire. Before I could react, her body faltered. She stumbled, and her movements became unsteady.

I instinctively reached out, my initial shock overridden by my reflex to prevent her fall. Her weight bore down on me in an unexpected embrace. The scent of dirt, sweat, disgusting blood and so much more clung to her, and the closeness of it all was so overwhelming I thought I'd vomit any moment.

My arms moved instinctively to steady her, "Are you okay?" I found myself blurting out.

Her response was barely audible, a mumble that barely registered. And then, her body went limp, and her eyes fluttered closed. I raised an eyebrow and let her fall on the ground softly before checking her up. She had an ugly gash on her back. Hmm, doesn't seem fresh. Whatever it was, likely not from this fight she'd just had but from something else.

Amidst these confusing thoughts about the situation and everything else, I found myself catching up to the tropes in this scenario—an injured woman who saved me, she was beautiful; kind to a 'mortal' and an opportunity too tempting to pass up. As I stared at her, my mind raced to think of a possible scenario. Was she a hidden master that got injured, or was she some kind of a princess on the run? Something entirely different perhaps? Whatever. One thing was certain though, this was that trope where I—or the main character in that particular situation—would be helping an unknown woman out of the kindness of heart. Then, of course, when the woman recovered, she'd repay it however she could.

"This can't be serious," I muttered under my breath, chuckling. All these tropes and stuff, the plot was moving forward eh? Was this why this was happening now and not when I was in Bleak Town? Strange, truly strange.

I looked at her limp form sprawled on the ground and wondered what to do. The wound on her back had that distinct look of being significant but not immediately life-threatening to a Cultivator. Rolling my eyes, I sighed. The "heroic" path seemed inevitable in this situation. If I didn't help her, I could lose a potential helping hand in the future—someone who could be some important character—but the plot itself would probably throw a tantrum, refusing to move forward until I played my part.

I tried using [Identify] on her, but it didn't work. She was by far more powerful than me, by leaps. I cursed, what the fuck was this things use then? When it couldn't recognize any-fucking-thing? It'd happened before with that snake bastard too. It couldn't recognize a dead fuck despite the guy being a low level cultivator. Cause of [Identify] not working? Fucking because it doesn't work on dead bodies.

Suppressing my exasperation, I set to work. I reached into the bag on my back and took out a cloth. I began cleaning the dirt and dried blood from her wounds, revealing the gash that marred her back. With the help of Ryujin's memory, I made a bandage by packing the cloth with ground herbs I had picked and sealed the gash on her back. I managed to get her patched up quickly.

As I worked, my eyes couldn't help but drift to her face. This was the character who just demonstrated her prowess against the worm, yet now she lay helpless, almost delicate. Her features were hidden well due to the bluish-purple blood, something I was certain I couldn't wash away without water—water that I did not have enough to spare.

Once she was relatively cleaned up, I carefully lifted her into my arms, her weight surprisingly manageable. A mocking thought passed through my mind—the protagonist's arms: where damsels in distress inevitably find comfort. My lips stretched into a half-smile at the absurdity of it all and realized this might have been a "lead" for one of the main characters. I wondered why it got "triggered" by my presence though. I was not a main character but a Demonic Sect Elder, Type A.

Adjusting my grip, I continued my journey to the town that had seemed an eternity away before. While trudging forth, I did wonder what the Types were. System? Any info? I asked the system, expecting no answer—I'd asked it way too many things as of now and it had replied to only a few.

Surprisingly, it did reply this time.

The Type is essentially a rank and/or significance a character holds in their respective world's narrative.

Ah… It makes way too much sense now….

I knew what it meant now. Didn't that mean that I wasn't the highest ranked Demonic Sect Elder? Who could be higher? Possibly my fellow Elders. This all meant that we—or at least I—held significance for this world's "plot."

I smiled.

My strides were more deliberate now, each step accompanied by the odd sensation of purpose that came with carrying an unconscious woman who would hopefully prove to be of immense use to me if what I'd thought was true and not just me being batshit crazy and dumb.

Arriving at the town felt like a small victory. The buildings loomed ahead, a semblance of civilization in these wild lands. I couldn't deny the intrigue that had grown within me. What was her story? A demonic cultivator, a wounded warrior—the possibilities were tantalizingly infinite, and it only intrigued me further so as to what role she would play in all this? More so, what role would I play in all this?