Chapter 1100: Not Human

“I still don’t think it’s right.”

Qinglong frowned. He had rehearsed these “characters” multiple times in advance, but he had no memory of these “components” ever forming the character for “father.”

“Qi Xia, what kind of trick are you playing?” Qinglong asked coldly.

“A trick?” Qi Xia paused. “Do I need to take Xuanwu to see how I pieced it together this time?”

“I find it hard to believe you actually assembled this character using the existing radicals,” Qinglong said. “So I still need to inspect it.”

“No.” Xuanwu interjected. “No one inspected you when you were creating your ‘characters.'”

“Has your rationality completely vanished?” Qinglong frowned. “Can’t you see he’s cheating?”

“That’s a baseless accusation,” Qi Xia said. “Xuanwu can inspect it—I have no issue with that. But you can’t.”

With Qinglong visibly displeased, Qi Xia led Xuanwu behind the massive wall. After just a few seconds, Xuanwu emerged and declared firmly, “No foul play.”

Qinglong’s expression twisted in disbelief. He remained convinced that Xuanwu had missed some sleight of hand, perhaps deceived by an illusion.

But since Xuanwu was the referee in this game, he had no choice but to defer to her judgment.

Still, even if Qi Xia hadn’t cheated, could “father” truly win under Xuanwu’s judgment?

“Fine…” Qinglong said darkly. “Even if he correctly assembled the character… Xuanwu, how do you rule?”

“I…” Xuanwu lifted her head to the screen and hesitated for a few seconds before asking, “What character is this?”

“Father,” Han Yimo answered.

“Yeah,” Chen Junnan responded.

“…?”

Xuanwu’s expression wavered in confusion, as if she didn’t grasp the meaning of the word.

“Father… what does that mean…?”

The group exchanged puzzled glances before turning their attention back to Xuanwu.

“That’s your dad,” Chen Junnan explained. “Usually paired with your mom.”

“Dad…? Why would this ‘character’ be important to humans?” Xuanwu pressed.

“Huh?”

Everyone in the room looked baffled.

Chen Junnan paused before replying, “Listen, sis, generally speaking… your parents had to meet and get together for you to exist in this world.”

“Nonsense.” Xuanwu scoffed. “I have no memory of any ‘father.’ Only that I needed ‘rice.'”

Qi Xia’s brow furrowed as he realized Xuanwu’s judgment was a double-edged sword.

Her evaluation of these “characters” was rooted in her own life experiences. If she was an orphan, the argument for “father” fell apart.

From her perspective, humans didn’t need a “father” to come into existence.

“Whether you admit it or not, you were born from humans,” Chen Junnan argued. “You might look all mighty now, but before you got here? Think about it.”

Xuanwu remained silent, her expression blank.

“I have no ‘father,'” she finally said. “Nor a ‘mother.’ ‘Rice’ is what matters. That’s all I remember needing.”

The group’s minds raced. The game’s outcome seemed to have shifted from “assembling characters” to “convincing Xuanwu.”

“Look, sis, maybe you’re the ‘referee’ here,” Chen Junnan tried another angle. “You’ve got to be fair. Even if you deny having a father, others do.”

“Precisely because I’m the referee,” Xuanwu countered, “I judge by my rules. I don’t need a ‘father,’ but I need ‘rice.'”

Chen Junnan was at a loss. Xuanwu had her own ironclad logic, and no argument could sway her.

Stubborn people like this were usually beyond his ability to reason with, but there was someone present who might stand a chance.

If that person stepped in, maybe there was still hope.

“Old Qiao! Go!” Chen Junnan called out.

“Got it!” Qiao Jiajin nodded confidently. “Leave it to me, Junnan. I’m great at talking.”

He stepped forward and greeted, “Hey there, Straw Woman.”

“…How dare you.” Xuanwu’s voice turned icy.

“Don’t get mad—just hear me out,” Qiao Jiajin said. “The question here is ‘what’s more important to humans,’ right?”

“Yes,” Xuanwu acknowledged.

“But are you human?”

“I…”

“Straw Woman, you’re not human,” Qiao Jiajin pointed out. “We’ve been arguing about what matters to humans—not you. So why judge based on your experience?”

“That…” Xuanwu hesitated, realizing the logic.

“But we are humans!” Qiao Jiajin gestured to himself and the others. “You should be asking us what’s important to us, right?”

Xuanwu’s thoughts stalled.

Was she even human?

Unable to live, unable to die, walking this sunless land in an “immortal” body.

Did such a being count as “human”?

“I resemble a ‘ghost,'” Xuanwu admitted. “Not a ‘human.'”

“Exactly! Whether god or ghost, you’re not human,” Qiao Jiajin grinned. “So what matters to you doesn’t matter to us.”

After a long pause, Xuanwu nodded—almost against her will.

“Oh, and don’t ask that long-haired guy either,” Qiao Jiajin added, pointing at Qinglong. “He calls himself a ‘god.’ What ‘gods’ find important won’t matter to humans—just gods. So asking him’s pointless.”

Xuanwu mused, “That makes sense.”

Chen Junnan patted Qiao Jiajin’s shoulder. “Old Qiao, you’re the man.”

“That’s not how it works,” Qinglong interjected coldly. “Xuanwu, don’t be fooled. They’re just trying to manipulate you into ruling ‘father’ as the winner. How can you believe them?”

“I…” Xuanwu seemed torn, standing frozen in silence.

“Besides, ‘rice’ is important to ‘father’ too,” Qinglong pressed. “Even if humans are born from parents, don’t parents need to eat? If they starve, they die—then where do children come from?”

Chen Junnan glared at Qinglong. “Now you’re just splitting hairs.”

“You’re both right,” Xuanwu conceded. “Though ‘father’ means nothing to me, it might matter to ‘humans.’ But they still need ‘rice.'”