Regarding the question of whether one thousand lives are enough to beat Honkai Impact 3rd.

Fu Hua nodded quietly. She paused in her movement of moving her chopsticks, and responded somewhat awkwardly in a muffled voice:

"Including cooking."

What followed was Su Qing'an's affirmative reply, though she suppressed a laugh.

"it is good."

From this point on, Su Qing'an's story in this city begins with her cohabitation with Fu Hua.

9. Kenshin, Shisui.

Su Qing'an stood in front of the kitchen sink wearing an apron, his sleeves carefully folded up, revealing a section of his arm.

The boy's gaze fell on the bowls and plates submerged in foam, and a fleeting smile inadvertently flickered in his eyes.

After tacitly handing the girl a second bowl of rice, she recklessly revealed her true appetite.

In Su Qing'an's eyes, this was naturally a reasonable appetite.

This applies to all martial arts practitioners. If they master the correct training methods to improve their health, their energy consumption will naturally be much higher than that of an average person.

The most obvious result is the change in food intake.

But in Fu Hua's eyes, who was still a young girl, this was somewhat contrary to a girl's modesty. She would usually try to hide this when eating out, but today Su Qing'an saw it clearly, which made the shy girl feel a little ashamed.

Fu Hua is now sitting obediently at the dining table, which has been cleaned by Su Qing'an.

She held a vocabulary learning book in her hand, her blue eyes intently focused on the textbook, her delicate white fingertips occasionally lingering on a word or phrase, or turning the page.

Amidst the gentle murmur of flowing water, the little girl is studying diligently.

This is her little habit of accumulating necessary course knowledge every day.

In the past, when her father was not around, the girl would memorize complicated vocabulary all by herself. She would deliberately turn on the TV in the living room, and the lively sounds would make her feel less lonely.

Although this approach may sometimes feel more lonely, it's still better than a desolate environment.

Her mother passed away a long time ago.

In some dysfunctional single-parent families, it is not uncommon for fathers to drink to drown their sorrows and resort to violence to vent their emotions on their children.

Fu Hua's father is a powerful martial artist who has reached the Mind's Eye realm. He has a high degree of emotional self-control, abstains from alcohol, and is upright. These matters are undoubtedly unrelated to him.

The man and the girl's relationship is close to that of a normal father and daughter, but their tendency to be taciturn is unavoidable. Neither of them is good at finding topics to talk about, which makes their daily questions and answers always stick to a fixed set of topics.

Perhaps that's why his words to Fu Hua that day were so touching.

The regularity of vocabulary was disrupted by the sudden surge of random thoughts in her mind. The girl stared blankly at the neatly arranged words on the paper and thought to herself.

But if what her father said is true, what else can she do if she doesn't inherit the martial arts school?

Even the current studies are to ensure that I don't fall behind in my future courses in Canghai City.

As for the impact of this act of learning on the girl's future, she herself has no idea.

She doesn't seem to have many things she particularly likes.

Whether it's entertainment or hobbies, these are all dispensable to her. Fu Hua rarely makes decisions on her own to accept new things.

That's why she, who isn't good at communicating with people, finds it even harder to make friends.

Without common ground, there's no topic of conversation; without topics of conversation, it's difficult to connect.

Or rather, even if there is overlap, it is not easy to develop a friendly relationship.

She had no friends at school and was as withdrawn as an invisible person.

So even without those inexplicable feelings of goodwill today, Fu Hua would still feel a strange sense of familiarity as long as she noticed the effect that [Hidden] had on the boy.

Yes.

It was like looking at another version of myself, a tiny blade of grass submerged in the sea of ​​people, unknown and unanswered.

But that was all the loneliness she felt; it wasn't even strong enough to make the girl stand out. It was more like a kind of illness that everyone occasionally experiences during puberty.

You always think that being alone is something to be proud of, and you always think that you are very lonely, so you fall into a moment of feeling that you are unique.

But that's just an illusion.

The girl wasn't that lonely; she was just too ordinary.

It's not normal to have no friends, but her neighbors all like her very much.

It's not normal to not have a mother, but a father also has his own silent love.

Fu Hua was not much different from her peers until she met Su Qing'an today, when she inexplicably felt the sound of a scroll being torn apart.

It might sound a bit childish, but perhaps the title of that painting is simply "Ordinary".

【Tai Xu Sword Qi】

Fu Hua felt a sense of wonder whenever she recalled the four words the boy had just uttered.

In fact, she didn't expect any extraordinary martial prowess. Her father, being a martial artist, might be more interested in such things, but for Fu Hua, they were insignificant.

Compared to that, cooking skills might be even more appealing to her.

To put it bluntly, it's more about the feelings you get after learning it.

The girl cares more about how this unique thing gives her a clear reason to choose it.

She herself may not fully understand this, but breaking free from the original rules and principles and the novelty and wonder of the world is what prompts Fu Hua to walk down this path.

But is being ordinary really so bad?

not necessarily.

Even if you asked Fu Hua herself now, she wouldn't get such an answer.

If the previous civilization had been a peaceful era, Su Qing'an might not have had the intention of teaching Fu Hua the Taixu Sword Qi.

But unfortunately, the reality is quite the opposite.

The Taixu Sword Qi is not a fun toy; it is a helpless measure that Su Qing'an could think of to protect the girl to the greatest extent possible, given that she was destined to embark on the path of Asura.

Fu Hua quietly put down her textbook. Her study time had been disrupted by her chaotic thoughts, and she couldn't concentrate on memorizing vocabulary. Her gaze lingered on the cover of the textbook, but her eyes were unfocused and she was clearly daydreaming.

The girl's posture was very proper; her back was straight, her knees were together, and a large gap between her slender thighs allowed a glimpse of the chair's surface.

But compared to the boring wood grain on the surface of the chair, the snow-white thighs hidden under the trousers are obviously more interesting. Even if the skin that is firmly covered cannot be seen, the straight lines and curves that are vaguely outlined by the jeans are very youthful and have the capital to attract attention.

Her feet, encased in white socks, were clad in slippers with a bear pattern. Her arches subtly curved, and her toes pressed intimately against the plastic upper and the delicate fabric.

The girl, somewhat bored and restrained, repeated this meaningless act to pass the time.

For this usually quiet girl, this leisurely act of slacking off is quite rare.

Of course, if you only look at her on the surface, you can only see that she is very serious.

The sound of rushing water was quite noticeable at this moment, making Fu Hua, who was idly standing by, feel a mixture of shame and a bit of self-righteousness.

He promised to do the housework himself!

So I don't consider myself lazy.

However, the girl was not used to being idle and not doing housework, and eventually she couldn't help but secretly glance at the kitchen on the side.

From Fu Hua's perspective, the boy's quiet act of washing dishes seemed quite ordinary. The sight of him diligently soaking and scrubbing the dishes with dish soap seemed too commonplace compared to the magical experiences he had had today, leaving Fu Hua somewhat at a loss for words to describe her feelings.

But as her gaze continued to linger, she captured details that were enough to shatter this mundane routine.

The scars on the boy's exposed arm, spreading out like branches, were quite striking. They looked like drops of blood falling on white paper, and the stark contrast in color gave a chilling crimson impression.

It made her feel strangely uncomfortable.

Compared to the Void Sword Qi, cooking skills, or extraordinary power—things that could significantly change her future—the origin of these scars was what concerned her most.

She strained to glance away, fixing her gaze on the dark night sky beyond the window in the distance.

Even if she cared, Fu Hua wouldn't choose to ask.

She felt that Su Qing'an was a stranger.

Hmm. A stranger who might be a little strange.

In short, the girl felt that their relationship hadn't reached the point where they could ask each other about their past.

Moreover, this is a past that is clearly not something that can be touched casually.

However, Fu Hua's discreet gaze did not escape Su Qing'an's notice. Having just emerged from a long and intense life-or-death battle less than a day ago, his body was still in its most sensitive state.

Following the direction where their gazes had converged, the boy looked in that direction.

Are you curious about this?

Glancing at the scars on his arm, Su Qing'an was speechless; they were the result of the aftershocks of the Spear of Longinus.

Actually, his palms were the more noticeable part, but he had always chosen to cover them with slightly wider long sleeves so that the other person wouldn't notice.

That was the right hand that once held the Spear of Longinus directly.

It was as if the outer layer of strange petals had been arbitrarily peeled away, revealing the original skin color. The deep red patterns were marks given by the gods. The bizarre beauty and the ferocious feeling collided to create an indescribable scene.

If you run your finger over them, you'll find that these so-called scars don't have any uneven texture; instead, they're as smooth as perfectly normal skin, just like meaningless, simple tattoos.

Su Qing'an understood the reason for these marks; the original injury should have been to the point where he had melted away his flesh, leaving only bones.

But after the restoration, the gods replaced everything with these tattoo-like scars.

The left hand remained clean and new, forming a stark contrast with the right hand.

Su Qing'an whispered:

"This is the price for once holding the Holy Lance."

His voice, mixed with the clatter of bowls and chopsticks and the clear sound of flowing water, reached Fu Hua's ears.

The girl was taken aback, but immediately understood that this was answering the question that had been buried in her heart.

"The Holy Lance?" she repeated the word in bewilderment.

Su Qing'an would not hide anything from Fu Hua, which was already evident from the fact that he had made it clear from the beginning.

He explained:

"Have you heard of myths and legends? The so-called Holy Lance is a weapon named after a myth."