《The Rebirth of Flint: Journey to Find Past Life Memories》


 Chapter 1: Reincarnation and rebirth

    Flint Winter blinked against the winter moonlight, her eyes adjusting to the dark world around her. The frigid waves gently lapped against her toes, sending a chill through her body but strangely not to cause discomfort to her. She sat up slowly, sand clinging to her bare skin. She was not wearing any clothes.


    Where am I? Who am I?


    Her mind felt foggy, memories just out of reach. All she knew was that she had been... a stone? The thought seemed absurd, yet it felt true. She clenched her fist, half-expecting to feel the hardness of rock instead of flesh.


    From the distant pine forest, a faint scent of pine smoke drifted over. She walked toward there on her bare foot, even though she didn¡¯t know what there was.


    As she walked closer, she saw the faint glow of a campfire. Sitting next to the crackling fire was a young man with dark gray hair, tied back in a low ponytail that resembled the flowing tail of a wolf. He dressed in a sleeveless vest decorated with intricate moon patterns, layered over with a black long-sleeved shirt. His black pants were meticulously tucked into tall boots.


    Her sudden appearance startled the young man, who then felt a bit ashamed to see her standing there naked.


    ¡°Who¡­ Who you are? Why are you¡­ are you naked?¡± Spark Lumin said.


    I am a Inferno Wolf, and a wolf would not have physiological response to a naked body of a human. Spark said it to himself, trying to suppress a somewhat shy thought.


    Actually, Flint didn¡¯t know how to call herself. She finally noticed the flint used by Spark to ignite the fire. She pointed to the flint and said: ¡±What is that?¡±


    Despite a bit annoyed by her ignoring his own problem, he still answered her question: ¡°That is a flint.¡±


    ¡°Well, I am a flint.¡±


    ¡°A¡­ flint?¡±, a little confused by her answer, Spark thought about her answer for a while and said: ¡°You mean¡­ your name is Flint?¡±


    Flint accepted this new name as naturally as we referred to her as Flint at the beginning. She nodded to Spark: ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­Fine. My name is Spark Lumin. And the second quesion I¡¯ve asked, why are you naked?¡±


    Does she need to wear clothes? It seemed like she had never been human before, as evident by her lack of understanding about the need to wear clothes


    She scrutinized both her own body and Spark''s, causing him to feel self-conscious under her silent gaze.


    ¡°You mean that¡­ I am lack of clothes?¡± Flint didn''t know why she blurted out the word ¡°clothes¡±, but she instinctively felt that Spark thought she was lacking clothes.


    Spark shifted uncomfortably, averting his eyes. "Yes, that''s exactly what I mean. You need clothes. It''s not... proper to be without them."


    Flint tilted her head, curiosity evident in her eyes. "Why?"


    The young wolf''s cheeks flushed red, and he stammered, "It just... it''s just how things are. Here." From his luggage, he pulled out a spare long-sleeved shirt, pants, and socks. He handed them to her without hesitation. "Put these on, at least."


    Flint caught the garment, running her fingers over the soft fabric. She slipped it on, the material hanging loosely on her smaller frame. "Thank you," she said, though she still didn''t quite understand the necessity.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have spare shoes. We can buy a pair along the way in the small towns.¡± Spark nodded, relief evident on his face.


    Just like suddenly realizing that something was still not right, Spark asked a series of questions : ¡°Where will you go? And¡­ Why you are here? ¡±


    Flint frowned, trying to recall some memories but to no avail. Her smile was apologetic as she spoke, "It may sound odd, but the truth is, I don''t know either."


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    Spark''s brow furrowed, his golden eyes studying Flint with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. "You don''t know? How can you not know where you came from or where you''re going?"


    Flint shrugged, her gaze drifting to the crackling fire. "I just... woke up on the beach. Everything before that is... hazy." She paused, her fingers absently tracing patterns in the sand. "But I feel like I need to remember something. Something important."


    It wouldn¡¯t be right to leave her alone here. Spark sighed deeply, placing his fist against his lips in a thoughtful manner.


    Does she have amnesia? And who brought her here? Spark couldn¡¯t find the answers.


    Finally, he gave up searching for these answers and said: ¡°I plan to join the Celestial Sword Sect as an apprentice and study the art of cultivation. They might have a solution for your amnesia. And¡­¡± Spark paused for a moment, watching Flint¡¯s reaction.


    After hearing the word ¡°solution¡±, Flint seemed to be interested. Spark continued saying:


    ¡°Would you like to go with me? ¡±


    Flint''s eyes lit up at the suggestion, a spark of hope igniting within her. "Celestial Sword Sect? Cultivation?" The words felt foreign on her tongue, yet strangely familiar. She nodded: "Yes, I''d like to go with you."


    Spark found himself smiling despite his initial wariness. There was something about this strange girl that intrigued him. "Alright then. We''ll set out at dawn. I¡¯m going to sleep."


    Flint nodded, watching as Spark settled into his bedroll. She sat cross-legged by the fire, her eyes fixed on the dancing flames. Sleep didn''t seem to call to her, so she remained awake, lost in thought.


    As the night wore on, Flint found herself drawn to the surrounding nature. She rose silently, careful not to disturb Spark, and wandered to the edge of the clearing. The moonlight filtered through the pine branches, casting ethereal shadows on the forest floor.


    Flint reached out, and an unnamed force was flowing into her body through her fingers, like a river of energy flowing into her veins. She could feel the power coursing through her, filling her with an ethereal strength. Her skin tingled and glowed with a faint white light, evidence of the mystical energy now coursing through her being.


    As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, Spark stirred from his sleep. He blinked groggily, expecting to see Flint curled up nearby. To his surprise, she was already awake, sitting with her knees drawn up by the dying embers of the fire. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and even.


    "Have you been up all night?" Spark asked, his voice still rough with sleep.


    Flint''s eyes fluttered open, a serene smile on her face. "I don''t think I need to sleep," she said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.


    Spark raised an eyebrow, but decided not to question it further. There were already too many mysteries surrounding this strange girl. He stood up, stretching his arms above his head. "We should get moving. There was still some distance left to Celestial Sword Sect, and we''ll need to stop in towns along the way for supplies."


    The two walked silently through the pine forest after the snowfall. Yesterday was a snowy day.


    In an attempt to break the awkward silence, Spark asked, "Is your feet cold without any shoes on?"


    ¡°No.¡± In fact, Flint didn¡¯t feel cold even without wearing clothes.


    It seemed that the attempt to start a conversation had failed. Spark started a next try: ¡°Do you happen to recall your family name? It could possibly help with triggering your memory recovery.¡±


    Born in a royal family, Spark was inherently sensitive to the concept of family. Subconsciously, he believed that everyone represented their own family, and he was no exception. He came from the Lumin family, a family that ruled over the Inferno Wolves.


    Flint was puzzled once again. Why did she need a new name? a family name?


    She understood that a name was something you were called, so she just needed to come up with some word as a answer.


    Her eyes scanned the winter wonderland surrounding her. The world was blanketed in a layer of pristine white, with snow gently piling up on the branches of towering pine trees. She could feel the cold seeping through her socks as she breathed out a cloud of mist into the crisp air.


    Thinking she hadn¡¯t figured it out, Spark continued to speak about random things: ¡°Well, today is Winter Solstice¡­¡±


    Winter Solstice? She seemed to have the answer and suddenly replied to the previous question: ¡°My family name is Winter.¡±


    She looked at Spark¡¯s golden eyes, seemingly proud of herself for coming up with a good answer.


    Spark was taken aback by her sudden announcement and couldn''t help but think that his earlier random speakings had some effect. "Winter? " It sounded like a plausible common family name. "Flint Winter, then? Do you remember anything about your family?"


    ¡°Nope.¡± Flint answered again with straightforwardness.


    Spark sighed, his breath forming a small cloud in the cold air. "Well, at least we have a full name to call you now. Flint Winter." He tested the name, finding it had a pleasant ring to it.


    Out of nowhere, she asks, "Spark, you mentioned something about cultivation yesterday. Can you give me more details on that?"


    Spark''s golden eyes lit up at the question, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "Cultivation is the practice of absorbing and harnessing natural aura. It is the key to elevate one''s own cultivation level. Through this practice, one can learn new skills and abilities that allow them to manipulate and control the raw power of nature around them.¡± he explained, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "It''s a path to power, longevity, and even immortality of the soul."


    Although she didn''t fully comprehend, Flint listened intently. "So, how does one get started with this practice?" she inquired.


    ¡°The first step is to test a person¡¯s spiritual root. There¡¯re six types of elements, that is: Flux, Stasis, Light, Shadow, Vita, Void. And there are also six types of spiritual roots that individuals possess, one for each element, whose tier represents your affinity to this type of element. Like me¡­ ¡±


    Spark hesitated briefly, hoping to see a glimmer of anticipation on her face.


    Flint''s black eyes met with Spark¡¯s goldern eyes. "What''s your spiritual root?" She asked, but not with the expected eagerness and curiosity that Spark had anticipated.


    Nevertheless, spark couldn''t help but puff up his chest a little, a hint of pride in his voice. "My spiritual root for the light element have reached the first tier, known as Transcendent. As for my spiritual roots for other elements besides Shadow, they have also reached the third tier, known as Basic."


    ¡°Only one is the first tier, em, Transcendent?¡± There was a tone of disappointment in Flint¡¯s voice.


    This disappointment made Spark a bit sulky. "What do you mean, ''only one''?" His tone carried a sense of anger. "Having a first-tier spiritual root is extremely rare. Most people are lucky to have even a second-tier root in one element."


    Flint cocked her head, gazing at Spark with wide, innocent black eyes. "Oh, I see. I didn''t mean to offend you. It just that ''Only one'' sounds a bit scarce."


    Spark huffed, crossing his arms: ¡°Well, it''s enough for every cultivator.¡±


    Spark added another sentence with a tone of dissatisfaction: ¡°You''ll see when we get to the Celestial Sword Sect and they test your spiritual roots. I doubt you''ll have anything close to mine.¡±


    Flint nodded, ignoring the sarcasm in his tone. "I see. So when we reach the Celestial Sword Sect, they''ll test my spiritual roots too?"


    "That''s right," Spark replied, his earlier irritation fading slightly. "They''ll determine your elemental affinities and the strength of your spiritual roots. That will guide your path in cultivation."


    As they walked, the forest began to thin out, revealing a small town nestled in a valley ahead. Smoke rose from chimneys, and the distant sounds of life reached their ears.


    "We''ll stop here for supplies," Spark announced. "And to get you some proper shoes."


    Flint''s eyes lit up at the sight of the town. "What''s that place called?"


    "Pinewood Village," Spark replied. "It''s just a small trading post."

 Chapter 2: Theft

    Flint Winter looked at her new outfit in the dusty mirror of the supply village''s small clothing shop. She doesn¡¯t like choosing clothes much, so all her clothes are picked by Spark.


    Flint twirled once, the soft warm fabric swishing around her legs. "It''s perfect," she said, a rare smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Spark."


    Spark crossed his arms and looked away, his cheeks tinged pink. "Don¡¯t mention it. It''s just... adequate," he grumbled, though his golden eyes kept darting back to her.


    Although he intended to buy her a pair of suitable shoes, after finding the right shoes, his spare clothes no longer seemed appropriate, and she also needed a warm coat¡­


    As the third prince of the Lumin, this amount of money means nothing to Spark. The fact that he couldn''t pinpoint the reason stirred up a bit agitation.


    "Adequate?" Flint raised an eyebrow. "You spent quite a bit on it for ''adequate''."


    "Of course," Flint said, "you look noble."


    Spark''s ears perked up at the compliment, despite his best efforts to remain aloof. He cleared his throat, trying to mask his pleasure. "Well, naturally. I am a prince, after all. Maybe you¡¯ve guessed."


    The word ''prince'' was not a familiar one to Flint, but she was too indifferent to bother asking its meaning. Flint nodded absently, her attention already drifting to the bustling street outside the shop.


    A merchant''s cart rattled by, laden with colorful fruits and vegetables she''d never seen before. Her curiosity piqued, she stepped towards the door.


    "Where are you going?" Spark asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice.


    "To explore," Flint replied simply, her black eyes scanning the unfamiliar sights and sounds of the village.


    Spark followed her out. The sky is turning a deep shade of purple, the moon barely visible as it begins its ascent into the darkening sky. The villagers are gathered in the center of the village, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of torches and bonfires.


    Houses and shops are adorned with twinkling lights and festive Winter Solstice decorations, while the snow from yesterday glitters under the light of the moon and torches.


    ¡°The Winter Solstice is as important as the New Year!¡± Flint heard an elderly person next to her say this to a child.


    The street is a flurry of activity as the vendors rush to set up their colorful stalls, each one adorned with an array of goods: fruits, grilled skewers, candied hawthorns, fabric doll, and other items that Flint has never seen before. The vendors work quickly, their expressions focused as they arrange their goods in an enticing display.


    The aroma of grilled meat made Spark swallow his saliva as the nature of a wolf, and then he realized that neither he nor Flint had eaten lunch.


    Spark''s stomach growled audibly, and he quickly tried to cover it with a cough. Flint glanced at him, her expression unreadable.


    "Hungry?" she asked, her voice neutral.


    Spark huffed, crossing his arms. "I suppose we should eat something. For your sake, of course."


    Flint nodded, aware of the fact that she didn''t have to eat. She couldn''t explain why, but she chose not to tell Spark about this unbelieable fact. She could sense his discomfort and chose to play along. "Yes, for my sake. What do you recommend?"


    Spark''s golden eyes darted from stall to stall, clearly torn between maintaining his princely demeanor and succumbing to the mouthwatering aromas wafting through the air. Finally, he pointed to a nearby vendor grilling skewers of meat.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    "Those look... acceptable," Spark said, trying to sound nonchalant as he led Flint towards the stall. The vendor, a jovial man with a round belly and ruddy cheeks, grinned at their approach.


    "Welcome, young ones! Care for a taste of the finest spiced lamb in the village?" He asked as grilling the meat skewers. On red pine wood sticks as thick as a finger,


    Spark''s stomach betrayed him again with a loud rumble. He coughed, attempting to cover it up. "We''ll take two," he said, his princely tone slipping as he eyed the food hungrily.


    Spark refrained from ordering more, thinking that Flint might want to try something else from the variety of food stalls available.


    The sound of the pine needle flying through the air was barely audible, overshadowed by the bustling noises of the village market. But Spark could hear the sizzle of the meat on the grill and the chatter of the vendor and other customers around them.


    The sharp and precise pine needle sliced through the string of the money pouch, and the falling pouch was caught in mid-air by the agile and nimble little boy, who dashed out from the bustling crowd like a shooting star.


    Spark''s eyes widened as he felt a sudden lightness at his waist. He whirled around, catching a glimpse of a small figure darting through the crowd.


    "Hey!" he shouted, his voice rising above the market''s din. "Stop, thief!"


    Without hesitation, Spark took off after the boy, weaving through the startled villagers.


    Flint, still holding her untouched skewer, watched for a moment before following, her movements fluid and unhurried.


    Two legs are too slow! The realization hit Spark like a bolt of lightning, urging him into action. Without hesitation, he shifted into his prototype form - an Inferno Wolf with sleek, obsidian fur and blazing golden eyes.


    With powerful strides, he tore through the air like a flash of grey-black lightning, leaving a trail of dust and sparks, along with his belongings and clothes scattered in his wake. He couldn''t even recall where he had dropped his skewer in the chaos.


    ¡°Wolf!¡± Someone in the crowd let out a shout.


    Arriving in a calm manner, Flint collected the clothes and luggage Spark had left behind, addressing the onlookers as she did so, ¡°That¡¯s just my big dog,¡± she explained, ¡°he must have gotten loose. I''ll go tie him up now.¡± Her quick actions prevented a larger disturbance from occurring.


    The revelation that Spark was actually a wolf came as a shock to Flint, but it only lingered in her heart for a brief moment. She composed herself quickly and moved on without dwelling on it.


    The boy was a blur of motion, his legs pumping furiously as he rounded the corner. Spark, now in his Inferno Wolf form, followed closely behind, his sleek grey-black fur shining in the moonlight like a bolt of lightning.


    Every muscle in Spark¡¯s body rippled with power as he kept pace with the boy, his keen senses tracking every movement in the darkness. The night air was alive with the sound of their rapid footsteps, pulsing with the energy of the chase.


    With every ounce of his strength, the boy sprints to the edge of a cliff. In a desperate act, he hurls the money pouch with all his might.


    But as Spark''s razor-sharp claws touch his back, the boy was subdued to the ground, transforming into an lifeless puppet.


    Spark''s momentum carries him forward, his paws skidding on the rocky ground as he comes to an abrupt halt at the cliff''s edge. The money pouch arcs through the air, glinting in the moonlight before disappearing into the darkness below.


    A low growl rumbles in Spark''s chest as he turns his attention to the lifeless puppet beneath his paw. His golden eyes narrow, confusion and anger warring within him.


    "What trickery is this?" he snarls, his voice a deep, guttural sound in his wolf form.


    The puppet remains still, its wooden limbs splayed awkwardly on the ground.


    As his sensitive nose sniffs at the puppet, Spark can only detect the faint scent of pine in the crisp night air.


    Footsteps approach from behind, and Spark''s ears twitch. He turns his head to see Flint walking towards.


    Flint approaches calmly, carrying Spark''s discarded clothes and belongings and her own skewer of meat. Her dark eyes take in the scene - the cliff edge, the lifeless puppet, and Spark in his imposing wolf form.


    As Flint''s gaze fell upon Spark''s luxurious fur, she was immediately overcome with the urge to run his fingers through it.


    ¡°You are Spark? Right? Furry little wolf cub.¡± As she ran her hand over the wolf''s head, Flint could feel the warmth radiating from the fluffy fur, and the smoothness of his coat beneath her fingers.


    His fur bristled at Flint¡¯s touch as he suddenly remembered that he had never revealed his true identity to Flint - that of a wolf. However, Flint didn¡¯t show any sign of surprise; instead, she addressed him with a humiliating nickname ¡®little wolf cub¡¯.


    Spark''s golden eyes widened in surprise at Flint''s calm demeanor and casual touch. He let out a low growl, shaking off her hand.


    "Don''t call me ¡®little wolf cub¡¯. I am not little at all. " he grumbled, his voice still deep and rumbling in his wolf form. "And yes, I am Spark. I... I suppose I should have mentioned I am a Inferno Wolf earlier."


    Flint shrugged and said, "It doesn''t matter. You''re still you, furry or not."


    Spark''s ears twitched in annoyance, but a part of him felt relieved at her acceptance. He couldn''t explain why, but he even found himself missing the sensation of being touched by Flint.


    "The thief... he turned into this," Spark explained, nudging the wooden figure with his paw. ¡°And my money...¡±


    "Is at the bottom of the cliff, I assume," Flint finishes, her gaze drifting to the edge.


    Flint crouches down, examining the puppet with a curious tilt of her head. Her fingers trace the smooth wooden surface, faintly sensing some intangible forces flowing.


    ¡°You mentioned something about cultivation before. Could this be the work of a cultivator? I guess. ¡± Flint inquired.


    Spark''s ears perked up at Flint''s astute observation. "You''re right," he growled, his golden eyes narrowing. "This is definitely the work of a cultivator. And not just any cultivator - one skilled in puppetry techniques."


    He paced close to the lifeless puppet, his claws clicking against the rocky ground. "But why target us? And why throw away the money?"


    Flint was too bewildered to respond. The aroma of the skewer in her hand suddenly reminded Spark of his own interrupted meal.


    Spark''s stomach growled loudly, breaking the tense silence. His ears flattened against his head in embarrassment.


    Flint wordlessly held out her untouched skewer to Spark. "Eat it," she said simply.


    Spark hesitated, but his pride held him back from taking what wasn''t rightfully his.


    ¡°That is yours.¡± Although he was swallowing his saliva, he also remembered that Flint hadn¡¯t eaten either.


    With no money, this might be their last meal.


    Flint shrugged and took a small bite of the skewer, chewing slowly. "I''m not very hungry," she said, offering it to Spark again. "You should eat."


    After a brief hesitation, Spark delicately took the skewer between his teeth, careful not to bite Flint''s fingers.


    "Thank you," he mumbled between bites, feeling a mixture of shame and appreciation bubble up in his heart.


    As Spark devoured the skewer, Flint turned her attention back to the puppet. She picked it up, examining it closely in the moonlight.


    "We should take this with us¡­" Before she finished speaking, a pine needle pierced the puppet, reducing it to a pile of sawdust and powder.


    Flint and Spark both stood frozen.

 Chapter 3: An uninvited guest

    Lenient Pine''s eyes lit up with interest as he peered at the two figures on the other side of the cliff. He could just barely make out their sounds of fear and panic.


    After a while, the young girl hopped onto the back of the wolf, holding tightly onto the clothes and luggage as they rode off. The wolf, carrying the girl, swiftly fled the village.


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of money¡­ A prince indeed.¡± Lenient Pine chuckled softly, the sound low and thoughtful, as he plucked the vine''s offering with a flick of his wrist and check its content.


    ¡°We have no use for money from mere mortals,¡± said Serene Mountain, adjusting his glasses beside Lenient, asked, "Now that you''ve achieved your goal, what''s next?"


    ¡°That¡¯s true.¡± Lenient murmured, casually flinging the money pouch over the cliff. His expression remained inscrutable, a faint smile playing on his lips.


    Serene subtly furrowed his brows.


    "Senior Mountain, why seek the opinion of someone with a lower Initiative level?"


    Lenient Pine turns towards Serene Mountain, maintaining his warm smile despite his inscrutable statement.


    This pine tree is insane, Serene thought to himself, not understanding why Master Patio had requested them to work together.


    Serene Mountain''s brow furrowed deeper, his patience wearing thin. "I seek your opinion because Master Patio deemed it necessary for us to collaborate, despite your... eccentricities."


    Lenient Pine''s smile widened, with eyes as tranquil as a still lake.


    Sitting on the branch, he swayed his legs in a gentle motion, his left lower leg already sawed off. "Ah, but eccentricity is the spice of cultivation life, wouldn''t you agree? Now, as for what''s next..."


    He paused, his gaze drifting to the horizon where the wolf and girl had disappeared. "I believe we should follow our young friends. They''re bound to lead us to something interesting."


    Serene sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Let¡¯s go." He also shared the same thought, but he had been patiently waiting for Lenient to finish his peculiarities before reaching a consensus.


    How can a human work together with a living tree? Every time he pondered this strange concept, he experienced a range of complicated feelings.


    Sitting on the ethereal wooden canoe, Lenient was trying to carve the piece of wood in his hand¡ªit was his freshly cut right lower leg.


    ¡°Ouch. Carving is too hard. Even though it is my own leg.¡± Lenient grumbled, but


    there was a playful undertone in his words.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it later.¡± Serene said calmly as he used his natural aura to steer the canoe.


    He just gave a simple response to Lenient.


    "Serene," Lenient said with a dreamy tone, slouching against the edge of the canoe with his cutted legs. "Do you ever wonder if your glasses are holding you back from enlightenment? I¡¯ve read about cultivators transcending such mortal constructs."


    Serene Mountain''s glasses glinted in the dim twilight like twin moons rising behind stormclouds. His jaw visibly tightened, though he refused to rise to the bait. "My glasses serve a practical purpose," he simply answered, ¡°to see things clearly.¡±


    Lenient hummed, clearly undeterred by Serene¡¯s clipped answer. He tapped his half-carved wooden leg against the edge of the canoe in a rhythmic beat, the faint thump blending with the whispering mist around them. "Practical purpose? Hmm, I suppose they *do* make you look rather... dignified." His lips curled into a mischievous smile. "But perhaps you''d find enlightenment faster if you threw them into the abyss. Instead of seeing things that are real, why not try to see something illusionary?"Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Serene didn¡¯t want to pay attention to these nonsenses, but he just listened quietly. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on the strands of Stasis energy guiding the canoe.


    Serene Mountain''s eyes narrowed behind his spectacles. "Enlightenment comes from within, not from discarding useful tools," he said, his voice as cool and steady as the mist surrounding them. "Perhaps you should focus more on your own cultivation rather than offering unsolicited advice."


    ¡°Oh, dear Senior Mountain, I¡¯ve found my ¡®enlightenment¡¯.You see, I didn¡¯t wear any glasses, I saw it, no, I smelled it, no, I touched it, like touching two drops of water in the sea¡­¡±


    ¡°No. Serene, ¡± Lenient solemnly tapped the edge of the canoe twice with his severed leg, ¡°we have arrived at the station.¡±


    As Serene came to a stop, he gazed ahead and saw a hidden cave entrance nestled among the rocks and trees.


    Lenient seems to know the wolf and person were here, but how? Serene had already controlled the canoe to descend before he even had this thought. He was always quicker at executing commands than forming thoughts in his mind.


    The canoe glided to a halt next to the overhanging branches of a tree. This location was a bit of distance from the entrance of the cave, and the dense trees in between offered excellent camouflage for their presence.


    A branch from this pine tree suddenly came to life, stretching out to hook onto Lenient¡¯s clothes, hoisting him up from the canoe and placing him gently onto the branch. Now with both of his lower legs gone, he was still leisurely swinging his legs.


    Serene joined Lenient on the branch, compressing the canoe and stowing it away in a bag. He then took the partially carved lower leg from Lenient''s hands and made further alterations to it.


    A new puppet was created. With closed eyes and intense focus, Serene transformed the Stasis Element in his hand into intangible threads that controlled the movements of the newly created puppet.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Spark, in his wolf form, curled up and drifted into slumber. Flint, who had no need for rest, sat by the entrance of the cave with her legs pulled close to her chest,


    watching alertly for any movement outside.


    A young man approached the mouth of the cave. His footsteps were muffled by the snow, but the rustle of his clothes and the occasional snap of a twig under his feet could be heard.


    Flint''s head snapped up as she heard footsteps approaching the cave. She quickly stood and positioned her body in front of the entrance, ready to defend herself and the wolf behind her. She doubted her ability to fight with the person who was about to arrive.


    The young man, entirely absorbed in his own world, lifted a strand of his sage-colored hair with his left hand, the muted green tresses sliding like silk between his fingers.


    With casual grace, his right hand drifted to his temple, where his fingers traced along the hairline before tugging gently at a small braid. This braid, which had been resting against the cascade of his longer hair, served to keep the stray strands around his face in check.


    ¡°You¡¯ve turned the puppet into me! Serene, you must really love me!¡± Lenient¡¯s low voice filled with surprise as he felt the puppet¡¯s hairstyle through the spiritual link with the puppet. Lenient was perched on a branch a good distance away from the cave entrance with Serene.


    Shut up. Without opening his mouth, Serene transmitted the sentence directly into Lenient''s mind. Serene¡¯s eyes remained closed, giving no indication of his thoughts or emotions.


    Without closing his mouth, Lenient''s face broke into a smile as he spoke to Serene, "Don''t be too serious. I was just thinking, with my dashing good looks, what if that young girl develops a crush on me?"


    The puppet resembles you, but it is not an exact replica of you. There was a sudden shift in Serene''s typically serene expression. His eyebrows drew together slightly, creating small ripples on his usually still face like those on the surface of a lake.


    ¡°Oh dear, what a shame, the girl fell in love with the puppet, only to realize she had loved the wrong person¡­ oh, the wrong tree¡­¡±


    Flint''s voice echoed in Lenient''s mind through the puppet''s ears. "Who are you? And what do you want to do?"


    Flint''s eyes narrowed, her body tensing at the stranger''s words. "A prince?" she echoed, her voice laced with suspicion. "I''m afraid you''ve come to the wrong place. There are no princes here, only a tired traveler and her big dog."


    The sage-haired young man tilted his head, a playful smile dancing on his lips. ¡°Hmm, it''s quite intriguing that the dog is snoozing while the person stands guard for it?¡±


    Flint''s eyes flashed with a mix of caution and defiance. "My dog, my rules," she replied tersely. "Now, I suggest you move along. There''s nothing for you here."


    As her body and mind tensed, she felt a surge of unnamed energy flowing through her fingertips.


    He harnessed this unknown power to find Flint and Spark, even though he couldn''t fully understand it himself. But every time he felt the energy flow, a sense of recognition would stir in his chest.


    It was as if he had encountered this force before, during his time as a pine tree. As he took on a human form, his memories from his life as a pine tree began to fade away one by one.


    The young man''s teasing tone disappeared as he asked, ¡°Are you a immortal cultivator?¡± His voice was now cautious and alert.


    Flint paused, unsure of what to say. She had a vague understanding that an ¡®immortal cultivator¡¯ was someone who practiced cultivation harnessing natural aura, as Spark had mentioned.


    ¡°¡­Yes. ¡± Flint replied, trying to hide her own panic. She sensed that this person had a fear of immortal cultivators, and she thought that perhaps this lie could be used to her advantage in intimidating him.


    The young man''s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of intrigue passing across his face. "An immortal cultivator, you say? How fascinating." He took a step closer, his movements fluid and graceful. "And yet, you guard a sleeping dog in a cave. Curious, don''t you think?"


    Flint''s fingers twitched, the faint glow intensifying. "My business is my own," she said, her voice low and steady. "I''ve answered your question. Now, could you leave now?"


    The young man''s eyes gleamed with amusement. "Leave? But we''ve only just met, and you''ve piqued my curiosity."


    He moved closer, his sage-colored hair swaying softly with each step. "The night seems to stretch on forever. Why don''t we pass the time by sharing our own stories?"


    Could you do something useful? Serene''s lips were sealed, but the voice inside Lenient''s head exuded anger and annoyance.


    Flint''s tone was resolute as she spoke in a low voice, "I have no stories to offer. You may depart from this place now."


    She raised her hand to halt the young man before he could respond, her fingertips still emanating a bright white glow. She couldn''t explain why she possessed this intangible power or how it worked, but she sensed that the man should be cautious of it.


    Flint''s fingers were directed towards the young man. She felt as if she had done nothing, yet an incredible scene unfolded before her very eyes.


    ¡°Ahh!¡± With a scream of pain, the young man crumbled into a pile of dust and wood chips. It was reminiscent of the puppet boy who had stolen their money earlier.

 Chapter 4: Chase

    The puppet''s sudden collapse sent a jarring sensation through Serene''s head, much like the sound of stones pelting against a fragile water jar. He was disoriented and reached up to massage his temples in an attempt to soothe the pain. But he couldn''t quite grasp what had just happened.


    "This young girl possesses incredible strength and a vast inner sea. She just destroyed the puppet.¡± Lenient''s typically casual expression had a touch of worry as he spoke with careful consideration,¡±she might even be on the level of a Middle Adept. We should seek assistance from Master Patio." Every immortal cultivator possessed an Inner Sea, used to store natural aura.


    Serene was still in the aftermath of the headache, his thoughts were not very clear.


    He nodded instinctively and said, ¡°Then¡­ should I go to find Master Patio?¡±


    "Yes, Senior Mountain! You must go NOW! She is DANGEROUS!" Lenient shouted with over-exaggerated vigor, the deafening sound reverberating through Serene and intensifying his headache.


    By the time Serene started to steer the Ethereal Wooden Canoe to search for Master Patio, his headache had eased somewhat. He felt a nagging suspicion, but couldn''t quite pinpoint what had happened actually.


    Did that girl really¡­ give a attack?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The cave was eerily silent. There was no trace of Flint and Spark. A pile of wood shavings was scattered at the entrance of the cave, upon closer inspection, an inconspicuous pine needle tucked in between the pieces.


    Each pine tree in the forest seemed to come to life, extending a flexible branch that could move, tossing Lenient from tree to tree like a rubber ball.


    Lenient¡¯s right thigh had been completely sawed off, which was the raw material he had just gave Serene as a gift to make a new puppet, and the left lower leg had begun to grow a small wooden spike. If he sawed off his left thigh and two arms, he would resemble a rubber ball even more.


    ¡°Prince! Miss! Wait a moment!¡± A strange voice shouting came from the side of the woods.


    Spark, who was in his wolf form and galloping with Flint on his back, shifted his gaze and saw a black shadow being tossed back and forth between the trees, each fall tearing off countless pine needles.


    What the hell is that? Spark ran even harder.


    Lenient was dressed in a white two-piece ensemble consisting of an upper garment and lower robes. Over this, he weared a dark green outer robe. During each rise and fall, the two flaps of his lower robes fluttered up like butterfly wings.


    As the moonlight slowly revealed Lenient''s figure, Spark couldn''t believe his eyes. It felt like he was seeing a ghost.


    Is that a ghost? Am still in the dream? Spark ran without stopping, his heart pounding crazily.


    Watching the accelerating Spark, Lenient sighed and decided to take a desperate chance. The tree that was holding him now assumed a throwing angle, and then with a mighty heave, it launched him into the air.


    Lenient soared through the night sky, his white and green robes billowing behind him like a comet''s tail. As he arced towards Spark and Flint, he called out, "Please, I mean you no harm! I only wish to speak!"


    Lenient crashed into the snow right in the path of Spark''s running route. Unable to stop himself, Spark stumbled over Lenient''s body and landed hard on his back. Flint was also forcefully thrown down to the ground.


    Suppressing the pain, Spark quickly turned over and shot a glare at Lenient, clenching his teeth. Lenient countered with a friendly smile and reached out his right hand to him. Despite lacking feet, he could only support his body with his left hand.


    ¡°Nice to meet you, prin¡­¡± Before Lenient could finish his sentence, Spark sunk his teeth into the man''s arm. To his own astonishment, Spark didn''t use all of his strength, but Lenient''s forearm still snapped like a twig in his mouth.


    The next moment, an event occurred that Spark would regret for the rest of his life. The severed forearm transformed into a pine branch bristling with countless hard pine needles, piercing Spark¡¯s upper palate and tongue.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Huinn, Heei ei¡­(Flint, help me) ¡± Spark shouted with a slurred voice. Blood filled his mouth, dripping from the corners of his lips onto the snow, creating a series of small red craters.


    ¡°Uh, kind of uneven, but it doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Lenient glanced at the the unevenly bitten sections of the severed arm, then continued in a light-hearted tone, ¡°Nice to meet you! Prince and Miss!¡±


    On her knees in the snow, Flint grasped the main branch and yanked it out from Spark¡¯s mouth. The latter let out a cry of pain at the moment they were removed, but there were still many pine needles embedded in his flesh.


    Flint desperately hoped that the strange man truly had no malicious intentions, as he had said. Spark had been jolted awake by the puppet¡¯s scream of agony, unable to see the puppet¡¯s appearance. But the man currently in front of her indeed shared some striking resemblances with that same puppet.


    Aside from having his legs sawed off, one of his arms was also bitten off, and he was using his only remaining hand to slowly drag his body into view in front of Flint.


    Spark''s eyes blazed with anger as he glared at the strange man, making low growling noises from his throat to warn him not to approach any closer. However, the man simply smiled apologetically in response.


    There was a moment of quiet, as Flint continued to remove pine needles from Spark''s mouth without greeting Lenient. Finally, Lenient broke the silence and spoke up, ¡°Miss, nice to meet you, I am Lenient Pine. I¡¯d like to know what your name is.¡±


    "Flint," Flint didn''t even bother looking up, "Flint Winter, if you want my full name."


    "Flint Winter, what a lovely name," Lenient said with admiration. His smile made it hard to determine if he was being genuine. "Miss Winter, have you ever visited the Chasm of Abyss?"


    Flint stopped in the midst of clearing out pine needles and turned to face Lenient, her expression a mix of confusion and suspicion. ¡°No.¡± She continued to work for a while again, and then spoke, ¡°Actually, I lost all my memory.¡±


    "Lost all your memory?" Lenient''s eyebrows raised slightly, his tone a mix of surprise and intrigue. "How fascinating. And yet, you remember your name?"


    Flint''s hands paused briefly as she considered her response. "It''s... complicated," she said, her focus didn¡¯t shift from pine needles in Spark¡¯s mouth, ¡°But now, I need to find my memories back.¡±


    Lenient''s smile widened, his single hand pressing against the ground as he dragged himself slightly closer to Flint. "Then perhaps I can help you. I have an unexplained familiarity with you. And the Abyssal Pavilion, acturally where I reside, holds many secrets, Miss Winter. I''d be honored to guide you there."


    Before Flint could respond, Spark''s ears flattened against his head. Lenient¡¯s invitation for Flint triggered a fierce growl that quickly turned into an angry bark. The sudden movement caused the pine needles embedded in his mouth to drive deeper into his flesh. His bark transformed into a sharp yelp of pain, and fresh blood began to trickle from where the needles had punctured deeper into his gums and tongue.


    Flint patted Spark''s head and pleaded, "Spark, don''t move!" Her hands worked quickly to remove the needles, drops of red blood staining the ground beneath them.


    She shot a wary glance at Lenient, who maintained his eerily pleasant expression despite the wolf''s hostile display.


    The blood flow had increased now, staining Spark''s fur around his muzzle a dark red. Each attempt to growl or bark only seemed to worsen his condition, but the wolf''s eyes never left Lenient''s mutilated form, blazing with a mixture of pain and defiance.


    ¡°Are you the puppet at the entrance of the cave from just now?" Flint finally looked up from tending to Spark''s wounds, her eyes narrowing as she studied Lenient''s face. Despite her desire to retrieve her memories, the unexpected invitation made her wary.


    "Am I the puppet?" Lenient echoed Flint''s question, his pleasant smile never wavering despite Spark''s hostile display. "Yes and no. Perhaps you''ve fallen in love with a puppet?" His single hand made a graceful, almost theatrical gesture. "If you have, you''re welcome to imagine me as him. Who knows - maybe we were even lovers in a past life."


    Flint paused in her final check of Spark''s cleaned wounds, her expression a mixture of skepticism and mild irritation at such a frivolous suggestion. The wolf beneath her hands tensed, a low rumble building in his throat until Flint''s steadying touch silenced him.


    "Thanks for the entertaining thought, but I need to go." Flint''s voice was cool and practical as she mounted Spark''s back, her movements efficient and purposeful.


    As she was ready to leave this strange encounter behind, Lenient''s voice shifted to something more serious.


    "Before you go," Lenient called out, "I should tell you - I''ve sensed something in you -"


    "Wait! That force within you¡ª" Lenient shouted, but Spark and Flint were already in motion. "It''s not one of the six elements!" His words scattered in the winter air like falling snowflakes, ignored and lost.


    Without a moment''s hesitation or even a glance back, Flint gripped Spark''s fur, and the wolf burst into motion. They vanished into the forest like a fleeting shadow, leaving only disturbed snow and silence in their wake.


    Lenient''s voice trailed off into the empty air. His outstretched hand slowly dropped to his side as he watched the last traces of their presence fade from view. With his mutilated body and single remaining arm, he lowered himself to sit in the snow, the white powder crunching softly beneath him.


    A gentle wind stirred the pine branches above, sending a shower of snow crystals dancing around his solitary figure. His ever-present smile had faded just slightly at the corners, though whether from disappointment or resignation, it was impossible to tell. He sat there, a broken puppet in the growing silence of the winter forest, while fresh snow began to dust his shoulders.


    Spark''s paws pounded against the snow as he raced through the forest, carrying Flint on his back. But the sound of rustling pine branches made his ears twitch ¨C their persistent pursuer hadn''t given up.


    Amidst the dense forest, a figure dressed in all white with a green outer robe navigated through the treetops. Moonlight peeked through the pine needles gaps, illuminating his wild movements as he was flung from tree to tree, each one acting as a temporary launchpad. It was like a twisted game of catch, but with bizarre and unsettling sight to behold.


    "Just a moment of your time!" Lenient''s voice rang out cheerfully, completely at odds with his mutilated form as he was suddenly hurled toward them.


    Spark swerved sharply to the right, causing Flint to grip his fur tighter to maintain her balance. Lenient sailed past them, crashing into a snowbank before being scooped up by another tree''s extended branch.


    "My apologies for the poor aim!" Lenient called out as the trees launched him again. This time, he came even closer, forcing Spark into a desperate dodge that made Flint sway precariously on his back.


    As the trees prepared to throw Lenient for a third time, a powerful gust of wind suddenly swept through the forest. The branch made its third toss for Lenient in the wind, but Lenient¡¯s trajectory was halted by an even stronger gust of air that followed.


    "Enough of this chase, Lenient." A commanding voice cut through the night air.


    Two figures emerged from the shadows: Serene Mountain, and beside him, the imposing presence of Wind Patio. The latter''s robes barely moved despite the swirling air around him, his Early Legend level evident in the way the very forest seemed to hold its breath in his presence.


    Lenient''s perpetual smile brightened as he looked up from the snow pile and saw his master and senior fellow apprentice. He dragged himself towards them with his only arm awkwardly.


    "Can we invite Miss Winter to go to the Abyssal Pavilion together?" Lenient said with that signature pleasant smile that never quite reached his eyes.

 Chapter 5: Rescue

    Wind Patio listened to Lenient¡¯s suggestion with resignation, but he had already gotten used to not asking ¡°why¡± to this insane pine tree. He simply nodded to Lenient, ¡°Alright, let¡¯s take them back with us.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Master Patio.¡± Lenient gratefully thanked Master Patio, dragging his body forward with his one remaining hand. Seeing Lenient''s struggle, Wind Patio gave Serene a significant glance and the latter hurried to Lenient''s side, helping Lenient onto his back.


    An immortal cultivator from Early Legend level exerted spiritual pressure that curshed Spark, forcing him to crawl on the ground, with Flint slipping off his back.


    Flint felt a spiritual pressure bearing down on her, causing a throbbing headache. She dropped to her knees in the snow, propping herself up with one hand as she rubbed her temple with the other to try and ease the pain.


    Spark struggled against the crushing spiritual pressure, his golden eyes flickering with defiance despite being forced to the ground. "I refuse," he growled through gritted teeth. "I''m on my way to the Celestial Sword Sect."


    Wind Patio merely looked down at him with cold indifference. The spiritual pressure intensified, causing Spark to bite back a grunt of pain. As a prince of the Lumin clan, Spark''s pride wouldn''t allow him to show weakness, but his trembling arms betrayed his struggle to crawl on the ground.


    Flint, still fighting against the oppressive force herself, watched helplessly as her companion was subdued. Despite the throbbing in her head, her mind raced through possible solutions, but against such a powerful immortal cultivator, their options were severely limited.


    Lenient observed from Serene''s back, his sage-colored braid swaying slightly as he tilted his head. Despite his mutilated form, a subtle smile played at the corners of his mouth as he watched the young wolf prince''s futile resistance.


    Wind Patio utilized his naturall aura to retrieve a Frost Jade Pine Needle from the small pouch attached to his waist on the right side. Skillfully, he applied a layer of sleeping draught without coming into direct contact with it.


    Due to his excessive power, he hesitated, not wanting to risk harming the wolf prince


    by trying to throw the needle himself.


    "Serene," Wind commanded softly, "Don¡¯t touch it. Guide it with your natural aura. We need him alive and unharmed."


    Before Serene could respond, Lenient Pine suddenly lurched forward from his position on Serene''s back. Despite his broken legs and right arm, he snatched the needle with his remaining left hand directly. His sage-colored braid whipped through the air as he launched the needle at Spark, striking him in the shoulder ¨C a carefully chosen spot that would neither kill nor permanently injure.


    Spark''s golden eyes widened in surprise before growing heavy. He swayed once, twice, then collapsed to the ground, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep.


    But the victory was short-lived. Lenient''s pale face grew paler still, his fingers trembling where they had touched the poisoned needle. Without a word, he slumped against Serene''s back, his consciousness fading as the sleeping draught took effect through even that brief contact.


    "Stop!" Flint planted herself between Wind Patio and Spark''s unconscious form. Despite the crushing spiritual pressure that made each movement a struggle, she struggled to straighten her upper body. "You can''t take him!"


    Wind Patio''s cold eyes narrowed. "Step aside, young lady. This matter is beyond your understanding."


    "I won''t!" Flint''s legs shook with effort, but her voice remained steady.


    A sharp whistle cut through the air, followed by a blast of sword intent so powerful it dispersed Wind Patio''s spiritual pressure like morning mist. A figure landed between them, his black robes emblazoned with a wind symbol.


    The newcomer''s stance was relaxed but vigilant. "Wind Patio of the Abyssal Pavilion," he stated, his voice carrying quiet authority despite his lower cultivation. "Your reputation precedes you."


    Wind Patio''s eyes swept over the black-robed figure dismissively. "And you are?"


    "The North Thunder of the Celestial Sword Sect." His hand remained steady on his sword hilt. "While I don''t know these young cultivators, this is Celestial Sword Sect territory. I cannot allow you to cause trouble here."


    A cold smile played across Wind Patio''s lips. "A mere Master level dares to challenge me?"Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    North Thunder struck first, his sword tracing a brilliant arc of natural aura. But as the attack approached Wind Patio, the air seemed to distort and darken. The sword energy wavered, then disappeared entirely, absorbed into the void-like distortion around Wind Patio''s form.


    Their battle escalated quickly. Each time North Thunder attacked, Wind Patio''s void element techniques would devour the incoming spiritual energy, leaving nothing but empty space in its wake. The very air grew thin around them as Wind Patio''s power consumed the natural aura in the area.


    After absorbing several more attacks, Wind Patio manipulates the natural aura, his hand hovering over the pouch at his left waist. He hesitated for a moment at the left pouch, which contained the lethal poisoned needles, before deliberately reaching for the right one instead. Even in battle, he preferred to avoid unnecessary death.


    The Frost Jade Pine Needles glinted in the light as they shot through the air. The North Thunder managed to deflect most with his sword, but one found its mark in his shoulder. Though not poisoned, the impact was enough to send him staggering backward, blood seeping through his cyan and white robes.


    a wave of his hand


    As the sword, pulsing with divine light, struck this barrier, it didn''t simply disappear ¨C it was devoured, its energy absorbed and redirected with devastating force. North Thunder''s own attack boomeranged back at him from every angle, amplified by Wind Patio''s void element and unleashing a cataclysmic explosion that shook the very foundations of their battle ground.


    The impact sent North Thunder crashing through several trees before he finally came to a stop, coughing blood. His sword arm hung limp, and several ribs were clearly broken. Only then did he reach for the jade communication talisman at his belt, knowing he could no longer protect the young cultivators alone.


    Through the settling dust of battle, Wind Patio''s keen eyes caught movement in the distance. Several silhouettes appeared against the horizon, their forms gliding through the air on spiritual swords, their robes bearing the unmistakable emblem of the Celestial Sword Sect.


    He clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. He made a smooth motion with his hand, conjuring up a ethereal canoe - one that was dark and shiny like obsidian, with a subtle aura emanating from it, giving off a faint glow. The void element surrounding him rippled as he stepped aboard.


    "Serene," he commanded quietly, helping his disciple settle the unconscious Lenient into the craft. The sage-haired young cultivator remained deeply asleep, still affected by the earlier sleeping draught.


    Wind Patio cast one last calculating look at North Thunder, who was still struggling to rise, and the approaching reinforcements. While he had no doubt he could handle a few more cultivators in Masters levels or Adept levels, a prolonged battle would risk exposing their true purpose in the area. The Moonlight Bead would have to wait.


    With a pulse of natural aura, the ethereal canoe rose into the air, carrying its three passengers away. They vanished into the distance, leaving only traces of void element energy dissipating in their wake.


    After the dust settled and Wind Patio''s group disappeared, North Thunder slowly made his way over to where Flint knelt beside the unconscious wolf. Despite his injuries, his eyes remained sharp as he assessed the situation.


    "Are you alright?" he asked Flint, pressing a hand to his broken ribs as he caught his breath. A large patch of his clothes was stained red with blood.


    Flint nodded, her hand resting protectively on Spark''s dark fur. "Yes, but Spark''s still asleep from their poison."


    The Frost Jade Pine Needle that Lenient had just thrown over was already pulled out by Flint. She carefully touched the end, avoiding the part coated with poison.


    "Why were you targeted by Wind Patio?" North Thunder asked, his tone careful but firm. "It''s unusual for an Early Legend cultivator to take such interest in young practitioners."


    "I don''t even know who he is," Flint admitted, her brow furrowed with concern.


    "The wolf¡¯s name is Spark. Spark was traveling to the Celestial Sword Sect to seek apprenticeship. I met him on the road and decided to accompany him for some reason. We were almost there when they ambushed us." Flint replied to North Thunder.


    Just then, several cultivators landed around them, their swords humming with residual natural aura from their flight. They quickly gathered around North Thunder, their faces growing serious as they saw his injuries.


    "Sage North Thunder! What happened here?"


    North Thunder straightened despite his wounds. "Wind Patio of the Abyssal Pavilion. He and his disciples were attempting to capture this wolf and this Miss." He gestured to Spark''s sleeping form. "Their presence so close to our sect is... concerning."


    "We should report this to the sect leader," another added. "And these young ones ¨C if the spiritual beast truly seeks apprenticeship, we should bring them both to safety."


    North Thunder nodded in agreement. "Let''s return to the sect. The sleeping draught should wear off soon, and we can properly discuss matters there."


    North Thunder extended his hand, channeling his natural aura into his sword. The blade shimmered and expanded until it was wide enough to serve as a stable platform. He carefully helped Flint settle the sleeping wolf onto the gleaming surface.


    "Hold on tight," he instructed, waiting until Flint had positioned herself securely beside Spark. The other elders and disciples had already taken to the skies ahead of them.


    As they rose into the air, North Thunder maintained a steady, gentle pace, careful not to disturb his unconscious passenger. As the sun began to peek over the distant mountains, they soared through the crisp morning air. The cool breeze brushed against their faces as they watched the peaceful landscape awaken below them.


    ¡°When I first saw you, I thought he was your spirit beast.¡± Standing on the tip of the sword, Sage North Thunder did not turn around, but suddenly spoke, breaking the silence between himself and Flint.


    Flint cracked a small smile as she remembered the scene she when she first met Spark. "You know, when I first saw him, I never would have guessed he was a wolf," she mused with a touch of amusement.


    Sage North Thunder''s face registered a momentary surprise before settling into an expression of understanding. It suddenly occurred to him: if Spark wasn''t capable of incarnating, how did he come to the Celestial Sword Sect to seek apprenticeship? He would not be admitted. Sage North Thunder nearly forgot about this important detail.


    Sage North Thunder''s brow creased in confusion. He had never come across a solution for amnesia within the Celestial Sword Sect. "I don''t want to give you false hope, but as far as I''m aware, we do not possess any spells or potions that can help with amnesia..."


    To his suprise, Flint remained composed and replied, ¡°I''ve considered it, and I don''t believe this is a case of amnesia. My memories from birth to now are haunted by the thought I am a piece of flint. So, I¡¯m wondering if I¡¯m searching for some sort of¡­ past life memories.¡±


    ¡°Past life?!¡± Sage North Thunder''s reaction was a complete departure from his previous calm demeanor, ¡°Are you not an immortal cultivator? Only those who have reached the Great Perfection of Deity can remember their past lifes, the events that the their souls have experienced.¡±

 Chapter 6: I am Serene Mountain.(Act1 Ends)

    I am Serene Mountain.


    After being abandoned, Master Patio found me in the mountains while gathering herbs. He claimed to have waited by my side for three days and nights, but no one came to claim me. So he brought me back with him to the Abyssal Pavilion, where I have since lived as an orphan under his care.


    Master Patio perceived me as a calm and non-fussy baby, unlike other infants who cry and make noise. He assumed that I had been abandoned because of a possible brain disorder. However, he soon discovered that I was a perfectly healthy baby. He couldn''t comprehend why someone would leave me in a remote mountain area, where there is a high risk of being taken by a wild animal such as a wolf, instead of being taken in and raised by someone.


    Master Patio gave me the name Serene, likely because I am quiet and rarely show emotion. Felicity often says my name sounds like that of a young girl.


    Felicity used to tease me for playing with a "doll", claiming it was something only girls played with. I remember feeling upset and insisting that it wasn''t a doll, but rather a puppet. At the time, I couldn''t quite articulate what made the two different, but I knew there was a distinction.


    As time passed, I began to understand the differences between them. While we treat dolls as if they are real people, puppets are an extension of ourselves. I control the movements and words of a puppet, using it as a shield to speak for me and face those I do not want to confront directly. Later, I explained this reasoning to Felicity, and she also found this distinction very reasonable afterwards.


    The Abyssal Pavilion stands tall, its foundation rooted in the depths of the Chasm of Abyss. Surprisingly, the top floor extends beyond the edges of the cliffs that surround it. A bridge connects this top floor to one side of the cliff, where Felicity can be found working.


    Felicity shared my perspective, as she regularly interacts with puppets in her line of work. These puppets, who are being controlled by unknown individuals from different places, come to her with the intent of buying WhisperCoins or exchanging them for Spirit Stones. She charges fee of 0.25% for facilitating these transactions. She finds this job mundane and doesn''t have to put in much effort. In fact, she has created a runes-based system called the Runic Matrix System that enables these puppets to operate independently. Her main responsibility is ensuring the system runs smoothly during trading hours in the morning.


    Unlike her, I always meet real people at the lowest level of the Abyssal Pavilion. Some are severely injured, some are anxious, some are full of suspicion, and some are haunted by resentful spirits¡­ Oh, and the last type is not allowed to enter the Abyssal Pavilion. As part of my duties, I must immediately alert an elder of a higher cultivation level than me if I encounter someone possessed by resentful spirits. The elder will then take action to drive away or even kill the people haunted by resentful spirits.


    As for the rest of them, I simply inquire about their purpose and names before granting them entrance. The lowest level of the Abyssal Pavilion is safeguarded by a powerful defensive formation. Even if they harbor malicious intent, they would not be able to destroy this building. Yet, I have never encountered anyone willing to risk their life in an attempt to destroy it. If such individuals do exist, what could possibly drive them to take such a dangerous venture and reach the depths of the Chasm of Abyss?


    ¡°The Abyssal Pavilion provides refuge to all fallen souls in the world.¡± That¡¯s how Master Patio described it to me. Most of the people who come here are wanted by the Immortal Alliance. Some have committed murder for treasure, some have offended high-ranking members of the Immortal Alliance, and some have destroyed the protective formations of the Immortal Alliance to illegally mine spirit stones.


    I¡¯m not actually very fond of this job either. Some people haunted by resentful spirits become angry when they are denied entry and try to break through the spiritual barrier to attack me. So, I let the puppet sit there in my place, and I operate it with my natural aura from a distance. After all, I only need to do four things: ask questions, sound the alarm, register, and close the defense array to let them come in.


    These puppets are poorly made, and every time I use them my vision becomes blurry. Without even realizing it, I started squinting to try and see better, but no use. After a while, I noticed my eyesight was getting worse and ended up needing glasses. It wasn''t until later that I discovered I could also see the world from the puppet''s point of view with my eyes closed.


    Of course, I don¡¯t have to work as the entrance guard all the time. Such a boring job is definitely on a rotation. Sometimes, I also had to take care of the Frost Jade Pines that Master Patio planted in the past. Maintaining the trees has been replaced with new responsibilities now, but I can''t tell if my workload has decreased at all.


    This type of pine tree takes twenty years to mature, so we sowed seeds once a year in the past. The pine trees were divided into twenty sections based on their planting time.


    At that time, I only needed to check once a month for any anomalies. In October, the workload might be heavier as I had to harvest pine seeds for planting the following year. The pine needles were like shards of frost, each one a glinting edge of ice, like a row of tiny jade swords standing guard over the tree''s frozen heart, emanating a chill that seeped into the very soul. During this time, the puppet was of great help to me, as it could take the brunt of being pierced with holes. Then, in March of the following year, we would plant these seeds.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    There was a strange pine tree among them. At first, I thought it was just a newly planted tree. But as the years passed, the trees around it grew tall, while it never did. There was a small piece of obsidian embedded in its trunk. I asked Master Patio if we should cut it down, but he said no. I also asked if we should remove the obsidian, and he said no again. So, I left it alone.


    In the month of December, my duties were slightly different from usual. I was tasked with pouring a deadly poison into the fully grown pine trees, allowing it to travel up through their trunks and branches until it saturated all the pine needles. Then, I would chop down these trees and gather their poisoned needles. Master Patio typically gave me an antidote pellet beforehand, but in reality, I always used a puppet to carry out these tasks to avoid any contact with the poison. Still, as an extra precaution, I would take the antidote before beginning since its effects lasted for about a week.


    When I was thirteen years old, an unusual event occurred during that winter, which led to the fact that I no longer needed to continue taking care of this pine forest in the future.


    In the section of the forest where I was about to fell trees, the pine tree that had never grown tall and was embedded with obsidian had surprisingly become very large, taller than the surrounding mature trees. ¡°All the mature trees must be injected with poison.¡± Master Patio had said. As someone who always follows orders, this tree was likely facing its inevitable demise.


    The spread of the poison would take a day and a night. The pine forest was also some distance away from the Abyssal Pavilion, so after I finished pouring the poison in the morning, I practiced for a while in the afternoon and then went to sleep at night in the cabin next to the forest.


    In the evening, someone suddenly started pounding on my door. Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I forced myself to wake up. I tentatively asked, ¡°Is it Master Patio?¡±


    Outside was the voice of a little boy, who sounded about eleven or twelve years old, crying out in pain: ¡°Save me, you have an axe, save me.¡±


    It was a truly puzzling response, but despite that, I opened the door. Outside, in the cold winter air, stood a small boy with locks of sage-colored hair cascading down to his shoulders. His exposed arms and legs were stained a deep purple, resembling the color of the poison I needed to pour on the pine trees. The discoloration seemed to have seeped beyond his joints, giving him an otherworldly appearance.


    ¡°Save me. Please cut off my limbs! Please!¡± He suddenly stretched out his hand forward, and despite having taken the antidote, I involuntarily took a step back.


    I stood there, frozen for a moment, believing the boy must have accidentally come into contact with the poison I poured to the Frost Jade Pines. My heart tightened with concern ¨C no child should have to endure such pain.


    "Hold still," I commanded, trying to keep my voice steady as I manipulated my puppet to retrieve the axe. The boy didn''t flinch or back away, instead stretching his arm out further, his eyes filled with desperate determination.


    With precise control, I brought the axe down on his upper arm. The blade met resistance for only a fraction of a second before cleaving through. But instead of blood, what fell to the ground was a branch densely covered with needles ¨C pine needles stained the same deep purple as his skin had been.


    I stared in disbelief. "Who... what are you?" I asked, my normally composed voice wavering slightly. Despite my shock, I continued with the grim task as requested, bringing the axe down three more times to sever his remaining limbs. With each slice, the same unbelievable truth was exposed - arms that were branches and legs that were trunks, instead of normal human flesh. And to top it off, everything was painted a chilling shade of purple.


    The boy''s face showed relief rather than pain as the last limb fell. "I am a Frost Jade Pine," he said simply, as if this explained everything. His voice was clearer now, the strain of pain finally easing from it. "The poison had spread too far through my limbs. They needed to be removed before it could reach my neck vertebrae.


    If the poison were to spread to the neck vertebra, I would be dead. "


    I gazed upon the two branches and two trunks, resting on the snow-covered ground, purple needles on branches a stark contrast against the white landscape. Then my gaze shifted back to the boy, who was sitting on the ground with two legs cut off, somehow surviving this bizarre occurrence. In all the time I''ve spent at the Abyssal Pavilion, I had never witnessed such a strange occurrence.


    Although this matter was strange, I decided to complete the task before leaving. The next day, I cut down the pine trees that had been soaked in poison the day before and collected the pine needles. On the third day, I returned to the Abyssal Pavilion with this strange little boy and a large bag of poisoned pine needles. By this time, the boy¡¯s severed limbs had completely healed, as if he had never been injured.


    After seeing the little boy, Master Patio became quite emotional. He murmured, ¡°So much like¡­¡± Then he asked the boy a few questions, but the boy knew nothing. Finally, Master Patio named the boy Lenient Pine. The meaning of ¡°Lenient¡± is somewhat similar to the name of the founder of the Abyssal Pavilion, Sage of Bamboo. Perhaps Master Patio felt that the boy resembled that Sage.


    I also asked the boy about the obsidian. He retrieved the carving knife I used to make the puppet, sliced open his belly, and I saw the stone embedded inside. He pleaded with me not to report this to Master Patio, but I did so regardless. However, Master Patio did not demand that the boy surrender the obsidian.


    And since then, I no longer needed to go to that pine forest. Because every time Master Patio needed the poisoned Frost Jade Pine Needles, Lenient Pine would soak his arms in the poison, and then I would operate the puppet at night to chop off his arms.


    Every time making poisoned pine needles, Lenient¡¯s arms are soaked in deadly poison


    , leaving him bored and seeking conversation with me. However, I am not particularly skilled at chatting and prefer to simply listen and give brief responses. Despite this, Lenient believes I am the greatest conversationalist in the world.


    His words always seemed fabricated and exaggerated. "Serene is the greatest conversationalist in the world" was example for his exaggeration. As for a fabricated one, he claimed that the stone in his body could communicate with him, and he was on a quest to find a girl named Obsidian. I simply hummed in response, knowing that I had touched that same obsidian and felt nothing but an ordinary stone.


    Later, he also practiced cultivation with me. It is surprising that as a tree, he has a top-tier spiritual root in the Vita Element. However, it might also make sense, as I¡¯ve heard that top-tier spiritual roots often appear in spiritual beasts. Perhaps trees are similar, as they are closer to nature.


    Recently, Master Patio wanted to obtain the treasure of the Inferno Wolves tribe, the Moonlight Bead. Although he was in charge of the Abyssal Pavilion, which was quite loosely organized, the only people he trusted were me and Lenient Pine. So, he took us along to capture Spark Lumin, the third prince of the Inferno Wolves, who was planning to go to the Celestial Sword Sect to seek apprenticeship.


    We had no idea what Spark Lumin looked like, and the Labyrinth Network of Elder Blackwood couldn¡¯t find any information about him either. So when the puppet I controlled heard a man with a low ponytail claiming to be a prince in the clothing store, Lenient and I guessed that he was Spark Lumin.


    Then, Lenient suggested robbing the wolf prince''s money pouch because he felt annoyingly uncomfortable seeing the prince using money to win that girl''s affection. He also wanted to check how much money the wolf prince had to confirm if he was indeed a prince. I thought his idea was absurd, but I didn¡®t have a better one, so I did as he suggested.


    Once my puppet was destroyed, he forced me to call for Master Patio. Despite his broken legs and missing arm, I never expected him to be able to chase them here. And I vaguely felt that he seemed to care a bit about that girl.


    Now, he rests peacefully on the ethereal canoe. Master Patio''s expression is grim, and it appears that our mission has been unsuccessful. Master Patio was on a journey to find the Moonlight Bead in order to cultivate more pine trees with spiritual intelligence, so I guess I can postpone dealing with more troubles like Lenient Pine for a while.


    I am Serene Mountain. I''m also feeling a bit sleepy now.

 Chapter 7: Wind-Charm Fox

    ¡°Since this spiritual beast is to seek apprenticeship in the Celestial Sword Sect, after he wakes up, let him go to the side hall next to the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall, where the Spirit Root Testing Pavilion is located.¡± Sage North Thunder said to Flint.


    He made sure a disciple found a vacant guest room for Flint and Spark to rest in, gave some directions to Flint, and then left. Before he departed, he instructed Flint to wait until Spark was awake and then bring him to take the sect admission test, which included a spirit root evaluation.


    Flint nodded in agreement before North Thunder departed. Flint was too tired to lift the large wolf onto the bed, so Spark remained lying on the floor, completely still as if he were lifeless. But when she placed her fingers on his nose, she could still feel him breathing.


    Flint sat with knees pulled up to the chest beside Spark, reaching out to stroke the fluffy wolf''s head. Now that Spark wouldn''t resist, it was good.


    As she stroked Spark¡¯s head, she felt the intangible power flowing into her body seemed to be getting stronger. She noticed that there was a small spirit-gathering formation here, seemingly specifically prepared for cultivators.


    After stroking Spark''s head to her heart''s content, Flint stood up and walked to the window. The view from their room on the third floor was not bad. She could see the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall in the distance, a magnificent sight to behold.


    The grand hall lived up to its name, its soaring spires seeming to pierce through the morning clouds. The building was an architectural marvel, with sweeping eaves adorned with celestial motifs that caught the early sunlight. Multiple tiers of white jade stairs led up to its entrance, and pillars carved with intricate sword formations supported its magnificent roof. Crystal windows lined its walls, occasionally reflecting brilliant flashes of natural aura from within.


    The courtyard below was already bustling with disciples heading to breakfast. Watching them, Flint realized she should probably get some food for Spark when he woke up. As she made her way down, she spotted a striking figure that stood out even among the crowd.


    It was Seedling Zephyr, dressed in hunting attire that marked her noble Wind-Charm Fox heritage. Her fitted cropped top was made of cloud brocade, a lightweight fabric in pale purple embroidered with silver wind runes. The garment''s cut was both elegant and practical, allowing for freedom of movement. Her fitted pants were crafted from a lustrous, supple leather - specially treated rabbit hide that combined durability with lightness. The same wind runes decorated the sides of the pants, which tapered into knee-high soft leather boots. The deep brown boots were adorned with subtle silver patterns.


    Her white fox ears stood tall above her long, flowing white hair. The hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, and her naturally wavy tail cascaded down her back, giving her a spirited and cool appearance. Her outfit was tailored to accommodate her fluffy fox tail, making no attempt to hide her spiritual beast identity.


    Her purple eyes with their distinctive vertical fox pupils drew attention from passing disciples, but Seedling paid them no mind. She walked with confident grace directly toward the side hall of the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall - the Spirit Root Testing Pavilion. It seemed Spark wasn''t the only spiritual beast seeking to join the Celestial Sword Sect today.


    Flint¡¯s gaze was also somewhat drawn in. She looked at Seedling''s fluffy tail, feeling an urge to touch it. But she resisted the urge and turned away, heading into the canteen with a hint of regret.


    When Flint walked into the canteen, she was met with an unusual sight. The kitchen was staffed not by humans, but by wooden puppets. These weren''t anthropomorphized automata trying to pass as human - they were unmistakably wooden constructs, their natural grain visible across their bodies, joints connected by intricate strings. Each puppet had cultivation runes carefully inscribed across their surfaces, glowing faintly as they went about their tasks with mechanical precision.


    Approaching the counter, Flint''s heart sank as she realized meals needed to be paid for. She patted her empty pockets, wondering what to do, when a familiar voice called out behind her.


    "Ah, Miss Winter!" The disciple waved cheerfully. "I''m Asher Sterling, by the way. I should have introduced myself earlier when showing you to your room."


    He glanced at her empty pockets and smiled knowingly. "Did that powerful figure take everything you had? Don''t worry about it - the food here is quite affordable. Let me treat you."


    At the counter, Asher gestured toward the variety of steamed buns filled with vegetables and meat. "How many would you like?"


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    Flint hesitated, brows furrowed in thought. "Well... how much would a wolf eat after going hungry for a day?"


    Asher burst into hearty laughter, the sound echoing through the canteen. "A whole pig, probably!" He turned to the wooden puppet server, still chuckling. "Ten meat buns for her companion, please." Then he looked back at Flint. "And what would you like?"


    "Oh, I don''t need¡ª" Flint started to decline.


    "Now, now, don''t be modest," Asher insisted warmly. He ordered her a meat dish and a vegetable dish before she could protest further.


    "The sect''s puppet canteen is quite something, isn''t it?" he chatted enthusiastically as they waited for their order. "And a chef puppet is programmed with over three hundred cooking formations! They are fine products from the Mystic Enigma Pavilion."


    Flint agreed, "It''s quite impressive." Once the buns were removed from the oven, Flint directed the wooden puppet server to pack ten meat buns. The puppet efficiently placed ten meat buns into two bamboo food containers.


    As they sat down at one of the tables, Asher''s eyes sparkled with excitement. "You know, this is actually the first time our sect is accepting spiritual beasts as formal disciples. It''s quite revolutionary!"


    He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Some of the conservative elders were against it at first - they kept going on about ''maintaining pure bloodlines'' and ''upholding human cultivation traditions.'' But Sage North Thunder argued that natural aura awareness and cultivation talent aren''t limited to human form. Allowing a talented spiritual beast to join can enhance the strength of the Celestial Sword Sect."


    "In the end, Sect Leader East Cloud agreed," Asher said, nodding sagely. "Actually, today was my first time seeing a spiritual beast in human form. Did you see that girl with the fox ears and tail earlier?" His eyes lit up with barely contained excitement.


    Flint nodded, remembering the confident way Seedling had walked through the crowd. "Yes, I saw her heading to the Spirit Root Testing Pavilion."


    "She didn''t even try to hide her spiritual beast features," Asher marveled, still clearly impressed. "Most stories I''ve heard say spiritual beasts prefer to fully transform into human form when they''re among humans. But she just walked right through with those ears and tail visible, like it was the most natural thing in the world!" He shook his head in admiration. "Times really are changing in the cultivation world."


    He spoke while eating buns. Flint also symbolically took a few bites of the vegetable bun and stuffed the meat buns into one of the bamboo food containers, planning to give them all to Spark to eat.


    After the meal, he glanced at the bamboo containers holding the meat buns. "We should probably get these back to your friend before they get cold. I hope ten, oh eleven, is enough - I''ve never actually had to feed a wolf before!" He chuckled at his own joke.


    On their way back to the guest room, Asher turned to Flint curiously. "Is that wolf your spiritual pet?"


    "No," Flint replied, adjusting her grip on the bamboo containers. "Actually, he''s a prince from a spiritual beast clan. He''s here to join the Celestial Sword Sect too."


    Asher nearly stumbled in surprise. "A prince?" His eyes widened. "I didn''t expect... wow, no wonder Sage North Thunder personally arranged your accommodation!"


    Perhaps we were just coincidentally saved by him. Flint thought to herself, but did not say it out.


    Upon entering the guest room, they discovered that Spark was still unconscious, his powerful wolf body sound asleep just as Flint had left him. With a shrug of her shoulders, Flint placed the bamboo food containers on the desk for later.


    However, through the window, Flint and Asher noticed an increasing flow of people heading toward the Spirit Root Testing Pavilion. Since morning classes hadn''t begun yet, disciples were free to wander, and something seemed to be drawing their attention.


    "That''s strange," Asher murmured, watching the growing crowd. "Usually the testing pavilion isn''t this busy." He glanced at Flint, then at the still-sleeping Spark, before suggesting, "Since your friend is still resting, why don''t we go see what''s happening? We can come right back if he wakes up."


    Flint hesitated for a moment, looking between Spark and the window. After ensuring the meat buns were placed within easy reach of where Spark lay, she nodded in agreement. They left the room quietly, joining the stream of curious onlookers heading toward the pavilion.


    Asher and Flint pushed their way through the crowd, but they could only manage to get to the middle section of the gathered onlookers. The crowd was thick with disciples of all ages, their necks craned and bodies pressed forward trying to get a better view. Excited whispers and gasps rippled through the assembly.


    Through the gaps between heads and shoulders, they caught glimpses of the interior. A crystal sphere at the center of the pavilion was radiating an intense light that seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy, casting dancing shadows on the carved pillars and walls.


    "It''s a First Tier spirit root affinity!" someone near the front shouted, their voice carrying over the murmuring crowd. The announcement sent a fresh wave of excitement through the gathered disciples, with some of the younger ones standing on tiptoes to see better.


    "What element?" called out a voice from somewhere in the crowd, echoing the curiosity of many others.


    Inside the pavilion, Seedling stood before the glowing crystal, her white fox ears perked high with pride, her tail swaying gently behind her. The light from the crystal sphere caught her purple eyes, making them seem to glow. Her hunting attire''s silver wind runes sparkled in response to the crystal''s radiance as she lifted her chin confidently.


    "The Flux Element," she announced, her clear voice carrying through the hall. "We Wind-Charm Foxes are born with the ability to control the wind." Her declaration held no trace of hesitation or false modesty, just the natural confidence of someone stating an obvious truth.


    The murmurs from the crowd grew louder, and Flint and Asher could see several disciples exchanging knowing glances. It was a rare occurrence to find someone with First Tier talent. While many had heard of several elders possessing this gift, it was unheard of for any new members to have such an affinity.


    "I''ve heard that spiritual beasts naturally possess higher spirit root talent than humans - so it''s actually true!" Asher exclaimed, his voice tinged with excitement.


    The comment made Flint recall how Spark had mentioned his own First Tier spirit root. She had seriously underestimated him at the time. "Yes, indeed," she agreed quietly.


    Watching Flint''s thoughtful expression, Asher''s mind began to work. She had arrived with the wolf prince, after all - perhaps she too was a wolf, just hiding her spiritual beast traits? He turned to her amid the noisy crowd. "Are you also here to join the Celestial Sword Sect with the wolf prince?"


    In the chaos of voices and bodies, Flint only caught the latter part of his question. Distracted by her own thoughts, she absently hummed in agreement.


    Before she could process what was happening, Asher grabbed her wrist and began enthusiastically pushing through the crowd. They broke through to the front, where the elder conducting the spirit root tests sat.


    "Honorable Elder!" Asher called out loudly, "We have another spiritual beast here who wishes to test their spirit root!"


    The bustling pavilion fell suddenly silent. The crowd''s attention shifted from Seedling to Flint, and she felt countless pairs of eyes fixing upon her. Even Seedling turned to look, her fox ears twitching with interest. The elder raised an eyebrow, examining Flint with newfound curiosity.


    Flint stood frozen, feeling the weight of everyone''s expectant stares. This was definitely not how she had planned to spend her morning.

 Chapter 8: are you leaving?

    Flint smoothly withdrew her wrist from Asher''s grasp and apologized to the elder who was conducting the spiritual root test. "I have a spiritual beast companion who is injured right now," she explained, "and I hope to bring him here for the same test."


    Sage North Thunder''s words reverberated in her thoughts. Initially, she had planned to recover her forgotten memories, which might be from a past life, but Sage North Thunder claimed that achieving the Great Perfection of Deity was necessary for retrieving past lives'' memories ¨C a daunting task. She knew very little about cultivation. Did she truly need to cultivate in order to regain her memories¡­? Her mind was racing with these thoughts, and she wasn''t sure if she wanted to take the test to join the Celestial Sword Sect. At the very least, she wanted Spark by her side for support.


    The elder nodded, indicating agreement. Morning class was about to start, and the crowd gradually dispersed.


    Jealous murmurs rippled through the dispersing crowd. "These spiritual beasts have disgustingly high talent," someone muttered with barely concealed bitterness. Another voice chimed in, "Sure, they cultivate quickly at first, but after reaching Master realm, advancement becomes nearly impossible."


    Flint caught up to Asher before he could leave, her steps light and easy. "I wanted to thank you for earlier," she said with a small smile, referring to the steamed buns he had treated her and Spark to. Even though she was unexpectedly pulled into a spiritual test, she chose to see it as the price of sharing a meal together. It seemed like a fair exchange. "I''ll see you again?" She pretended to be friendly and made a casual comment.


    After exchanging farewells with Asher, Flint noticed Seedling, who had been watching the scene unfold. The Wind-Charm Fox''s elegant white tail swayed with barely contained irritation, her purple eyes narrowed at the retreating forms of those who had made the jealous comments. She turned to Flint, misinterpreting her situation.


    "You know," Seedling said, her fox ears twitching expressively as she spoke, "it''s always the same tired arguments from them." With grace, she made a gesture with one hand while wearing light leather gloves that hugged her fingers, "They can''t stand seeing others with natural talent, especially those they consider ''different.'' I''ve heard it all my life as a Wind-Charm Fox." Her flowing white-wavy high ponytail caught the morning light as she shook her head, a confident smile playing on her lips. "But you know what? Let them talk. Their words can''t touch us when we''re excelling in our cultivation."


    The young fox spirit''s eyes sparkled with conviction as she continued, clearly finding a kindred spirit in Flint. "It''s funny how they¡ª"


    "Disciple Seedling," the elder''s respectful voice interrupted. "Please proceed to the inner sect for master selection." The summons held significance - it was well-known that First-tier spiritual root disciples had the esteemed opportunity to select their masters from among the sect elders, even if they were only at the Initiative level.


    Seedling''s ears perked up at the call, but she lingered for a moment, casting a warm, understanding look at Flint. There was clear reluctance in her expression as she prepared to leave, suggesting she had much more she wanted to share. She seemed to have found someone she could relate to, even if her assumption about Flint''s nature wasn''t quite accurate.


    "We''ll talk more later?" she suggested hopefully, her tail swishing with friendly enthusiasm before she gracefully turned to follow the elder''s summons.


    Flint made a vague sound of agreement to Seedling''s suggestion, though her mind was already wandering elsewhere. Spark would probably have more to discuss with her, she thought, considering how they were both spiritual beasts. The whole conversation about cultivation talents and prejudices would likely resonate more with Spark than with her.


    As Seedling disappeared towards the inner sect with the elder, Flint turned her steps back to the guest room, her mind drifting through multiple threads of observation. Everyone here seems so... outgoing, she thought, recalling the morning''s interactions. First Asher providing her and Spark breakfast and dragging her to the spiritual root test, then Seedling launching into conversation as if they were old friends. The extroverted energy of the Celestial Sword Sect was a stark contrast to her own preferred quietude.


    Passing through the training grounds, she paused briefly to observe disciples practicing sword control with natural aura. Her analytical mind automatically began breaking down their movements, noting the flow of energy, though she felt no particular urgency to join their ranks.


    Returning to their room, she found Spark still sprawled on the floor, deep in sleep. The sight of him brought Seedling''s swishing tail to mind. Almost unconsciously, Flint settled down beside Spark and ran her fingers through his tail fur. Different texture, she noted clinically, comparing it to what she imagined Seedling''s elegant white tail would feel like. Coarser, more wild. The familiar sensation was comforting though, even if it wasn''t as refined as a Wind-Charm Fox''s would be.


    She continued absently stroking Spark''s tail, her mind already processing the morning''s events and calculating their next moves. The quiet moment allowed her thoughts to settle, away from all the social interactions that had filled her morning.


    Spark''s eyelids fluttered at Flint''s touch, consciousness gradually returning though the world around him remained hazy. Despite his disorientation, her gentle stroking of his tail brought a sense of peace. His body felt stiff after being unconscious for so long, and his stomach felt painfully empty after a full day without food.


    "Where are we?" he asked groggily, still lying there due to his stiff muscles.


    "We were rescued on the road by Sage North Thunder from the Celestial Sword Sect," Flint explained, her hand still absently running through his fur. "This is their guest room." She glanced at the table, remembering the steamed buns. "Oh, and I brought you some buns."


    The moment she mentioned food, the rich aroma of freshly steamed buns wafted to his sensitive nose, making his stomach clench with desperate hunger. He could smell the savory meat filling, and his mouth began to water involuntarily.


    She reached over to grab a bamboo food container from the table, opening it with practiced ease. As she lifted the lid, an even stronger wave of the delicious scent hit him, making it almost impossible to resist. Taking out a bun, she held it close to his muzzle, ready to feed him, just like when she fed him the skewer of meat on the edge of the cliff.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Spark struggled to push himself up, his mouth opening slightly before freezing mid-motion. His royal pride warred fiercely with his gnawing hunger. The bun was right there, so temptingly close, its warmth and aroma nearly overwhelming his senses. But the image of himself being hand-fed like a common pet suddenly struck him. Wait a minute... I''m acting like some common dog! I''m a prince of the Inferno Wolves, for heaven''s sake!


    "Ah... could you step outside for a moment?" he asked, fighting against both his hunger and his wounded dignity. Each word was a struggle as the scent of the bun continued to torment him. "I need to change into my human form and put on some clothes."


    His ears twitched with embarrassment as he attempted to salvage what remained of his royal pride, even as his stomach protested loudly at delaying the meal.


    Flint arched an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. With a knowing "Mm," she rose smoothly and stepped outside, giving the proud wolf prince his privacy. She leaned against the wall outside, arms crossed, mentally counting down how long his dignity would last against his hunger.


    Inside, Spark transformed with practiced ease, though his movements were still somewhat stiff from his earlier unconsciousness. He quickly donned his clothing - the sleeveless vest with its intricate moon patterns settling perfectly over his black long-sleeved shirt, his dark gray hair falling into its usual low ponytail. After ensuring every detail was properly in place (as befitting a prince, of course, although also a traveler who has journeyed a long distance), he settled himself at the table with as much royal dignity as he could muster while his stomach continued its increasingly urgent protests.


    "You can come in now," he called out, trying to keep his voice steady despite the mouthwatering aroma that seemed to be filling the entire room.


    Flint slipped back in, her analytical eyes taking in his carefully composed posture - noting how he was trying just a bit too hard to appear casual. Spark reached for one of the buns with what he hoped was princely restraint, bringing it to his lips. Just as he was about to take that first desperately-needed bite, a thought struck him. His hand froze mid-motion, the bun hovering tantalizingly close to his mouth.


    "Did you..." he cleared his throat, fighting against every instinct screaming at him to just eat already, "want some?"


    "Already ate," Flint replied simply, her tone neutral though there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes as she watched his internal struggle.


    "Oh." The single syllable was filled with barely-contained relief. Having fulfilled his social obligations, Spark finally surrendered to his hunger, biting into the bun with an enthusiasm that rather undermined his earlier attempts at maintaining royal dignity. The warmth of the bun and the rich flavors of the filling were almost overwhelming after going so long without food, and he found himself having to consciously slow down to avoid choking in his eagerness to satisfy his hunger.


    Spark suddenly realized he had already devoured five buns in what felt like mere moments, and all the while, Flint had been sitting beside him in contemplative silence, observing his rather un-princely display of appetite. A faint warmth crept up his neck that had nothing to do with the steamed buns. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of dignity.


    His hand, seemingly moving of its own accord, pulled the second bamboo container closer. His eyes lit up with poorly concealed delight upon discovering six more buns nestled inside. Attempting to distract from his earlier wolfish eating habits (and perhaps justify opening a second container), he decided to broach the subject that had been nagging at his mind.


    "About that cave," he began, carefully picking up a fresh bun with what he hoped was princely grace, "what was that scream we heard?" His golden eyes flickered with curiosity as he remembered that chaotic moment. Flint had only given him a brief warning about someone''s approach, urging them to leave the cave quickly and. He''d carried her on his back as they fled, his four legs proving far more efficient for a hasty retreat than any two-legged alternative.


    The memory of Flint clinging to his fur as they raced through the forest made him pause mid-bite. For a third prince of the Inferno Wolves, allowing someone to ride on his back should have been beneath his dignity. Yet somehow, in that moment of crisis, it had felt... natural. He quickly took a large bite of the bun to cover his sudden confusion about that realization.


    The contrast between his thoughtful expression and his chipmunk-like cheeks stuffed with bun created quite a picture, Flint thought. Though Flint, true to her character, maintained her usual calm demeanor as she prepared to answer his question, pressing down on the corners of her mouth that were about to laugh.


    "There was a wooden puppet at the cave entrance..." Flint began slowly, her voice measured. Before she could continue, Spark inhaled sharply, nearly choking on his bun.


    "Like the little boy who stole my money pouch?" His golden eyes widened, momentarily forgetting about the half-eaten bun in his hand. The memory of that peculiar puppet-child who had snatched his money pouch from mid-air him was still fresh in his mind.


    Flint nodded, but before she could elaborate further, Spark eagerly cut in, his excitement making him forget his usual princely reserve. "I saw a pile of wood shavings when we left the cave. Did you destroy them?" His eyes sparkled with curiosity, reminding Flint more of an eager puppy than the dignified wolf prince he claimed to be.


    Looking at his inquiring gaze, Flint felt an unexpected mischievous impulse stir within her. "Yes," she replied with her characteristic calm, "I struck it down." The words came out smoothly, even as she recalled the truth of that moment - how she had simply reached out, and for some inexplicable reason, the puppet had crumbled into wood shavings before her eyes.


    To her private amusement, Spark''s expression transformed into one of rare admiration. He nodded appreciatively while taking another bite of his bun, managing somehow to look both impressed and hungry at the same time. "You''re really something," he said between mouthfuls, his usual arrogant attitude momentarily forgotten in his admiration. "Were you a cultivator before you lost your memories?"


    The irony of his newfound respect being based on her little white lie wasn''t lost on Flint, but she found herself enjoying this unexpected shift in their dynamic. She maintained her calm face, though internally, she was rather entertained by how easily the proud wolf prince had been impressed by her fabricated feat.


    "I''m not sure," Flint replied thoughtfully, absently watching Spark reach for yet another bun. "Actually, I don''t think it''s memory loss exactly. I guess I''m searching for memories from a past life."


    Spark''s hand froze halfway to his mouth, his golden eyes widening. "Past life memories? You mean you''re aiming for the Great Perfection of Deity?" There was a note of astonishment in his voice that made his princely facade slip even further.


    Flint leaned back in her chair, her expression pensive. "That''s what I''m uncertain about," she admitted. "Is it worth investing so much effort for what might just be a vague intuition?" Her practical nature was clearly at odds with the enormity of such an undertaking.


    Spark set down his bun, suddenly looking more like the prince he was meant to be."But you can destroy wooden puppets with a single strike!" he exclaimed, still thoroughly impressed by what he believed was her feat in the cave. "That shows you have excellent foundation." He brushed a few crumbs from his moon-patterned vest, warming to his topic. "It would be a waste not to cultivate with that kind of talent."


    He leaned forward slightly, his golden eyes showing an intensity that betrayed his casual tone. "Even if reaching the Great Perfection of Deity is challenging, having power makes everything else more convenient." He gestured expansively with his hands, nearly knocking over the empty bamboo container. "Think about it - if we had both been at a higher cultivation level, that puppet child wouldn''t have dared to steal my money pouch in the first place!"


    Catching himself getting carried away, he quickly tried to recover his dignity, smoothing down his dark gray ponytail. Something in his chest tightened at the thought of Flint leaving - an unfamiliar sensation he wasn''t quite ready to acknowledge. These time traveling together, despite all the chaos, had somehow felt... right.


    "What I mean is," he said, attempting to sound composed and disinterested, "you should join the Celestial Sword Sect." He paused, fighting an internal battle between his pride and his growing reluctance to part ways with her. Finally, he added with forced casualness, "We could... train together."


    The last part came out almost mumbled, as if the proud wolf prince couldn''t quite believe he was suggesting such a thing. But there was a hint of vulnerability in his golden eyes as he watched for her response, even as he tried to maintain his princely facade of indifference. He busied himself with straightening his sleeves, pretending the answer didn''t matter to him at all, while his heart betrayed him by beating just a little faster as he waited for her reply.


    Flint rested her head on her hand, closing her eyes in contemplation. After a moment, she opened them again and voiced the thought that had been lingering in her mind: "But that strange person we met on the road, Lenient Pine - the one without legs - he said he felt familiar with me somehow. Maybe I should go to that place... what was it called... Abyssal Pavilion, to ask him about it."


    Spark''s golden eyes widened, and his jaw clenched visibly. The mere mention of Lenient Pine''s name seemed to ignite a surge of anger in him, completely erasing his previous awkward tenderness. His fingers gripped the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white.


    "You want to join the people who tried to capture me?!" he snapped, his carefully maintained princely composure cracking. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper, laden with barely contained fury. "And do you even know what the Abyssal Pavilion is?!"

 Chapter 9: No Spiritual Root?

    The intensity of Spark''s reaction to the Abyssal Pavilion caught Flint off guard. His words echoed in her mind: "join the people who tried to capture me." Each syllable felt like a small stone dropping into the pit of her stomach, creating ripples of unexpected guilt.


    Flint prided herself on maintaining composure in most situations¡ªit was practically her trademark. Yet now, she found her usual calm slipping through her fingers like fine sand. Her attempted nonchalance couldn''t quite mask the slight tremor in her voice.


    "I''m sorry," she managed, the words feeling clumsy on her tongue. "I wasn''t trying to betray you... I just..." The sentence trailed off into uncertainty. Flint, who approached everything with careful logic and precision in her nature, found herself at a loss to explain her own actions.


    She studied Spark''s face, noting how his golden wolf eyes had taken on that particular gleam they got when something truly bothered him.


    Gathering herself, Flint tried a different approach. "What is it about the Abyssal Pavilion?" she asked, her curiosity mixing with concern. "Why does it affect you so strongly?"


    The questions hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken implications. Flint found herself holding her breath slightly, watching Spark''s reaction.


    At her apology, the anger in Spark''s golden eyes gradually subsided, though a barely perceptible trace of reproach remained. It seemed he was upset at the mere thought of Flint ''abandoning'' him, even though where she chose to go was entirely her own business.


    He spoke slowly, his voice carrying a weight she rarely heard. "The Abyssal Pavilion is a sanctuary for all fugitives who''ve escaped from the Immortal Alliance. Since its founding, they''ve positioned themselves in opposition to the Alliance, hiding behind the noble-sounding slogan of ''providing refuge to all fallen souls in the world.''"


    "Then..." Flint''s brows furrowed as she processed this information. "Could Lenient Pine be a fugitive too?"


    At the mention of that name, the resentment in Spark''s expression deepened. His voice took on an eerily quiet tone. "Who knows? Perhaps he''s killed quite a few people."


    Flint nodded, propping her chin on her hand thoughtfully, letting silence settle between them. Seeing her wavering resolve, Spark pressed on, his voice softening with an unusual gentleness.


    "Stay at the Celestial Sword Sect to cultivate," he urged. "I''ve heard that righteous cultivators who reach the Master level can join the Immortal Alliance. Their Secret Scripture Pavilion might hold more clues to help you find your memory." He hesitated for a moment before adding, his voice carrying a hint of hope, "And perhaps... you might even achieve the Great Perfection of Deity. It''s not entirely impossible¡ªothers have done it before..."


    Spark felt absolutely ridiculous as the words left his mouth. Here he was, the proud third prince of the Inferno Wolf clan, practically preaching about the virtues of the Celestial Sword Sect like some sort of cult leader from the mortal realm. What had become of his dignity? Yet he couldn''t seem to stop himself from continuing.


    "The sect''s defensive formations are top-tier," he added, internally cringing at his own eagerness. "And the spirit herbs in the medicine garden are... quite adequate." He was definitely not listing benefits like a merchant hawking wares at a night market. Definitely not.


    Flint''s thoughtful expression only spurred him on. "The training grounds are spacious," he heard himself say, wondering when he''d turned into such an enthusiastic spokesperson. His mother would never let him live this down if they could see him now. The mighty Spark Lumin, reduced to rattling off amenities like an overeager inn keeper.


    "And..." he faltered slightly, painfully aware of how un-princely he must sound, but pressed on anyway, "the caves in Soaring Heaven Sword Peaks have excellent... fuusui, if you plan to establish a celestial dwelling here in the future¡­."


    Fuusui? Really? He wanted to bite his tongue. Since when did he, a noble wolf demon, care about fuusui? He was starting to sound like those street-corner fortune tellers in the human cities.


    But when he saw Flint''s expression shift from uncertainty to contemplation, he couldn''t bring himself to stop. If sounding like a desperate recruitment officer was what it took to keep her from walking into the Abyssal Pavilion''s trap, then so be it. His dignity could recover later.


    "The library..." he continued, mentally apologizing to his royal ancestors for his complete lack of proper bearing, "has over ten thousand scrolls." He paused, then added with what he hoped was casual nonchalance but probably came out more like desperate pleading, "Some of them might help with your memory."


    Flint propped her chin on her hand, looking genuinely thoughtful now. "That... actually does sound useful," she admitted slowly. "I don''t know much about this world yet."


    Spark felt a surge of hope, though he tried his best to maintain his usual aloof expression. He probably failed miserably, but at this point, what was one more crack in his dignified fa?ade? He''d already thoroughly destroyed his image as the cool, detached prince anyway.


    "It would be... not entirely unfortunate if you decided to stay," he managed, trying to salvage at least a shred of his usual demeanor. But even as he said it, he knew he was fooling no one ¨C least of all himself. Here he was, a noble wolf demon prince, practically begging a human to stay at the sect. His younger sister would laugh herself sick if she ever found out.


    But watching Flint''s uncertainty gradually give way to consideration, Spark decided he could live with feeling like a cult leader. His dignity would recover. Eventually. Probably.


    Flint nodded along as Spark continued his earnest pitch, though truthfully, most of his words about "training ground" and "medicine garden" were floating right past her. Something about fuusui? Whatever that was. She was more fascinated by how the usually arrogant wolf prince had transformed into what seemed like an enthusiastic tour guide.


    Still, his unusual eagerness was... oddly touching. And now that she thought about it, maybe staying wouldn''t be such a bad idea. After all, they had barely escaped those Abyssal Pavilion cultivators. The memory of that aggressive spiritual pressure still made her shoulders tense.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "You know," she interrupted Spark''s ongoing lecture about the optimal alignment of something-or-other, "getting captured by high-level cultivators wasn''t exactly fun." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "And I suppose if I want to avoid that happening again, I should probably learn how to do more than just run away really fast."


    Spark''s golden eyes lit up at her words, though he quickly tried to school his expression back to princely indifference. He wasn''t quite fast enough to hide his tail-wagging enthusiasm (metaphorically speaking, since he was in human form).


    "The training facilities here are..." he began, but Flint was already following her own train of thought.


    "Plus, this world seems pretty dangerous," she mused aloud, unknowingly feeding Spark''s hopes. "There are probably lots of things that could kill me that I don''t even know about yet. Just like the high-level cultivator we encountered before, they could easily crush us¡­"


    "Yes, exactly!" Spark agreed perhaps a bit too quickly, then caught himself and cleared his throat. "I mean... that is a reasonable concern."


    "And I suppose," Flint continued, warming to her topic, "if I''m going to figure out who I am and why I lost my memory, being dead would make that significantly more difficult."


    She was basically talking herself into staying at this point, but Spark nodded along to each point as if she was making the most profound observations he''d ever heard. His attempt to look sage and not gleeful was almost endearing, in an amusingly transparent sort of way.


    "So really," she concluded, "staying to cultivate would be the logical choice. For survival purposes. And memory recovery. And not dying." She glanced at Spark, who was trying very hard to look like he wasn''t holding his breath. "The excellent fuusui is just a bonus, right?"


    "Right," Spark agreed solemnly, though his eyes were practically sparkling. "Just a bonus. A completely insignificant factor in such a rational decision."


    Flint bit back a smile. She still wasn''t entirely sure what fuusui was, but if it made the wolf prince this happy, it couldn''t be all bad.


    Flint brightened as a memory suddenly surfaced. "Oh! That reminds me ¨C Sage North Thunder mentioned something about taking you to the Spirit Root Testing Pavilion. If I''m joining too, I suppose I''ll need to get tested as well?"


    Spark nodded, his scholarly expression returning as if he was glad to be back on familiar ground. "Yes, that''s the rule. You need at least a Second-tier spirit root ¨C Gifted level ¨C in one element to join the sect."


    "Speaking of spirit roots," Flint said, thinking back to the morning''s events, "I saw quite a scene earlier. There was this Wind-Charm Fox cultivator named Seedling who tested for a First-tier Flux element root. You should have seen how everyone reacted ¨C it was like a festival broke out right there in the testing grounds."


    A smirk tugged at the corners of Spark''s mouth, and his golden eyes took on a distinctly mischievous gleam. The princely dignity he''d been trying so hard to maintain gave way to unmistakable smugness.


    "Well then," he said, looking entirely too pleased with his First-tier spirit root in Light Element, "I have another shock for them."


    The way he said it, with such casual confidence, made Flint raise an eyebrow. Clearly, the wolf prince was expecting to cause quite a stir.


    As they made their way to the Spirit Root Testing Pavilion, the training grounds had emptied considerably. The disciples who had been practicing sword control with natural aura earlier had all migrated to the Aura Meditation Grounds, likely to replenish their energy before the midday meal.


    The late morning sun hung high in the sky as they approached the pavilion, its ancient pillars decorated with intricate carvings of the five elements. Inside, they found Sage North Thunder examining what appeared to be a spirit detection artifact, his movements precise and methodical. He looked up at their arrival, a measured smile appearing beneath his neatly trimmed black goatee.


    "You''ve come for the testing," he stated more than asked, setting down the artifact with careful movements. His calm demeanor was welcoming but not effusive ¨C the practiced courtesy of someone who had mastered the art of being approachable while maintaining professional distance.


    ¡°This is Sage North Thunder.¡± Thinking of how Spark had been unconscious, Flint introduced him while standing beside him. ¡°Honorable Sage, this is Spark¡­ the humanoid form of that wolf.¡± Flint then said to Sage North Thunder.


    ¡°It is an honor to meet you, Sage North Thunder.¡± Spark inclined his head with perfect princely grace, already knowing what the test would reveal about his First-tier Light element spirit root. "Yes, Sage. I''d like to formally register my spirit root test results now."


    "Very well." The Sage nodded, his actions efficient as he began preparing the testing apparatus. Then Spark added, with a casual wave toward Flint, "She wishes to join the sect as well."


    Sage North Thunder''s eyes showed a flicker of interest, though his expression remained composed. "Two candidates," he acknowledged with a slight nod. "We can proceed with your registration first, then test the young lady''s spirit root."


    Flint couldn''t help but notice how Spark''s lips twitched slightly at the Sage''s matter-of-fact tone, as if he was already anticipating how this collected demeanor of Sage North Thunder would crack once his results were officially recorded.


    Having already tested his spirit root before, the wolf prince''s confidence was absolutely unshakeable. His earlier smugness hadn''t diminished one bit; if anything, it seemed to be growing with each step they took deeper into the pavilion.


    The crystal sphere began to glow as it displayed Spark''s spirit roots in all six elements. Among them, his Light element spirit root shone with particular brilliance, its First-tier radiance filling the pavilion with golden light. For a brief moment, Sage North Thunder''s composed facade cracked, genuine amazement flashing across his features before settling into profound appreciation.


    Spark stood there radiating satisfaction, every inch the proud wolf prince who knew exactly how exceptional he was. Flint watched the familiar brilliant display, reminded of the scene she''d witnessed that morning. A small part of her felt almost disappointed that the other disciples weren''t here to witness this ¨C Spark would have thoroughly enjoyed their attention and acclaim, just as Seedling had received.


    But then a nagging thought crossed her mind. Would someone make the same dismissive comments they had about Seedling? That beast cultivators, no matter how talented, rarely advanced beyond Master level? She glanced at Spark, wondering how he would handle such skepticism. Knowing him, probably respond to those who sneer with that aristocratic disdain he wore so well, but still...


    Her musings were interrupted by Sage North Thunder''s voice. "With a First-tier spirit root, you qualify directly for the Inner Sect," he informed Spark, his tone carrying a hint of approval beneath its professional exterior. "You''ll have the privilege of choosing an elder as your master. We can handle those arrangements after..." He turned to Flint, the testing crystal already beginning to glow again. "Now, let''s proceed with your spirit root test."


    Spark''s smug expression somehow managed to become even more self-satisfied at the mention of the Inner Sect, though Flint noticed his eyes drift to the crystal sphere with obvious curiosity about her upcoming test.


    The crystal sphere sat innocently on its pedestal, its surface glimmering with latent spiritual energy as Flint stepped forward. At Sage North Thunder''s gesture, she placed her palm against its cool surface, expecting to see the same kind of luminous display she''d witnessed twice now.


    Nothing happened.


    The sphere remained stubbornly dim, as lifeless as ordinary glass. Flint kept her hand steady, waiting, but the silence in the pavilion grew heavier with each passing moment.


    Sage North Thunder''s brows furrowed slightly. He reached out and placed his own hand on the sphere, which immediately responded with a soft glow, revealing his dual Gifted-tier spirit roots in Light and Flux elements. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he withdrew his hand. "The artifact is functioning correctly..."


    "Try again," he instructed Flint, his voice carrying a hint of professional curiosity.


    Once more, Flint pressed her palm against the crystal''s surface. Once more, it remained completely inert, as if she wasn''t even there. The contrast between this dead silence and the brilliant display of Spark''s test just moments ago couldn''t have been more stark.


    Sage North Thunder observed the sphere intently, his expression growing more contemplative with each passing second. Finally, he drew back, stroking his short black goatee as he came to a conclusion.


    "It appears," he said carefully, "that you have Deficient-level spirit roots in all six elements." His tone was measured, clinical. "This means you have no natural affinity for any type of spiritual energy. That''s why the crystal sphere shows no reaction ¨C there''s simply nothing for it to detect."


    The words hung in the air like heavy stones dropped into still water. Spark''s earlier smugness had completely vanished, replaced by barely concealed concern as he watched Flint anxiously, his golden eyes searching her face for any sign of distress. His fingers twitched slightly, as if he wanted to reach out but wasn''t sure if he should.


    Flint stood frozen, the words failing to form on her lips. The silence that had been heavy before now felt crushing, until Sage North Thunder''s voice cut through it with gentle finality.


    "I''m sorry," he said, his professional demeanor softening slightly with genuine regret, "but your aptitude does not meet the requirements for entry into the Celestial Sword Sect."


    Flint remained rooted to the spot, a complicated mix of emotions churning inside her. The vague hopes she''d been nurturing ¨C of finding a place here, of understanding this world better ¨C twisted into something more complex, tinged with shame and uncertainty. It wasn''t even a matter of choosing whether to join the sect anymore; she simply didn''t have the right to make that choice at all.


    The silence stretched on, broken only by the distant sounds of birds outside the pavilion. Finally, Flint found her voice, though it came out quieter than she intended.


    "I understand," she said, trying to keep her tone steady. "I''ll... take my leave, then."


    Just moments ago, she had been watching Spark''s triumphant display of talent. Now she was preparing to walk away alone, her own test having revealed nothing but absence. The contrast couldn''t have been more stark, and she could feel Spark''s anxious gaze burning into her back as she turned toward the door.

 Chapter 10: Sage South Rain

    The Spirit Root Testing Pavilion fell into silence. "Let''s go," Sage North Thunder said to Spark, "we''ll head to the Inner Sect to choose a master for you."


    Spark responded with a muted grunt, his golden eyes fixed on Flint''s retreating figure as she walked through the main gate. He guessed she would probably make her way to the Abyssal Pavilion now - it was her choice to make, after all. She had no place in the Celestial Sword Sect, and that wasn''t something he could change. Yet somehow, her departure left an inexplicable hollow in his chest. It was absurd, really - they''d known each other for barely more than a day...


    Sage North Thunder seemed oblivious to Spark''s melancholy, muttering under his breath as he stroked his neat black goatee. "It''s quite remarkable to see someone with all Deficient spirit roots..."


    His mind wandered back several hundred years, to when the Celestial Sword Sect had been desperately seeking new disciples. He''d searched through mortal cities for children with cultivation potential, finding mostly those with two or three Basic-level spirit roots. While Basic-level roots weren''t ideal for cultivation, they were common enough. But all six elements at Deficient level? That was something he''d never encountered before.


    "It''s almost as if her body naturally resists natural aura," he mused, his scholarly curiosity piqued even in this solemn moment.


    Sage North Thunder had just opened his mouth to introduce the his own exclusive Cultivation Methods and Secret Arts - his usual strategy to spark interest in potential disciples - when a figure appeared at the entrance of the Spirit Root Testing Pavilion. A young woman in white robes glided in, her black hair falling just above her waist, adorned with silver hairpins that caught the morning light. Despite her delicate appearance, there was something in her clear eyes that spoke of hidden depths.


    Sage North Thunder''s stern demeanor softened slightly as he inclined his head. "South Rain?" A hint of warmth crept into his usually formal tone. "What a rare sight during recruitment month. Did news of a Top-tier spirit root disciple draw you out?"


    Though this was the Celestial Sword Sect''s quinquennial recruitment period, Sage South Rain, despite her status as a Legend-level elder qualified to take disciples, was seldom seen within the sect grounds.


    "I happened to have some matters to attend to," Sage South Rain approached, offering Spark a gentle smile that seemed to carry a calming presence. Her movements held an otherworldly grace as she drew closer. "So this is the disciple with the Transcendent-level spirit root? The Celestial Sword Sect grows stronger indeed."


    Spark met her gaze with his distinctive golden eyes, still distracted by thoughts of Flint''s departure. The tranquil autumn-lake quality in Sage South Rain''s expression stirred something familiar - a hint of carefully concealed sorrow that reminded him of his own masked feelings.


    North Thunder had just raised his hand, about to introduce Sage South Rain with his customary formality, when she lifted her own hand in a gentle but firm gesture to stop him. "When we reach the Inner Sect, I''ll introduce myself properly. No need to trouble yourself, North Thunder." Her voice carried the same tranquil quality as her demeanor.


    Then her clear eyes focused on Spark with unexpected intensity. "However, I do have a question for our new disciple - who was that young woman who just left?"


    "And why did she leave?" South Rain''s question was soft but direct.


    Spark''s golden eyes flickered with emotion he couldn''t quite suppress. "Because her spirit roots don''t meet the Celestial Sword Sect''s requirements. All of her roots are Deficient..." He paused, struggling with something inside himself. "But... but..." His usual composed and confident demeanor gave way to genuine confusion and concern. "She managed to shatter a puppet using natural aura. How is that possible? Why would someone with all Deficient roots..."


    North Thunder nodded thoughtfully, stroking his neat black goatee. "Indeed, it is peculiar. She seems to resist all six types of natural aura, yet somehow she can utilize natural aura?" His scholarly curiosity was evident in his tone, but there was something else there too - a hint of uncertainty that was rare for the typically self-assured elder.


    The tranquil surface of Sage South Rain''s gentle demeanor suddenly rippled with unexpected urgency, like a stone disturbing a calm lake. "Where did Flint come from? Why did she want to join the Celestial Sword Sect?" Catching herself, she softened her voice back to its usual gentle cadence, though a hint of tension remained. "Where is she heading now?"


    Spark startled at her sudden intensity, though he seemed more collected than before, his earlier raw emotion settling into something more controlled. "She''s lost all her memories," he explained, his golden eyes distant. "Joining the Celestial Sword Sect... I think she hoped to find a way to recover them..." He hesitated, his voice dropping slightly. "Now, she''s probably heading to... the Abyssal Pavilion."


    He faltered over those last words, his wolf''s instinct making him acutely aware of the weight they carried within these hallowed halls. Speaking of the Abyssal Pavilion here, in the heart of a major Immortal Alliance sect like the Celestial Sword Sect, felt almost like painting a target on Flint''s back. The thought made his chest tighten with an unfamiliar protective instinct.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    North Thunder''s hand stilled on his goatee, his scholarly demeanor giving way to something more guarded. But it was South Rain''s reaction that truly caught Spark''s attention - beneath her composed exterior, something sharp and urgent flickered in her clear eyes, like lightning glimpsed beneath still waters.


    South Rain tucked away her urgency like a letter sealed within an envelope, smoothly changing the subject. "Which element is your Top-tier spirit root?" she asked Spark.


    "Light Element," Spark replied, thrown off by this abrupt change in conversation. His golden eyes narrowed slightly, the wolf prince''s instincts sensing something beneath the surface of this seemingly casual inquiry.


    A gentle smile graced South Rain''s features as she nodded. "You wouldn''t be suited to my Cultivation Methods, but you''re perfectly matched for Sage North Thunder here." Her clear eyes held a hint of something unreadable as she continued, "I''m afraid I won''t be able to introduce myself in the Inner Sect after all. I wish you well in your journey at the Celestial Sword Sect. Perhaps we''ll meet again."


    Before either could respond, she summoned her sword - a striking weapon with a blade as dark as obsidian, its surface gleaming with an otherworldly luster. In one fluid motion, she stepped onto the blade and soared through the doorway, leaving only stirred air in her wake.


    Spark and North Thunder stood in bewildered silence, the wolf prince''s golden eyes fixed on the empty doorway while the Elder''s hand hung forgotten at his goatee. The sudden departure left an atmosphere thick with unspoken questions, like a room full of scattered puzzle pieces that didn''t quite fit together.


    "Well," North Thunder finally broke the silence, his scholarly composure slightly ruffled, "that was... unusual, for South Rain."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Flint hadn''t anticipated the thousands of steps leading down the mountain. When they''d ascended earlier, North Thunder had carried both her and Spark on his sword. Now, with each hint of fatigue, she felt that strange intangible force flowing from her fingertips into her body, giving her strength to continue.


    As she descended, her mind wandered: If all my spirit roots are Deficient, how am I able to absorb this power? What exactly is this force? She couldn''t shake the feeling that there was something fundamental she was missing, like trying to recall a word that danced just at the edge of memory.


    Finally reaching a level stretch at the mountain''s midpoint, Flint decided to rest for a moment. The forest around her was quiet save for the whisper of wind through ancient pines.


    "Flint Winter."


    The feminine voice behind her cut through the silence. Flint turned to find herself facing an elegant woman in white robes, her black hair adorned with silver hairpins - the same cultivator she''d glimpsed earlier at the Spirit Root Testing Pavilion.


    Even though the woman looked poised and elegant, Flint''s gut instinct urged her to proceed cautiously. Yet, as she gazed into this stranger''s eyes, an inexplicable feeling of recognition washed over her.


    As if seeing through her wariness, Sage South Rain smiled gently. "I am the South Rain of Celestial Sword Sect. I heard your spirit root testing didn''t qualify you to join the Celestial Sword Sect?"


    South Rain? The same naming format as North Thunder - she must be an Elder too, Flint thought to herself as she replied, "That''s correct."


    "I have a way to get you into the Celestial Sword Sect..." Sage South Rain offered, "I wanted to ask if you''re still interested in joining?"


    The warmth in Sage South Rain''s tone left Flint puzzled. Why would someone of such high status seek out a nobody like her? Especially given her Deficient spirit roots. Instead of answering whether she wanted to join or not, Flint asked cautiously, "What kind of way?"


    The wariness in Flint''s tone brought a bitter smile to Sage South Rain''s face. She was trying her best not to superimpose the face from her memories onto Flint''s, yet there was something about the girl before her that overlapped with that remembered visage.


    Forcing down her reminiscence, South Rain maintained her composed demeanor as she replied, "What I''m about to suggest might feel... insulting. I hope you won''t take offense."


    Flint nodded. Unlike Spark, she had no noble dignity to maintain. "Please, go ahead."


    "Sign a blood contract with me, become my Bloodbound Beast. You would enter and leave the sect as my Bloodbound Beast... not as an official disciple," Sage South Rain laid out her plan.


    "But I''m not a Spiritual Beast," Flint''s first response wasn''t to take offense at South Rain''s suggestion, but rather to seriously consider the feasibility of this plan.


    "See you''re not angry about this plan," Sage South Rain let out a relieved breath. She continued to explain, her clear eyes carrying that same autumn-lake tranquility, though something deeper stirred beneath their surface. "Blood contracts aren''t limited to controlling Spiritual Beasts. They can bind a person to a Spiritual Beast''s control, or even work between two Spiritual Beasts or two humans... It''s just that they were primarily used to control Spiritual Beasts initially, which is why the bound party is called a Bloodbound Beast."


    Her hand absently touched one of her silver hairpins as she spoke, a gesture that seemed almost unconscious. "The contract can be time-limited, or the controller can dissolve it midway - like how a human controlling a Spiritual Beast can release their control..." She paused, her elegant features carrying a hint of anticipation. "So, would you be willing?"


    Flint processed the plan with her characteristic practicality, her head slightly tilted in that way she had when working through a puzzle. But something still didn''t add up. "I don''t seem to... know you," she said, her voice carrying that direct, unadorned quality that was so uniquely hers. "Why would you help me?"


    Sage South Rain hesitated, unsure if "I think you''re her reincarnation" would sound credible. Masking her uncertainty behind her characteristic gentle demeanor, she explained, "Actually... people with all six Deficient spirit roots are extremely rare. I''m curious about why this happens. So I''d like you to stay... to... study this phenomenon. My cultivation partner is a scholar in the Immortal Alliance. And since I heard you''re searching for your memories, perhaps I could help with that as well."


    Flint nodded, accepting this logical explanation. Then, addressing the topic of her memories, her voice carried a hint of deep contemplation. "Actually, it might not be simple amnesia. I might be searching for memories from my past life - there''s this... urge in my soul pushing me to do so."


    At the mention of ''past life'', South Rain froze completely. A thousand words seemed to crowd behind her lips, yet she couldn''t voice any of them. The thought she''d been harboring seemed to be confirming itself... or perhaps not...


    "Also," Flint studied her, quietly curious about why the Elder seemed so startled, "I seem to be able to use some kind of ''intangible force''..." She raised her fingers, which emitted a faint white light. "Since I don''t have spirit roots, perhaps it isn''t natural aura..."


    The light dancing from Flint''s fingertips cast subtle shadows across South Rain''s face, where shock, hope, and uncertainty played out in rapid succession beneath her usually serene expression. The autumn-lake calm of her eyes had given way to ripples of emotion she couldn''t quite conceal.


    Sage South Rain nodded with determination. "I''ll help you understand this power too... So, will you return to the Celestial Sword Sect with me?"


    Flint thought about how hard Spark had tried to convince her to stay, and a rare smile crossed her face - slightly self-mocking at how she''d been defeated by something as simple as insufficient spirit roots. She nodded. "Yes, I will."


    In that moment, as she was lost in thoughts of Spark, she missed the glimmer of tears that flickered through South Rain''s clear eyes. The Elder''s autumn-lake gaze held volumes of unspoken emotion, like raindrops disturbing a still surface, but Flint, characteristically focused on her own practical considerations, didn''t notice the brief display of vulnerability from the usually composed cultivator.

 Chapter 11: Commotion in the dining hall

    Flint stood steadily on Sage South Rain''s sword as they soared through the air. The Legend cultivator, mindful of her novice passenger, maintained a smooth and steady flight that barely disturbed the hem of Flint''s robes.


    As they descended within the sect''s boundaries, Rain gracefully dismissed her sword. The two transitioned to walking, their footsteps echoing through the pristine corridors of the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall. Rain led the way with the same measured grace that characterized her flight, her plain white robes a stark contrast to the ornate architecture surrounding them.


    The Inner Sect chamber they entered radiated ancient power, its space occupied by Master and Legend level elders whose mere presence made the air heavy with natural aura. In the center of the chamber knelt Spark, his dark gray hair neatly tied back in its wolf-tail style, performing the formal discipleship ceremony before Sage North Thunder. The elder''s ethereal demeanor was amplified by his neatly trimmed black goatee and the dignified way he received his potential disciple''s respects.


    At the sound of approaching footsteps, all eyes turned toward the entrance. Spark''s golden wolf-like eyes widened the moment they landed on Flint, the carefully maintained formality of his expression cracking. "Flint..." The name escaped his lips before he could stop himself, hanging in the ceremonial silence of the chamber. His face flushed with embarrassment as he caught himself, still kneeling before his potential master. He pressed his lips together, acutely aware of how his momentary lapse had disrupted the solemn atmosphere of the ceremony.


    The discipleship ceremony drew to its close as Sage North Thunder helped Spark to his feet, his ethereal bearing softening with the hint of a mentor''s pride. "From this day forward, you are my disciple," he declared, his resonant voice carrying the weight of tradition. "You must cultivate diligently and never grow complacent in your practice."


    His gaze then shifted to Sage South Rain, noting her tranquil presence at the chamber''s entrance. "What brings you here, Sage South Rain?"


    A gentle smile graced Rain''s features, her clear eyes holding a quiet warmth. "This is Flint Winter," she gestured elegantly to her companion. "She has become my Bloodbond Beast through a Blood Contract. I wish to keep her here at the Celestial Sword Sect to assist with her training."


    The elder in charge of disciple admissions nodded in understanding. It was a common practice within the Celestial Sword Sect for elders of Master rank and above to bring their contracted spiritual beasts who had achieved human form to train alongside regular disciples. The sect''s rules permitted each elder to sponsor one such beast, allowing these rare beings to cultivate their powers within the sacred grounds just as any other disciple would.


    The admission elder''s eyes swept over Flint with renewed interest, recognizing that her presence here wasn''t merely as a visitor but as an extension of Sage South Rain''s own authority within the sect. Meanwhile, Spark''s golden eyes darted between his new master and Flint, his expression a complex mixture of surprise and something deeper he couldn''t quite conceal.


    Flint and Spark followed the Adept Level disciple through the sect''s corridors, their footsteps echoing in the shared silence between them. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Spark turned to Flint. "You''re a spiritual beast?" His golden eyes searched her face intently.


    Flint shook her head, her calm demeanor unchanged. "No, I''m not. But Blood Contracts aren''t limited to spiritual beasts alone."


    "How long did you sign for?" Spark pressed, his voice carrying an undercurrent of concern beneath his usual controlled tone.


    "Twenty years," Flint replied matter-of-factly. "Sage South Rain said she hopes I can reach Adept Level before leaving the Celestial Sword Sect."


    "Why would she suddenly help you?" Spark''s brow furrowed, the question reflecting deeper uncertainties.


    Before he could voice the numerous other questions swirling in his mind, the guiding disciple led them to the registration area. Two luminescent panels floated in the air before them, their surfaces shimmering with an ethereal light. Flint and Spark stepped forward to their respective panels, each recording their personal information on the glowing surfaces.


    The Adept Level disciple made a few graceful gestures, manipulating the natural aura that powered the registration system. The screens flickered before displaying their dormitory assignments: Male Dormitory Building B, Room 312 for Spark, and Female Dormitory Building A, Room 506 for Flint.


    Throughout the process, Spark''s golden eyes occasionally drifted toward Flint, his expression suggesting that his earlier questions were far from answered.


    The Adept Level disciple informed them that their training would commence tomorrow, suggesting they take the rest of the day to settle in and rest. Their words carried the practiced tone of someone who had guided many new arrivals through this process.


    As they walked back, Flint explained the situation to Spark. "Sage South Rain found it intriguing that I have Deficient spirit roots in all six elements," she said with her characteristic calm. "She wants to study this phenomenon."


    Spark listened, his golden eyes reflecting thoughtful consideration. Though the reasoning struck him as peculiar¡ªafter all, Deficient spirit roots were typically seen as a limitation rather than a point of interest¡ªhe nodded in acceptance. The simple gesture carried more weight than his words could have conveyed.


    As they continued walking, Spark felt an unexpected lightness in his chest. The earlier heaviness that had settled in his heart at the thought of Flint potentially leaving had begun to dissipate. The knowledge that she would be staying, even under these unusual circumstances, brought him a sense of relief he hadn''t anticipated. His mood lifted noticeably, though he maintained his composed exterior as they made their way through the sect''s grounds.


    The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across their path, its golden light reminiscent of Spark''s eyes as he occasionally glanced at his companion, his mind already adjusting to the idea of them both training at the Celestial Sword Sect together.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    As Flint stood before the training puppet, sweat beading on her forehead despite the cool morning air, she tried once again to channel natural aura as her instructor had demonstrated. The practice sword lay motionless on the ground, as unresponsive as a broken compass. Her usually calm demeanor showed tiny cracks of frustration¡ªa slight furrow between her brows, a barely perceptible tightening of her fingers.


    Five days had passed since her arrival at the Celestial Sword Sect, and each attempt at cultivation felt like trying to catch mist with bare hands. Even in the Aura Meditation Grounds, where natural aura was supposed to be at its most accessible, she remained untouched by its power. Meanwhile, Spark and Seedling seemed to breathe it in effortlessly, their top-tier spirit roots drawing in streams of natural aura until it wreathed them in ethereal fog. Spark''s golden eyes would occasionally drift her way during these sessions, a flicker of concern passing through them before he returned to his own practice.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    The recent arrival of Pierce Everett had caused quite a stir within the sect. A human with a top-tier spirit root was like finding a pearl in a mountain of stones¡ªfar rarer than among spiritual beasts. The news that he''d become the Sect Leader, Sage East Cloud''s disciple had spread through the sect like wildfire, but Flint could barely muster interest in the gossip. Her thoughts remained fixed on her own predicament, each failed attempt at cultivation weighing heavier than the last.


    Flint gazed at the unmoving practice sword, her fingers still resting lightly on the communication jade tablet in her sleeve. Should she contact Sage South Rain? After a moment''s consideration, she let her hand drop away. Even Sage South Rain, with all her knowledge as a Legend cultivator, seemed puzzled by the phenomenon of six Deficient spirit roots. If her new master had discovered anything meaningful about this unusual condition, she would surely reach out to Flint directly.


    In the bustling sect dining hall, Flint sat across from Spark, her chin propped on her hand as she drifted in thought. Though she had no spirit stones to purchase food¡ªnor any real need for sustenance¡ªshe found herself here regularly as Spark always brought extra portions to share. She could taste the flavors just fine, but her troubled thoughts about her cultivation struggles made even the most carefully prepared dishes seem bland.


    Spark''s golden eyes flickered between his food and Flint''s distant expression. While his coin purse had been stolen recently, the mundane currency meant little compared to his true wealth. A jade pendant ring hung at his waist, its circular form containing what appeared to be a luminescent blue liquid¡ªhis spirit stones in their pure essence form. The fluid nearly filled the ring''s interior, with just a small gap at the top, testament to his considerable savings. As he watched Flint push her food around listlessly, his fingers absently traced the smooth surface of the jade pendant, a habit he''d developed when deep in thought.


    His calm tone carried an undertone of concern as he stated instead of asking, "You''re thinking about the training again."


    Flint''s eyes refocused, meeting his gaze. "Is it that obvious?" A slight smile touched her lips, though it didn''t reach her eyes.


    Heat crept into Spark''s ears as he realized his attempt to hide his feelings had failed. He coughed, trying to regain composure and maintain his usual cool demeanor. "Well, you''ve been staring at that same piece of vegetable for the past five minutes. Either the cooking is particularly fascinating today, or something''s bothering you."


    A commotion erupted from across the dining hall, drawing Flint''s attention from her contemplation. She listened carefully¡ªit seemed Seedling and the newly arrived Pierce Everett were in some sort of altercation.


    "What''s going on?" Spark''s curiosity was piqued as well. He turned to a passing disciple to inquire about the situation.


    The disciple explained eagerly: Pierce had been dining when Seedling passed by his table. He''d haughtily accused her of letting her fox tail hang out, claiming fox fur had gotten into his food. He''d gone on to complain about why the Celestial Sword Sect would allow such uncouth spiritual beasts to join their ranks.


    Spark''s expression darkened at hearing this. He hadn''t yet revealed his spiritual beast traits since arriving at the Celestial Sword Sect¡ªonly the elders who had escorted him, a few disciples, and Flint knew of his true nature. While this had kept his identity as a spiritual beast from becoming common knowledge, Pierce''s disparaging remarks about spiritual beasts stirred anger within him.


    Flint noticed the subtle tension in Spark''s jaw, the way his fingers had stilled their tracing of the jade pendant. His golden eyes, usually maintaining their aristocratic composure, now held a carefully controlled flame of indignation. She watched as he struggled to maintain his dignified bearing while clearly fighting the urge to confront Pierce''s prejudice.


    "Such narrow-minded views from someone supposedly talented enough to be the Sect Leader''s disciple," Spark finally remarked, his voice carrying the practiced neutrality of someone used to masking their true feelings behind courtly manners. Yet there was an edge to his words, sharp as a wolf''s fangs beneath silk.


    Flint observed the scene with her characteristic calm, though her eyes held a glimmer of concern as they shifted between Spark''s controlled anger and the ongoing confrontation across the hall. She knew all too well how deeply such prejudices could cut, especially for someone like Spark who took such care to maintain his noble bearing despite his spiritual beast nature.


    The dining hall''s atmosphere had grown thick with tension, the usual peaceful meal time transformed by the clash of pride and prejudice. Through it all, Spark''s golden eyes never left his food, though his knuckles had grown white around his chopsticks¡ªa subtle tell that only those who knew him well, like Flint, would notice.


    The next moment, a voice cut through the hall that made Flint''s entire body tense.


    It was Pierce Everett''s arrogant drawl: "Not all spiritual beasts have high affinity for natural aura. There''s that worthless one with Deficient spirit roots in all elements who was let in, wasn''t there? What was the name... Flint?"


    The sound of splintering wood punctuated his words as the chopsticks in Spark''s hand suddenly snapped. He rose from his seat, all pretense of composure abandoned, and strode toward the source of the commotion. Something dangerous flickered in his golden eyes¡ªa glimpse of the wolf beneath his human form. Flint, recognizing the barely contained fury in his movements, quickly followed after him.


    As they approached, Seedling stood her ground before Pierce, her white fox tail bristling with indignation. Her purple eyes narrowed at Pierce''s sneering face, while her modified sect robes rustled with the agitated movement of her tail. The surrounding disciples had created a small circle around them, drawn by the spectacle of the Sect Leader''s disciple confronting the openly proud Wind-Charm Fox.


    Pierce''s refined features twisted with disdain as he noticed Spark''s approach. The cold pride in his silver-blue phoenix eyes met the burning gold of Spark''s gaze. The aristocratic tilt of his chin became more pronounced, his partially swept-up black hair catching the light as he turned to face this new challenger.


    "You speak of things you don''t understand," Spark''s voice came out low and controlled, but with an underlying growl that made several nearby disciples step back instinctively. His noble bearing remained, but now it carried an edge of predatory grace that was impossible to ignore.


    Flint moved closer to Spark''s side, her calm exterior masking her concern. She could sense the tension radiating from him¡ªthe careful control he''d maintained since arriving at the sect was dangerously close to shattering. While Pierce''s words about her had stung, she worried more about what Spark might do in his anger. His carefully hidden identity as a spiritual beast hung by a thread, and Pierce''s prejudiced remarks were pulling at that thread with dangerous force.


    Pierce''s arrogance didn''t waver at Spark''s arrival. "I don''t understand?" His phoenix eyes slid dismissively to Flint standing beside Spark. "So this is Flint? Don''t tell me she''s the wolf prince''s little girlfriend?" His silver-blue eyes glittered with malice. "A worthless one who got in through connections. The Celestial Sword Sect has truly fallen from its former glory... I wonder who proposed such a ridiculous idea... Sage North Thunder, wasn''t it?"


    The double insult¡ªagainst both Flint and his master¡ªsent Spark''s fury to new heights. His breathing became rapid and shallow as natural aura began to gather around his hand, coalescing into light energy. But just as he prepared to strike, a gentle breeze brushed against his hand.


    Strange¡ªPierce stood with his arms crossed, clearly not the source of that wind. Spark looked up to find Seedling behind Pierce, subtly shaking her head in warning. Her purple eyes, still fierce with her own anger, nonetheless held a clear message of restraint. Her white fox ears twitched slightly, catching sounds that the human disciples couldn''t hear.


    The dining hall had grown deathly quiet. The natural aura Spark had gathered still swirled around his hand, reflecting the golden fury in his eyes. Yet Seedling''s warning gave him pause¡ªshe, another spiritual beast who had chosen to live openly with her true nature, seemed to be trying to tell him something important.


    Pierce remained oblivious to this silent exchange, his aristocratic features arranged in a mask of cultivated disdain. The jade hairpin in his topknot caught the light as he tilted his head, regarding Spark''s barely contained rage with the detached interest of someone watching an insect struggle.


    Flint observed the scene with her characteristic calm, though her eyes darted between Spark''s tensed form and Seedling''s warning gesture. Something in Seedling''s demeanor suggested she had a deeper reason for preventing this confrontation¡ªperhaps something beyond mere sect rules about fighting.


    The natural aura in the hall continued to fluctuate with the emotional tension, creating subtle disturbances that only the more sensitive cultivators could detect. The situation balanced on a knife''s edge, with Spark caught between his fury at Pierce''s insults and the mysterious warning from a fellow spiritual beast.


    However, in that dangerous moment of tension, something unexpected shattered the balance. Seedling moved behind Pierce, gathering natural aura until it coalesced into a fierce whirlwind. The sudden tempest lifted Pierce into the air, his aristocratic composure finally breaking as he was unceremoniously hurled out of the dining hall. Tables and chairs toppled in the chaos, food scattered across the floor, and nearby disciples braced themselves against the powerful gusts.


    The violent surge of natural aura immediately triggered the sect''s warning puppets. Several Adept-Level disciples rushed in, followed by a contingent of defensive puppets. Rather than try to hide or make excuses, Seedling stepped forward from the crowd with characteristic directness, her white fox tail swaying confidently behind her.


    "I did it," she announced to the approaching Adept-Level disciples, her purple eyes clear and unwavering. "I''ll accept whatever punishment is due."


    She paused as she reached Flint''s side, her white wavy hair still dancing from the residual energy of her wind attack. Turning to Flint with a bright smile that lit up her fox-like features, she added, "Wait for me. I promise I''ll help you find a way to cultivate."


    The sincerity in Seedling''s voice carried through the chaos of the aftermath. Her fox ears stood proud and alert, showing no sign of regret for her actions. The natural grace of her Wind-Charm Fox heritage showed in every movement as she prepared to follow the Adept-Level disciples, her modified sect robes flowing around her as if still caught in a gentle breeze.


    Spark stood frozen, his earlier rage replaced by surprise at Seedling''s decisive action. His golden eyes tracked between the hole in the dining hall wall where Pierce had exited and Seedling''s retreating form, a new respect dawning in his expression for their fellow spiritual beast who had chosen such a direct method of dealing with prejudice.


    Flint watched this unfold with her usual calm demeanor, though something flickered in her eyes at Seedling''s promise¡ªperhaps a spark of hope, or maybe just appreciation for this unexpected ally who had defended her in such a dramatic fashion.

 Chapter 12: Wind-Chasing

    Despite Seedling''s promise to help Flint discover a way to cultivate, she found herself preoccupied with her punishments. The first involved repairing the dining hall wall she had demolished. Every time Flint and Spark visited the dining hall, they would spot her perched on a wooden ladder, meticulously laying bricks where the gaping hole remained. Not yet having reached Adept Level, she couldn''t master the sword-riding techniques that would have made the task easier. Several stern-faced puppets stood guard nearby, their crystalline eyes fixed on her every movement.


    The second punishment proved more demanding - climbing the main peak of Soaring Heaven Sword Peaks with her natural aura sealed and a circular stone strapped to her back. The peak, home to the Celestial Sword Sect''s main hall, stretched impossibly high into the clouds. Upon reaching the summit''s training ground, two puppets would unceremoniously roll the stone back down, and she would begin again. This cycle was to repeat 101 times.


    Whenever Flint encountered her at the summit after she had conquered the thousands of steps, she would ask, "Isn''t this exhausting?"


    Seedling would simply adjust her high white ponytail, her wavy hair swaying with the movement as her fox ears twitched with amusement. "This? It''s nothing," she''d reply with a casual wave of her hand, though her sect robes were soaked with sweat. Her purple eyes retained their characteristic sparkle, and her tail swayed with undiminished energy. Even with her powers sealed, she maintained that air of natural confidence that made her uniquely Seedling.


    After nearly two weeks of this routine, she finally completed her punishments, having neither complained nor lost her spirited demeanor once.


    "Shhhhh!" Less than two days after completing her punishments, a familiar white-haired figure darted through the Aura Meditation Grounds'' entrance. Seedling, who had declared she needed rest (with her instructors'' blessing to return whenever she felt ready), pressed a finger to her lips with a conspiratorial wink.


    The meditation hall lay peaceful in the afternoon light, filled with disciples seated in quiet contemplation. While no teachers actively supervised the space - it being a place for self-directed practice - everyone understood these hours were meant for absorbing natural aura through meditation.


    Seedling''s fox ears perked up as she tiptoed between the neat rows of cultivators, her tail swishing silently behind her. Upon reaching Flint, she tugged gently at her sleeve, purple eyes dancing with barely contained excitement. Without a word, Flint rose from her cushion, following Seedling''s lead with careful steps toward the exit.


    A few cushions away, Spark''s golden eyes flicked open at the movement. His gaze followed Flint''s retreating form, a question forming in his mind that he deliberately pushed aside. His expression softened slightly as he recalled how Seedling had stood up to Pierce, defending both the spiritual beasts and Flint. She has a good heart beneath all that boldness, he mused.


    Almost unconsciously, Spark''s eyes drifted to where Pierce sat in meditation, his back perfectly straight and proud. Spark''s gaze hardened into a fierce glare at the aristocratic disciple''s back, remembering the latter''s condescending attitude. The intensity of his own reaction surprised him, and he quickly closed his eyes again, though his usual meditative calm proved elusive.


    Meanwhile, Seedling eagerly guided Flint through the doorway, her excitement barely contained and evident in her vibrating movements. Whatever had brought the Wind-Charm Fox back to the sect so soon - and whatever she had planned - promised to be far more interesting than another afternoon of quiet meditation.


    Seedling''s grip on Flint''s wrist was surprisingly strong as she practically flew down the mountain path, her white fox tail streaming behind them like a banner. Flint''s feet barely touched the ground between steps, and more than once she felt her stomach lurch as they took particularly sharp turns.


    "S-Seedling!" Flint managed to gasp out between bounds. "Are you sure we won''t¡ª" She yelped as they narrowly dodged a protruding rock. "¡ªcrash into something?"


    "Trust me!" Seedling''s laughter rang out clear and bright as bells. Her purple eyes sparkled with mischief as she glanced back, fox ears perked forward in excitement. "I may have climbed this peak more than 100 times, but I definitely memorized the fastest way down!"


    They burst through a cluster of white clouds that clung to the mountainside, emerging into the valley between the two tallest peaks of the Soaring Heaven Sword Mountains. The wind here was fierce enough to make Flint''s clothes snap like war flags, and she had to squint against its force. It howled between the mountains, creating an endless symphony of rushing air.


    Finally slowing to a stop, Seedling released Flint''s wrist and spun around to face her, white ponytail and robes whipping dramatically in the wind. Her grin was positively radiant.


    "Welcome," she declared with a theatrical sweep of her arm, "to your training ground!"


    Flint rubbed her wrist, trying to catch her breath. "Training ground?" She had to raise her voice to be heard over the wind''s constant roar.


    Seedling''s purple eyes took on that particular gleam they got whenever she was about to share something she found particularly clever. "There''s an ancient saying passed down among the Wind-Charm Fox clan," she said, her fox ears twitching forward eagerly. "They say that if you can catch the wind, you''ll gain its power!"


    The wind chose that moment to gust particularly strongly, making Seedling''s tail brush against her legs. She didn''t seem bothered in the slightest by the powerful airflow, standing as naturally as if she were in a gentle breeze.


    "You mean literally catch the wind?" Flint asked skeptically, fighting to keep her own hair from whipping into her face.


    "Of course!" Seedling bounced on her toes, somehow maintaining perfect balance despite the gusts. "This valley creates the perfect wind tunnel. The air is compressed between the mountains, making it faster and stronger than anywhere else in the sect. If you''re going to catch the wind anywhere, it''ll be here!"


    She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward conspiratorially, her purple eyes twinkling. "Besides, don''t you think it''s perfect? No one else trains here because of the wind, which means no one will bother us. And after all those punishment climbs, I know exactly when the patrols pass by!"


    "Time to run on your own!" Seedling declared, releasing Flint''s wrist with a playful flourish. "Follow the wind''s direction!" Without waiting for a response, she took off running, her white hair and fox tail streaming behind her like banners in the breeze.


    Flint scrambled to follow, her feet pounding against the rocky ground. As she ran, she began to notice something peculiar - that familiar white, intangible force she''d sensed before was flowing more strongly through her body. Instinctively, she tried to channel it the way she''d learned to manipulate natural aura, but her attempts slipped through her grasp like trying to catch smoke with bare hands.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Ahead of her, something extraordinary was happening to Seedling. The Wind-Charm Fox''s feet seemed to be leaving fewer and fewer marks on the ground, her steps becoming lighter and more graceful with each bound. Then, to Flint''s absolute amazement, Seedling''s feet left the earth entirely. The air currents around her transformed into invisible wings, swirling and dancing around her form. With her arms spread wide and white hair floating ethereally, Seedling soared into the sky as naturally as if she''d been born to fly.


    Flint stopped dead in her tracks, jaw dropping as she watched her friend dance through the air. The sight was mesmerizing - Seedling''s customized sect robes billowed around her, her fox tail and ears moving in perfect harmony with the wind currents, and her purple eyes practically glowing with joy as she twirled through the sky.


    "Don''t stop running!" Seedling called down, her voice carried clearly by the wind despite her height. She executed a graceful flip that would have made the sword-riding disciples jealous. "The wind won''t wait for you!"


    The teasing lilt in her voice snapped Flint out of her daze. Right - she was supposed to be training, not gawking at her friend''s aerial acrobatics. Even if those acrobatics were absolutely spectacular.


    As the wind''s strength ebbed and flowed through the valley, Seedling''s movements followed its rhythm like a dancer following music. When the gusts softened, she would descend gracefully to the earth, her feet barely touching the ground as she continued running. Then, as the wind surged again, she would lift off once more, rising into the air as naturally as a leaf caught in an updraft.


    To Flint''s surprise, she found herself keeping pace with Seedling. The mysterious intangible force flowing through her seemed to push her forward, lending strength to her legs and lightness to her steps. The realization brought an unbidden memory: herself clinging to Spark''s wolf form as they fled through the forest. If I''d known I could run like this then, she thought with a mix of amusement and wonder, we might not have needed his wolf shape after all.


    Above and ahead of her, Seedling''s purple eyes glanced back, and a knowing smile curved her lips. Her fox ears twitched forward with interest as she observed her friend''s progress. It''s curious, she mused, executing another graceful aerial turn. Everyone says her spirit roots are Deficient in all six elements, but look at her now. She''s already keeping up with my pace, and I''m no slowpoke! There must be something special about the way she channels natural aura, something that lets her transcend her physical limits. Otherwise, she''d never be able to match my speed.


    The wind gusted strongly again, and Seedling let out a delighted laugh as she soared higher, her white tail and hair streaming behind her like banners in the breeze. Below, Flint''s feet continued their steady rhythm, her body moving in unconscious harmony with the mysterious force that flowed through her veins like liquid starlight.


    During her descent, as the wind''s strength waned, Seedling caught sight of something unusual - a faint reddish-brown glow emanating from a cave entrance ahead. With each passing moment of her descent, the mysterious light became more distinct against the dark cavity of the mountain wall. Her natural momentum carried her closer to the cave''s mouth until she finally touched down, taking a few running steps before slowing to a complete stop.


    Flint, still caught up in the exhilaration of their wind-chasing exercise, nearly blazed past her. Quick as a striking snake, Seedling''s hand shot out and caught Flint''s arm. The sudden halt sent Flint pitching forward, her feet stumbling beneath her, but Seedling''s grip remained steady, keeping her friend from face-planting into the rocky ground.


    "Careful there!" Seedling steadied Flint with her other hand, but her purple eyes never left the cave entrance. Her fox ears were perked forward, twitching slightly as if trying to catch any sounds from within. The mysterious light cast strange, dancing shadows at the cave''s threshold, making the darkness beyond seem even deeper by contrast.


    "Look at that," Seedling whispered, her usual playful tone replaced by something more cautious. Her tail had gone still - a rare sight for the typically energetic Wind-Charm Fox. "I''m curious about what''s happening in there." She tilted her head slightly, purple eyes narrowing as she studied the unusual glow. "Want to check it out?"


    The wind whistled past them, its previously playful gusts now seeming to carry a note of warning. The reddish-brown light pulsed slightly, like a distant heartbeat, casting eerie shadows across their faces.


    With a curious nod, Flint followed Seedling toward the cave entrance. Their footsteps naturally lightened as they approached, becoming as soft as falling leaves. They crouched at the cave''s mouth, peering into the darkness that was broken only by that unsettling reddish-brown glow.


    What they saw made their blood run cold.


    A figure stood in the cave''s depths, surrounded by an aura of sickly reddish-brown light. Around him lay several bodies, their clothing marking them as villagers from the nearby settlements. The figure swayed unsteadily, muttering to himself in a voice that scraped against the cave walls like rusty nails: "So the Soul Leech is real... need more... not enough..."


    Seedling couldn''t suppress her horrified gasp at the sight of the bodies. The sound echoed through the cave like a thunderclap.


    The figure''s head snapped toward them, his face twisting into a grotesque grin that split his face like a wound. "More souls... delivered right to my door..."


    "Run!" Seedling grabbed Flint''s wrist again, but this time there was no playfulness in her grip - only desperate urgency. They bolted back the way they came, but immediately faced a cruel reality: they were running straight into the wind that had aided their earlier journey. The powerful gusts that had been their allies now became their enemies, pushing against them with every step.


    Behind them, the madman''s footsteps echoed off the valley walls. Though he had no flying apparatus, his pace was unnaturally quick, eating up the distance between them with each stride. His ragged breathing and occasional bursts of maniacal laughter grew steadily closer.


    Seedling''s fox ears lay flat against her head as she ran, her tail streaming behind her. Her purple eyes darted around desperately, searching for any escape route. The wind that had allowed her to soar so gracefully before now fought against her every movement, making it impossible to take flight.


    "Keep running!" she shouted to Flint over the howling wind. "Don''t look back!"


    But they could both hear it - the sound of the cultivator''s footsteps growing closer and closer, accompanied by his raw, hungry breathing and the sickly pulse of that reddish-brown light that seemed to reach for them like grasping fingers.


    "Can''t you fly?" Flint shouted against the wind, her words nearly torn away by the gale. "Use the headwind to lift off, then generate your own wind power!" The idea struck her as she remembered Seedling''s impressive display against Pierce.


    "I don''t have enough natural aura!" Seedling called back, her white ponytail whipping wildly in the wind. "I can''t sustain it long enough!"


    The madman''s footsteps thundered behind them, getting closer with each passing second.


    "Then blast him with wind like you did before!" Flint''s suggestion rang out over the howling gusts.


    Seedling spun partially, her purple eyes flashing as she summoned a powerful gust toward their pursuer. To her surprise, the force that erupted from her hands was significantly stronger than her usual attacks. The madman staggered but didn''t slow much - yet something else caught Seedling''s attention. That burst of power... could those 101 climbs with the stone have expanded my Inner Sea''s capacity for natural aura?


    A wild hope bloomed in her chest. If her power had indeed grown, perhaps she could fly them both beyond the cultivator''s reach. Her fox ears perked up with sudden determination.


    "Hold onto me tight!" she shouted to Flint, her purple eyes blazing with renewed purpose. "I''m going to try something!"


    The wind howled around them, and Seedling''s customized sect robes billowed as she prepared to attempt what could be their only chance at escape. Her tail streamed behind her like a banner of defiance against the approaching madman, whose reddish-brown aura cast grotesque shadows on the valley walls.


    Seedling broke into a sprint, her feet gradually leaving the ground as she pulled Flint with her. With her free hand thrust behind them, she summoned a massive burst of wind. The force of their opposing energies - the valley''s natural headwind and Seedling''s conjured gale - lifted them higher into the air. Seedling''s body leveled out horizontally, while Flint dangled beneath her, gripping her friend''s arm for dear life.


    The madman''s face contorted with fury at seeing his prey take flight. His reddish-brown aura pulsed violently as he thrust his hands forward, using natural aura to transform the scattered debris around him into deadly projectiles. Stones and branches whistled through the air like arrows toward the fleeing pair.


    Flint swung her body wildly to avoid the projectiles, each movement causing them both to pendulum through the air. Seedling fought to maintain their altitude while being yanked in every direction by Flint''s desperate dodging. Her purple eyes narrowed in concentration, fox ears flat against her head as she poured every bit of power she had into maintaining their flight.


    A sharp stone grazed Flint''s cheek, leaving a thin line of blood. A branch struck Seedling''s arm with enough force to tear through her sleeve and draw blood, the white fabric quickly staining red. Yet despite the pain, despite the awkward angle, despite the strain of supporting both their weights, Seedling''s grip on Flint''s hand never wavered.


    "I won''t let go!" Seedling shouted over the roaring wind, her purple eyes fierce with determination. Each word came out strained as she fought to maintain the powerful air current keeping them aloft. Below them, the madman''s reddish-brown aura seemed to pulse with malevolent hunger as he continued his relentless assault.


    Without warning, an enormous sword materialized in the air, streaking toward the point where Seedling''s hand clasped Flint''s. In that split-second of horrified realization, Flint knew they couldn''t dodge it. Acting on pure instinct, she swung her body one last time, using her foot to nudge Seedling''s wind-channeling hand slightly downward, redirecting her friend''s flight path upward.


    The sword whistled through the air straight at Flint''s face. In that desperate moment, she made her choice - she wrenched her hand free from Seedling''s grip and plummeted toward the ground.


    "FLINT!" Seedling''s anguished cry echoed through the valley. But something else was wrong - the moment Flint released her, Seedling felt her supposedly abundant natural aura suddenly depleting at an alarming rate, as if Flint''s presence had somehow been amplifying her power all along.


    "Fly up! Get to the mountain!" Flint shouted as she fell, her voice growing more distant. The massive sword sliced through the space between them, catching Flint''s fingers as it passed and drawing a ribbon of blood that scattered in the wind.


    Seedling watched in horror as her friend plunged toward the ground, toward the madman with his sickly reddish-brown aura, while her own strength rapidly faded. With her natural aura rapidly depleting, Seedling could do nothing to dive after Flint - her failing power left her only one option: reach safety and find help as quickly as possible.

 Chapter 13锛欵choes of Past Lives in a River of Blood

    The impact sent tremors through the earth, but Flint barely registered the pain as she crashed into the ground. Her body had always processed pain differently¡ªa quirk that had served her well until now. But as she attempted to move, the disconnect between intent and action became jarringly clear: her legs wouldn''t respond.


    Crimson droplets pooled beneath her, seeping into the soil of the valley floor. The mountain winds whispered through the peaks of Soaring Heaven, carrying a faint scent of Flint''s blood. And with each gust, the smell drew him closer.


    The cultivator approached with uneven steps, his body wreathed in an unnatural reddish-brown light that seemed to devour the shadows around him. His cultivation robes, once pristine, now hung in tatters, darkened with stains that Flint didn''t want to contemplate.


    But it was his eyes that held her attention¡ªvacant yet somehow hungry, as if whatever remained of his consciousness had been hollowed out and replaced with raw, insatiable need.


    "Fresh... soul..." The words slithered from his lips, barely coherent. "Such... fresh... soul..."


    The wind picked up, and his hair writhed like living shadows around his face, giving him the appearance of some ancient, terrible spirit that had clawed its way up from the depths of legend. His sword, still gleaming despite everything, caught the light as he raised it.


    Flint tried to shift away, but her useless legs betrayed her. The cultivator''s blade plunged down, tearing through flesh and muscle with mechanical precision.


    The deep red liquid sprayed and splattered across the ground, seeping into the earth like a macabre painting. Droplets sparkled in the sunlight, a morbid contrast against the green grass and brown dirt.


    The madman''s sword dripped with her blood as he raised it again, his movements jerky and inhuman. The reddish-brown light around him pulsed like a diseased heart, and his lips moved in patterns that might have once been incantations but now were nothing more than the mutterings of a mind lost to whatever dark art had consumed him.


    The reddish-brown light reached toward Flint''s mind, only to meet an invisible barrier¡ªa thin layer wrapped protectively around her consciousness. Though the tortured souls'' anguish pressed against this shield with crushing force, not a single crack appeared. Instead, their emotions translated into a subtle pressure, like the weight of storm clouds gathering on the horizon.


    Through this protective veil, Flint sensed rather than experienced their memories. The young hunter''s pride in teaching his son, the old tracker''s wisdom, the brothers'' shared laughter¡ªall these impressions reached her as gentle echoes rather than overwhelming floods. Yet even these muted sensations stirred something deep within her.


    The cultivator continued his ritual, unaware that his victims'' desperate emotions weren''t breaking through Flint''s defenses as they had with previous targets. Instead, these feelings brushed against her mental barrier like waves against a cliff face, creating a strange resonance that seemed to awaken the intangible force within her.


    With each new emotion that pressed against her shield¡ªlove, fear, hope, despair¡ªthe intangible force grew stronger, pulsing like a second heartbeat within her core.


    Through her barrier, she felt them not as invasive memories but as gentle whispers: a mother''s last thoughts of her child''s smile, a young apprentice''s unfulfilled dreams of mastery, an elderly craftsman''s regret for the teachings he would never pass on. Each story was a thread in a tapestry of interrupted lives, futures snapped like delicate silk strings.


    A merchant''s memories cut like glass¡ªhis daughter''s first successful negotiation at the morning market. Pride swelled in his chest as she haggled the price down with the same shrewd wit he''d taught her. The coins in his pouch jingled as he planned to buy her favorite sweets to celebrate. The coins scattered across blood-stained ground as shadows consumed him, his final scream not of pain but of rage at leaving her alone.


    An elderly couple''s memories pierced through next¡ªsixty years of shared breaths and gentle touches. They faced the darkness together, hands clasped tight as they had done through famines and floods. Their fear wasn''t for themselves but for their grandchildren who would have to weather future storms without their guidance. Their last moment was a shared glance, a lifetime of love compressed into a single look before both lights went out.


    A young farmer''s hopes crashed against Flint''s barrier¡ªhe had just planted a new strain of spirit herbs, carefully calculating how the harvest would finally let him afford to court the magistrate''s daughter. The seeds would sprout without him, his carefully maintained fields left to wither. His final thoughts were of spring flowers he would never give her.


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    Each memory slammed into her shield with increasing violence¡ªa mother''s lullaby cut short, a scholar''s unfinished research, a blacksmith''s half-forged masterpiece. Lives ended mid-sentence, dreams shattered mid-flight, promises broken not by choice but by the insatiable hunger of twisted cultivation.


    The intangible force within Flint surged with each impact, not from the raw anguish of their deaths but from her own mounting fury at the perversion of their endings. These weren''t just memories; they were fragments of futures stolen, hopes corrupted, destinies derailed. Through her barrier, she felt their weight not as crushing despair but as a clarion call¡ªa demand for justice that resonated with something ancient and powerful within her core.


    The madman moved with mechanical precision, his sword tip dragging through the dirt around her prone form. As he completed his ritual circle, Flint felt a surge of pure compassion rise within her. Though her mental barrier remained intact, her heart ached for these lost souls. This genuine emotion, born from her own empathy rather than forced upon her through spiritual invasion, caused the intangible force to react with unexpected intensity.


    Their stories didn''t break her shield, but they broke something else instead¡ªthe comfortable distance between observer and observed. Though protected from their pain, she found herself a witness to hundreds of unfinished stories, each one cutting deeper than any physical wound. The intangible force within her roared in response, not to their suffering, but to her own rising tide of compassion and rage at the fundamental wrongness of their fate.


    Tears streaked down Flint''s face, cutting clear paths through the blood and dirt. Not tears of fear or pain, but of raw empathy for the lives she had witnessed¡ªlives that should have continued, should have bloomed, should have mattered. With strength born of righteous fury, she reached up and seized the cultivator''s wrist, her grip unwavering despite her damaged legs.


    "Why? Why did you kill them ?!" Her voice cracked with emotion. She desperately grabbed the arms of the mad cultivator, who was wildly hacking at her back, inflicting new wounds.


    Suddenly, brilliant white light erupted from her body, catching the deranged cultivator off guard. "Too much! Too much!... Too much natural aura!" he screamed, his ritual forgotten as the light intensified.


    Through the white haze, an image of Sage South Rain appeared - dressed in tattered clothes, her usual elegance replaced by signs of hardship. Without the assault of foreign memories breaking her mental barrier, Flint experienced this vision with perfect clarity. The words "Let''s go" fell from her lips naturally, followed by another vision¡ªa man holding her close, his features remarkably similar to Spark''s, before a sword struck him from behind.


    Then everything vanished.


    The deranged cultivator exploded before her, his form unable to contain the sudden surge of natural aura. As the reddish-brown light dissipated, Flint''s mental barrier remained steady, though she could still feel the echo of all those lost souls¡ªnot as invasive memories, but as a profound understanding of the tragedy that had occurred here.


    Her hands moved through the river of blood as she dragged herself toward the sword. Even through the crimson coating its surface, she could make out the Celestial Sword Sect''s emblem¡ªa distinctive cloud pattern etched into the blade. This physical evidence of the cultivator''s identity struck her more deeply than any of the emotions that had tested her mental barrier.


    As she lifted her gaze, a movement caught her eye. In the shadows, a slender dog watched her intently. Before she could focus on its features, the creature turned and bounded away. In that fleeting moment of its retreat, she glimpsed something unordinary - three tails streaming behind it like banners in the wind.


    Then, from behind her, came a voice that made her heart skip: Spark.


    With tremendous effort, Flint twisted her body around.


    "Flint!" In an instant, Spark was on his knees beside her, pulling her into an embrace. As his face turned, the angle caught the light in a way that overlapped perfectly with the man from her vision, making her breath catch. Her head came to rest naturally on his shoulder, and she had an overwhelming urge to run her fingers through his hair - but the sight of her blood-soaked hands stopped her.


    "Spark," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I''m covered in blood."


    She could hear the tremor in his voice as he struggled to speak, his usual composure cracking. "Seedling said... she said you might have fallen to your death..."


    A group of disciples led by Seedling rushed onto the scene, many wearing the distinctive robes of inner sect Adepts. Seedling''s fox ears twitched as she immediately jumped to her own defense: "I never said Flint was dead! I only said she fell from a height! And there was this terrifying crazy cultivator chasing us!"


    When Seedling spotted Flint in Spark''s protective embrace, her eyes lit up with relief and joy. "Flint! You''re alive!"


    Having already convinced herself that Flint must be an Inferno Wolf like Spark - and quite possibly the wolf prince''s girlfriend - Seedling held back, giving the pair their moment.


    "Did you actually hope I was dead?" Flint quipped weakly.


    Seedling chuckled, her eyes scanning the area. "Where''s the crazy cultivator?"


    Flint hesitated before answering, "He... sort of... exploded?"


    Seedling''s eyes widened to saucers. "Exploded?" Around them, the Adept-level disciples exchanged looks of disbelief.


    Gently pushing against Spark''s tight embrace, Flint gestured toward the blood-stained sword on the ground. "That sword - it''s Celestial Sword Sect craftsmanship. The cultivator might have been one of us."


    She paused, aware of the doubtful and shocked expressions surrounding her, then continued: "He was... absorbing souls. I felt them - all their painful memories."


    "Soul absorption? That''s a major crime against the Immortal Alliance! We must report this to Sage Mortius Crane immediately!" one Adept-level disciple called out dramatically, his voice cracking with excitement. The others bobbed their heads in enthusiastic agreement, creating a chorus of "Yes, yes!"


    The group made their way back to the Celestial Sword Sect, with Spark carrying Flint in his arms. His black cultivation robes were now thoroughly stained with blood, but he seemed completely unbothered by it. His golden eyes, though, still bore telltale signs of recent tears - slightly red and glistening in the light.


    "Were you crying?" Flint teased, a small smile playing at her lips.


    "No," Spark replied with stubborn dignity, his chin lifting slightly even as he held her closer. But the slight quiver in his voice betrayed him.


    The sight of the usually composed wolf prince carrying a blood-soaked Flint while adamantly denying his obvious tears drew subtle smiles from their companions. Even Seedling had to hide her grin behind her hand, her fox tail swishing with barely contained amusement at the pair''s interaction.


    "Say," Flint mused, her voice taking on a playful lilt despite her exhaustion, "do you think we might have met in a past life?"


    "What are you talking about?" Spark''s brows furrowed in that characteristic way of his, though his arms never loosened their protective hold. "In my twenty years, I''ve never met anyone... as strange as you."


    Flint just smiled mysteriously and let it go with a soft "Never mind." But there was something in her eyes - a knowing look that made Spark''s frown deepen even further, though not entirely in annoyance.


    Behind them, Seedling''s fox ears perked up with interest at this exchange. She opened her mouth as if to comment, then thought better of it, settling instead for an amused tail swish. After all, who was she to interrupt what was clearly a moment between the wolf prince and his definitely-not-just-a-friend?


    The blood-soaked Flint being carried princess-style by an obviously-been-crying-but-won''t-admit-it Spark made quite the picture as they made their way back to the sect. Some of the Adept disciples tried very hard not to stare - and failed spectacularly.

 Chapter 14: I can use natural aura now, but...

    Afternoon sunlight bathed the Soaring Heaven Sword Peaks in golden warmth, yet within one particular celestial dwelling, darkness reigned supreme. Most immortal cultivators would have their chambers flooded with light at this hour, but Sage Mortius Crane preferred the embrace of shadows. Only the scattered crystals embedded in the walls offered any illumination, their faint glow barely enough to outline the luxurious furnishings within.


    A three-tailed Greyhound slipped through the entrance, its midnight-black coat seeming to absorb what little light touched it. As the beast crossed into the artificially maintained darkness, the eclipse-like mark upon its forehead caught the light, its dark center framed by a ring of ethereal white luminescence, casting ethereal patterns on the human¡¯s dark robe.


    "Master," the beast spoke, its voice carrying the cultured tones of human speech, "Samuel has successfully employed the Soul Leech technique on the mortal souls. However¡ª"


    A sharp tapping sound cut through the air - a finger adorned with a blood-red ring striking against jade. In the manufactured gloom, Sage Mortius Crane''s features remained shadowed, but the slight furrow of his brow spoke volumes.


    "Which Samuel?" he interrupted, each word precisely carved from the silence.


    Nightbane''s ears flattened slightly as he hastened to clarify, "Samuel Thorne, Master."


    Sage Mortius Crane''s eyes drifted closed, his head inclining in a bare nod. "Continue."


    The beast shifted its weight, causing the ghostly light from its crescent mark to dance across the walls. "He attempted to harvest the soul of a female cultivator from the Celestial Sword Sect, but..." A pause, heavy with reluctance. "He experienced a natural aura absorption. His body... exploded."


    In the darkness, only the steady tap-tap-tap of that ringed finger against jade gave any indication of the Sage''s response to this news.


    The sage''s deep voice cut through the darkness: "And the female cultivator?"


    Nightbane''s amber eyes flickered in the gloom as he responded, his three tails swaying gently behind him. "Still alive. The Celestial Sword Sect members took her away."


    A sardonic chuckle escaped Sage Mortius Crane''s lips, the sound like ice cracking in winter. "Samuel, that fool. How amusing that he would dare to turn against his own sect members." His long fingers traced invisible patterns in the air as he spoke, leaving trails of cold energy that dissipated like morning mist.


    The Greyhound''s eclipse mark pulsed faintly as he continued, "His mental state was... deteriorating. Initially, Samuel only killed a few mortals, using Soul Leech to absorb their souls." Nightbane''s ears flattened against his skull as he recalled the events. "But the resentment force from the mortals'' deaths began to cloud his mind. When two female cultivators passed by, he... he became frenzied, desperate to devour their souls."


    Hesitation crept into Nightbane''s cultured voice, his three tails twisting anxiously. "One of them managed to escape, but Samuel had already drawn the runes to absorb the other''s soul. However, she..." The beast''s amber eyes darkened with the memory. "She grabbed onto Samuel''s left arm with incredible force, and then... the explosion occurred."


    "Oh?" Interest flickered across Sage Mortius Crane''s pale features, his eyes gleaming like cold stars in the darkness. The crystals in the walls seemed to dim further, responding to their master''s shifting mood. "How peculiar indeed. And this female cultivator''s name?"


    Nightbane shook his head, his three tails swaying in unconscious harmony with the movement. The motion caused the shadows in the room to dance eerily against the walls. "Unknown, Master."


    Sage Mortius Crane''s voice sliced through the darkness like silk over steel, each word dripping with a hypnotic quality that seemed as natural to him as breathing. "It''s quite simple, really. A female cultivator returning to the Celestial Sword Sect after such an... incident. Word will spread quickly. All you need to do is listen."


    The soft luminescence from Nightbane''s eclipse mark rippled as he bowed his head, three tails swaying in perfect synchronization. "Yes, Master."


    A crystalline chime pierced the manufactured gloom - the jade tablet at Sage Mortius Crane''s waist coming alive with an urgent message. His long, pale fingers, tipped with those distinctive blue-black nails, drew out the tablet with practiced grace. A disciple''s voice spilled into the darkness: "Elder Mortius Crane, there are reports of soul absorption within the sect. The perpetrator''s identity remains unknown..."


    "I see." The words fell from his lips like frost, heavy with barely concealed irritation. With a subtle gesture, he severed the connection, letting silence reclaim its domain in his shadowed chambers. The crystals in the walls seemed to dim further, as if sensing their master''s darkening mood.


    The way Sage Mortius Crane dismissed the message carried all the weight of his station - a perfect blend of aristocratic dismissal and calculated disinterest. Yet beneath that carefully crafted facade, a cold smile played at the corners of his thin lips, invisible in the darkness but evident in the sudden chill that permeated the air.


    In the oppressive darkness, Sage Mortius Crane remained motionless in his seat, his thoughts churning beneath his carefully composed exterior. Nightbane stood silently, his amber eyes occasionally catching what little light existed in the chamber, while his eclipse mark cast ethereal patterns that danced across the shadowed walls.


    Soul Leech is incapable of absorbing the souls of Initiative-Level cultivators. So why did Samuel''s body explode? The question coiled through Mortius Crane''s mind like a serpent, each possibility more unsettling than the last. The crystals embedded in the walls seemed to pulse darker, responding to their master''s deepening contemplation.


    The crystalline chime of the jade tablet shattered the weighted silence once again.


    "Elder Mortius Crane, we''ve recovered the perpetrator''s sword. Through it, we''ve confirmed his identity as an Initiative-Level disciple from the Outer Sect, named¡ª"


    "I understand." Mortius Crane''s voice cut through the report like a blade of ice, each word heavy with carefully controlled fury. "The man is dead. Such information is irrelevant now."


    Somewhere in the Inner Sect, the jade tablet in the young disciple''s hand grew cold as Elder Mortius Crane''s chilling response echoed in his ears. He blinked at the tablet, mouth half-open with the rest of his unfinished report. How had Elder Mortius Crane known?


    The pale fingers of Sage Mortius Crane¡¯s other hand stroked the blood-red ring absently, its gem seeming to pulse with an inner darkness that matched the shadows of the room. "Nightbane," he spoke at last, his voice carrying that hypnotic quality that made even the shadows seem to lean closer, "it appears wise to allow these foolish beings to absorb souls within our controllable range."


    The eclipse-like mark on Nightbane''s forehead dimmed momentarily as he contemplated, then brightened as understanding dawned. His amber eyes held a mix of concern and devotion as he spoke, his cultured voice carrying a hint of hesitation.


    "But... these disciples using Soul Leech need to absorb souls while the victims are still alive," he reasoned carefully, his three tails swaying with subtle anxiety. "We can''t possibly have them bringing living victims near your dwelling, Master..."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Sage Mortius Crane shook his head, a cold smile playing across his thin lips. "Foolish hound," he said, his voice carrying that signature mix of elegant disdain and dark amusement. The crystals in the walls seemed to pulse dimmer in response to his words. "Find a cave. Tell them to take their victims there for the soul absorption. Then, when they begin drawing their runes..." He paused, letting the implications hang in the manufactured darkness, "...seal the cave."


    Nightbane''s amber eyes sparkled with excitement, his eclipse mark glowing brighter as he recalled past events. His tails moved in perfect synchronization as he eagerly responded, "Indeed, Master! Samuel conducted his killings in a cave as well..."


    Sage Mortius Crane closed his eyes, a subtle smile gracing his pale features. The blue-black nails of his raised hand caught what little light existed in the chamber as he dismissed Nightbane with an elegant gesture. "Go now. Return to the Celestial Sword Sect, and while you''re there..." His voice dropped to a silken whisper, "...do inquire about our mysterious female cultivator."


    The darkness seemed to part slightly as his loyal hound bowed and prepared to depart, the eclipse mark''s glow creating ethereal patterns that danced across the shadowed walls one final time.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    In a first-floor guest room, where she had been temporarily relocated due to her inability to climb the dormitory stairs, Flint lay with her splinted and bandaged leg propped up. She was idly flipping through a book on Secret Arts, focusing on a common technique for manipulating objects using natural aura - essentially, telekinesis.


    Her eyes skimmed the pages while her mind drifted back to the sensation of natural aura flowing around her when she had clung to Seedling''s arm during their flight. Attempting to recreate that feeling, she concentrated, and for the first time, something different happened. The blanket covering her leg began to respond to her will, lifting slightly into the air.


    Her initial excitement quickly turned to frustration as the blanket seemed to develop a mind of its own. Sometimes it followed her intended movements, other times it moved in the opposite direction, and occasionally it simply hung motionless in the air, completely ignoring her efforts. With a resigned sigh, she released her hold on the natural aura, letting the blanket flop back down onto her leg.


    A knock at the door interrupted her practice. "It''s unlocked," Flint called out, her voice carrying a hint of the lazy drawl that characterized her speech. The door swung open to reveal Seedling''s familiar figure.


    Seedling bounced into the room with her characteristic grin, her white fox tail swaying playfully behind her. "What are you up to?"


    "Nothing much," Flint replied distractedly, her mind still dwelling on her failed attempt at aura manipulation. "Shouldn''t you be at the Aura Meditation Ground right now? What brings you here?"


    "Oh, that boring stuff?" Seedling''s purple eyes sparkled with mischief as she spoke, her fox ears twitching. "I even tried to get the wolf prince to come visit you, but he wouldn''t budge. Can you believe it?" She deliberately emphasized the words, trying to provoke a reaction.


    "He brings me food at mealtimes," Flint responded flatly, her thoughts still elsewhere. She didn''t bother mentioning that she didn''t actually need food - that mysterious intangible force was all the sustenance she required. But that fact seemed to perplex Spark, and she found it too troublesome to explain. It wasn''t that she couldn''t eat; she just didn''t need to. For her, meals had become merely a social obligation.


    "Ohooo~" Seedling drew out the sound playfully, her tail swishing with delight. "How sweet you two are!"


    Flint finally caught the teasing undertone in Seedling''s voice, her cheeks flushing slightly. "It''s not like that... we''re friends..." she mumbled, then paused, feeling somehow that this description didn''t do justice to Spark. "Close friends," she added hastily.


    Seedling''s grin widened, her fox ears perking up with interest. "Oh, so you''re friends~" she drawled out the word meaningfully.


    Flint cleared her throat, eager to change the subject. "I think I can use natural aura now. When you were pulling me through the sky, I could feel the Flux element''s natural aura..."


    "That''s amazing!" Seedling bounced excitedly on the edge of the bed, her tail swishing with enthusiasm. "See? The Wind-Charm Fox ancient saying is true! ''If you can catch the wind, you''ll gain its power!''"


    Flint privately doubted the connection to the proverb, but since it was Seedling''s sky-flying adventure that had helped her sense the Flux Element''s natural aura, she nodded along companionably. "Though," she added, "I can''t really control it yet."


    To demonstrate, she attempted to manipulate the blanket again. The fabric lifted uncertainly into the air, wobbling and moving erratically, completely ignoring her attempted gestures. After a few moments of the blanket''s rebellious dance, she released the natural aura with a slight shrug.


    Seedling patted Flint''s shoulder encouragingly, her fox tail swaying in a gentle rhythm. "Hey, at least you can use natural aura now!" Then her purple eyes drifted away, recalling that day in the sky. "You know, after you slipped from my grip and fell, I noticed my natural aura had suddenly decreased quite a bit."


    "What?" Flint''s expression shifted to one of puzzlement. Then, unbidden, the memory of the crazed cultivator whose arm she had gripped surfaced in her mind. She remembered his final words before the explosion - "Too much natural aura..."


    A thoughtful look crossed her face as she connected the dots. Could it be that her presence had somehow amplified both their natural aura? She recalled how the cultivator''s body had exploded, presumably from an overload of power, while Seedling had experienced a sudden decrease in her aura after their separation. The parallel was striking, even if the outcomes had been drastically different.


    The implications made her brow furrow slightly. If she did have this effect on others'' natural aura, what exactly did that mean? But true to her nature, she didn''t voice these concerns aloud, preferring to turn them over quietly in her mind.


    Seedling nodded vigorously, her fox ears twitching with the memory. "Yeah, I actually thought I might not make it back to the sect! I ended up flying to the mountainside and running the rest of the way up to get help." Her purple eyes sparkled with curiosity as she tilted her head. "Did you somehow transfer your natural aura to me back then?"


    Flint''s brow furrowed deeper as she considered the question. "Maybe..." she replied slowly, her characteristic lazy drawl tinged with uncertainty. "But I honestly don''t know what happened."


    She fell into quiet contemplation, finding the whole situation increasingly peculiar. Should she tell Sage South Rain about this?


    Seedling''s fox tail swayed unconsciously, brushing through the air in gentle motions that made Flint''s fingers itch with the desire to touch it. As Seedling sat sideways on her bed, Flint carefully extended her hand toward her own legs, feeling the soft, fine fur of the fox tail whisper against her palm.


    "Your tail is beautiful," Flint commented, her words serving both to mask and acknowledge her actions in a characteristically ambiguous way.


    Seedling''s face lit up with pride, her fox ears perking up at the compliment. "Isn''t it? Everyone except Pierce and his stuck-up followers loves my fox ears and tail. They think they''re adorable!" She preened slightly, continuing with unabashed confidence, "And they find my purple eyes enchanting too. See how my pupils are vertical?"


    She leaned closer to Flint, allowing her to see the striking crystalline purple of her eyes with their distinctive fox-like pupils. The proximity made Flint suddenly think of Spark - his eyes weren''t vertical like this, were they? She made a mental note to ask him about it when he brought dinner later, though she wondered if she''d remember by then, given her tendency to let such thoughts drift away.


    "The wolf prince and you don''t really show your spiritual beast features much," Seedling mused, her own tail still swaying under Flint''s gentle touch. "I''ve seen other spiritual beasts with their ears out, but nobody seems to want to show their tails. Probably because they''d have to specially tailor their Celestial Sword Sect robes..." She shrugged, her fox ears twitching slightly. "The one I had tailored got torn up by that crazy cultivator''s branches..."


    "Mm..." Flint hummed absently, more focused on the silky sensation of Seedling''s tail fur beneath her fingers. She instinctively glossed over Seedling''s assumption that she was a spiritual beast - a misconception she found too troublesome to correct.


    After Seedling left, Flint sent a message to Sage South Rain by her jade tablet, requesting a visit when she had time. She needed to tell her about these strange occurrences. After all, Sage South Rain had been researching the peculiar phenomenon of Flint''s six Deficient element spirit roots. Now, with this newfound ability to use natural aura, things had become even more puzzling.


    "That Wind-Charm Fox girl seems to avoid Pierce entirely now..." Spark commented between bites, sharing his observations of the day''s events. His golden eyes held a hint of amusement despite his dignified posture in the chair.


    Flint found her gaze drawn to his perfectly human-looking ears. At Seedling''s earlier visit, she had been reminded of how different spiritual beasts chose to present themselves. Without her usual filter between thoughts and speech, she asked directly: "Why don''t you show your wolf ears?"


    The question hung in the air, making even the elegant third prince of Inferno Wolf pause mid-bite at the unexpected inquiry. Setting down his chopsticks with the precise, elegant movements that characterized his noble upbringing, he met Flint''s curious gaze, his golden eyes reflecting a momentary surprise at her sudden interest.


    "Ah... well... I suppose I don''t want them to know I''m a spiritual beast..." Spark answered hesitantly, his usual princely composure wavering slightly. The words came out awkwardly, a stark contrast to his typically elegant manner.


    "But they already know, little wolf prince," Flint said with a hint of amusement in her lazy drawl. Her casual use of Seedling''s nickname for him made the tips of his ears redden slightly.


    The endearing nickname flustered Spark visibly, causing him to adjust his perfectly arranged sleeves - a nervous habit that betrayed his noble upbringing even in moments of embarrassment.


    "I think they''re cute," Flint continued thoughtfully, "like Seedling''s fox ears are cute."


    "Oh." Spark''s response came out more curtly than he intended, and he quickly stuffed a mouthful of rice into his mouth to hide the strange flutter in his chest at hearing the word ''cute.'' His golden eyes fixed firmly on his bowl, carefully avoiding Flint''s gaze as he struggled to maintain his dignified demeanor while his heart did inexplicable somersaults.


    Watching Spark eat, Flint mechanically followed suit, though she had little natural inclination for eating. Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, she asked, "Are your pupils vertical? Are you deliberately making them round like humans now?"


    "Oh, that''s not it - wolves naturally have round pupils. You must be thinking of Seedling''s..." Spark lifted his gaze to answer, but his words trailed off as he found Flint''s face unexpectedly close to his, her eyes intently studying his.


    Like black obsidian set in gold, Flint thought to herself, examining his distinctive eyes.


    The sudden proximity sent Spark''s heart racing, and he turned his head away abruptly, swallowing hard. "Stop staring," he managed to say, his usual princely composure cracking slightly under her direct gaze.


    "Okay," Flint agreed readily, completely oblivious to his flustered state. Her characteristic straightforwardness meant she saw nothing unusual about their close encounter, while missing entirely the effect it had on her companion.


    Spark took another bite of his food, trying to steady his racing heart and restore his dignified demeanor, though the tips of his ears remained tellingly pink. Meanwhile, Flint had already moved on mentally, her attention drifting back to her earlier thoughts about natural aura, demonstrating her typical ability to shift focus without dwelling on potentially awkward moments.

 Chapter 15: Obsidian Snow and Dual Cultivation

    When Sage South Rain arrived the day after receiving Flint''s message, her typically serene expression softened with concern as she examined the wounds across Flint''s back. "These injuries are quite severe," she remarked, her usually composed voice tinged with gentle worry.


    Flint scratched her head casually. "It''s nothing really," she shrugged, though in truth, she couldn''t feel any pain - just an occasional phantom itch as the wounds healed. She recounted the encounter with the crazed cultivator, explaining how he had ultimately perished when his natural aura exploded, and how during the ordeal, she had stumbled upon some ways to use natural aura herself, even if she couldn''t quite control it yet. Throughout her account, Sage South Rain listened with characteristic stillness, her clear eyes focused and attentive.


    After finishing her story, Flint hesitated, her usual straightforward demeanor giving way to uncertainty. "When the Resentment Force entered my mind," she began, choosing her words carefully, "there was this sudden flash of white light, and in it, I think I saw... you."


    She fixed Sage South Rain with a questioning look as she spoke that last word. The reaction was subtle but unmistakable - surprise flickered across the Legend cultivator''s features, followed by something more complex that looked almost like... excitement? The emotion seemed to ripple beneath her calm exterior like a stone disturbing still waters.


    "You were wearing... rather tattered clothes. I reached out to you and said, ''Let''s go.'' Then... nothing else after that." Flint finished, waiting expectantly for Sage South Rain to fill in the blanks. Her mind quietly turned over the possibility that these fragments might be glimpses of her past life. Had she been the one to save Sage South Rain?


    A complex blend of emotions crossed Sage South Rain''s face as she gazed at Flint - joy and sorrow intertwined like two streams meeting. "It really is you," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "You''ve come back."


    She opened her mouth to continue but fell silent, seemingly trying to steady her slightly quickened breathing. The usually composed Legend cultivator appeared to be struggling to maintain her characteristic serenity.


    "Flint..." she began again, her clear eyes searching, "though I would rather call you Master Snow..." She watched Flint''s face intently, hoping for a flicker of recognition at the name. Finding only confusion in Flint''s blank expression, she let out a soft sigh. "Perhaps you haven''t remembered your previous name yet. Is that all you saw?"


    Flint contemplated whether to mention the vision of the Spark-like man embracing her, taking a fatal sword blow in her place. But after a moment''s consideration, she decided against it. The scene felt too nebulous, too intimate to share with someone who seemed to be her senior, regardless of their past connection. So she swallowed the memory and simply replied, "That''s all."


    The words felt heavy on her tongue, weighted with the unspoken truth she''d chosen to keep hidden. But something in her gut told her this wasn''t the right moment to reveal everything - some mysteries, she sensed, needed to unravel themselves in their own time.


    "I believe the past life you''ve been searching for... was Obsidian Snow. She was... executed by the Immortal Alliance about three hundred years ago." Sage South Rain''s voice carried an anger long buried, strikingly at odds with her usual serenity. "The reasons were complex - the Alliance accused her of many crimes. Slaughtering cultivators, soul absorption, harboring criminals... But the gravest charge was that your very existence caused anomalies in the natural order. They claimed killing you was necessary to beg heaven''s forgiveness."


    A cold smile played at the corners of her lips, an expression that seemed foreign on her typically gentle features. "But these were merely fabricated excuses," she continued, her words sharp with barely contained contempt. "The Immortal Alliance is nothing but a group of sanctimonious hypocrites."


    Flint nodded absently, though the information felt like pieces from a stranger''s puzzle. Everything she had heard about the Immortal Alliance from Spark painted them as the guardians of order and justice in the cultivation world. She couldn''t quite reconcile that image with Sage South Rain''s evident hatred for them. This Obsidian Snow must have meant a great deal to her, Flint mused, studying the unusual display of emotion from the normally composed Legend cultivator. The contradiction between what she knew and what she was hearing created a strange dissonance in her mind, like trying to overlap two mismatched paintings.


    Deep down, a part of her wondered if there was more to this story - more layers to peel back, more truths to uncover. But for now, she remained silent, watching the subtle play of emotions across Sage South Rain''s face, each one hinting at depths of history she had yet to understand.


    "That scene you witnessed - the person you reached out to was me. You took me away and became my master." A smile touched Sage South Rain''s lips, her expression softening as she seemed to drift into memories - bittersweet ones that carried both pain and tenderness.


    "Me? Your master?" Flint raised her eyebrows in genuine surprise. She had guessed she might have saved Sage South Rain in her past life, but this revelation took her aback. The idea that she had once been teacher to such an esteemed Legend cultivator seemed almost absurd. She studied Sage South Rain''s face with new curiosity, trying to imagine herself as this powerful woman''s mentor.


    "Yes." Sage South Rain nodded, her smile deepening with unmistakable fondness. There was something both familiar and strange in watching this usually composed Legend cultivator look at her with such warm reverence - like catching a glimpse of yourself in a mirror and seeing someone else''s reflection. The weight of their shared past hung in the air between them, though to Flint it felt like trying to remember a dream that kept slipping away.


    Flint felt strangely hollow as the answers she had so desperately sought finally materialized. Was this really the past life she had been chasing since her awakening - someone deemed a criminal? Spark''s influence had seeped into her thinking more than she''d realized: how could anyone condemned by the Immortal Alliance be anything but a villain? She wondered how Spark would react to learning about her past identity.


    Suddenly, her burning curiosity about her previous life began to fade. The goal that had driven her to the Celestial Sword Sect seemed to lose its luster, leaving an empty space where purpose had once been. It felt like reaching for something that kept dissolving between her fingers.


    "My past self... absorbed souls?" Flint picked out one of Obsidian Snow''s alleged crimes, but her mind wandered to the crazed cultivator who had killed mortals for their souls. Had she really committed the same atrocities? Then she remembered how that cultivator''s soul had somehow become part of her intangible force after his death, and her expression grew grave.


    "Impossible." Sage South Rain smiled at her with absolute certainty. "She spent much of her life fighting against the hypocritical Immortal Alliance, trying to stop their members from absorbing mortal souls."


    Flint''s mind reeled at the contradiction. How could members of the Immortal Alliance be absorbing souls when that was one of their own accusations? The pieces refused to fit together in her head.


    "But... wasn''t the Alliance trying to prevent soul absorption? You just said that was one of their charges against her..." Flint voiced her confusion.


    Sage South Rain''s expression turned contemplative. "By the time I met Master Snow, the Alliance had already reached an agreement with the Abyssal Pavilion to stay out of mortal realm conflicts and jointly hunt down any cultivators who absorbed souls for cultivation. She only mentioned to me that she had once accomplished this while risking persecution from the Alliance."


    "Um, about the Abyssal Pavilion... did I have some connection to them?" Flint asked, her confusion mounting. Each of Sage South Rain''s revelations seemed to spawn a dozen new questions, like ripples spreading across a pond.


    A fleeting sadness crossed Sage South Rain''s clear eyes. "''The Abyssal Pavilion provides refuge to all fallen souls in the world,''" she quoted softly, the words carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. "You were one of its founders, alongside The Bamboo Sovereign. Together, you established it as a sanctuary for those hunted by the Immortal Alliance. Even today, the Pavilion maintains that purpose..." She let out a gentle sigh, her voice tinged with melancholy. "Though The Bamboo Sovereign passed away two decades after your execution."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Flint felt the ground shifting beneath her feet. The Abyssal Pavilion - the same organization that Spark and others spoke of with such disdain - had been partially her creation? The irony wasn''t lost on her: here she was at the Celestial Sword Sect, while in another life she had helped build what was now considered its opposition. The revelation left her feeling oddly disconnected, as if she were simultaneously two different people occupying the same space - the confused disciple of the present and this mysterious founder from the past.


    A sanctuary for the hunted, she thought, turning the concept over in her mind. It sounded noble enough, yet something about it nagged at her. Perhaps it was the way such good intentions could twist into something darker over time, like a tree growing crooked from its original straight shoot. Or perhaps it was the growing realization that the world she thought she understood was far more complex than she had imagined.


    "So you were... Obsidian Snow''s disciple..." Flint stumbled slightly over the name, finding it strange to speak aloud what was supposedly her own past identity. "Then you must have originally belonged to... the Abyssal Pavilion."


    "Yes," Sage South Rain lowered her voice, using her natural aura to gently push the door closed. There was a steely determination in her tone as she continued, "I''m searching for answers."


    "Answers?" The vague response only added to Flint''s growing confusion.


    "About the true cause of the heavenly anomalies, why the Immortal Alliance was so determined to execute you, and..." Sage South Rain''s lips curved into a bitter smile, "the shadow government behind the Alliance... Though I''ve found that the more answers I seek, the more questions arise."


    Flint noticed how naturally Sage South Rain spoke of ''you'' when referring to Obsidian Snow, but she couldn''t quite make that same connection. In her mind, Obsidian Snow remained a historical figure of ambiguous morality, a stranger whose actions echoed through time - not herself. The disconnect between who she was now and who she had apparently been felt like trying to step into someone else''s shadow - the shape was there, but it didn''t quite fit.


    She couldn''t help but wonder if her dissatisfaction with her search for her past life was due to the fact that it now felt like a foreign identity, one that slightly repulsed her. The thought that she might have been someone so significant, so controversial, created a strange pressure in her chest, like trying to breathe underwater.


    Sage South Rain watched Flint''s conflicted expression, her own heart filling with complicated emotions. Her master had returned, yet not completely - she neither remembered everything nor seemed willing to accept that she had once been Obsidian Snow. The person before her was both familiar and strange, like looking at a beloved painting through frosted glass.


    Deciding to shift the conversation, she smiled gently. "You mentioned earlier that you could use natural aura?"


    The question pulled Flint from her tangled thoughts, and she nodded, grateful for the change in topic. "Though it doesn''t exactly obey me." She demonstrated by attempting to control the blanket with natural aura, just as she had shown Seedling before. The blanket remained stubbornly still, refusing to follow her gestures.


    Sage South Rain''s eyes took on a distant look as memories washed over her. "Master Snow also had Deficient spirit roots in all six elements..." A wistful smile played across her lips. "Though, I never thought to ask her how she managed to use natural aura. Strange, isn''t it? The questions we fail to ask until it''s too late."


    Flint felt a jolt at hearing another similarity between herself and Obsidian Snow. The revelation left her momentarily speechless - they really were alike, weren''t they? Her curiosity piqued, she found herself stumbling over the words, caught between past and present identities. "Was Obsidian Snow... was I... a powerful cultivator?" The question came out hesitantly, as if she were trying on an old piece of clothing, unsure if it still fit.


    The slight correction in her words didn''t escape Sage South Rain''s notice, and a subtle smile touched her lips. "Indeed. You reached the Deity level," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of pride mixed with reverence.


    The words hung in the air between them, heavy with significance. In the cultivation world, progress was marked by five distinct levels: Initiative, Adept, Master, Legend, and Deity. Each level was further divided into three stages - Early, Middle, and Late. The journey began at Early Initiative, achieved when one could first guide natural aura into their body through a Cultivation Method. Most of her fellow Outer Sect disciples who had joined around the same time as her had already reached the Initiative level, having successfully learned their first Cultivation Methods.


    However, Flint remained in an unusual position - without the ability to learn any Cultivation Method, she existed outside this established hierarchy entirely.


    The revelation that she had once achieved such heights left Flint feeling oddly hollow. Here she was, unable to even begin the journey of cultivation in the conventional sense, while her past self had apparently stood at the peak of power. The contrast felt almost cruel - like being told you once knew how to fly, only to find yourself earthbound with no memory of having wings.


    "Was it because of my six Deficient spirit roots that you thought I was Obsidian Snow''s reincarnation?" Flint asked, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and hesitation. The question had been nagging at her since the revelation of their shared trait.


    Sage South Rain''s gaze turned contemplative, her clear eyes seeming to look both at Flint and through her, into the depths of memory. "Actually, I wasn''t entirely certain at first," she admitted softly. "Since Obsidian Snow never reached The Great Perfection of Deity, I wasn''t sure if reincarnation was even possible for her..." A gentle smile touched her lips as she studied Flint''s features. "But when I first saw you, I knew. You look just like her."


    Flint met Sage South Rain''s gaze, finding herself caught in the intensity of the emotion she saw there. The Legend cultivator''s eyes held a complex tapestry of feelings - pride in who Flint had once been, nostalgia for times long past, and something deeper, more yearning, like someone who had found a precious treasure they thought forever lost. The weight of those expectations settled uncomfortably on Flint''s shoulders.


    She was acutely aware that she possessed only the outer shell of Sage South Rain''s master - a mere physical resemblance to Obsidian Snow, without any of the power or wisdom that had earned such devotion. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Here she was, wearing the face of a Deity-level cultivator while unable to even begin the most basic cultivation practices. It felt like an impostor wearing borrowed clothes, a cruel joke of fate that had given her the appearance but none of the substance of her previous life.


    "What a... coincidence indeed," Flint managed, her voice trailing off uncertainly. She could feel the weight of Sage South Rain''s expectations in her gaze - a burden she wasn''t ready to shoulder. The revelation of her past life felt like being handed an oversized coat; while it might have fit Obsidian Snow perfectly, it hung awkwardly on her present self.


    A soft thud interrupted her thoughts as someone tried to push open the door, only to find it unexpectedly closed. The sound echoed in the quiet room like a misplaced heartbeat. Usually, her door remained half-open throughout the day until Spark came to close it at night - a necessary arrangement since her broken leg left her unable to manage it herself. Her attempts at controlling natural aura were still too unreliable, so telekinesis remained frustratingly out of reach.


    "That''s... probably my friend coming to get me for dinner," Flint explained, grateful for the interruption. The timing felt like a lifeline thrown into increasingly deep waters.


    Sage South Rain nodded, her expression softening with understanding. "Flint," she began, choosing her words carefully, "perhaps I should keep calling you Flint, since that name seems more natural to you now." Her voice carried a gentle acceptance that seemed to lift some of the invisible weight from Flint''s shoulders. "I''ll help you find ways to recover your memories, and perhaps with them, the method of cultivation despite having six Deficient spirit roots. The path ahead won''t be easy, but you won''t walk it alone."


    The words hung in the air like a gentle mist, neither demanding nor pressing. Sage South Rain seemed to realize that perhaps she had placed too much pressure on Flint''s shoulders too soon - after all, discovering you were once a controversial Deity-level cultivator wasn''t exactly an easy revelation to digest over a single conversation.


    As Flint expressed her gratitude, Sage South Rain made her way to the door. Opening it, she found Spark standing in the doorway, his posture immediately shifting into a respectful bow as he greeted the Legend cultivator.


    Over dinner, Flint kept opening her mouth as if to speak, then closing it again, words seeming to evaporate before they could form. Spark noticed this dance of hesitation, her chopsticks hovering uncertainly over her bowl. He decided to break the awkward silence himself: "So... you were talking with Sage South Rain earlier?"


    He scolded himself inwardly, feeling the dullness of his conversation. A powerful member of the Inferno Wolf clan reduced to such banal chit-chat.


    Flint nodded, but the gesture only seemed to lead them into another conversational dead end. The silence stretched between them like an invisible wall, broken only by the soft clink of chopsticks against bowls. Finally, she gathered her courage and asked, "Do you know about Obsidian Snow?"


    "No," Spark replied flatly, taking another bite of rice. The casual dismissal of the name felt strangely jarring to Flint after Sage South Rain''s reverent mentions.Puzzled by the contrast, Flint pressed further: "What about the founders of the Abyssal Pavilion?"


    Spark''s brow furrowed in concentration, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he searched his memory. After a moment, his expression cleared. "I think I''ve heard of one - supposedly he was originally a bamboo spirit, known as The Bamboo Sovereign. Don''t know his real name though."


    His lips curved into a slight smile, eager to share their own sect''s history: "But I do know that the founder of the Celestial Sword Sect was called Blaze Mighty."


    Flint nodded absently, the information about Blaze Mighty sliding past her like water off a duck''s back. Her mind was busy piecing together a different puzzle - if Spark only knew of The Bamboo Sovereign, did that mean he had been more prominent in the Abyssal Pavilion''s history than Obsidian Snow? The thought left her with an odd mixture of relief and disappointment - relief that her past identity remained somewhat hidden, yet disappointment at being so thoroughly forgotten by history.


    Spark had actually come with something important to discuss, but seeing Flint''s hesitation, he''d let her speak first. Now he found himself sitting through what seemed like a random history lesson. After confirming that Flint had exhausted her questions, he finally steeled himself to voice the thought that had been consuming his mind all day:


    "Flint, would you like to practice dual cultivation with me?"


    "What''s ''dual cultivation''?" Flint stared at him with wide, innocent eyes, her confusion evident in her expression.


    Spark prepared himself to explain ''dual cultivation'' to Flint, though his knowledge was entirely secondhand. He only knew of it from stories within his clan - how male Inferno Wolf cultivators would share their natural aura with the Empress Mother during nighttime cultivation sessions. Since Flint couldn''t cultivate conventionally, and his own Transcendent spirit root allowed for rapid cultivation, he figured sharing his natural aura through dual cultivation would be the most efficient solution. It certainly seemed more reliable than Seedling''s wild idea about chasing wind.


    He cleared his throat, carefully choosing his words: "It means I transfer my natural aura to you, so you can advance your level by absorbing it."


    Flint''s brow furrowed slightly as she considered this. "But if I absorb your natural aura, what about you?"


    A note of pride crept into Spark''s voice: "I have a Transcendent spirit root - cultivation comes quickly to me. Sharing a bit won''t slow me down much." The moment the words left his mouth, he caught himself, wondering if boasting about his Transcendent-level spirit root might make Flint feel inferior about her own situation.


    But Flint showed no sign of discomfort. Instead, her expression turned thoughtful as she considered the practicality of his suggestion. Her mind wandered to what Sage South Rain had revealed - that her previous incarnation had been a Deity-level cultivator who''d faced formidable opponents. While she couldn''t be certain if similar challenges awaited her in this life, the need to build her strength felt undeniable.


    She nodded, her decision made. "Alright," she said simply. "Thank you, Spark." The words were few, but the gratitude in them was genuine, making Spark''s heart skip a beat despite himself.

 Chapter 16: A Princes Patience

    The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cliff face as Spark pointed toward a cluster of delicate flowers swaying in the breeze. The blossoms, known as Moonlight''s Whisper, grew in small patches along the rocky ledge, their pearl-white petals tinged with a subtle purple blush at the edges.


    "There," Spark said, his golden eyes fixed on the flowers. "Those are the ones my eldest brother said would help with Flint''s cultivation progress." He spoke with the composed certainty of someone repeating his elder brother''s words without quite understanding their implications.


    Seedling''s fox ears twitched with barely contained amusement as she edged closer to the cliff''s periphery. Her white ponytail danced in the wind, and she cast a knowing glance at her friend. "Moonlight''s Whisper, hmm? Your brother certainly seems... knowledgeable about these things."


    A slight flush colored Spark''s cheeks, though his aristocratic bearing remained intact. "Azure said they''re traditional for important cultivation practices," he explained, his tone carrying all the innocence of a younger sibling trusting his elder brother''s guidance.


    "Of course, of course," Seedling replied, her purple eyes twinkling with mischief. She took another step backward, feeling the familiar caress of the wind against her skin. As a Wind-Charm Fox, she could sense the approaching breeze like an old friend.


    "Just remember to thank me when Flint appreciates your... traditional practice." Seedling said with a playful tune.


    Spark''s brow furrowed slightly. "Why wouldn''t she? Azure said¡ª" He paused as Seedling let out a melodious laugh that echoed off the cliff face.


    "Oh, my dear wolf prince," she said, her tail swishing with undisguised glee, "your brother has quite the sense of humor."


    "Oh, but before that¡ª" Seedling''s voice trailed off as she bounded away, her white robes fluttering behind her as she searched for the perfect takeoff point. Her movements were light and purposeful, each step carrying her further from Spark''s immediate view until she became little more than a distant silhouette against the


    landscape.


    Spark watched, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as the valley winds began to pick up. In a heartbeat, Seedling''s form reappeared high above, her Celestial Sword Sect robes billowing white against the azure sky. She moved with the practiced grace of someone who had long since learned to dance with the wind, drawing closer to the delicate blooms with each passing moment. With a quick, fluid motion, she plucked a single flower from its precarious perch, before the wind carried her away along the cliff face. Moments later, she came trotting back, the Moonlight''s Whisper held carefully between her fingers.


    Spark examined the solitary blossom with a slight furrow in his brow. "We should gather a few more," he said, his aristocratic demeanor doing little to mask the underlying uncertainty in his voice.


    "You do realize each flower grows at a different height, right?" Seedling responded, brushing a stray strand of white hair from her face. Though her words carried a note of complaint, her purple eyes sparkled with barely contained amusement. "It''s not exactly a simple matter of flying up and picking them at will." She twirled the flower between her fingers, her fox tail swishing with barely contained energy. "I have to work with whatever height the wind takes me to."


    Her tone was teasing rather than truly annoyed ¨C after all, she had her own reasons for wanting to help with Spark''s rather transparent attempt at gathering flowers for Flint. The obvious nature of his brother''s "traditional cultivation practice" suggestion only made it all the more endearing.


    The dance between wind and fox continued along the cliff face, though not every leap yielded success. Seedling bounded upward, letting the wind carry her parallel to the rocky wall. Her white robes billowed as she glided past several clusters of Moonlight''s Whisper, the currents taking her too high or too low to reach them.


    "Of course," she called out as the wind swept her further down the cliff face, her voice growing distant. Moments later, they could hear her footsteps approaching as she jogged back along the narrow path, her fox tail swaying with each step. "The wind decides where I go, not the other way around."


    Another attempt sent her soaring along the cliff''s contours, white hair streaming behind her like a banner. Her fingers grazed the edge of a flower''s stem, but the distance was just a bit too great. The wind carried her away once more, and Spark watched as her figure grew smaller against the rocky backdrop before disappearing around a bend.


    "You''d think," she said, slightly breathless as she trotted back, her sect robes dusty from the well-worn path, "that after all this time, I''d have better control." Despite her words, her purple eyes sparkled with the thrill of the challenge.


    This time, when she leapt, the wind guided her true. Her fingers closed around a delicate stem as she glided past, and several minutes later she returned triumphantly with the fifth flower for Spark''s collection. Each successful grab was preceded by three or four failed attempts, each ending with her being carried far along the cliff face before making the long trek back.


    After securing the sixth flower ¨C and at least a dozen missed attempts ¨C Seedling approached for the final time, her usual bouncing step notably subdued. "That should be plenty," she said, brushing back a few windswept strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. Her purple eyes crinkled with barely contained mirth as she regarded Spark. "Unless... you don''t actually know how many you need?"


    Spark maintained his princely composure, though a slight tension in his jaw betrayed his uncertainty. "This will suffice," he declared with all the authority he could muster, which only made Seedling''s knowing smile widen. "We should head back."


    As they began their descent, Spark''s golden eyes swept across the precarious cliffsides where the flowers grew. His thoughts drifted to the stark contrast between these treacherous peaks and his homeland, where the same delicate blooms sprouted freely across the barren wasteland of the Inferno Wolves'' territory. There, gathering them was as simple as taking a leisurely stroll.


    "Strange," he murmured, more to himself than to Seedling, "how the same flower chooses such different homes." His fingers unconsciously adjusted their grip on the gathered blossoms, protecting them from the persistent mountain winds.


    The journey back was filled with contemplative silence as Spark carefully cradled the Moonlight''s Whisper flowers. His thoughts turned to the next step - crafting these delicate blooms into incense pellets. Almost instinctively, his feet carried him toward the Azure Cloud Alchemy Palace, where Asher, his fellow Outer Sect disciple, could often be found hunched over various concoctions.


    Spark had always maintained an amiable relationship with his fellow disciples in the Outer Sect, perhaps because he''d learned to keep his spiritual beast features well-concealed. They treated him as simply another cultivator, not as the wolf prince he truly was.


    His golden eyes drifted to Seedling, who walked ahead with an unmistakable spring in her step, her white fox tail swishing freely behind her. Unlike him, she wore her spiritual beast nature like a badge of honor - and surprisingly, many seemed drawn to her authenticity. Just the other day, a male disciple had approached Spark, seeking advice about confessing his feelings to her.


    Those fools, Spark had thought then, his aristocratic features settling into a familiar mask of disdain. What spiritual beast would want to be with a human?


    But now, that thought caught in his throat as Flint''s image rose unbidden in his mind. He faltered mid-step, his certainty crumbling like autumn leaves. The irony hit him like a sudden strike.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Do I... like Flint? The thought whispered through his mind, soft yet insistent. His first instinct was to deny it, to push it away with the same efficiency he applied to all emotional uncertainties. But for once, his usual analytical approach failed him - he couldn''t find a single logical reason to dismiss these feelings.


    Very well then, he conceded to himself, his jaw tightening slightly. If I can''t deny it, let''s examine it properly. His mind began categorizing the problems with his typical methodical precision.


    First: She was human, and he was an Inferno Wolf. Cross-species relationships were unheard of in all his studies of cultivation history.


    Second: Her spirit roots were Deficient in all six elements, requiring constant Dual Cultivation sessions where he shared his natural aura. The gap between their cultivation levels would only widen with time, their lifespans diverging like parallel paths.


    Third: During their shared meals, she remained distant, barely responding to his attempts at conversation. His carefully chosen topics often met with nothing more than noncommittal hums.


    Therefore, the logical conclusion is... Spark''s thought process stalled, his usual decisiveness deserting him. The familiar scent of medicinal herbs wafting from the Azure Cloud Alchemy Palace interrupted his internal debate. He looked up to find himself at its entrance, where wisps of multicolored smoke curled from the windows.


    Through one of them, he could see Asher''s familiar silhouette bent over a cultivation furnace, completely absorbed in his alchemy work. The sight grounded Spark back in the present moment, though the unfinished analysis lingered in his mind like an unsolved puzzle.


    "Seedling," Spark called out to her retreating form, his voice carrying the measured tone of nobility despite his inner turmoil. "I''m heading inside. Farewell."


    Seedling turned, her white ponytail catching the late afternoon light. Her fox ears perked up as she offered a playful wave, purple eyes twinkling with that ever-present mischief. "Until next time, my brooding wolf prince," she called back, her voice carrying on the wind before she disappeared around a corner of the Azure Cloud Alchemy Palace.


    Inside, Spark found Asher hunched over his alchemy furnace, his movements precise as he adjusted various medicinal ingredients. "Asher," he said softly, careful not to startle his fellow disciple, "could you craft these into incense pellets when you have a moment?"


    Without disturbing Asher''s concentration further, Spark stepped back outside, seeking solitude for his thoughts. He settled on the stone steps leading to the palace entrance, his aristocratic posture unchanged even in this informal setting. Usually, he might have stayed to exchange cultivation insights with Asher. But today, that persistent question echoed in his mind, demanding his full attention: Do I truly harbor feelings for Flint?


    The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the courtyard as Spark attempted to interrogate his own heart with the same precision he applied to his cultivation practices. However, his methodical analysis was suddenly interrupted by an unexpected greeting.


    "Hello? Are you Spark?" The voice carried a gentle curiosity.


    Looking up, Spark''s golden eyes met the gaze of a stranger whose appearance immediately caught his attention. The newcomer possessed distinctive hound-like ears, a clear sign of spiritual beast lineage like himself. They were perched atop jet-black hair that shimmered with hints of purple in the fading sunlight. Most striking was the eclipse-like mark on his forehead, its outer edge gleaming with a subtle luminescence. His large, amber-gold eyes held an almost puppy-like quality that seemed at odds with his elegant bearing.


    "Yes, is there something I can help you with?" Spark replied, his cultivated politeness seamlessly masking any inner reservations. Though he had only spent about a month in the Celestial Sword Sect, he had quickly adapted to maintaining cordial relationships with his fellow disciples, a habit that extended even to this unexpected encounter with another spiritual beast.


    Nightbane''s face brightened with a disarmingly earnest smile, revealing slightly pointed canines that caught the dying sunlight. "Ah, hello! I''m Nightbane," he introduced himself, his large amber-gold eyes reflecting an almost puppyish enthusiasm that seemed at odds with his elegant bearing. "I heard that a few days ago, you rescued a female disciple and carried her back while she was covered in blood. I was wondering how she''s doing now?"


    Something shifted in Spark''s golden eyes ¨C a barely perceptible narrowing that spoke of sudden vigilance. The information about Flint''s rescue was incorrect, but that detail seemed far less important than the question that now burned in his mind: Why was this stranger inquiring about Flint? His aristocratic features remained perfectly composed, yet beneath that careful mask, his thoughts raced with newfound wariness.


    Nightbane, still wearing his guileless expression, seemed oblivious to the subtle change in Spark''s demeanor. His black hound ears twitched slightly in anticipation of a response, and the eclipse-like mark on his forehead seemed to pulse faintly with the movement of his expressions.


    "She was severely injured and taken outside the Celestial Sword Sect for treatment - probably to Crimson Aurora Valley," Spark replied smoothly, the lie rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. He had chosen the location deliberately; Crimson Aurora Valley was renowned for its elixir crafting, similar to but more specialized than the work done in the Azure Cloud Alchemy Palace. The detail lent his fabrication a veneer of plausibility.


    Nightbane nodded, then casually settled himself on the stone steps beside Spark, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. The uninvited proximity sent a wave of distaste through Spark''s body, though his aristocratic bearing remained unchanged.


    "Do you know her name?" Nightbane pressed, his large amber-gold eyes still fixed on Spark with unwavering interest. Each word was accompanied by a slight tilt of his head, his jet-black hair shifting to reveal more clearly the glimpses of his hound ears.


    This person... this dog is truly annoying, Spark thought, though his aristocratic features betrayed nothing of his irritation. "Her name is Flint," he answered truthfully, reasoning that denying knowledge of her name would seem suspicious given that he had supposedly carried her to safety. Besides, it wasn''t exactly privileged information - Pierce had called out her name in the dining hall during his public mockery of her deficient spirit roots.


    The eclipse-like mark on Nightbane''s forehead seemed to shimmer faintly as he absorbed this information, his hound ears perking forward with evident interest. The innocent, almost puppyish quality of his expression remained unchanged.


    Nightbane leaned forward, his amber-gold eyes bright with curiosity. "Do you know anything else about her?"


    Why won''t this dog just leave? The thought flashed through Spark''s mind, his irritation mounting despite his carefully maintained composure. "No," he replied curtly, the lie coming easily. "I merely happened to pass by and, seeing her gravely injured, offered assistance."


    Nightbane nodded slowly. He recalled only fragments of that day - the crazed cultivator exploding before Flint''s eyes, and then nothing clear after that. Perhaps Spark had indeed simply been passing by, discovered her injuries, and brought her back to the sect.


    "Would you like to have dinner together tonight?" Nightbane''s voice carried a hopeful note. He hesitated for a moment before adding, "I heard... you''re also a spiritual beast."


    "Though you''ve taken care to manifest human ears," he continued, edging closer to examine Spark''s features. The wolf prince immediately recoiled, shifting his body away with precise, deliberate movement that maintained his dignified bearing even in retreat.


    "Thank you for the invitation, but I have prior commitments this evening." Spark''s response was swift and decisive, his tone clinging to the last threads of courtesy. The sooner he could distance himself from this peculiar hound, the better.


    His golden eyes fixed on a point in the distance, a clear signal that the conversation was over, though Nightbane seemed either oblivious to or unconcerned by the dismissal.


    "Well, since there''s still some time before dinner, and you''re waiting for someone in the Azure Cloud Alchemy Palace..." Nightbane inched closer again, his shoulder almost brushing against Spark''s. "Why don''t we chat for a while?"


    I! DON''T! WANT! TO! Spark''s internal roar contrasted sharply with his outward composure, though he allowed his features to settle into an unmistakably cold expression. Yet he remained rooted in place - he genuinely needed to wait for Asher to finish crafting those incense pellets.


    "I actually joined the Celestial Sword Sect a few years before you," Nightbane continued, completely ignoring Spark''s obvious displeasure. His tail swayed slightly as he spoke, each movement bringing him incrementally closer. "Back then, the sect didn''t accept spiritual beasts as disciples. I could only join as a Bloodbound Beast after my master, Sage Mortius Crane, formed a Blood Contract with me." He paused, his large amber-gold eyes reflecting the dying sunlight. "Though if I were joining this year, I could have entered directly as a disciple, just like you."


    Spark maintained his frigid expression, trying to mentally block out the endless chatter beside him. But Nightbane''s voice continued to penetrate his attempted barrier of indifference.


    "But I don''t regret it at all," Nightbane''s smile carried an almost childlike sincerity, his large amber-gold eyes brightening as he spoke about his master. The eclipse-like mark on his forehead seemed to shimmer with his enthusiasm. "Sage Mortius Crane is an exceptional cultivator. He''s not just my master, but also my teacher. I''ve learned so much from him - I respect him deeply."


    Will you ever stop talking? Can''t you see I have zero interest in this conversation? Spark''s internal frustration mounted, though his only outward response was a cold "Mm," his golden eyes deliberately fixed on the distant horizon. His aristocratic posture remained perfect even as he struggled with the urge to simply get up and leave, his fingers unconsciously tightening against the stone step beneath them.


    "I heard you have a Transcendent spirit root - that''s amazing!" Nightbane''s tail wagged slightly with excitement as he steered the conversation toward Spark. "They say someone with a Transcendent spirit root can choose an elder directly as their Master for guidance. Who did you pick?"


    Spark''s distaste had reached such a peak that even this praise failed to please him. "Sage North Thunder," he replied with a sideways glance at Nightbane, his voice carrying all the warmth of a midwinter frost.


    "Sage North Thunder!" Nightbane''s large amber-gold eyes lit up, the eclipse-like mark on his forehead seeming to pulse with his enthusiasm. "I heard he was the one who advocated for allowing spiritual beasts to join the Celestial Sword Sect. And now in the very same year, he gets such a talented disciple - what a wonderful twist of fate!"


    "Indeed," Spark responded flatly, his monosyllabic answer carrying all the engagement of a stone wall. His golden eyes remained fixed ahead, his aristocratic bearing becoming more rigid with each passing moment, as if he could somehow distance himself from this conversation through sheer posture alone.


    Suddenly, Asher''s voice cut through the air from behind them, emerging from the Azure Cloud Alchemy Palace.


    "Spark, I wasn''t sure about the dosage, so¡ª"


    Before Asher could finish his sentence, Spark sprang to his feet with unprecedented swiftness. In one fluid motion, he grabbed Asher''s arm and practically dragged him in the direction of the dining hall, not sparing even a farewell glance at Nightbane.


    Behind them, Nightbane cheerfully waved goodbye to their retreating figures, his large amber-gold eyes following their hasty departure.


    "So I... turned them... into... one large... pill," Asher managed to gasp out between breaths as they ran, finally completing his interrupted explanation.


    When they finally came to a stop, Asher bent over slightly, catching his breath. "Why did we suddenly start running?" he asked, bewilderment clear in his voice as he straightened up.


    "There was an extremely annoying dog," Spark replied through gritted teeth, taking deep breaths as if trying to exhale his accumulated irritation. His usually perfect composure showed hairline cracks, his golden eyes still carrying traces of the frustration he''d been suppressing throughout the entire conversation.


    He ran his fingers through his slightly disheveled hair, attempting to restore his aristocratic appearance. The abrupt dash was not very princely, but at that moment, he''d found it preferable to enduring another second of Nightbane''s earnest attempts at friendship.

 Chapter 17: Moonlights Whisper

    The incense pellet made from Moonlight''s Whisper settled into the burner with a soft clink. Spark''s fingers lingered for a moment before withdrawing, watching as the first wisps of silvery smoke began to curl upward. The scent was subtle at first¡ªhints of moonflower and night-blooming jasmine¡ªbut it grew steadily stronger, filling the quiet chamber with its ethereal fragrance.


    Behind him, Flint lay on her stomach, her injured leg secured in wooden splints. The sight of the careful bandaging made something in his chest tighten. He''d seen her endure the pain without complaint, maintaining that characteristic calm even as the healer had set the bone. Now, she waited quietly as he settled himself cross-legged behind her, his movements measured and deliberate.


    "Are you comfortable?" he asked, his voice carrying that hint of nobility that seemed woven into every word he spoke. When she nodded, he placed his hands gently on her shoulder blades, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her inner robes.


    The incense smoke drifted between them, and Spark felt an unfamiliar warmth beginning to spread through his chest. His thoughts, usually so ordered and precise, began to scatter like autumn leaves in a breeze. The scent was... different than he''d expected. More potent. More intimate.


    His golden eyes fixed on a point in the distance as his mind wandered to the questions that had been haunting him. The stark reality of their differences pressed against his consciousness like a physical weight. He was a wolf of the Inferno Pack¡ªa prince, no less¡ªand she was human. The gap in their potential lifespans stretched before him like an unbridgeable chasm. Even now, as he prepared to share his spiritual energy with her through dual cultivation, he couldn''t ignore the fact that her inability to cultivate would always keep them in different worlds.


    The smoke curled around them both now, and Spark found his thumbs moving in small circles against her shoulder blades of their own accord. His heightened senses caught the slight quickening of her breath, and it sent an unexpected shiver down his spine. The scent of the Moonlight''s Whisper seemed to intensify, making his head swim slightly.


    "Flint," he started, then paused, uncharacteristically uncertain. The words he''d been turning over in his mind for days seemed to dissolve on his tongue. How could he express his concerns when he wasn''t even sure of his own heart? Her apparent indifference to him should have made things simpler, and yet...


    "What is it?" Flint asked, her voice carrying that characteristic steadiness that had first drawn him to her. She turned her head slightly, just enough that he caught a glimpse of her profile in the smoke-laden air.


    Spark swallowed, his noble bearing momentarily faltering. "Nothing. We should begin." The words came out more clipped than he''d intended, betraying the tumult beneath his carefully maintained exterior. He focused on channeling his natural aura, feeling it pool in his arms like liquid moonlight.


    As his energy began to flow into Flint through his palms, the Moonlight''s Whisper incense seemed to wrap around his senses like silk. Each breath brought a new wave of that intoxicating fragrance, and with it, a deepening of the strange yearning in his chest. His thoughts began to drift, like leaves scattered on a spring stream.


    He found himself remembering that terrible day¡ªFlint is drenched in blood, her features contorted with agony. The memory of gathering her into his arms, feeling her warmth even through the blood-soaked robes, sent an unexpected tremor through his hands. Back then, he hadn''t questioned his actions, hadn''t stopped to consider the appropriateness of holding her in his. He''d simply acted, driven by an instinct he still couldn''t fully comprehend.


    The Moonlight''s Whisper incense was making his head swim, reminding him of a distant memory. He was ten again, sitting cross-legged on smooth wooden floors as his brother Oleander produced bottles of spirit wine with a conspiratorial grin. Little Luna, only seven then, had giggled as she sipped from cups far too large for her small hands. The memory sharpened: Azure storming in, his face thunderous, lecturing them about responsibility and proper behavior. But it was their Empress Mother''s reaction that had cut deepest¡ªnot the anger itself, but the way her gaze had barely touched him before fixing solely on Luna.


    Of course she would focus on Luna¡ªher precious daughter, the one who could potentially inherit the throne. The Inferno Wolves needed a female heir, after all, and Spark had known since childhood that his birth, before his mother had produced a daughter, held little significance to her.


    The bitter memory dissolved as Spark noticed something wrong with his natural aura flow. His natural aura, which should have been flowing smoothly into Flint''s inner sea, seemed to hit an invisible wall. He narrowed his golden eyes, fighting through the strange haziness that had nothing to do with wine. His fingers pressed harder against her shoulder blades, the sudden force causing Flint to pitch forward slightly before catching herself.


    "What''s happening?" he muttered, the words coming out thick and confused. Was he questioning the strange lightness in his head, or the unexpected resistance to his natural aura? Even he wasn''t sure anymore. The incense smoke continued its lazy dance around them, and Spark found himself swaying slightly, his usual precise control slipping through his fingers like morning mist.


    His thumbs dug into the junction between Flint''s shoulder blades, his noble bearing momentarily forgotten as frustration crept in. The resistance remained stubbornly in place, like a door that refused to yield no matter how hard he pushed. He struggled to concentrate, his thoughts constantly scattering like the ripples on the lake surface striked by a peddle as the Moonlight''s Whisper filled his mind with a hazy fog.


    "I don''t know why, but my natural aura... it seems unable to enter your inner sea," Spark managed to articulate, his voice thick with effort as he slowly lowered his hands. The silver smoke from the incense burner continued its hypnotic dance around them, and he found himself swaying slightly closer to Flint. His golden eyes fixed on the pale curve of her shoulder where her inner robes had slipped, revealing a strip of alabaster skin.


    A foreign heat coursed through his veins, bringing with it an unfamiliar urge that made his fangs ache. He wanted to¡ªno, needed to¡ªtrace that exposed skin with his teeth, not to hurt but to claim. To leave a mark that would say she was his.


    His body moved of its own accord, drawing closer until he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. His breathing had grown quick and uneven, each exhale ghosting across her shoulder in warm puffs that made the fine hairs on her neck stand on end.


    Flint''s brow furrowed slightly, her mind still clear despite the intoxicating fragrance that seemed to have such a profound effect on Spark. The incense that had reduced the proud wolf prince to this state barely touched her consciousness, allowing her thoughts to remain sharp and analytical.


    "It''s fine," she said after a moment of consideration, her voice steady and pragmatic. "There must be other methods." The words hung in the air between them, and she wasn''t sure if she was reassuring him or herself.


    Using her arms for support, she twisted around to face him¡ªand froze. Spark''s face was mere inches from hers, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. His breath fell hot against her skin, and in that moment, he looked every bit the spiritual beast he truly was. Gone was the carefully maintained noble bearing, replaced by something far more primal and raw.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    A shimmer of magic rippled through the air as Spark''s wolf ears materialized, dark and velvety against his gray-black hair. He lowered his head, bringing his face closer to Flint''s. His voice carried an unusual playfulness, honeyed and slightly slurred from the incense''s effects.


    "You said before... that the wolf ears were cute, didn''t you?" The words carried an almost musical lilt, so different from his usual measured tones.


    Flint''s analytical mind tried to process this sudden shift in Spark''s demeanor. Something felt off¡ªthe closeness between them, the haziness in his golden eyes, the uncharacteristic warmth in his voice. Wasn''t this the same wolf prince who usually maintained such careful distance? She hesitated, studying his face with quiet curiosity before finally responding with a soft "Mm."


    "Touch them," Spark murmured, his request carrying an almost childlike pleading that seemed entirely at odds with his noble bearing. The silver smoke from the incense burner continued its lazy dance around them, wreathing his figure in ethereal light.


    "Alright." Flint shifted carefully, mindful of her splinted leg as she turned to face him more fully. The movement brought them even closer, and she had to lean on her left hand for balance. Her right hand emerged from the narrow space between them, reaching up to where his wolf ears twitched slightly in anticipation.


    Her fingers found the coarse yet fluffy fur, each strand thick and wild beneath her touch. Despite their rough texture, there was something endearing about the way the dark fur bristled and flattened as she gently scratched and rubbed in small circles. The ears themselves were warm and alive under her fingertips, twitching occasionally at her ministrations.


    As Flint''s fingers continued their gentle exploration of his ears, Spark''s right arm suddenly snaked around her waist. In one fluid motion, he pulled her against him, the movement swift yet surprisingly gentle despite his incense-addled state. Her back pressed firmly against his chest, and through the thin fabric of their robes, she could feel the thundering of his heart¡ªa rapid, almost frantic rhythm that seemed to echo through her own body.


    The warmth radiating from his chest was almost overwhelming, seeping through her robes and into her skin like summer sunshine. His breathing came in short, heated puffs against her neck, each exhale sending tiny shivers down her spine. The wolf ears beneath her fingers twitched and flattened, betraying an agitation that his carefully controlled expression usually concealed.


    "What''s wrong?" Flint''s hand stilled its movements, her fingers still buried in the coarse fur of his ears. She found herself awkwardly wedged between his arm and his head, which now rested heavily on her left shoulder. The position was intimate yet somewhat uncomfortable, like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong spot.


    "Flint, can we¡­ can we¡­ have" Spark''s words came out thick and slurred, like honey dripping from a spoon. The rest of his request died on his tongue as a moment of clarity pierced through the incense-induced haze. His noble upbringing reasserted itself just enough to stop him from voicing thoughts that might bring regret in the clear light of day.


    He bit his tongue sharply, the sudden pain cutting through the fog like a blade through silk. "Flint, I feel... dizzy," he managed, his usual precise diction blurring at the edges. His head dropped lower, nuzzling against the curve of her neck in slow, languorous movements. The silken strands of her hair tickled his face as he moved, and Flint couldn''t suppress a slight shiver as his breath ghosted across her skin.


    The fragrance hanging in the air began to affect Flint too, wrapping around her thoughts like gossamer threads. It brought a pleasant heaviness to her limbs and a gentle fog to her mind, making her eyelids droop slightly. "Is it because of this incense?" she murmured, the words coming out slower than usual.


    The moment the question left her lips, clarity struck like lightning through the haze. Everything clicked into place¡ªSpark''s strange behavior, his unusual loss of control, his uncharacteristic intimacy. Could the incense be... an aphrodisiac? But why would Spark deliberately light something like that?


    "Spark, why did you light this incense?" she asked, her analytical mind pushing through the pleasant fog.


    But Spark seemed beyond hearing. His arms tightened around her like iron bands wrapped in silk, his voice a heated whisper against her skin. "Flint... Flint... I want..." The words trailed off into something unintelligible, heavy with unspoken desire.


    Realizing she needed to act, Flint began working her way out of his embrace. It wasn''t easy¡ªhis arms were strong, and his wolf instincts seemed to make him reluctant to let go. Finally breaking free, she hopped awkwardly on her good leg toward the incense burner, the wooden splint on her injured leg making each movement a careful balance.


    Reaching the burner, she grasped the still-burning incense pellet without hesitation. Though it smoldered against her skin, she showed no sign of discomfort¡ªpain had always been more of a distant acquaintance than an enemy to her.


    Turning back, she saw Spark slumped against the wall by the bed, his golden eyes unfocused and dreamy. "Flint, where did you go?" His voice carried a note of longing that made something flutter in her chest.


    I''m right here, she answered silently, her expression softening for just a moment.


    Hopping to the window, she threw it open with her free hand. The winter wind rushed in like an eager guest, dispersing the silver mist of the Moonlight''s Whisper. With a determined thrust, she tossed the incense pellet out into the night. It caught the moonlight as it fell, trailing wisps of silver smoke before disappearing down the slope below.


    As the silver mist of Moonlight''s Whisper dissipated, carried away by the crisp winter breeze, Spark''s golden eyes slowly regained their focus. The hazy dreamscape that had enveloped his mind began to recede like morning fog before the rising sun. He blinked rapidly, each flutter of his eyelashes seeming to clear away another layer of the intoxicating fog.


    The first thing he became aware of was the cold. The open window had allowed the winter night to creep into the room, its icy fingers trailing along his skin and making him shiver. His wolf ears twitched, catching the faint whisper of wind through bare branches and the distant cry of a night bird.


    As his senses sharpened, memory flooded back in fragments. The warmth of Flint''s skin beneath his hands. The intoxicating scent of the incense. The burning desire that had coursed through his veins like liquid fire. Each recollection brought with it a wave of mortification that colored his cheeks a deep crimson.


    His gaze darted around the room, finally settling on Flint. She stood by the window, silhouetted against the star-strewn sky, her long black hair stirring gently in the breeze. The sight of her made his heart clench with a mixture of shame and longing.


    "Flint," he started, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, trying to summon the poise that befitted his noble lineage. "I... I owe you an explanation."


    Flint turned from the window, her lips curved in an amused smile as she observed his flustered state. There was something endearing about seeing the usually composed wolf prince so discomfited. She leaned against the windowsill, the winter breeze playing with loose strands of her hair.


    "Oh?" Her simple response carried a wealth of meaning, the single syllable somehow managing to sound both curious and teasing. The moonlight streaming through the window caught the subtle quirk of her eyebrow.


    "I... I didn''t know about the incense..." Spark swallowed hard, the words ''aphrodisiac effects'' dying in his throat. His mind raced through the events of the past hour, desperately trying to recall if he''d said anything truly mortifying. The memories were frustratingly hazy, like trying to catch smoke with bare hands.


    His golden eyes fixed on a point just past her shoulder, unable to meet her steady gaze. "It was... Azure, my elder brother, he told me it would aid in dual cultivation." His voice grew progressively quieter, trailing off into something barely above a whisper. A new thought struck him, making his ears flatten against his head - perhaps he should start questioning his brother''s supposedly helpful suggestions.


    A memory flickered through Spark''s mind - Azure at Spark¡¯s twelve, his casual words now taking on a darker meaning: "These flowers are used to make incense pellets for dual cultivation." What if it hadn''t been information, but a warning? The implications about the Empress Mother''s dual cultivation practices made his blood run cold. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Spark lowered his head, cold sweat beading on his forehead as the realization washed over him like ice water.


    "Flint... I... I''m sorry..." His voice trembled slightly, words failing him as shame and horror twisted together in his chest. The proud wolf prince seemed to shrink into himself, his usual noble bearing crumbling like autumn leaves.


    The soft thump of Flint''s uneven steps drew his attention. She was making her way toward him, one hand braced against the wall for support. Spark rose instinctively, his body moving before his mind could catch up, but the short distance between window and bed meant Flint had already reached the bedside. As she steadied herself against the bedpost, Spark''s hand found hers in an unconscious gesture of support, the touch feeling as natural as breathing.


    The moment stretched between them like spun sugar before Spark jerked his hand away as if burned, suddenly aware of how casually intimate he''d become with touching her. He circled around her with careful steps to close the window, the latch clicking shut with a soft finality.


    Behind him, Flint had settled on the bed''s edge, awkwardly trying to maneuver her splinted leg into a comfortable position. Without thinking, Spark strode back to help, lifting her injured leg onto the bed with gentle efficiency. Then, as if trying to restore some semblance of propriety, he pulled a chair to the bedside and sat down, his movements stiff with self-consciousness.


    The silvery moonlight painted shadows across Spark''s downturned face, and despite being the one who had been potentially taken advantage of, Flint felt an unexpected urge to comfort the dejected wolf before her. He looked so different from his usual proud, noble self - more like a repentant pup than a prince of the Inferno Wolf Pack.


    She reached out, her hand hovering uncertainly in the space between them. Her fingers barely brushed against his gray-black hair, falling short of reaching his wolf ears. The silken strands slipped through her fingers like water as she gave his hair a gentle, almost tentative stroke.


    "It''s alright," she said simply, the words falling soft and steady in the quiet room. The words felt inadequate somehow, but comfort had never been her strong suit. For someone who could analyze complex situations with ease, the intricacies of emotional reassurance often left her at a loss for words.


    The slight tremor in Spark''s shoulders stilled at her touch, though he kept his golden eyes fixed firmly on the floor, as if the wooden planks held some fascinating secret. The distance between the chair and bed meant her gentle gesture could only reach the very tips of his hair, the brief contact like butterfly wings against silk.


    Watching the silent Spark, Flint decided to change the subject. "Could you give me your hand?" she asked suddenly.

 Chapter 18: The Hounds Visit

    "My hand?" The request pulled Spark''s gaze back to Flint. Without hesitation, he extended his hand toward her, his movements carrying that inherent grace that marked his noble upbringing.


    Flint took his hand in hers, her grip gentle yet assured. Something about her touch seemed to settle the unease in Spark''s heart. The memories that had surfaced in the Moonlight''s Whisper''s haze - those painful recollections of being overlooked as a child - seemed to fade like morning mist before her steady presence.


    "Help me with something," Flint cleared her throat, her analytical mind clearly working through some theory. "Try using some Light Element secret arts, or absorb some Light Element natural aura from the surroundings."


    Though the request was unusual, Spark didn''t question it. He simply nodded, his golden eyes half-closing as he began to draw in the Light Element natural aura around them. To his surprise, he found himself able to absorb significantly more than usual, as if the very air had become richer with light essence.


    His fingers twitched slightly in Flint''s grasp as he processed this discovery, his wolf ears perking forward with interest. The moonlight streaming through the window seemed to respond to his pull, creating subtle patterns of luminescence that danced across their joined hands.


    Spark''s gaze shifted to Flint, and what he saw made his breath catch in his throat. While the area around him glowed with absorbed light, the space around Flint had become unnaturally dark - a darkness that seemed to devour everything in its reach. Thin threads of purple energy coiled around her form like ethereal serpents, creating a stark contrast against the moon-washed room.


    Flint felt an unfamiliar force coursing through her body, entirely different from the usual intangible force she knew. The only thing she could control was that familiar white-glowing power she''d always wielded. She used it to guide this strange new energy through her body, like a shepherd directing an untamed stream.


    The force traveled from her arms to her neck, then up to her head. But when it reached her eyes, a sudden, searing pain shot through her. It was worse than anything she''d experienced before - even the mad cultivator''s blade hadn''t brought such agony. The intensity forced her to yank her hand away from Spark''s grasp.


    "What''s wrong?" Spark leaned forward in his chair, golden eyes wide with concern as he watched Flint press her hands against her eyes, her face contorted in pain. His voice carried that peculiar mix of nobility and genuine worry that was uniquely his.


    Flint slowly lowered her hands from her eyes, revealing blood smeared across her fingers. She blinked, her eyelashes still sticky with crimson droplets. The piercing pain that had shot through her moments ago left her shaken, its memory still fresh and raw.


    "I should be... fine..." Without Spark''s touch, the agony had subsided, though her brow remained furrowed in thought. "I felt an unfamiliar force, but when it reached my eyes, there was this sudden, intense pain."


    Spark located a cloth in the room and dampened it with water. As he gently cleaned the blood from her face and hands, his mind turned over her words, analyzing each detail with careful consideration. The moonlight caught the red stains on the cloth as he worked, turning them almost black.


    "Are you... able to absorb natural aura now?" The realization hit Spark suddenly, his golden eyes lighting up with excitement. The words carried a weight of possibility that made his wolf ears perk forward with interest.


    "Perhaps I''m not absorbing the natural aura, but I can sense it now." Flint''s response was measured, typical of her analytical nature. She focused her consciousness into her fingertips, causing them to emit a faint white glow. "I''ve always been able to absorb some kind of intangible force, but it seems I can''t use it for cultivation."


    The white light dancing at her fingertips cast delicate shadows across her face, highlighting the thoughtful set of her features. It was different from the usual glow of natural aura - more ethereal, like captured moonlight rather than cultivated power.


    Spark touched Flint''s glowing fingers with delicate precision, noting how different this energy felt from ordinary natural aura. The white light seemed to dance beneath his touch, neither withdrawing nor responding as typical natural aura would.


    "When Seedling and I were being chased by that mad cultivator," Flint continued, her eyes fixed on her luminescent fingertips, "she pulled me through the air while using Flux Element secret arts, creating powerful winds behind us for propulsion. When she was using natural aura, I held her hand and felt some strange power in my body. I couldn''t focus enough to try absorbing it though, and it dissipated."


    The moonlight streaming through the window seemed to emphasize the soft glow emanating from her fingers, creating an ethereal interplay of light and shadow across their joined hands.


    "When you were absorbing Light Element natural aura just now, did you notice if you could absorb more than usual?" Flint''s question came suddenly, her analytical mind clearly working through some theory.


    Spark nodded, surprise flickering across his features. That was exactly what had happened - but how had she known?


    "Seedling mentioned that when I held her hand, she felt her natural aura increase..." Flint''s brow furrowed deeper, her thoughts crystallizing into a theory. "I''m beginning to suspect that this intangible force I possess can transform into natural aura."


    "But..." she added, recalling their earlier attempt, "it also prevented you from channeling natural aura into my body during dual cultivation."


    At the mention of their previous encounter, Spark cleared his throat awkwardly, his noble bearing momentarily faltering. "However, when I looked at you, I saw purple threads wreathing your form, and the space around you grew unnaturally dark. It felt similar to Shadow Element natural aura."


    "Is that so?" Flint hadn''t opened her eyes earlier, and this new information seemed to spark something in her mind.


    "There are six elements of natural aura - Flux, Stasis, Light, Shadow, Vita, and Void..." Flint mused, her analytical mind piecing together the puzzle. "I understand now. When my intangible force transforms into your Light Element natural aura, it simultaneously generates an opposing force - Shadow Element natural aura."


    The moonlight painted silvery patterns across her face as she continued, "When I held your hand, I somehow understood how to convert my intangible force into Light Element natural aura... I''m not sure how to describe this understanding. It was like... an intuition."


    "The same thing happened with Seedling. But when I tried to use this method to generate Flux Element natural aura to control the blanket, it always slipped from my grasp." Her fingers traced absent patterns in the air, mimicking the memory of that failed attempt.


    "Now I suspect that Stasis Element natural aura was being generated simultaneously, preventing me from controlling the blanket''s trajectory." She concluded, her voice carrying the quiet satisfaction of a theory falling into place.


    Spark listened to this chain of hypotheses with growing fascination. While these conclusions were entirely new to him, they carried an unexpected logic that explained the strange phenomena surrounding Flint. Nature itself existed in duality, yet cultivators typically could only master one side of each pair. Like himself - with his transcendent Light Element spirit root, his Shadow Element spirit root was inevitably deficient, rendering him unable to absorb shadow energy.


    "I should try again, but avoid the eyes this time," Flint said, reaching for Spark''s hand with determined purpose. "When the Shadow Element natural aura was flowing through other parts of my body earlier, it didn''t cause any adverse reactions."


    Her fingers wrapped around Spark''s hand in a simple, firm grip. He allowed her to hold his hand without resistance, fighting the urge to curl his fingers around hers in return. His golden eyes fixed on where her palm pressed against his, watching as moonlight played across their hands.


    However, concern creased his noble features, his wolf ears twitching with unease. "You''re already injured," he said, his voice carrying that peculiar mix of authority and genuine worry. "Perhaps we should be more cautious about this." He paused, then added with careful consideration, "Maybe... you could consult Sage South Rain first?"This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The suggestion hung in the air between them, weighted with genuine concern. The memory of blood trailing from Flint''s eyes was still fresh in his mind, making his protective instincts stir beneath his composed exterior.


    Flint let out a soft sigh, her analytical mind acknowledging the wisdom in his words despite her eagerness to continue experimenting. "Alright," she conceded, her grip on his hand remaining steady and warm. "You have a point."


    She made no move to release his hand though, and Spark found himself enjoying the simple contact, the warmth of her palm against his a quiet comfort in the moonlit room.


    As the implications of their discovery settled in Spark''s mind, a realization bloomed like the first rays of dawn. If Flint could indeed cultivate, albeit in her unique way, then perhaps the insurmountable gap he''d feared¡ªthe difference in their potential lifespans and cultivation levels¡ªwasn''t so insurmountable after all. The thought sparked an unexpected lightness in his chest, like a flock of birds taking wing.


    In a sudden movement that surprised even himself, Spark turned his hand in Flint''s grip until he could grasp hers properly. His touch carried all the grace of his noble bearing as he lifted their joined hands. Before his usual self-consciousness could catch up with his actions, he pressed a swift, gentle kiss against the back of her hand, his lips barely brushing her skin.


    "Good night," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that belied his attempt at casual formality. "I should take my leave now."


    The gesture caught Flint completely off guard. She lifted her head, analytical mind temporarily stalled by this unexpected departure from their usual interactions. But Spark was already striding toward the door, his movements carrying an almost urgent grace. His long steps took him swiftly across the room, his noble bearing somewhat undermined by the slight flush creeping up his neck.


    "Good night," Flint managed to reply, the words following his retreating form. She was left sitting on the bed, her hand still raised slightly where he''d released it, an unusual warmth lingering on her skin where his lips had touched.


    Through the open door, she caught a final glimpse of his dark gray hair and the tips of his wolf ears before he disappeared around the corner, his steps echoing down the corridor with uncharacteristic haste. The moonlight streaming through the window seemed to hold the ghost of his presence for a moment longer, before settling back into its usual silver stillness.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Though Sage South Rain had mentioned it would be some time before she could return, Flint wasn''t particularly anxious about the delay. In the past few weeks since her splints had been removed, she''d developed a steady rhythm with her crutch, its soft tapping sounds marking her careful progress along the stone path of the courtyard.


    The distant sounds of training drifted through the air - the sharp whistle of spirit swords cutting through targets, the controlled shouts of disciples practicing their forms. Flint watched with a touch of envy as the disciples manipulated their blades with growing skill, their movements guided by the natural aura she could now sense but not yet control. She rarely ventured far from her quarters these days. There wasn''t much point in wandering too far, after all.


    She had just turned to head back when a voice called out behind her.


    "Are you Flint?"


    She pivoted slowly, balancing on her crutch. The speaker was a tall man with a lean but muscular build, dressed in the black robes of the Celestial Sword Sect. A mark resembling an eclipse shines faintly on his forehead, pulsating with the rhythm of breath. His shoulder-length black hair fell in uneven waves, as if different sections were following their own patterns. What caught her attention most were the pointed ears atop his head - distinctly hound-like in appearance, marking him as a spiritual beast.


    He smiled at her, revealing prominent canines that somehow made him look more friendly than fierce. His eyes were large and warm, giving him an almost puppyish appearance despite his height.


    "Um, yes, I am..." Flint replied carefully, certain she had never met this particular spiritual beast before. She shifted her weight slightly on her crutch, studying him with quiet curiosity.


    "Hello, I''m Nightbane," he said with a friendly gesture of introduction. His eyes swept over Flint''s stance, noting how she leaned on the crutch. "You must have just returned from Crimson Aurora Valley! Are you heading inside? Let me help you."


    Before Flint could respond, Nightbane moved to support her free arm, the one not gripping the crutch. His movement was smooth and natural, as if helping injured cultivators was something he did every day.


    Crimson Aurora Valley? Flint''s brow furrowed slightly. The name stirred no recognition in her memory, but she couldn''t be bothered to ask why Nightbane thought she''d been there. It seemed like too much effort for information she didn''t particularly need.


    "Oh, no, that''s really not¡ª" Flint tried to decline, waving her free hand in protest, but Nightbane seemed to take her resistance as mere politeness. With gentle persistence that bordered on friendly stubbornness, he maintained his supportive grip on her arm. His touch was careful yet firm, and despite her initial reluctance, Flint found herself being smoothly guided back to the guest room where she''d been recuperating.


    The late winter sunlight followed them through the corridors, casting alternating patterns of light and shadow across their path. Nightbane''s movements were measured to match her pace, his hound ears occasionally twitching at the distant sounds of training that still echoed through the sect grounds.


    After reaching the room, Nightbane helped Flint settle onto the bed with gentle efficiency, his movements carrying the practiced ease of someone used to assisting others. Rather than departing, he pulled up a chair and sat down, his large amber eyes fixed on her with unmasked interest. His pointed ears swiveled forward, betraying his eagerness despite his attempt at casual conversation.


    "I heard you were chased by a crazy cultivator in some valley near the Soaring Heaven Sword Peaks, is that right?" His tail would have been wagging if he were in his hound form, but in his human shape, only the slight bounce of his knee betrayed his excitement.


    "Yes," Flint nodded, thinking to herself, Word of that incident must have spread around the sect by now. She absently adjusted her position on the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot for her healing leg.


    "Oh? How did you manage to escape?" Nightbane''s voice carried a hint of artificial curiosity, a slight undertone of pretense that didn''t quite match his otherwise genuine demeanor. After all, he had been tracking Samuel¡ªthat mad cultivator¡ªand had witnessed his explosive end before Flint. Though the reason still eluded him.


    His deliberately casual question was masked by his friendly, almost puppyish expression, causing Flint to overlook the unnatural note in his voice. She furrowed her brow in contemplation, the events of several weeks ago slightly hazy in her memory. The late winter sunlight streaming through the window caught the slight tilt of her head as she considered her response.


    "It was rather strange, actually," she said slowly, her analytical mind trying to piece together the fragments of that chaotic moment. Her fingers absently traced patterns on the bedcover as she spoke. "He just... suddenly exploded?"


    "Just like that?" Nightbane leaned forward in his chair, his amber eyes wide and expectant like a puppy awaiting a treat. The eclipse mark on his forehead pulsed slightly faster with his evident curiosity, casting faint shadows that danced across his features.


    "Well..." Flint hesitated, her fingers idly playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. The memory of the mad cultivator''s soul becoming part of her intangible force lingered in her mind, but something held her back from sharing this peculiar experience. Instead, she offered another piece of information, her voice measured and careful: "It seemed... he exploded from absorbing too much natural aura..."


    "Hmm." Nightbane nodded vigorously, his uneven black hair swaying with the movement. His pointed ears perked forward even more eagerly, clearly hoping for additional details. The late afternoon light caught his eclipse mark, making it shimmer like a dark moon surrounded by a ring of ethereal fire.


    But Flint had already decided against sharing more uncertain information. She kept her gaze steady but noncommittal, her analytical mind carefully weighing how much she should reveal to this overly friendly spiritual beast. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant sounds of training from the courtyard and the soft rustling of Nightbane shifting in his chair, his puppy-like enthusiasm barely contained.


    "Oh well." Nightbane sighed soundlessly, his shoulders dropping slightly as he recognized Flint''s reluctance to elaborate. The eclipse mark on his forehead dimmed a fraction, reflecting his subdued mood. Perhaps, he reasoned, she was just as puzzled about Samuel''s explosive end as everyone else.


    "Say," he brightened suddenly, his large amber eyes sparking with renewed interest, "are you Sage South Rain''s disciple?"


    He had asked around about Flint extensively, beyond just his conversations with Spark. Some claimed she was here because of the wolf prince¡ªSpark''s girlfriend, they''d said, their voices tinged with gossip. Others suggested she was like himself, a Bloodbound beast, though he couldn''t detect any spiritual beast features about her.


    But one detail remained consistent in every account: all six of her spirit roots were deficient, making cultivation theoretically impossible. It made her presence in the Celestial Sword Sect all the more puzzling.


    Not wanting to broach the potentially sensitive topic of her deficient spirit roots directly, he circled the subject with careful curiosity, his pointed ears twitching slightly forward as he awaited her response.


    "Um..." Flint''s brow furrowed at the seemingly simple question. Her fingers traced absent patterns on her knee as she considered how to answer. Technically, Sage South Rain was her master rather than her teacher, yet the sage had never treated her like a spiritual beast to be trained. The late afternoon light caught the uncertainty in her expression as she finally offered a hesitant response: "Maybe... I am."


    "Ah, I see you haven''t reached Adept level yet," Nightbane remarked, tilting his head in a distinctly canine manner. "I wonder what made Sage South Rain take you as a disciple?" The eclipse mark on his forehead flickered subtly as he spoke, like moonlight through shifting clouds. Quickly, he added a compliment, his amber eyes wide and earnest: "You must have some extraordinary qualities that impressed her!"


    Flint shifted uncomfortably at the praise, her gaze dropping to her hands.


    Compliments always made her feel somewhat undeserving rather than proud. The complexity of her relationship with Sage South Rain weighed on her mind - being her "bloodbound beast," while her past self, Obsidian Snow, had been the sage''s master. Finally, she settled on the "excuse" Sage South Rain had given for keeping her at the Celestial Sword Sect: "She''s interested in studying my condition - having all six spirit roots deficient..."


    Nightbane''s ears twitched in surprise at how matter-of-factly Flint mentioned her deficiency, showing no trace of shame. He nodded encouragingly, his uneven black hair swaying with the movement. "All six spirit roots deficient - that''s quite rare indeed. Can you cultivate at all now?"


    "Not yet," Flint shook her head, sunlight catching the determined glint in her eye. "But I think I can find a way."


    "What kind of way?" Nightbane leaned forward eagerly, his large puppy-like eyes fixed on her with undisguised curiosity. The eclipse mark on his forehead pulsed faster with his excitement.


    The question made Flint pause. The complexity of her situation felt too intricate to explain, but faced with Nightbane''s friendly enthusiasm, she found herself reluctant to refuse entirely. She carefully chose her words, trying to simplify the concept. "Well... I can absorb some kind of intangible force, and I''m trying to find a way to convert it into natural aura for cultivation..."


    "I see!" Though clearly not understanding, Nightbane nodded vigorously, his pointed ears bobbing with the movement. He''d just report these puzzling details to his master later - for now, simply remembering them would suffice. The late morning sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes that danced between them and making his amber eyes seem to glow with earnest attention.


    As if sensing the need to fill the silence, Nightbane launched into an enthusiastic monologue about his master, Sage Mortius Crane. His face lit up as he spoke, the eclipse mark on his forehead pulsing with his excitement as he detailed his master''s accomplishments and how honored he felt to be his bloodbound beast. Flint settled into her role as listener comfortably - it was a position she excelled at. She merely needed to offer occasional nods and brief responses like "mm-hmm" and "that''s impressive" while Nightbane''s animated chatter filled the room.


    The flow of conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of someone trying the door, followed by a knock. "I''ll get it!" Nightbane bounced up from his chair with puppy-like enthusiasm, his uneven black hair swaying as he strode toward the door with long, eager steps.


    Flint felt her heart tighten unexpectedly. It had to be Spark coming to fetch her for lunch. She wasn''t sure why tension was coiling in her chest, but she had a distinct feeling that Spark wouldn''t be pleased with this situation. Why did it feel like she was having an affair? Flint took a deep breath, trying to compose her thoughts about how to explain this to Spark.


    The moment the door swung open, Spark''s gaze fell on Nightbane''s familiar and despised face. That foolish grin, topped by the gently flickering eclipse-like mark, was the last thing he wanted to see. His expression darkened instantly, like storm clouds gathering over a sunny day. His wolf ears stood straight up in anger, the rigid posture at odds with his usually graceful bearing.

 Chapter 19: Twilight Harmony Cultivation

    "Thank you for the visit, Nightbane, but I should have lunch with Spark now." Flint shifted carefully on the bed, mindful of her injured legs stretched out before her. Her hands fidgeted with the blanket''s edge as she glanced between the two men, tension building in her chest.


    But Nightbane''s face lit up at the sight of Spark, his amber eyes sparkling with enthusiasm that seemed wildly misplaced given the crackling tension in the room. "Oh, Spark! I was just thinking about our lovely chat the other day." He bounced on his heels, either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the way Spark''s jaw clenched at his words. "Why don''t we all have lunch together? I''d love to continue our discussion about¡ª"


    Spark strode past him without a word, his movements sharp and precise. With one fluid motion, he grabbed the small wooden table and repositioned it next to Flint''s bed, the legs scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that made her wince. The table now served as a perfect height for her to eat while sitting propped against the headboard, though she doubted Spark''s thoughtful arrangement was meant to be noticed amid his obvious anger.


    But Nightbane dropped into the chair right next to Spark. He leaned in close, that strange eclipse mark on his forehead seeming to pulse with his excitement. "You know, I''ve been meaning to ask you about your experiences in the Inferno Wolf clan. It must be fascinating being a prince¡ª"


    "Get. Out."


    The words cut through the room like ice, each syllable dripping with aristocratic disdain. Spark hadn''t moved, hadn''t even turned his head, but the temperature in the small room seemed to drop several degrees.


    Nightbane froze, his perpetual enthusiasm faltering for the first time as understanding slowly dawned in his amber eyes. His ears ¨C just visible beneath his dark hair ¨C twitched nervously. "Oh, I didn''t mean to offend. Perhaps we could talk about something else¡ª"


    The chopsticks slammed against the wooden table with a sharp crack that echoed through the small room. Spark''s golden eyes, usually so carefully controlled, blazed with a predatory fury that betrayed his royal heritage. "Get. Out," he snarled again, the aristocratic polish completely stripped from his voice, leaving only raw anger. His fingers remained curled around the chopsticks, knuckles white with tension.


    "Ah... right... well..." Nightbane stumbled backward, his earlier confidence evaporating like morning dew. His hand fluttered in an awkward wave as he retreated toward the door, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Enjoy your meal..." The words tumbled out in a nervous rush as he slipped through the doorway, the eclipse mark on his forehead seeming dimmer than before.


    In the sudden silence that followed, Flint stared at Spark, trying to reconcile this seething figure with the composed prince she knew. She watched as his shoulders remained rigid, his breathing still heavy with barely contained rage. Her fingers twisted in the blanket as she pieced together the fragments of conversation, the hints of a previous meeting. Finally, her voice came out small and uncertain: "You''ve... met before?"


    The question hung in the air between them, as delicate as a soap bubble and just as likely to burst at the slightest touch.


    Spark''s jaw tightened as he deliberately ignored Flint''s question. His golden eyes, usually warm when looking at her, had frosted over with an arctic chill. "Why was he here?" The words came out clipped and precise, each syllable carved from ice.


    Flint felt her chest tighten with an absurd sense of guilt, as if she''d been caught having an affair ¨C which was ridiculous, she knew, but Spark''s cold demeanor made her feel defensive nonetheless. "He was just passing by," she mumbled, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her blanket. "He wanted to... to introduce himself..."


    "He''s not a good person..." Spark turned away abruptly, his movements sharp as he reached for the bamboo food container. The rich aroma of fried pork cutlet wafted through the room as he opened it. His voice dropped lower, almost a growl: "Not a good dog, either."


    "Why?" Flint watched his profile, noting how the muscles in his jaw worked. To her, Nightbane had seemed merely overenthusiastic, perhaps a bit socially unaware, but certainly not malicious.


    "There is no why." Spark''s voice had that aristocratic finality to it again as he picked up the chopsticks. He held them out to her, his movements precise and controlled, though tension still radiated from his shoulders. "It''s intuition. Now eat."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, casting gentle shadows across the room as Sage South Rain settled into the chair beside Flint''s bed. In her hands, she held a pair of intricately carved wooden crutches, their surface smooth and polished to a gentle sheen.


    "I visited the Abyssal Pavilion," South Rain began, her voice carrying its usual tranquil tone. Her fingers traced the delicate patterns on the crutches as she spoke. "I went to ask Wind Patio about any records Obsidian Snow might have left behind." She paused, a peculiar smile playing at the corners of her lips. "These crutches... someone there heard about your injury and insisted on making them for you."


    That smile deepened, becoming something more complex ¨C a mixture of amusement, bewilderment, and perhaps a touch of melancholy. "The person who made these... or should I say, the tree..." She shook her head slightly, silver hairpins catching the light. "He has quite an unusual way of doing things. He chopped off everything below his neck, but there was no blood. Instead, the severed body transformed into a pine tree, complete with branches."


    Her clear eyes sparkled with barely contained mirth as she continued, "And there he was, just a head and half a shoulder, eagerly directing his friend to craft these crutches." She gestured at the the crutches across Flint¡¯s laps. "The next morning, his body had fully regenerated. He was absolutely delighted, saying he felt honored that a part of him could be of help to you."


    Flint''s brow furrowed, her mind flickering back to that snowy day in the forest. She remembered the stark image of Spark''s teeth tearing through Lenient Pine''s arm, the way the severed limb had transformed into a branch bristling with pine needles, drawing blood from Spark''s mouth. The memory sent a chill down her spine despite the warm afternoon sun.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "Was it Lenient Pine?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, though she already knew the answer. The thought of someone willingly dismembering themselves to craft her a pair of crutches filled her with a strange mixture of gratitude and unease.


    "You know him?" South Rain''s eyes lit up with delighted surprise, the silver hairpins in her dark hair catching the afternoon light as she leaned forward.


    Flint shifted uncomfortably on her bed, her fingers absently tracing the grain of the wooden crutches. "We... had a brief conversation under less than friendly circumstances." She paused, weighing her words. "Wind Patio was leading him and another person in pursuit of Spark at the time."


    "Oh¡ª" South Rain''s smile transformed into something sardonic, though the mockery wasn''t directed at Flint. Her voice dropped to a contemplative murmur, rich with irony: "To think old Wind would end up leading The Bamboo Sovereign in pursuit of Obsidian Snow..." She shook her head, causing the pendant on her hairpin to sway in unison.


    "That pine tree has much he wishes to tell you," South Rain continued, her clear eyes studying Flint''s reaction. "He begged me to bring you to the Abyssal Pavilion. He misses you terribly." She emphasized the word ''terribly'' with such deliberate weight that it seemed to hang in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning.


    "Should I go now?" Flint asked, unconsciously straightening against her pillows.


    South Rain''s laugh was soft but sharp-edged, like wind through autumn leaves. "I told him to wait a few years. After all," her lips curved in another mockery-laden smile, "as long as Wind Patio doesn''t accidentally poison him to death, his lifespan is quite considerable." She smoothed her white robes with elegant fingers, her movements precise and measured. "The cultivation world isn''t as safe as it appears. I informed him that you would visit the Abyssal Pavilion only after reaching Adept level."


    South Rain settled more comfortably in her chair, her movements carrying the fluid grace of centuries of cultivation. "Let me share the most valuable discovery from my visit." She raised her left hand, the storage ring on her fourth finger gleaming as she retrieved a book with practiced ease. "Obsidian Snow created many cultivation methods, most of which have been lost to time, unfortunately. This book appears to be written by someone else, but it contains Obsidian Snow''s marginalia. She seems to have practiced these methods herself."


    She extended the book to Flint, her voice softening with an almost imperceptible sadness. "Do try to keep better records than she did." The words carried a weight that seemed to stretch across centuries.


    Flint carefully propped the crutches against the wall by her bedhead before accepting the tome. Her eyes traced the title emblazoned across its cover: "Twilight Harmony Cultivation." Next to the title was the author¡¯s name, Sage Twilight. Opening to the first page, she found herself drawn into the author''s meandering introduction:


    In my youth, I discovered I possessed two conflicting Spirit Roots of Gifted level - Light Element and Shadow Element. Finding no existing methods to cultivate such opposing forces, I departed from the cultivation world... At fifty-six, after losing my wife and son to tragedy, I abandoned my homeland in despair... While watching the sunset by the sea, enlightenment struck me - where day and night overlap, opposition must contain harmony. I began experimenting with absorbing these contradictory natural aura. Twenty years later, at seventy-six, I achieved Adept Level... As I pen these words, I have lived six hundred and twenty-seven years and reached Legend level¡­


    The writing carried the unhurried confidence of someone who had discovered profound truths through centuries of patient observation.


    Flint stared at the book, her brow furrowing. Without any spirit roots, how could she practice these methods? Skipping past the author''s meandering introduction, she found herself studying an abstract diagram of the human body. The eyes and digestive tract were drawn with particular emphasis ¨C beside the eyes, an annotation indicated "Light Element natural aura" flowing inward, while near the digestive system, another note marked "Shadow Element natural aura" paths. Below, an urgent warning was scrawled: NEVER REVERSE THE FLOW!!!


    The memory of her own bloody eyes after attempting to absorb Shadow Element natural aura made her wince. If only she''d had this book earlier. In the margins, Obsidian Snow''s sparse notes caught her attention: "Can use others'' spirit roots." Another notation read simply: "Can split Genesis into two types."


    "Obsidian Snow was certainly economical with words," Flint thought wryly. "Just like me. Perhaps that''s fitting for my past life."


    She turned the book toward South Rain, her finger tracing the diagram. "I tried absorbing Shadow Element natural aura once... my eyes started bleeding. This shows it should go through the digestive tract instead ¨C that''s actually quite helpful. I could try that next time."


    "You can absorb natural aura already?" South Rain''s voice lifted with pleasant surprise. She leaned forward, studying the diagram intently. "Thaddeus mentioned something similar... though since very few people possess Gifted level spirit roots in opposing elements, it''s rarely discussed." Her voice softened with fondness. "Thaddeus is my husband, a scholar in the Immortal Alliance. He has a passion for collecting unusual knowledge."


    She traced the flowing lines on the diagram with an elegant finger. "Most practitioners fill their entire body with natural aura, but the spirit roots actually have specific locations. Light Element in the eyes, Shadow Element in the digestive tract, Stasis Element in the brain, Flux Element in the limbs, Void Element in the kidneys, and Vita Element in the heart." She paused, her clear eyes suddenly sharp with realization. "You said your eyes bled when exposed to Shadow Element natural aura? That would suggest a high-level Light Element spirit root..."


    "It is strange," Flint murmured, her brow creasing as she absorbed this new information. While South Rain''s insights were invaluable, they seemed to spawn even more mysteries. "But this is crucial information. Thank you ¨C and please thank Thaddeus as well." She offered a small smile, genuine despite her confusion.


    South Rain returned the smile, her silver hairpins catching the afternoon light. "No need for thanks." She paused, her fingers sliding along the edge of her robes. "There''s more ¨C some folklore Thaddeus collected. While cultivators generally believe only The Perfect Completion of Deity allows access to past life memories, the mortal realm''s stories about reincarnation are far more... colorful." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Though they do seem to mix truth with fiction..."


    With graceful movements, she retrieved a small notebook from her storage ring. The pages rustled softly as she found her place: "There was a case of a man who inexplicably murdered an elderly stranger a thousand miles away, claiming the old man was his past life''s enemy who had violated and killed his wife and daughter. Yet in his village, the elder was known for his virtuous character..."


    Her clear voice continued, each story carrying its own weight: "Children born decades after a devastating earthquake, at age three or four, would describe in detail being crushed beneath collapsed buildings. Upon reaching adulthood, they claimed no memory of these accounts."


    South Rain''s lips curved with gentle amusement as she read on. "One woman claimed memories of her past life''s lover would surface whenever she felt sad. These memories led her to someone who resembled her previous beloved... ah, it seems this one''s source is actually a novel."


    She shook her head, silver hairpins tinkling softly. "Another claims a fear of dogs, saying the sight of them triggers memories of being mauled to death in a previous life..." She closed the notebook with a soft snap. "Thaddeus does have a habit of recording absolutely everything, doesn''t he?"


    "That story about the novel..." Flint''s voice trailed off as she remembered that face so similar to Spark''s, glimpsed through the haze of pain while absorbing the resentment force. "I wonder if pain and sorrow are really the keys to unlocking past memories?"


    Perhaps I should deliberately create some painful experiences? The thought crossed her mind unbidden. She tried to summon sad thoughts, but found herself growing inexplicably calmer instead, as if her emotions were a still pond refusing to be disturbed.


    South Rain''s smile held a trace of bitterness, a shadow of ancient grief flickering behind her clear eyes. "When I''m in pain, I can''t remember anything at all." She released a soft breath that might have been a sigh. "I suppose everyone''s different."


    She smoothed her expression back to its usual serene mask, though something vulnerable lingered in the set of her shoulders. "Just... pay attention to what triggers your memories. Watch for the patterns."


    The afternoon light had shifted, casting longer shadows across the room, as if marking the passage of not just hours, but lifetimes.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    As Spark came for dinner, Flint gathered her courage. "Have you ever experienced something... really painful or sad?" she asked, studying Spark''s reaction carefully.


    Spark paused, his chopsticks hovering above his bowl. "I... suppose so?" His brow furrowed in confusion. "Why do you ask?"


    "Did you ever..." Flint hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. "Did you ever recover memories of a past life during those moments? Like... memories of a past lover?"


    The word ''lover'' seemed to hang in the air between them. Spark''s golden eyes widened slightly, and his usual composure faltered. "I... no, I don''t think so?" His voice caught slightly. "Why are you suddenly asking about... lovers?"


    Flint lowered her gaze to her bowl, watching the steam rise in delicate spirals. "When that deranged cultivator was chasing me, I absorbed the resentment force from his body. It was excruciating, but in that pain..." She lifted her eyes to meet Spark''s. "I saw someone who looked just like you."


    "I''ve been wondering..." Her voice grew softer, almost a whisper. "Who could he have been in my past life? Could he have been..." She swallowed hard, the word feeling both foreign and familiar on her tongue. "...my lover?"


    The silence that followed was thick with unspoken possibilities, broken only by the soft crackle of the lantern flame.

 Chapter 20: The First Step

    Flint closed the "Twilight Harmony Cultivation" manual with a quiet sigh, her back pressed against the cool stone wall of the Aura Meditation Ground. While the book''s techniques seemed of little use to someone without spirit roots like her, South Rain''s guidance about spirit root locations felt like a promising start¡ªa small but significant piece of the puzzle she needed to solve.


    A restless rustling beside her drew her attention. Seedling was fidgeting, her white fox tail twitching with poorly contained energy. "I absolutely hate afternoon meditation," she whispered, though her voice carried through the quiet cave like ripples in still water. "If we want to accumulate Flux Element, we should be running around outside, not sitting here like statues." Despite her attempts at discretion, several nearby disciples shifted in annoyance, though the ones deep in meditation remained blissfully unaware of her complaints.


    "Please? Just help me with this?" Flint kept her voice gentle, careful not to let her expression reveal the weight behind her request. If this attempt succeeded, she might need to ask Seedling to stay here with her regularly¡ªa favor she wasn''t quite ready to explain.


    Seedling''s fox ears perked up, and she leaned closer, purple eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement. "Fine, but..." She glanced around conspiratorially before whispering, "Can you really absorb natural aura now?" Her tail swished back and forth, betraying her curiosity despite her attempt to keep her voice down.


    "Maybe." Flint''s response was characteristically brief, echoing Obsidian Snow''s economical way with words. She took Seedling''s hand in hers and said simply, "Try absorbing Flux Element natural aura."


    The Aura Meditation Ground, a collection of stone caves near the main peak''s summit, hummed with ancient formations designed to gather natural aura. Here, Initiative level disciples spent their daily meditation sessions absorbing the concentrated energy. Even those with Gifted level spirit roots and above unconsciously gathered natural aura while eating or drinking, but dedicated practice in such aura-rich locations could significantly accelerate their cultivation.


    As Seedling began her absorption, she noticed a subtle increase in the flow of natural aura. She dismissed it as a normal effect of the cave''s enhanced environment, her distaste for meditation making her attribute the change to the location rather than Flint''s influence.


    A different force, distinct from Flux Element natural aura, coursed into Flint''s body. She recognized it as Stasis Element natural aura, and felt her hand growing weaker. The realization struck her¡ªshe had overlooked this effect during their previous flying adventure. Perhaps Stasis Element natural aura caused this weakness when flowing through limbs housing opposing Flux Element spirit roots.


    Sensing Flint''s loosening grip, Seedling felt her natural aura absorption suddenly decrease. She opened her eyes and instinctively tightened her hold on Flint''s hand. As the enhanced flow of natural aura returned, she closed her eyes again, settling back into her meditation with renewed focus.


    Feeling Seedling''s firm grip, Flint allowed her entire arm to relax as the Stasis Element natural aura flowed through it. She focused her intangible force, gently guiding the stream of aura toward her brain, like directing water through an invisible channel.


    There, she sensed something remarkable¡ªher brain resonated with the aura, almost like two instruments playing in harmony. Yet a delicate barrier remained, gossamer-thin but impenetrable. The Stasis Element natural aura, for all its potency, couldn''t quite breach this final threshold.


    Just a little more, she thought, her eyes still closed in concentration. "Could you absorb a bit more?" she whispered to Seedling, her voice barely disturbing the cave''s meditative silence.


    Seedling''s fox ears twitched slightly at Flint''s words¡ªa detail lost to Flint''s closed eyes. She felt the Stasis Element natural aura strengthen, but only marginally. A subtle sigh escaped her lips, almost imperceptible in the quiet cave.


    So cultivation remains beyond my reach? The thought settled heavily in Flint''s mind, tinged with resignation.


    "Still not enough?" Seedling''s eyes suddenly flew open, the question bursting from her lips. As she released Flint''s hand, the lax sensation vanished from Flint''s arm, strength flowing back into her muscles. Flint flexed her arm experimentally, then opened her eyes to meet Seedling''s concerned gaze. She nodded slowly, "No, not quite enough."


    "Then let''s go." In one fluid motion, Seedling sprang to her feet and yanked Flint up with her, leaving Flint momentarily bewildered by the sudden movement.


    "What are you doing?" Flint asked, struggling to match Seedling''s rapid pace as they hurried through the cave.


    "Let''s fly again!" Seedling called out, pulling Flint down the mountain path with unbridled enthusiasm. "The natural aura I absorb while sitting in meditation is nothing compared to what I use when flying!"


    Seedling came to an abrupt halt halfway down the mountain, still gripping Flint''s hand. Flint stared at her friend with a mixture of disbelief and dawning realization, reading the wild intent in those purple fox eyes. "Wait... you''re not planning to run first? You want to jump from here?"


    "Yes! Don''t you want to try?" Seedling''s eyes sparkled with excitement. Before Flint could object, Seedling''s grip on her wrist tightened, warm and sure.


    Flint tensed, her mind racing. While she knew she couldn''t feel pain, death was another matter entirely. True, she had survived her last fall from the sky, but that had been nothing compared to the dizzying height of the main peak''s midpoint. She cast an uncertain glance at the valley below, its floor barely visible through wisps of cloud.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    "You''re amazing, you know that?" Seedling''s voice cut through her worries. "Every time I hold your hand, the natural aura feels so abundant!" She raised her free hand, and suddenly the mountain air came alive. A violent gust materialized from her palm, so powerful it nearly swept them off their feet.


    "Here we go!" Seedling''s voice rang out above the howling wind. Her enthusiasm was infectious, her joy palpable in the turbulent air around them.


    Before Flint could process what was happening, Seedling broke into a run. Three quick steps across the narrow mountain path, and then¡ªthey were airborne. Flint''s stomach lurched as they plunged over the cliff''s edge, but Seedling''s wind caught them like an invisible net. The powerful updraft lifted them higher, sending them soaring past jutting rocks and ancient pines.


    The surge of Stasis Element natural aura flowing through their joined hands made Flint''s arm go limp, but Seedling''s iron grip kept her securely aloft. The wind whistled past them, carrying whispers of power that made Flint''s skin tingle.


    Once again, Flint channeled her intangible force, carefully guiding the Stasis natural aura toward her brain. The familiar barrier remained, gossamer-thin yet impenetrable, like a silk curtain made of steel.


    "Use more Flux Element natural aura!" Flint called out over the rushing wind, her voice carrying a rare note of urgency.


    "You got it!" Seedling''s response was immediate and enthusiastic. She accelerated their flight, her command over the wind growing stronger. Her white ponytail and fox tail streamed behind her like twin banners caught in a storm, creating an striking silhouette against the azure sky.


    They spiraled around the Soaring Heaven Sword Peaks in wide, graceful arcs. Their unconventional flight drew attention from nearby Adept-level disciples, who paused their sword-riding to watch the spectacle. Even the Initiative-level disciples on the main peak abandoned their practices, clustering at the edge of training platforms to gaze up at the peculiar pair.


    Their path traced loops and swirls through the mountain air, with Seedling''s expert control of the wind keeping them both aloft despite Flint''s deadweight arm. Each turn brought them closer to the peaks, then swooping away again, like a dance performed for the ancient mountains themselves.


    The intensified Stasis Element natural aura crashed against the barrier in Flint''s mind with renewed force, yet still fell frustratingly short of breaking through.


    "How did Obsidian Snow overcome this barrier?" The question echoed in her mind, accompanied by a maddening sense of having once known the answer, now just beyond her grasp. The harder she tried to remember, the more elusive the memory became.


    Flint closed her eyes, focusing on the Stasis Element natural aura pooled around her brain. Despite their rapid movement through the air, the aura remained perfectly still around her, like being suspended in motionless liquid. Within this strange stillness, her consciousness expanded, becoming aware of things beyond physical sight. Not the mountains, trees, or rocks below, but rather the emotional tapestry of those around them.


    Seedling''s joy radiated the strongest ¨C pure elation at flying through the air, delight in drawing attention. Beyond that, she sensed a mix of reactions from others: annoyance, envy, curiosity, concern. No words, just raw emotions, with Seedling''s happiness shining brightest of all.


    That intense joy pierced through her mind like a needle, and suddenly Flint felt submerged in an ocean of memory. Through closed eyes, she saw a man with sage-colored hair like Lenient Pine''s, surrounded by faces both strange and achingly familiar. The sage-haired man held her arm, his voice ringing clear: "The Abyssal Pavilion provides refuge to all fallen souls in the world."


    Her eyes snapped open to the rushing mountain scenery. Raising her free hand to her face, she found tears streaming down her cheeks ¨C not tears of sorrow, but of profound joy and excitement.


    While Seedling continued her joyful flight through the mountain air, Flint felt something shift in her mind. The gossamer barrier that had blocked her from absorbing natural aura developed a tiny fissure, allowing a thin stream of Stasis Element natural aura to trickle in. Though the flow was much slower than the rate at which the aura was being produced, it marked a significant change.


    "Seedling," Flint called out, her voice steady despite her inner turmoil. "Can we go to the Cultivation Assessment Hall?"


    "Right now?" Seedling asked, banking through another graceful turn. "But we''re having so much fun!"


    The memory fragment of the sage-haired man kept replaying in Flint''s mind, mixing with South Rain''s stories about the Abyssal Pavilion. "Could that have been the Bamboo Sovereign?" she wondered. "We founded the Abyssal Pavilion together..."


    Flint closed her eyes again, trying to recapture that clarity of emotional perception, but her own chaotic thoughts had created too much internal noise. Even Seedling''s vibrant joy, so clear moments before, now seemed distant and muffled.


    "Please," Flint said simply, hoping her friend would understand the urgency in her voice without requiring an explanation.


    Seedling sighed dramatically but adjusted their course toward the Cultivation Assessment Hall. "Fine, but you owe me another flight soon!"


    As they landed in the main peak''s plaza, Flint spotted the Cultivation Assessment Hall, a side chamber of the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall positioned symmetrically opposite to the Spirit Root Testing Pavilion. Inside, she knew, waited the cultivation assessment stone that could measure a cultivator''s level.


    "There you are!" Spark''s voice called out as he jogged toward them, holding the book Flint had left behind. "When people started talking about someone being dragged through the sky, I knew it had to be you two." He handed the book to Flint with a slight smile. While Adept-level disciples commonly flew on swords, the sight of Seedling pulling Flint through the air had certainly drawn attention.


    "I glanced through it," Spark continued, his tone thoughtful. "It''s quite rare to find people with opposing spirit roots..." He looked between them curiously. "Where are you heading?"


    "Cultivation Assessment Hall," Flint replied simply. "I might be able to cultivate now."


    "Really?" Spark''s eyes lit up with surprise and delight. Without another word, he fell into step beside them as they made their way toward the hall.


    As Flint placed her hand on the cultivation assessment stone, the chamber fell silent. Both Seedling and Spark leaned forward slightly, their breathing shallow with anticipation. Seconds stretched like hours as the stone remained dark and unresponsive.


    Then, almost imperceptibly at first, a crimson light began to emerge from the stone''s core. The red glow strengthened gradually, forming a single, steady ring of light - the unmistakable signature of Early Initiative Level.


    Spark exhaled audibly, his shoulders relaxing. Before Flint could even remove her hand from the stone, Seedling had already bounded across the room and wrapped her in an enthusiastic embrace.


    "See? You can cultivate now!" Seedling squeezed her tighter, her tail swishing with excitement. "Give it a few days, and you''ll be ready to teach Pierce and his gang a lesson!"


    "He''s already avoiding you," Flint pointed out, her voice muffled against Seedling''s shoulder. Despite her matter-of-fact tone, a slight smile played at the corners of her mouth.


    Seedling pulled back just enough to meet Flint''s eyes, her own purple ones sparkling with mischief. "True! Ever since that time in the dining hall, he practically runs the other way when he sees my ears." She flicked her fox ears for emphasis, grinning proudly.


    Spark stepped closer to examine the stone, his expression thoughtful. "Early Initiative..." he mused, his golden eyes reflecting the crimson light. "It''s not much, but it''s a start. And considering where you began..." He trailed off, clearly impressed by the development.


    The stone''s light continued to pulse steadily, casting a warm glow across their faces as they stood together, marking this quiet moment of triumph.


    Flint stared at the crimson ring of light encircling the stone, lost in thought. The path to Adept level stretched before her like an endless road, its destination hidden in fog. Her mind kept circling back to the fragments of memory that had surfaced during their flight - the Abyssal Pavilion, the sage-haired man who might have been the Bamboo Sovereign. Each remembrance felt like a piece of a vast puzzle, its full picture still shrouded in mystery.


    "What''s on your mind?" Spark asked quietly, noticing her distant expression.


    "Nothing much." Flint turned away from the stone, deliberately avoiding Spark''s gaze. She brushed her fingers across the smooth surface one last time before withdrawing her hand. The crimson glow faded immediately, plunging the chamber into the softer light filtering through its high windows.


    "I was just wondering... when I might reach Adept level. Maybe then... I could remember more." She kept her voice neutral, not wanting to hint at her suspicions about the Bamboo Sovereign. Something told her Spark wouldn''t take kindly to hearing about her past connections to the Abyssal Pavilion.


    Spark shifted his weight, his golden eyes flickering with an uncharacteristic uncertainty. A slight flush crept across his cheeks as he recalled their previous conversation about past lives and possible romantic connections.


    "Oh... right," he managed, his usual aristocratic composure slipping just slightly. He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, a nervous gesture he rarely displayed. "I''d... I''d like to hear about your past life too, when you remember more."

 Chapter 21: Love and Loss

    Flint found herself being pulled through the air once again by Seedling, though their flight path now followed a much more disciplined route. Their previous wild adventures through the skies had earned them a stern lecture from an Inner Sect disciple about the importance of following designated flight paths, even for non-sword riders. "You could seriously injure someone flying so recklessly," the disciple had scolded. Seedling had agreed with obvious reluctance, her usual boundless energy now contained within invisible aerial corridors.


    The wind whipped past them as they soared between the peaks, but Flint''s attention was turned inward. Ever since that thin barrier around her brain had torn slightly during their previous flight, the world had become impossibly loud ¨C not with sounds, but with feelings. Emotions leaked into her consciousness like water through a cracked vessel, each one distinct yet wordless.


    She could sense the subtle shift in Seedling''s excitement levels ¨C a barely perceptible increase in her friend''s joy whenever Spark was present compared to their time alone together. During meals, she caught the undercurrent of anxiety in Spark''s voice when he asked about her recovered memories, his apparent casualness betrayed by the nervous energy that radiated from him like heat from a flame.


    Yet amidst this cacophony of foreign feelings, Flint''s own emotions remained remarkably steady. Even now, as they cut through the air at dizzying speeds, she could feel the Stasis Element natural aura seeping slowly into her mind, like morning dew collecting on a leaf. She waited patiently for that familiar peak in Seedling''s happiness ¨C those moments when her friend''s joy became so infectious that it would trigger flashes of her past life''s happier moments. Sometimes these memories were repeats, but each revisit brought new details into focus, like a painting slowly being restored.


    One day''s remembrance transported her to a training session with Sage South Rain. In this memory, shadows crawled across the ground from beneath her former disciple''s feet as she gripped a hollow copper ring. The ring had been aimed at a puppet, which exploded into splinters when South Rain successfully executed the technique Flint had taught her. Their shared elation at the breakthrough felt as fresh as yesterday. This might be before South Rain had ever picked up a sword, Flint thought.


    Flint closed her eyes, hoping to direct her mind toward memories of the man who resembled Spark. Lately, her recollections had been dominated by scenes with the sage-haired man she''d come to recognize as The Bamboo Sovereign. They had visited numerous mortal cities together, and these memories were invariably tinged with happiness, colored by The Bamboo Sovereign''s infectious joy.


    One memory surfaced with particular clarity ¨C they were sharing a meal of white-cut chicken, and The Bamboo Sovereign had turned to her with amusement dancing in his eyes. "Look at us," he had said, "a bamboo stalk and a stone, sitting here enjoying chicken." His delight had been so pure it had made her want to laugh. They had shared countless such moments together: sampling street foods in bustling markets, watching puppet shows in town squares, taking shelter from sudden rain under shop awnings, and debating the merits of different tea varieties with passionate vendors.


    It occurred to her, without any conscious effort on her part, that The Bamboo Sovereign could have been a lover from her past life. This idea didn''t seem far-fetched and she found herself accepting it. However, she couldn''t shake off the feeling that there might have been something between her and the man who looked like Spark, especially since he kept asking her about memories. She couldn''t very well tell him she was remembering someone else.


    Flint opened her eyes, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift between memory and reality. The wind still rushed past her ears as Seedling carried them through the designated flight path, but her mind lingered on the scene that had just unfolded in her memories. Perhaps that Spark-like man wasn''t prone to happiness, she mused, the thought settling like a weight in her chest.


    She closed her eyes again, letting the steady rhythm of their flight lull her back into the depths of memory. This time, when her past self''s vision cleared, she found herself looking at the face of the man who resembled Spark. He sat before her, bare-chested, his torso wrapped in bandages. Was this from when he took that sword blow? No ¨C these wounds were different. They were more scattered, more superficial, yet they covered his entire body like a cruel tapestry.


    "I brought you the wine." The words emerged in her memory with startling clarity ¨C Obsidian''s voice, her voice, carrying none of the uncertainty she felt now.


    The man remained silent, methodically pouring the wine into a leather flask at his side. He drank slowly, deliberately, each sip measured and precise. The silence stretched between them like a tangible thing.


    "What''s your name?" Obsidian''s voice again, steady and unperturbed.


    He doesn''t look happy. Why am I remembering this particular moment? Flint wondered, the question echoing in her mind even as the memory continued to unfold.


    "Blaze... Blaze Mighty... And you?" His voice, when it finally came, carried a roughness that seemed born of more than just physical pain.


    "I don''t know." The response from Obsidian came with surprising serenity, as if the absence of a name was the least of life''s concerns.


    A slight smile cracked through Blaze''s somber expression, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "Now that''s interesting." His gaze in the memory seemed to pierce right through her, carrying an intensity that felt startlingly familiar.


    "Your eyes are like obsidian," Blaze Mighty said, his smile warming further. "How about we call you Obsidian? What do you think?"


    The memory dissolved abruptly, leaving Flint suspended between past and present, the wind still whistling past her ears as Seedling carried them through the air. She found herself reaching instinctively for more of the memory, trying to grasp at details that slipped away like water through her fingers. The feeling of connection lingered, though ¨C that moment when Blaze Mighty had named her past self, his words carrying a weight that seemed to echo across lifetimes.


    So that''s how I got that name, she thought, the realization settling into place like a missing piece of a puzzle. She opened her eyes to the present, watching the peaks of the Celestial Sword Sect pass below them, each one a silent witness to both past and present stories unfolding in their shadow.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    "So you''re saying you want to learn cultivation methods and secret arts related to the Stasis Element?" Sage South Rain''s eyes widened with curiosity. While she had already learned of Flint''s ability to absorb natural aura and begin cultivation, the element of choice surprised her. "Oh, I remember Obsidian telling me her first secret art was Shadow Element-based... I assumed you would start with that too."


    She shifted in her seat, her fingers absently tracing the embroidered patterns on her sleeve. "However, I happen to know both. Obsidian taught me Shadow Element cultivation methods and secret arts, and I later learned some Stasis Element techniques on my own, since I have Gifted spirit roots in both Shadow and Stasis." Her voice carried a hint of pride, though tempered with reverence for her former master.


    Flint nodded, her hands folded quietly in her lap. The memory of teaching South Rain the Shadow Element secret art was still fresh in her mind ¨C a scene from her recovered memories ¨C but she hadn''t realized that Shadow, not Stasis, had been her own first element.


    "The main issue is that I''m absorbing Stasis Element natural aura quite slowly," Flint explained, her voice measured and thoughtful. She raised her hand to her temple, as if trying to physically trace the barrier she was describing. "It''s as if my mind was originally wrapped in a thin, invisible barrier of force. Now there''s a crack in that barrier, allowing Stasis Element natural aura to be absorbed gradually."


    She paused, her fingers dropping back to her lap as she searched for the right words. "But there''s a cost," she continued, her brow furrowing slightly. "I can hear... ''emotions''. Not in words, just pure feelings ¨C tension, joy, sorrow..." She gestured vaguely at the air around her. "It''s rather noisy."


    South Rain leaned forward, her scholarly interest clearly piqued. The silver hairpins in her dark hair caught the light as she moved, creating tiny dancing reflections on the wall. "Can you tell me more about these emotions you''re sensing?" she asked, her voice gentle but eager. "Are they coming from specific people, or is it more like a general emotional atmosphere?"


    "Well..." Flint ran a hand through her hair, a gesture of mild uncertainty. "It''s all the emotions around me. It was overwhelming at first, but I''m gradually getting used to it."


    South Rain nodded slowly, her brow still furrowed in concentration. Her fingers tapped thoughtfully against the wooden table as she spoke. "This kind of perception... I only developed it at Legend level. These emotions are essentially spiritual fluctuations from people." She straightened her posture, her voice taking on a more instructional tone. "That''s how Stasis Element accumulation works ¨C you become aware of more and more, but your heart remains calm. It''s as if you''re in the middle of interference while simultaneously being shielded from it."


    She tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes studying Flint with renewed interest. "However, you shouldn''t be able to sense these emotions when you''re not actively absorbing Stasis Element natural aura. Have you tried stopping the absorption to see if it makes a difference?"


    "What?" Flint''s eyes widened in surprise. She knew she could only absorb Stasis natural aura when holding Seedling''s hand, yet the flood of emotions continued to pour into her consciousness regardless. "No, that''s not how it works for me... I can still hear them. Including your emotions ¨C you''re feeling very puzzled right now..."


    South Rain''s eyebrows shot up, and she leaned back slightly, her robes rustling with the movement. The reaction confirmed Flint''s reading ¨C surprise and confusion radiated from her former master like ripples in a pond. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, clearly reassessing her understanding of the situation.


    "How peculiar..." South Rain leaned forward, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her fingers absently traced the rim of her tea cup as she spoke. "This seems more like an innate ability." She lifted her gaze to meet Flint''s eyes directly. "You mentioned a thin, invisible barrier that was preventing Stasis natural aura from entering your mind. Now I''m wondering if its true purpose was to shield you from the emotional bombardment around you."


    She rose from her seat and began pacing slowly, her white robes flowing gracefully with each measured step. "I believe," she continued, turning to face Flint again, "that extremely intense emotions might cause you harm." She stopped pacing, her expression growing more serious. "You mentioned how the resentment force severely impacted your mind last time. I suspect if you encounter resentment force again, the consequences could be... unexpected."


    South Rain returned to her seat, her movements deliberate and graceful. She touched her left ring finger, where a simple emerald storage ring sat. With a subtle gesture, two books materialized from a soft flash of light. She placed them carefully on the table between them, their covers worn but well-preserved. "I can teach you a Stasis natural aura cultivation method," she said, touching the first book''s leather spine, "and then a Shadow-related one." Her finger moved to the second book, its cover adorned with faded silver runes. "You could try absorbing Shadow natural aura and see if you have any affinity for it. What do you think?"


    Flint studied the two books laid out before her. The first bore the title "Frost Mind''s Mirror" in elegant silver script, while the second was emblazoned with "Moonless Shadow Method" in characters that seemed to absorb the light around them.


    She reached out, her fingers hovering over both books. A thoughtful expression crossed her face as she considered South Rain''s offer. Her previous experience absorbing natural aura had always required physical contact with someone possessing the spirit root of the opposing element. Having Seedling with her was essential for obtaining the Stasis element. With her powerful Transcendent Flux spirit root, she was able to divide her intangible energy into both Flux and Stasis natural auras.


    "Yes, I''d like to try both," Flint said, nodding slowly. She placed her fingers gently on the cover of "Moonless Shadow Method". With determination, she attempted the exercise once more, utilizing Spark''s light spirit root to aid in absorbing the natural aura of the Shadow.


    Flint withdrew her hand from the book''s cover, letting it hover momentarily before settling back into her habitual pose, chin propped on her palm. Her eyes, usually steady and contemplative, flickered with a hint of curiosity as she turned to face South Rain.


    "One more thing," she said, her voice measured and calm. "What do you know about The Bamboo Sovereign?"


    The emotional shift in South Rain was immediate and intense ¨C so sharp that Flint nearly flinched. A flash of bitter resentment cut through the air like a blade, only to dissolve almost instantly into a deep, heavy sorrow that seemed to settle over the room like evening mist.


    South Rain''s fingers, which had been resting lightly on the table, curled inward slightly. She took a breath, and when she spoke, her voice carried a weight that hadn''t been there moments before.


    "He and Obsidian were lovers," she said quietly, her gaze distant. Her fingers uncurled slowly as she continued, "At least, that''s what he claimed." She paused, and Flint could feel the sorrow deepening, like water seeping into soil. "But..."


    South Rain''s shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly, "he failed to stop Obsidian from leaving the Abyssal Pavilion when she became a prisoner of the Immortal Alliance."


    Her voice grew softer still, barely above a whisper. "And when they executed Obsidian... he couldn''t save her then either."


    South Rain''s voice grew hollow as she continued, her fingers tracing abstract patterns on the wooden table. "The Bamboo Sovereign returned to the Abyssal Pavilion covered in wounds. ''I tried my best,'' he said. All he brought back was Obsidian''s body." Her lips curved into a bitter smile that didn''t reach her eyes. "Or rather, what was left of it ¨C a piece of obsidian stone, cracked and broken."


    She drew a shaky breath, her shoulders hunching slightly as if under an invisible weight. "After that, he... lost his mind. He would sit in a pine forest all day, cradling that stone, muttering to himself. We could never make out what he was saying." Flint felt the sharp edge of South Rain''s earlier pain gradually soften into a deep, resigned sadness tinged with something gentler ¨C a kind of compassionate pity that made her chest ache.


    South Rain''s fingers stilled on the table as she continued, her voice growing distant. "One day, I was passing through that pine forest when he suddenly became lucid. He looked at me with such clarity in his eyes and told me to leave." She lifted her gaze to meet Flint''s. "I had never broken any of the Immortal Alliance''s laws, so they had no record of me. He wanted me to join them... to discover what Obsidian had endured in her final moments."


    Her voice cracked slightly on the next words. "He looked so old then... but that should have been impossible. He wasn''t supposed to age..." She trailed off, her words hanging heavy in the air.


    Suddenly, Flint felt herself drowning in a wave of overwhelming grief. Her vision blurred, and the present seemed to fade away. In its place, she saw The Bamboo Sovereign, his sage-colored hair stark against his pale skin, his body riddled with wounds that went straight through him. She ¨C no, Obsidian ¨C reached out with a trembling hand, her voice breaking as she spoke:


    "I''m sorry...I can''t live anymore."


    The vision was so vivid, so raw with emotion, that Flint had to grip the edge of the table to steady herself. The crack in her mental barrier seemed to widen under the strain of the memory, allowing more of the past to flood in. She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks, though she wasn''t sure if they belonged to her present self or to Obsidian''s final moments.

 Chapter 22:Genesis Division

    Sunlight streamed through the dining hall windows, the bustling atmosphere of lunch hour providing a lively backdrop as Flint picked up another piece of sushi, the sweet mango and shrimp filling creating an interesting contrast of flavors. Her movements were deliberate, almost measured, as she considered how to broach the subject that had been weighing on her mind.


    "You mentioned before that Blaze Mighty was the founder of the Celestial Sword Sect, right?" she asked, her voice casual despite the weight of her words.


    Spark nodded, his golden eyes flickering with interest. "That''s correct. Why do you ask?"


    "I''ve been thinking..." Flint paused, carefully selecting her next words. "Is it possible that you might be Blaze Mighty''s reincarnation? I saw him in my past life memories, and he... he resembles you quite a bit."


    The suggestion visibly stirred something in Spark. His posture straightened, and his ears - though in human form - seemed to perk up metaphorically. A flash of pride crossed his features at the possibility of being connected to such a legendary figure. "What did he do?" he asked eagerly, leaning forward slightly.


    "He gave my past self a name," Flint replied, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the wooden table. "He called me Obsidian."


    "Oh..." Spark''s voice trailed off as understanding dawned in his eyes. The memory of Flint''s earlier question about Obsidian Snow suddenly took on new meaning. His thoughts raced with the implications - if their past selves had known each other, perhaps their meeting in this life wasn''t mere coincidence. The possibility made his heart race, but uncertainty held his tongue.


    Flint sat quietly, reading the swirling emotions in his aura - anticipation, excitement, and a touch of nervousness. She waited, knowing he needed to work through his thoughts.


    Finally, Spark gathered his courage. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve as he asked, "Were they... I mean, were Blaze and Obsidian..." He took a deep breath. "Were they lovers?"


    "I''m not sure," Flint answered simply, her voice soft but distant. The response landed like a stone in still water, sending ripples of awkward tension through their conversation.


    But Flint barely noticed Spark''s crestfallen expression. Her mind had already drifted to another memory - the image of The Bamboo Sovereign''s wounded body, his sage-colored hair matted with blood, and the crushing weight of her own words: "I can''t live anymore." The echo of that ancient grief still lingered at the edges of her consciousness, a shadow she couldn''t quite shake.


    She remembered South Rain''s reaction to her breakdown during that memory - the elder''s face had paled with alarm. "You must stop absorbing Stasis Element natural aura," South Rain had insisted, reaching for the Frost Mind''s Mirror manual. "We need to repair your mental barrier before-"


    But Flint had stopped her, keeping the book. Despite the potential dangers, she was determined to keep it for her own use. She was unsure if she could harness the Shadow''s natural aura. As of now, the only way for her to improve her cultivation level was through the use of the Stasis natural aura.


    Flint pulled herself back from the memories, focusing on the present moment. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture that betrayed a hint of nervousness despite her typically calm demeanor.


    "Actually," she began, her voice measured and clear, "I wanted to try absorbing Shadow natural aura, using your spirit root. Like we did last time..."


    The words "last time" hung in the air between them. Spark''s throat bobbed in a nervous swallow, golden eyes suddenly finding great interest in the half-eaten sushi on his plate. The memory of that evening with the Moonlight''s Whisper incense was still vivid - his clouded mind, the overwhelming desire to be closer to Flint, the way his usual princely composure had completely unraveled.


    He cleared his throat, trying to maintain some dignity. "Um. Right. This afternoon?" His voice pitched slightly higher than usual before he quickly added, "Aren''t you supposed to go flying with Seedling?"


    "I''m not going flying with Seedling this afternoon," Flint replied, watching the play of emotions across his face with quiet interest. Despite his attempt at nonchalance, she could sense the flutter of nervous energy in his aura, like autumn leaves caught in a breeze.


    The bustle of the dining hall continued around them, but in their small corner, time seemed to slow, weighted with unspoken implications. Spark''s fingers drummed a silent rhythm on the table, a habit he usually suppressed as unbefitting a prince. The prospect of another intimate cultivation session with Flint both thrilled and terrified him. Although he felt that Flint¡¯s intention might just be to hold his hand again to absorb some natural aura, it didn¡¯t feel like much.


    But with the possibility of their past lives'' connection hanging between them like an unfinished sentence, he felt that there was an additional underlying meaning in Flint¡¯s words. It must be so.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    After lunch, Flint found herself having to coax a reluctant Seedling away from their usual afternoon plans. Though Seedling pouted, she eventually relented when Flint promised to make it up to her with future flying sessions.


    "Fine, I''ll leave you two to your private time," Seedling huffed with a knowing smirk before sauntering off, her tail swishing behind her. The young fox clearly had better things to do than sit still and meditate.


    Despite Seedling''s suggestive comment about privacy, the Aura Meditation Grounds were hardly secluded. The network of caves housed numerous disciples practicing their cultivation, though some chambers saw more traffic than others. While there were technically separate areas designated for Initiative and Adept disciples, the boundaries had become fluid since Adept disciples were often away from the sect on various missions, their ability to fly by sword giving them that freedom.


    Spark and Flint made their way to one of the less populated Adept-level caves. They found a quiet corner at the back, partially shielded from view of the other cultivators. As Flint reached for Spark''s hand, he became acutely aware of its softness against his palm. The contact created an immediate response - he could feel the Light natural aura within him surge and strengthen, responding to her presence. The sensation made his breath catch slightly, though he tried to maintain his composure.


    Flint guided her intangible force toward the Shadow natural aura, directing it toward her digestive tract. To her surprise, the Shadow natural aura melded with her body as naturally as food being digested - an eerily effortless process that felt almost like muscle memory.


    She nearly rolled her eyes at the realization. No wonder Obsidian had been so terse in the Twilight Harmony Cultivation manual, leaving only the cryptic note "Can use others'' spirit roots." If it was this straightforward, she wouldn''t have bothered writing a detailed explanation either. Still, the other notation - "Can split Genesis into two types" - remained a puzzle, its meaning continuing to elude her.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    A slight frown creased her brow as she considered the implications. If absorbing Shadow natural aura was this simple, she''d clearly wasted effort struggling with Stasis natural aura. Not to mention damaging her protective mental barrier in the process - what a needless complication that had turned out to be.


    As these thoughts crossed her mind, she maintained her gentle grip on Spark''s hand, feeling the steady flow of natural aura between them. The ease of this absorption stood in stark contrast to her earlier struggles, making her previous efforts seem almost laughably overcomplicated.


    With her free hand, Flint carefully withdrew the Moonless Shadow Method manual from within her robes and placed it on the ground before her. The book''s worn cover bore subtle markings that seemed to shift like shadows in the cave''s dim light. While maintaining her gentle hold on Spark''s hand, she began turning the pages with her other hand, scanning the text.


    The book described a technique for harnessing Shadow natural aura - imagining a glowing moon nestled deep within the belly and channeling the Shadow natural aura to slowly envelop its light. So abstract. Flint thought.


    Flint followed the manual''s visualization instructions, though she remained skeptical about their utility. Suddenly, she felt the Shadow natural aura flowing through her arm being pulled by an intense force, completely sinking into her abdomen. The pull was so strong that the newly generated Shadow natural aura could barely keep up with the demand.


    She glanced at Spark, who sat beside her with eyes closed in meditation. Though she could have asked him to generate more Light natural aura to increase her Shadow absorption rate, she decided against disturbing his concentration. The current pace was already far superior to the tediously slow trickle of Stasis natural aura that had been seeping through her mental barrier''s cracks.


    As she maintained the steady flow, her thoughts turned to the mechanics of cultivation. She understood the basic principle - cultivators could enhance their power by channeling natural aura into their spirit roots, and store it in their Inner Sea for later use in battle. But her own situation presented a puzzle. Without spirit roots, she wasn''t sure if she even possessed an Inner Sea. She approached the Shadow natural aura cautiously, wary of letting it flow too freely through her body. The memory of her bleeding eyes when Shadow natural aura had touched them made her particularly careful.


    Yet despite lacking spirit roots, her cultivation level was undeniably increasing. It defied conventional understanding, but the results were hard to argue with. After a moment''s consideration, Flint decided to simply accept this inexplicable progress. The method might be unusual, but if it worked, perhaps that was enough.


    In the dimly lit cave, a soft halo of Light natural aura enveloped Spark, creating a gentle luminescence around his form. Similar auras surrounded other disciples in meditation - some radiating warm light, while others who were working with Shadow natural aura were wreathed in delicate purple threads that seemed to dance in the darkness. Occasionally, Flint caught glimpses of violet ribbons passing before her eyes, strands of Shadow natural aura that appeared to devour any light they touched. She suspected she must present a similar sight to others, her own form partially obscured by these light-consuming tendrils.


    As the absorption of natural aura deepened, Flint found herself slipping into an unfamiliar state of meditation. This was new territory for her - she had never experienced such profound stillness before. The correlation became clear: the more natural aura she absorbed, the deeper her meditative state became. Her eyelids grew heavy, gradually closing as her consciousness began to merge with the flowing currents of natural aura.


    The physical world seemed to recede as her awareness expanded. She could feel every subtle movement of the Shadow natural aura as it coursed through her system, no longer just a passive observer but somehow intimately connected to its ebb and flow. The sensation was both strange and oddly familiar, as if her body had always known how to do this but had simply been waiting for the right moment.


    The tranquil meditation shattered as Flint felt a sudden shift within her body. The intangible force, distinct from the Shadow natural aura she had been cultivating, began to move with purpose. Like tributaries joining a river, streams of force flowed toward her abdomen from every part of her body. The convergence was immediate and overwhelming - a violent twist of pain erupted in her belly, followed by the metallic taste of blood rising in her throat.


    "Cough, cough, cough!" The sound echoed through the quiet cave as Flint doubled over, one hand still clasped in Spark''s while the other flew to cover her mouth. Crimson droplets spattered onto the pristine white fabric of her Celestial Sword Sect robes, the stark contrast drawing immediate attention.


    Spark snapped out of his meditative state, golden eyes flying open at the sound of her distress. He turned toward her, concern etched across his features. "What''s wrong?" he whispered, mindful of the other disciples despite his growing alarm. As his gaze caught the blood staining the corner of her mouth, his voice took on a more urgent edge. "You''re coughing up blood - what happened?"


    His hand tightened instinctively around hers, the gesture both protective and uncertain. The peaceful atmosphere of moments ago had vanished, replaced by a tense undercurrent of worry as he watched Flint struggle to contain another bout of coughing.


    The violent coughing fit broke Flint''s careful control over the intangible force. Without that restraint, a small stream of Shadow natural aura began to rise, causing blood to well up in her eyes. The sight was unsettling - blood trickling from both eyes and mouth, staining her pale features with crimson streaks.


    "We need to get you to a healer." Spark''s hand moved to her waist, ready to lift her. His touch was gentle but urgent, his usual aristocratic reserve giving way to open concern.


    "Wait." Flint managed to force out the word between swallowing another mouthful of blood.


    I think I understand now... she thought, pieces falling into place in her mind. This is what ''Can split Genesis into two types'' means.


    With focused effort, she gathered the intangible force - no, the Genesis - and wrapped it around her abdomen. Her digestive tract, she realized, possessed the same ability to split this force into two types of natural aura. The term "Genesis" had been Obsidian''s name for this intangible force all along.


    Though her abdomen still ached from the newly split Light natural aura making contact with her digestive tract, the pain in her eyes had subsided. She carefully guided the Genesis to envelope the Light natural aura, directing it toward her eyes. This process felt distinctly different from absorbing Shadow natural aura.


    Where Shadow natural aura absorption felt like swallowing mild wasabi - stimulating but manageable, seeping into the walls of her digestive system and dissolving into her body - this was something else entirely. As the delicate streams of Light natural aura penetrated her eyes, she felt an initial flash of cold, followed by a gentle warmth, as if her eyeballs had been plunged into ice water and then slowly heated over a low flame.


    When she opened her eyes, her vision was clouded by a subtle luminescence that made even Spark''s face appear slightly blurred. She pulled out the Twilight Harmony Cultivation manual from within her robes, struggling to make out the characters through her light-dazzled vision.


    "You must understand that when absorbing Light and Shadow natural aura, they won''t naturally find their way to their designated locations - the eyes and digestive tract. Like streams, they''ll merge and flow into your body together... However, if they travel in opposing directions, the consequences could be fatal. Therefore, when they enter your body, you must choose their landing point carefully. I recommend the cervical vertebrae, from which you can separate Light and Shadow natural aura to flow upward or downward..."


    Flint lowered the book, her mind racing. So Genesis is spread throughout my body, but I need to concentrate it? She closed her eyes, focusing her awareness on her throat. With careful precision, she began drawing the Genesis scattered throughout her body toward her cervical vertebrae.


    The sensation was peculiar - like countless tiny streams of mercury converging into a single pool at the base of her neck. She could feel her digestive tract responding differently now, seemingly awakened by the Shadow natural aura she had absorbed earlier. This new sensitivity allowed her to detect when portions of the Genesis began splitting into distinct streams of Shadow and Light natural aura.


    Her fingers unconsciously tightened around Spark''s hand as she maintained her concentration. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead from the effort of controlling such precise movements of energy within her body. The process required an exhausting level of focus - one small slip could send the wrong type of natural aura flowing in a potentially dangerous direction.


    Through her heightened awareness, she could feel the Shadow natural aura wanting to sink downward while the Light natural aura naturally tried to rise. It was like trying to separate oil and water while they were still flowing - a delicate balance of allowing their natural tendencies while maintaining strict control over their paths.


    Spark watched her with growing concern, noting her intense concentration and the slight tremor in her hand. He remained silent, but his thumb traced small, comforting circles on the back of her hand, offering quiet support as she worked through whatever internal cultivation challenge she was facing.


    Flint maintained her focus, losing track of time as she gradually acclimated to directing the naturally absorbed Genesis to concentrate at her throat. During a brief moment between shifts in attention, she murmured to Spark, "Don''t worry, I''m fine." Then her concentration immediately returned to controlling the Genesis''s movement.


    No wonder it''s so challenging to cultivate two opposing spirit roots, she reflected. This constant focus is exhausting. The contrast was stark - unlike those with compatible spirit roots who could absorb natural aura as easily as eating or drinking, this process demanded unwavering attention. She thought of Spark, whose Deficient Shadow spirit root meant he never had to worry about Light natural aura causing him harm. The natural aura simply flowed into his body without resistance or need for careful management.


    Time slipped away unnoticed as Flint dared not let her concentration waver. Her eyes, now activated by the Light natural aura, seemed to have locked her into this process of Genesis separation. She couldn''t pause it even if she wanted to. Around them, other disciples began leaving the Aura Meditation Ground in twos and threes, while Spark remained steadfast beside her, his hand still providing its anchor of warmth.


    "Shall we go?" Spark asked, glancing at the departing disciples. Dinner time had likely arrived.


    Flint didn''t spare the mental energy to process his words.


    "Flint?" He tried again. "Should we leave?"


    "...Mm." The sound barely escaped her lips, more vibration than word. She rose to her feet through what seemed like muscle memory, her attention never leaving the focal point at her throat. Leaning slightly against Spark for support, she moved with an almost dreamlike quality, her steps mechanical as they left the Aura Meditation Ground. Her eyes, though open, held a distant look, as if she were navigating through an entirely different world than the physical one around her.

 Chapter 23: Days of Growth

    Flint gradually began adapting to the method of maintaining focus to draw Genesis natural aura to her throat. Though she still easily lost concentration, she could now spare some attention for other tasks.


    Beyond cultivation methods, she was also starting to master important secret arts for attack and defense. One such technique was Shadow Blade, which she had borrowed from the Vault of Heaven''s Wisdom, the library of Celestial Sword Sect.


    The key to mastering these techniques lay in her body''s ability to store Shadow and Light natural aura that hadn''t been absorbed by spirit roots. She realized that the Inner Sea seemed to encompass a cultivator''s entire body. In her case, She did not store both natural auras simultaneously, but instead focused on concentrating the excess Shadow natural aura in her abdomen. This was the best method she could think of. She did¡¯t know whether Sage Twilight could store two types of natural aura at the same time.


    Flint had asked Sage South Rain how long it might take to reach Adept Level. South Rain''s dark eyes flickered thoughtfully before she answered.


    "For cultivators with a single Gifted spirit root, it typically takes 35 to 40 years," she explained while adjusting one of her silver hairpins. "With two Gifted roots, that time reduces to about 20 years. Those rare individuals with a Transcendent root might achieve it in under a decade." She paused briefly, studying Flint. "But in your case, with unmeasurable spirit roots, I cannot make a prediction."


    Flint nodded silently. While she could absorb all the Shadow natural aura released when Spark helped split her Genesis, this didn''t necessarily mean her cultivation progressed at his pace. After all, Spark was simultaneously drawing in Light natural aura from their surroundings while she worked with just one source, her Genesis.


    It was a bright morning when Flint posed this question to Sage South Rain. She had been practicing her newly acquired Shadow Blade technique when the elder happened to pass by.


    South Rain paused her steps, observing Flint''s loose black hair cascading down her back. With practiced grace, she retrieved a hair ribbon from her storage ring and moved behind Flint.


    "Let me help you with that," she said softly, gathering Flint''s hair in her hands. Due to the crack in her mental barrier, Flint caught a whisper of melancholy in South Rain''s voice as she added, "You should always tie your hair back when practicing with blades."


    South Rain''s fingers moved deftly, weaving the ribbon through Flint''s hair. "Master Snow used to tell me the same thing," she continued, a bittersweet smile playing at her lips. "She was quite insistent about keeping hair tied back during Secret Art practice."


    Stepping around to face Flint, South Rain assessed her work. "There - much more practical now." Her fingers unconsciously drifted to her own silver hairpins. "Master Snow wouldn''t have approved of my current style, I imagine."


    "But it looks elegant on you," Flint offered sincerely.


    South Rain''s eyes softened, though a shadow of sadness lingered in their depths. "Not suitable for combat... that''s what she would say." Her emotional wavelength steadied, as if she were deliberately containing her feelings - perhaps to shield Flint from their intensity. "Though I suppose the Abyssal Pavilion never really gave me many opportunities for combat anyway."


    The remaining days passed peacefully and followed a similar pattern. While Flint wasn''t particularly social, Spark was quite outgoing. Though the other Outer Sect disciples had previously considered her "worthless" due to her apparent lack of spirit roots, now that she could cultivate, the rumors and whispers about her had largely subsided.


    She would occasionally go to the mountaintop to admire the view. The main peak of Soaring Heaven Sword Peaks, where the Outer Sect disciples trained, was incredibly high - she often felt as if she were standing above the clouds themselves. When accompanying Seedling on flights, memories of happier times would surface, most of them centered around The Abyssal Pavilion. Few of these recollections involved Blaze Mighty. She kept a notebook where she recorded all these memories, and although they were just disconnected fragments, with Sage South Rain''s narratives as context, she could roughly piece together when these moments had occurred in Obsidian Snow''s previous life.


    Gradually, Flint discovered that her memories were triggered by emotional resonance - when someone else''s feelings influenced her own, matching emotions from her previous life would surface.


    The crack in her mental barrier remained. Though uncertain whether it would heal on its own, she had grown accustomed to the constant "noise" of others'' emotions.


    This emotional noise was particularly pronounced during meals with Spark. She could sense his inexplicable nervousness, but her focus on drawing Genesis natural aura to her throat often made her seem distracted, causing her to miss the context of his emotional states.


    Would Spark have memories of Blaze? While her theory about Blaze Mighty being Spark''s previous life was just speculation, she had always felt that Blaze Mighty played a crucial role in Obsidian Snow''s life - even if she couldn''t remember exactly how.


    Did Spark like her? Flint suspected he did. Through the crack in her mental barrier, she could clearly sense his nervous, shy emotional fluctuations, and she enjoyed seeing him in such an awkward state. She wished Spark would transform into a wolf more often so she could pet his fur, but he carefully maintained his human form, even though everyone knew he was an Inferno Wolf.


    A year passed, and Flint welcomed another winter solstice at Celestial Sword Sect. Following mortal traditions, the sect served red bean porridge decorated with pumpkin for the winter solstice celebration. In the mortal realm, this marked their biggest holiday, with festivities extending from winter solstice to the new year. While Celestial Sword Sect didn''t have fixed holidays, Outer Sect disciples could easily take leave from morning training, and afternoon meditation attendance wasn''t strictly monitored. For Inner Sect disciples, cultivation was entirely self-directed.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    After dinner, Seedling suggested visiting the Cultivation Assessment Hall to check their cultivation levels. Seedling had already reached Middle Initiative, while Spark remained at Early Initiative, though he claimed he was close to breaking through.


    When Flint placed her hand on the Cultivation Assessment Stone, a faint orange circle appeared alongside the inner red circle, matching Seedling''s level.


    "You''ve reached Middle Initiative too!" Seedling exclaimed, her voice bubbling with joy and surprise.


    "Congratulations, Flint." Spark''s voice carried genuine warmth. Through Flint¡¯s crack of the mental barrier, Flint could sense a tinge of complicated emotions as he realized she had surpassed him.


    After a moment''s reflection, Spark inwardly resolved to work harder. "You''re progressing quickly too, Seedling," Spark commented, his tone slightly strained as he considered how they were both spiritual beasts with Transcendent spirit roots who had joined the sect together, yet Seedling''s progress outpaced his own. The common saying that spiritual beasts cultivated faster didn''t seem to apply to him, and this realization made his heart sink further.


    "That''s because I was already cultivating before coming to Celestial Sword Sect! I was nearly at Middle Initiative when I arrived," Seedling replied casually. She suddenly paused, her eyes widening with realization. "Flint, did you cultivate before coming to Celestial Sword Sect?"


    Almost immediately, Seedling recognized the absurdity of her question. Flint had initially been unable to absorb any natural aura, yet now her cultivation speed was remarkable. It had taken Seedling nearly two years to reach Middle Initiative, while Flint had achieved it in less than one.


    "Uh, no," Flint responded absent-mindedly due to the shift of attention to her throat, though she had apparently caught Seedling''s question. She hadn''t quite processed how obvious the answer should have been.


    Flint blinked as both Seedling and Spark stared at her with wide-eyed astonishment. "What''s wrong?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.


    Seedling shook her head, her white fox ears twitching. "I''m just... amazed." She quickly brightened, her tail swishing with excitement. "But hey, since you''re at Middle Initiative now, let''s do some sect missions together! I''ve been looking for a partner!"


    Flint recalled the notice board she''d seen near the sect''s main gate. It was regularly updated with various tasks - some with cultivation level requirements, others without. The missions ranged from helping Elders gather herbs to assisting with pill refinement or sword practice. Successful completion earned Cloud Beads, which could be exchanged for Secret Art manuals or equipment from the Divine Weapon Forging Hall.


    Though the Outer Sect instructors generally advised Initiative disciples to focus on cultivation - since basic cultivation methods and secret arts were provided freely - Flint couldn''t bring herself to refuse Seedling''s eager request.


    "Which mission did you have in mind?" Flint asked, absently adjusting the ribbon in her hair that South Rain had given her.


    Seedling''s purple eyes sparkled. "Guarding the herb fields!" she declared, bouncing slightly on her toes.


    "It sounds boring though. Why would you want to do that?" Flint asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Well, cultivation in the sect is boring too. Guarding herb fields is just as boring, but at least we get Cloud Beads for it!" Seedling twirled playfully, her fox tail swishing behind her. "My master, Sage West Wind, recommended I get a Zephyr''s Embrace Robe from the Divine Weapon Forging Hall." Her purple eyes lit up with excitement. "When I saw it had ''Zephyr'' in its name, same as my family name, I knew it was meant for me! It''s like fate, don''t you think?"


    At the mention of Sage West Wind, Flint recalled his status among the sect''s highest-ranking elders. Along with Sage South Rain, Sage North Thunder, and Sect Leader Sage East Cloud, he was one of the four cardinal elders of Cloud, Rain, Wind, and Thunder. Seedling''s privilege of choosing such an esteemed master came from her Transcendent spirit root - a rare benefit reserved for the most talented disciples.


    Flint nodded slowly, seeing the logic in Seedling''s reasoning. After all, if one had to spend time doing something mundane, they would rather choose the one that offers a reward.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The spiritual herb fields of Celestial Sword Sect were scattered across the sun-facing slopes of Soaring Heaven Sword Peaks. While most spiritual herbs thrived in sunlight, there were also shade-loving varieties cultivated on the northern faces. Flint and Seedling were assigned to guard the sun-facing fields of Pine Mist Peak, a relatively central mountain in the range. The more dangerous positions near the outer edges of the peaks were reserved for stronger cultivators, as those areas were more likely to attract herb thieves attempting to infiltrate from beyond the sect''s borders.


    After receiving their duties from the previous guard, they settled into the small cottage near the herb fields. Seedling frequently convinced Flint to join her in aerial patrols, though "patrol" might have been too formal a word for their flights. Their assigned peak rarely saw any attempted thefts. Their main responsibility was monitoring the herbs'' growth patterns according to the handbook they''d been given, which detailed the normal growing conditions for each variety. If any abnormalities appeared, they were to report them, as such issues typically required expertise beyond their level to resolve.


    "Look, the sunset from up here is amazing!" Seedling called out during one of their evening flights, her white fox tail streaming behind her as she carried Flint through the air. The dying light painted the herb fields in shades of gold and amber, the carefully tended rows creating intricate patterns across the mountainside.


    Flint had to admit the view was spectacular, even if these "patrols" were mostly an excuse for Seedling to indulge in her love of flying. The Wind-Charm Fox''s joy was infectious, especially with Flint''s heightened emotional sensitivity through the crack in her mental barrier.


    Though they had brought plenty of provisions, without the cooking puppets from the Mystic Enigma Pavilion that usually served in the dining hall, Flint sometimes found herself cooking for Seedling. However, Seedling often preferred to transform into her fox form and hunt rabbits or pheasants in the surrounding forest. On these occasions, Flint would build a fire, and they would share the roasted meat together. After their meals, Seedling would let Flint stroke her soft white fur - a peaceful moment they both treasured.


    These guard duties were typically assigned to Adept level Inner Sect disciples, which explained why the sect didn''t provide food supplies. It was during their stay that Flint learned something surprising from Seedling - Adept level cultivators, like herself, didn''t actually need to eat. While they could consume food if they wished, it wasn''t necessary for survival. Their bodies could function purely on circulating natural aura.


    Through the jade tablet, Spark''s messages arrived regularly, each one carrying a hint of concern beneath his casual inquiries. Flint would glance at them while maintaining her focus on drawing Genesis to her throat, her responses brief and matter-of-fact.


    "Watching the herbs," she''d reply one day.


    "Cultivating," would be her response the next.


    "Flying with Seedling," she''d write another time.


    During one such exchange, Seedling peered over her shoulder, her white fox ears perking up with interest. "Oh come on," she teased, nudging Flint with her elbow. "Just write ''I miss you, Spark.'' He''d probably transform into his wolf form and run all the way here!"


    Flint''s lips curved into a small smile as she shook her head. "I''ll pass," she replied softly, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the jade tablet. While she found Spark''s aloof exterior and hidden warmth rather endearing, her thoughts often drifted to Lenient Pine and her connection to The Bamboo Sovereign. This unspoken truth sat heavily in her heart, making her hesitant to respond to Spark''s subtle advances. Their relationship remained in a delicate dance of almost-but-not-quite.


    As days passed, Flint found herself handling most of the actual guard duties. Seedling would spend her time soaring through the clouds or hunting in the forest, her joyful energy radiating across the mountainside. Despite being assigned as partners, the careful monitoring of the spiritual herbs fell primarily to Flint. Yet she couldn''t bring herself to mind - Seedling''s infectious happiness made even the mundane tasks feel lighter.


    One evening, as the sun painted the sky in deep oranges and purples, Seedling burst into their cottage, her purple eyes wide with excitement and her tail swishing rapidly behind her.


    "Flint!" she exclaimed in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning close. "You won''t believe what I saw today!" Her voice dropped even lower as she glanced around dramatically. "There was this Hound with three tails at the foot of our mountain. And get this - he opened some kind of secret underground palace!"


    Flint paused in her task of recording the day''s herb growth patterns, her hand stilling over the logbook. "A three-tailed Hound?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of concern.


    Seedling nodded eagerly, practically bouncing on her toes. "Want to go check it out?" Her purple eyes sparkled with mischief. "It could be an adventure!"

 Chapter 24: Signs of Darkness

    Flint''s brow furrowed as she set down her brush. "Couldn''t it be a celestial dwelling belonging to one of the elders?"


    "Oh, please!" Seedling flopped onto a cushion, her tail swishing with amusement. "Since when do elders build their dwellings underground? They always pick caves halfway up mountains and decorate them all fancy-like." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I''ve been to Sage West Wind''s place - it''s on some mountain peak... though I can''t remember which one exactly."


    Her eyes lit up again as she leaned forward. "But this place? It had all these intricate mechanisms just to hide the entrance! An underground palace with such elaborate concealment must be hiding something incredibly secret."


    "And if it''s meant to be secret," Flint pointed out gently, "perhaps it''s not something we''re supposed to know about?" She couldn''t shake the feeling that any underground palace so carefully hidden would belong to someone powerful within the sect - someone whose bad side they definitely didn''t want to be on.


    "Please, please, let''s go check it out!" Seedling pleaded with Flint, her fox tail swishing back and forth eagerly. Her purple eyes sparkled with mischief as she batted her eyelashes. "I''ll even let you pet my tail," she added in a sing-song voice.


    Flint rolled her eyes. "Oh? And if I don''t go, you''ll never let me pet it again?"


    "Exactly!" Seedling declared triumphantly, clearly pleased with her bargaining strategy.


    Flint weighed her options, though her concern about potential trouble still won out. "Then I suppose I''ll have to live without tail-petting privileges."


    "Ugh, Flint, you''re so boring!" Seedling flopped backward dramatically, her white hair spreading across the cushion.


    "Says the one who''s never once helped record the daily herb growth logs," Flint pointed out, tapping her pen against the logbook meaningfully.


    In response, Seedling transformed into her fox form and curled into a fluffy white ball. "No way. That''s so tedious. They all look exactly the same anyway."


    The sight of her friend literally turning into a ball of fluff to avoid responsibility made Flint''s lips twitch with amusement, though she tried to maintain her stern expression. It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on her work with such an entertaining distraction nearby.


    The next morning, Seedling bounded off early to play, leaving Flint to her duties. Though Flint could have easily cut corners with the herb monitoring - a quick "all normal" would suffice as long as nothing went terribly wrong - this was her first real responsibility. She wanted to do it properly, with a clear conscience, which meant at least giving everything a proper look.


    Today felt different from usual. Her attention was drawn to a peculiar herb emanating an eerie brownish-red glow. As she leaned in closer, the light suddenly surged toward her, diving straight through the crack in her mental barrier. Without that protection, pain exploded through her mind - ten times worse than when she''d absorbed the resentment force from that mad cultivator who''d tried to hunt her down.


    She quickly realized what she was dealing with: resentment force, the lingering memories of hatred from the dead. But something was different this time. With her mental barrier compromised, the absorbed memories came through with crystal clarity, as vivid as her own past life recollections - though Flint knew these weren''t her memories. Through the dizzying haze, she saw a scene eerily similar to her encounter with the madman: a Celestial Sword Sect disciple drawing a circle around her, while she lay there, bleeding from her legs, unable to move...


    When she finally came back to herself, she found she''d fallen to her knees, gasping for air. One thought dominated her mind: Why would there be resentment force in the herb fields?!


    Flint stared at the now-normal Spirit Sword Grass, its silver-green leaves swaying gently in the morning breeze. The herb was prized for its ability to enhance sword techniques when properly refined, but right now it looked completely ordinary - no trace remained of the disturbing brownish-red glow she''d witnessed moments ago.


    She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the lingering headache. The rational part of her knew she should report this incident - even though this situation wasn¡¯t recorded on the manual, resentment force meaned to a heinous act of absorbing souls, which was subject to arrest by the Immortal Alliance. But what would she say? "I saw resentment force around the Spirit Sword Grass, but it''s fine now"?


    Flint sighed, realizing that reporting this to the herb field supervisor wouldn''t help much. She didn''t even have Sage Mortius Crane''s contact details in her jade tablet - the elder responsible for discipline and liaison with the Immortal Alliance. The name felt familiar, but she couldn''t quite place where she''d heard it before.


    The only person she could currently contact was Dawn Everleaf, an Adept Level disciple responsible for handling special situations with the herbs. But now everything appeared perfectly normal - there was nothing left to report or fix. After careful consideration, Flint decided to hold off on reporting it. Perhaps it was just some unusual circumstance, like a stray breeze carrying traces of resentment force.


    She opened her logbook and carefully recorded the phenomenon. Next time, she resolved to keep her distance if she saw that brownish-red glow again. Otherwise, she''d likely end up absorbing all the resentment force herself.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Her memory of her last encounter with resentment force had grown hazy. She remembered how it had coiled around that crazed cultivator who''d been absorbing mortal souls, but when the force had noticed her, it had rushed to flood her mind with the victims'' final memories. Afterward, the resentment force had simply... vanished.


    It''s like they think I''m the one who deserves to be tormented by their pain, Flint thought wryly to herself.


    By afternoon, Flint could usually finish inspecting all the herb fields on the mountain. She then focused on absorbing Genesis to improve her cultivation. Seedling had told her not to bother cooking if she wasn''t back by five - which suited Flint fine, as she didn''t need to eat anyway and preferred to spend the time on cultivation. Their barbecue grill remained outside; Seedling could cook for herself, and sometimes she just ate raw meat anyway.


    "Flint!" A white fox Seedling burst in, interrupting Flint''s meditation.


    Flint checked the time - exactly five o''clock. "Hungry?"


    "No! That''s not important!" Seedling hadn''t bothered changing back from her fox form - probably because it saved her the trouble of getting dressed. "I saw that three-tailed black greyhound going into the underground palace! But he wasn''t a hound anymore - he turned into a human!"


    "You can turn human too," Flint deadpanned.


    Seedling was panting slightly from excitement. "No, listen! He changed because he was carrying this big sack, and there was someone inside it! Someone alive!"


    "Maybe it was just an animal, like how you stash rabbits and pheasants to eat. Could have been a deer," Flint continued trying to find reasonable explanations, maintaining her characteristic calm and dry humor.


    Seedling''s voice grew more urgent. "No, no! And more importantly! I saw... I saw..."


    Her voice suddenly dropped, tinged with uncertainty. "The sack was glowing with this brownish-red light..."


    "You remember that mad cultivator we met? It was that same kind of light..."


    Flint''s eyes widened. "What?!"


    She quickly recounted her experience with the resentment force from earlier that day. Seedling''s purple eyes filled with confusion and shock.


    Seedling apparently hadn''t known the brownish-red light was called resentment force, though now she did. Perhaps because she''d never been tormented by the painful memories it carried - she didn''t know those reddish-brown lights were actually the grudges of the dead.


    "Do you know how to contact Sage Mortius Crane?" Flint asked.


    Seedling shook her head. "Never paid attention to that."


    Flint thought carefully. Sage Mortius Crane... who had told her that name? Someone with hound ears... Wait - hound? Flint felt the pieces clicking together. Her eyes lit up as she turned to Seedling. "I''ve got it!"


    Seedling''s fox ears perked up. "Got what?"


    "That hound you saw must be Sage Mortius Crane''s spirit beast. Sage Mortius Crane is in charge of discipline and coordinates with the Immortal Alliance on legal matters. So that underground palace must be the Celestial Sword Sect''s prison, and the hound is helping him capture people who''ve committed soul absorption crimes." Flint concluded.


    Looking at it that way, maybe there wasn''t anything to worry about? Perhaps those traces of resentment force really had just been blown in by the wind, "accidentally" tormenting her in the process.


    Should still try to fix that mental barrier though. Flint mused, though she had no idea how.


    To her surprise, Seedling''s eyes widened with excitement. "A prison! I''ve never been to one - let''s go check it out!"


    "My lady, what''s so interesting about a prison?" Flint asked with resigned amusement.


    "No, think about it - all the bad guys are locked up, so first it''s safe, and second it''s educational, teaching people not to break Immortal Alliance laws, and finally, I''ve never been to one, so it sounds fascinating!" Seedling rattled off her reasons.


    "Don''t you have prisons in Wind-Charm Fox territory?"


    "Uh, not really. We usually just banish criminals from our lands," Seedling admitted.


    "Oh, we don''t have written laws - the noble council just votes on whether someone is guilty. All punishments are banishment, though sometimes victims'' families take revenge and kill the banished criminals, which isn''t considered a crime," Seedling added.


    Flint scratched her head. What kind of society is that? She couldn''t quite picture it.


    "Hmph, if you won''t come see it with me, I''ll go by myself. It''s safe anyway since it''s a prison." Seedling curled herself into a white furry ball, as she often did when upset or sleeping. Watching her, Flint suddenly wondered if Spark slept in wolf form rather than human form. She''d seen him sleep that way when they were fleeing from pursuit of the Abyssal Pavilion.


    Why am I suddenly thinking about Spark? Her jade tablet vibrated with another of his routine greetings, and she took it out to reply.


    "Hmph, so friends are less important than boyfriends now," commented the ball of fur that was Seedling.


    "You''re important, you''re more important. Just call me if you see anything unusual - I''ve seen prisons before." Flint hadn''t actually seen one, but she needed some excuse. "Besides, I still have to help with your work."


    "Those herbs are all boring anyway," Seedling muttered.


    The next morning, Seedling bounded off on her adventure while Flint continued the herb monitoring duties. Everything seemed normal until she spotted several Spirit Sword Grass plants in the distance tinged with that brownish-red glow. After carefully confirming what she saw, she took out her jade tablet to contact Dawn Everleaf, who said she''d arrive within the hour.


    Putting away her tablet, Flint sat down at a safe distance to observe the Spirit Sword Grass emanating the brownish-red light. Now she found herself hoping the resentment force wouldn''t blow away - that would make things very difficult to explain.


    Wonder how Seedling''s prison tour is going. While daydreaming, Flint focused on channeling Genesis to her throat - this way of thinking had become almost second nature to her now.


    Dawn Everleaf arrived and immediately found Flint lost in thought. Flint pointed to the glowing area, which she''d kept at a safe distance.


    "I can''t go closer," Flint explained. "For certain reasons, this resentment force affects me. You should take a look."


    Dawn Everleaf frowned, neither accepting nor rejecting Flint''s explanation. However, she herself wasn''t particularly familiar with handling resentment force. After some observation, she noticed it wasn''t affecting the plants'' growth, leaving her at a loss for what to do. But soul absorption was a serious crime under Immortal Alliance law - she should notify someone who could liaise with their enforcement division.


    She took out her jade tablet to contact the relevant person. Returning to Flint, she said, "This resentment force isn''t affecting plant growth. I''m not sure how to remove it. I''ve called someone from the disciplinary division."


    Flint nodded, noting Dawn''s rather cold tone. Did everyone become so detached after reaching Adept Level? Trying to be friendly, she offered, "I think this might be because of the nearby prison. There''s a prison here holding people who absorbed souls, so maybe their resentment force somehow affected the herb fields..."


    Dawn suddenly cut her off, surprise and impatience in her voice: "Who told you the Celestial Sword Sect has a prison?"


    "Huh?" Flint was dumbfounded.


    Dawn continued, "People who violate Immortal Alliance laws are taken directly to Immortal Alliance prisons. Depending on the severity of other infractions, punishment might be mandatory labor, fines, or expulsion from the sect."


    Then where did Seedling go?! Flint was reluctant to admit her conclusion might be wrong - it had seemed so logical. "Um, well, that prison, maybe at the mountain base... there''s this underground palace where Sage Mortius Crane''s bloodbound beast, Nightbane I think, keeps disciples who''ve absorbed souls..."


    Dawn Everleaf maintained her dismissive attitude, finding Flint''s thinking childishly naive. "Why would Sage Mortius Crane build his own prison when there are Immortal Alliance facilities? Have you been inside? What''s in there?"


    Flint''s hands trembled slightly. "Really?" She tried to review her logic but found it crumbling. Something felt off - why would Sage Mortius Crane build his own prison? Come to think of it, was it even built by Sage Mortius Crane at all?


    Dawn Everleaf''s main reason for dismissing Flint was that Flint would likely be the primary suspect when the disciplinary Inner Sect disciple arrived. Flint''s words couldn''t be trusted. Though Dawn had never encountered someone who absorbed souls, Flint''s suspicious behavior in avoiding the resentment force suggested something wasn''t right.


    As Flint''s thoughts raced, her jade tablet suddenly vibrated. It was a message from Seedling that made her pupils contract in fear:


    "Flint, help me!"

 Chapter 25: I hear you

    Flint''s heart pounded as she raced down the mountain path, barely registering Dawn Everleaf''s startled expression behind her. Her fingers trembled as they clutched her jade tablet, sending a desperate message to Seedling: "Where are you?"


    The tablet''s surface remained eerily still, its smooth jade face reflecting nothing but Flint''s increasingly desperate eyes. She stared at it so intently that her breath left small clouds of condensation on its cold surface, but no response came.


    If Sage Mortius Crane built a secret prison, where would he hide it? The thought raced through her mind as she scanned the landscape. The forest at the mountain''s base seemed the obvious choice ¨C dense enough to conceal secrets, far enough from prying eyes.


    But as soon as she entered the pine forest, despair began to creep in. The trees loomed around her like silent sentinels, their branches creating a maze of shadows that seemed to shift and change with each step. The more frantically she searched, the more her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind.


    Flint forced herself to stop, pressing her palm against rough bark as she caught her breath. Early spring snow still clung to the ground in patches, and ¨C her eyes widened with sudden realization. Footprints. I need to find their tracks.


    Sweat trickled down her back despite the cold as she began methodically scanning the ground. The towering pines stretched endlessly upward, making her feel like an insect scurrying between giants'' feet. Finally, her persistence paid off ¨C there in a patch of undisturbed snow, she spotted Seedling''s distinctive footprints. Her friend hadn''t taken her fox form today.


    But the trail ended all too soon, disappearing where the snow gave way to bare earth. Flint found herself compulsively checking her jade tablet again and again, but its surface remained stubbornly silent. Looking back, she realized just how deep into the forest she''d ventured. The familiar peaks of the sect were barely visible through the dense canopy above.


    As she turned in a slow circle, something caught her eye ¨C a clearing to her left, where the pines had been systematically removed. The space felt wrong somehow, too precisely empty in this otherwise untamed forest. Every instinct she possessed screamed that this had to be it.


    Her jade tablet remained silent as she approached the clearing, its weight in her pocket a constant reminder of Seedling''s unanswered cry for help.


    Flint''s footsteps echoed through the forest as she raced toward the clearing. But when she arrived, her heart sank ¨C there was no door, no entrance, nothing but bare earth.


    Yet something felt off. Unlike the surrounding forest floor, this patch was completely clear of snow, unnaturally clean. Studying it more carefully, Flint noticed faint lines in the soil forming an almost perfect square ¨C the outline of what had to be a concealed entrance.


    But how to open it? Her eyes darted desperately around the clearing until they landed on something unusual:


    A single pine sapling caught Flint''s attention, standing alone at the clearing''s edge. Unlike the towering giants surrounding it, this young tree was barely taller than she was. More importantly, it seemed oddly out of place ¨C too perfectly positioned, its trunk unnaturally straight.


    But how to open the door? Her eyes fixed on the small pine tree - barely her height, conspicuously out of place among its towering brethren. Something about its stunted growth nagged at her instincts. Drawing closer, Flint''s fingers traced over the bark, finding what she''d hoped for: runes etched in concentric circles, similar to those she''d seen on the service puppets in the dining hall.


    If they work the same way... She bit her lip, studying the intricate pattern. The runes were arranged in circles connected by directional arrows, forming what she''d heard called "functions" during her brief exposure to runic studies. Though she''d thought learning runes as impractical at the time, she now cursed her lack of knowledge.


    Still, this configuration seemed simpler than most. The arrows created a clear flow, like a river system feeding into increasingly larger streams. Her eyes followed the pattern to its source - a single circle with no arrows pointing toward it.


    Worth a try. Holding her breath, Flint channeled a thin stream of natural aura into that initial circle. For a heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. Then the runes began to glow, first faintly, then with increasing brightness that spread through the connected circles like falling dominoes.


    A grinding sound drew her attention to the ground. The perfectly square patch of earth she''d noticed earlier was shifting, revealing stone steps descending into darkness. As the entrance fully opened, a wave of stale air rushed up from below, carrying the faint tang of blood.


    Flint''s throat tightened. The darkness below seemed to pulse with malevolent purpose, and the faint scent of blood made her stomach churn. But somewhere down there, Seedling needed her. Taking a deep breath of the clean forest air, she steeled herself and took her first step down into the shadows.


    The stone was cold beneath her feet, and each step seemed to take her further from the world she knew into something mysterious and wrong. Hold on, Seedling, she thought. I''m coming.


    "Flint, is that you?" Seedling''s familiar voice echoed up the stairwell.


    "I''m here!" Flint raced down the remaining steps, her footfalls echoing against cold stone. As she reached the bottom, the darkness gave way to an otherworldly scene that made her blood run cold.


    The underground chamber was illuminated by an eerie brownish-red glow emanating from multiple human shapes. In this haunting light, Seedling''s white hair took on a crimson sheen, her purple eyes gleaming like ghost lights in the darkness. A dark stain spread across her leg where she''d been wounded, the fabric of her robes torn and bloody.


    Seeing Flint, Seedling dragged herself forward with trembling arms. "Flint," she gasped, "my leg... I think it was a sword. I can''t walk."


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    But Flint could barely hear her friend''s words. Her mind went blank as she registered the true source of the red light - resentment force, swirling around dozens of caged cultivators like angry storm clouds. And now, like a gathering tempest, that resentment force seemed to sense her presence.


    Time itself seemed to freeze. The brownish-red light began to move with terrible purpose, streaming toward her from every direction. The resentment force poured forth in torrents of raw emotion - centuries of pain, grief, and rage given physical form. They wailed a chorus of ten thousand sorrows, reaching for her like desperate hands finally finding their long-lost salvation.


    The sheer intensity of their collective anguish was overwhelming. The air itself seemed to vibrate with their ethereal screams as waves of resentment force crashed against each other in their rush to reach her, creating a terrible aurora that filled the chamber with its bloody light. In that moment, Flint stood at the eye of an emotional hurricane, as the hundreds of resentful souls entwining around these dozens of cultivators recognized something in her that called to them like a beacon in an endless night, and they galloped over at top speed.


    This is very, very bad, was her last coherent thought before the tide of resentment force crashed over her like a tsunami of pure agony.


    The weight of a thousand sorrows drove Flint to her knees, her mind drowning in an overwhelming flood of memories that weren''t her own. These weren''t just villagers from nearby ¨C she saw faces from distant towns and cities, their lives flashing before her eyes in brutal clarity. Children playing in sunlit courtyards, young lovers stealing kisses beneath cherry blossoms, elderly grandparents telling stories by candlelight. All of them, every single one, had their souls violently torn from still-breathing bodies, leaving behind only these churning clouds of resentment that now wrapped around their killers like vengeful shrouds.


    The memories came faster, more intense, each one carved with the razor-sharp edge of final moments:


    A wife''s gentle smile as she straightened her husband''s collar, her fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "Be safe today," she''d said every morning for twenty years, never knowing that ordinary Tuesday would be their last goodbye.


    A father waiting by the door each evening, arms already opening for his daily embrace. "Tell me about your adventures today," he''d always say, his eyes crinkling with genuine interest in even the smallest details of his child''s world.


    A grandmother''s wrinkled hands carefully folding dumplings, teaching her granddaughter the exact way to pinch the edges. "This is how my mother taught me," she''d explained, passing down not just a recipe but generations of love.


    The resentment force surged around her in frenzied waves, desperate to share these precious memories ¨C not as mere images, but as raw emotional experiences that burned themselves into Flint''s consciousness. Their collective cry echoed through her mind with such force it threatened to shatter her very being:


    Why did they kill us? We had families! Dreams! Lives! What gave them the right to tear our souls away? WHY?


    The intensity of their desperation clawed at her throat, making it impossible to breathe. Their pain became her pain, their loss her loss, until she could no longer tell where their anguish ended and her own began.


    I... I don''t know... Flint managed to think through the maelstrom of shared agony, her own helplessness merging with theirs. The weight of their combined suffering pressed down on her like a physical force, threatening to crush her beneath the impossible burden of thousands of truncated lives, each one demanding answers she couldn''t give.


    The endless torrent of agony tore through Flint''s mind like shards of broken glass. She lost all sense of her surroundings as her body''s natural aura went into chaos. Light and Shadow natural aura collided violently within her, ripping through her internal channels like warring storms. Blood vessels burst in her throat, while her eyes wept a horrifying mixture of blood and tears that traced crimson trails down her cheeks. Each breath felt like swallowing razor blades, and her limbs trembled uncontrollably as the conflicting energies threatened to tear her apart from the inside.


    "Hnngh... cough... COUGH!" A violent spasm wracked her body as she vomited a dark splash of blood onto the stone floor, her trembling arms barely supporting her weight as she hunched on all fours.


    "Flint, what''s happening to you?" Seedling dragged herself closer, ignoring the pain in her injured leg. She could only watch helplessly as her friend was consumed by the swirling resentment force. The energy wrapped around Flint like a terrible inferno, but unlike normal flames that spread outward, this fire burned inward, consuming only its host with merciless intensity.


    "Is this jade tablet yours?" A male voice cut through the darkness, causing Seedling''s fox ears to perk up instantly.


    "Who''s there?" Her purple eyes scanned the shadows, her enhanced night vision searching for the source of the voice. Despite her injury, every muscle in her body tensed, ready to defend her vulnerable friend.


    Around them, the cultivators in their cages were slowly regaining their senses, confusion evident in their muttered questions and disoriented movements. The resentment force that had clouded their minds now swirled exclusively around Flint, who had become a unwitting lightning rod for their collective suffering.


    The memory crashed over her like a tidal wave ¨C Obsidian''s words echoing through time: "I can''t survive this." As if summoned by that thought, the phrase began repeating through the swirling mass of resentment force memories, each iteration bringing sharper focus to the scene. There, through the haze of centuries, she saw him ¨C Blaze Mighty, his form so achingly similar to Spark''s. He turned at the sound of those fateful words, his sword still dripping crimson droplets that seemed to hang suspended in the ancient memory.


    Is this how I die too? The thought brought with it a crushing wave of melancholy, a deep sadness for all the cycles of suffering that seemed to have no end.


    In that moment, her consciousness split ¨C part of her remained in the underground chamber, while another part plunged into an infinite abyss of dark water. Looking up, she saw nothing but blackness above, while all around her swirled that terrible brownish-red light of countless resentment forces, accumulated over centuries of human suffering.


    Both her present and past selves reached out simultaneously, fingers stretching toward the swirling mass of resentment force. If I die like this, I''m just repeating another cycle of sorrow.


    Her inner voice rose in frustration and anguish: Throughout both reincarnations, I''ve listened to these cries of anguish, but I''ve never been able to do anything! The mortal realm keeps shattering, and I bear witness to all this pain, yet I remain powerless to stop it!


    The rage and helplessness in her mental cry echoed through both past and present, a bridge across lifetimes of accumulated suffering.


    Flint tilted her head back, her vision oscillating between the dim ceiling of the underground chamber and the endless dark waters of her memory. A fresh rivulet of blood traced its way down her cheek, falling to the stone floor with an almost imperceptible pat. When she closed her eyes, more blood-tinged tears were forced out, leaving new crimson tracks on her face.


    Though her mind still reeled from the crushing weight of thousands of memories, some part of her consciousness seemed to detach itself from earthly concerns, rising above the tempest of suffering. She faced forward, palms pressed against the cold stone, then brought her forehead down in a deep, decisive kowtow that connected with the ground with significant force.


    "I hear you."


    Her voice carried an otherworldly resonance, steady yet ethereal, like the voice of a deity speaking across dimensions. The words seemed to ripple through the swirling mass of resentment force. One of the resentful souls, as if finally acknowledged after lifelong of sorrow into the void, began to fade. Its brownish-red light gradually diminished, like mist dissipating in morning sunlight, until it vanished completely into peaceful nothingness.


    With each kowtow, blood from Flint''s scraped forehead mingled with the dried tracks already marking her face like ritual paint. Yet even as her physical form bore the marks of suffering, something in her soul seemed to grow more complete, more transcendent. Her eyes remained closed, but a gentle smile graced her blood-stained features ¨C the serene expression of a deity receiving the prayers of the faithful.


    Under the astonished gazes of Seedling and the imprisoned cultivators, Flint turned on her knees. She began a solemn procession toward the entrance, moving forward one agonizing kowtow at a time. Each deliberate movement was accompanied by those same words, spoken with ethereal gravity:


    "I hear you."


    The hundreds of resentment forces followed her like a procession of spectral mourners, their brownish-red light creating an otherworldly aurora that danced around her form. As she approached the shaft of natural light streaming down from above, her robes wore through at the knees, leaving her bare skin to scrape against the rough stone floor. Still, she continued her ritual crawl, marking her path with droplets of blood like sacred offerings upon an altar.


    Each time her forehead touched the ground, it carried the weight of countless interrupted lives. Her movement was both a penance and a promise, each kowtow acknowledging another soul''s worth of suffering. The very air seemed to vibrate with the profound significance of this mysterious ceremony, as if the boundaries between the mortal and divine realms had momentarily blurred in this underground chamber.


    Behind her, she left not just a trail of blood, but a path of gradually fading resentment forces, each soul finding peace in her recognition of their pain, each "I hear you" releasing another spirit from its bonds of suffering.


    As Flint raised her bloodied head once more, a shadow suddenly eclipsed the shaft of sunlight streaming down from above. Dawn Everleaf''s silhouette appeared at the entrance, flanked by several Adept disciples whose robes rustled in the chill spring breeze.


    "That''s her!" Dawn''s accusatory finger stabbed downward, her usually composed features twisted with alarm at the otherworldly scene below. The brownish-red light of the resentment force created a haunting aurora around Flint''s kneeling form, making her appear both terrifying and tragic ¨C a blood-stained supplicant wrapped in the ethereal glow of ten thousand sorrows.

 Chapter 26: Trial

    Dawn Everleaf''s disciples recoiled at the sight before them. Flint knelt in the underground chamber, wreathed in an otherworldly glow of brownish-red resentment force. Their hands tightened around sword hilts as different hues of natural aura gathered at the blades'' tips, casting prismatic shadows across their grim faces.


    "How many..." one whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of horror and disgust. "How many souls has she devoured to emanate such darkness?"


    "You will come with us," another called out, his voice echoing against the stone walls. "You stand accused of soul absorption. The Immortal Alliance will pass judgment!"


    Flint''s eyes opened slowly, blood crusted at the corners like crimson tears. A weary smile touched her lips, carrying neither malice nor fear ¨C only an ancient patience that seemed at odds with her young features.


    "Please step aside," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of countless unspoken sorrows.


    The accusation seemed to stir the resentful souls surrounding her into a frenzy. They writhed and twisted around her form like flames in a spectral pyre, their collective anguish piercing deeper into her consciousness. Yet Flint''s expression remained serene, even as fresh blood trickled from her eyes, painting stark trails down her pale cheeks.


    Dawn Everleaf took an involuntary step back, her usual composure fracturing at the sight of this blood-wreathed figure who appeared more celestial being than mortal cultivator. The gathered Adept disciples shifted uneasily, their training offering no guidance for this unsettling tableau.


    The effort of containing so many souls left little room in Flint''s mind for explanations. Even if she could find the words, who among these cultivators would comprehend the burden of bearing witness to thousands of interrupted lives? With exhaustion weighing heavy in her voice, she spoke again:


    "Please wait to take me. These souls must first find peace."


    The disciples surged forward, their accusation cutting through the chamber like a blade. "You''re the one who killed them!" one shouted, descending the stairs with others in tow. They roughly hauled Flint to her feet, heedless of her bloodied state.


    The moment they touched her, the resentful souls erupted into chaos. Though these formless spirits instinctively tried to ward off those who would drag away their only witness, their turbulent emotions only amplified Flint''s agony. Memories boiled through her mind like scalding water ¨C fragments of her own past life interwoven with thousands of final moments from the souls surrounding her. Their collective anguish threatened to drown her mortal consciousness in an ocean of shared suffering.


    As the pain crescendoed and the world began to fade, Flint struggled to form words, desperate to ensure Seedling wouldn''t be forgotten. But her body felt distant, as if she were watching herself from within a dream. Her lips moved, but no sound emerged ¨C she was a divine witness trapped in mortal flesh, unable to bridge the gap between realms.


    Then, like a beacon piercing through storm clouds, Seedling''s voice rang out behind her: "You''re wrong! Flint isn''t the one absorbing souls ¨C it''s the cultivators who were imprisoned here!"


    They must have heard her. They''ll save Seedling now. The thought drifted through Flint''s mind as her eyes closed, her consciousness slipping away like water through cupped hands. The resentful souls continued their lament, their song now tinged with an ancient sadness for this being.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Flint''s eyes fluttered open, though the distinction between consciousness and unconsciousness had grown hazy. The voices of the resentful souls continued their endless lament in her mind, whether her eyes were open or closed.


    Through blood-crusted lashes, she took in her surroundings. The Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall''s inner chamber soared above her, its gilded rafters adorned with intricate cloud motifs catching the sunlight that streamed through tall windows. Deep crimson carpets stretched across the floor, their rich color a stark contrast to the chamber''s ethereal architecture.


    Three ornate chairs dominated the front of the chamber. Sage East Cloud occupied the central seat, his jade crown and cloud-embroidered robes befitting his position as sect leader. He maintained an air of composed dignity as he raised a teacup to his lips. To his side, Sage Mortius Crane radiated impatience, his long dark nails tapping an irregular rhythm against his chair''s armrest. His gray eyes held nothing but contempt as they swept over Flint.


    "Such filth in these hallowed halls," Sage Mortius drawled, his lips curling in disgust.


    He gestured to Pierce Everett, who stood rigidly beside the chairs. "She seems not fully awake. Assist her, Pierce."


    Pierce approached with obvious revulsion, his hand passing through the wraith-like flames of resentful souls that still encompassed Flint. He pressed something against her bloodied forehead, though Flint barely registered the physical sensation. The clamor of resentful souls in her mind overshadowed any bodily discomfort, though even that had begun to numb.


    As she struggled to stand, determined to complete her task of granting peace to the hundreds of tortured souls, she backed into crossed swords. The blades tore through her sect robes and into her flesh, adding fresh wounds to her already battered form.


    "Respected Elders," Flint managed, her voice steady despite her condition. "I must finish my task. These grieving souls need to find peace."


    The figure seated in the central chair remained impassive, his voice measured when he finally spoke. "Are you confessing to absorbing these souls?"


    Flint''s head throbbed at such willful misunderstanding. The thousands of memories coursing through her mind made it difficult to focus on the present moment, let alone construct a coherent defense.


    "Sect Leader," the dark-haired elder with black nails spoke, his voice dripping with disdain. "I fail to see why we''re conducting this inquiry. Such vermin should be handed directly to the Immortal Alliance for execution."


    The man addressed as Sect Leader set down his teacup with practiced grace. "Such powerful resentment force suggests numerous victims. We must determine where these killings took place."


    Sage East Cloud, Flint managed to identify through the cacophony of suffering souls flooding her consciousness. The pain and anguish of countless spirits made it nearly impossible to maintain her own thoughts, and as she looked at the figures before her, she felt an inexplicable ruthlessness radiating from them ¨C though whether this was her own perception or the collective darkness of the tortured souls, she couldn''t tell.


    The gentle chiming of wind bells and the rumble of wooden wheels interrupted the tense atmosphere. "Flint!" A familiar voice cried out ¨C Seedling''s voice.


    "Was the main entrance to Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall not ordered sealed?" The black-nailed elder''s voice carried a strange mockery rather than genuine anger.


    "My deepest apologies," a warm, clear voice responded, seemingly unperturbed by the other''s scorn. "While judging those who violate Immortal Alliance law falls under your jurisdiction, Sage Mortius Crane, this female disciple happens to be a friend of my direct disciple Seedling. And Seedling claims you''ve wrongly accused the detained disciple."


    "I thought, well, we can''t deny someone the right to speak, can we?" Sage West Wind added with a gentle laugh, attempting to ease the mounting tension.


    The resentful souls swirling around Flint surged at the newcomers'' arrival, their collective anguish threatening to overwhelm her already fragile consciousness. Fresh blood trickled from her eyes as she struggled to maintain her composure, knowing that these souls'' peace depended on her endurance.


    Sage Mortius Crane burst into mocking laughter. "Since you admit she''s a friend, how can her testimony be trusted?"Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Seedling slammed her fist against her wheelchair''s armrest. "Damn you! The disciples who brought Flint here can testify - I was there!" Her voice trembled with barely contained fury.


    "Mind your manners, Seedling," Sage West Wind chided gently, though his own disapproval of Mortius Crane''s conduct was evident in his stance.


    "Besides, that underground prison is your doing!" Seedling''s accusation rang through the hall. "I saw your hound! Your beast was bringing soul-drained cultivators inside!"


    A heavy silence descended upon the grand hall. Mortius Crane''s composure slipped for just a heartbeat before his icy demeanor returned. His eyes narrowed as he regarded Seedling with contempt, a cruel smile playing at his lips. "Why would I build a prison for trash that will soon be reduced to dust by the Immortal Alliance''s judgment?"


    Seedling''s breathing grew more rapid, her anger palpable. "We can go see for ourselves! There are cultivators there who absorbed souls - even if the prison isn''t yours, Flint didn''t absorb those souls! The resentment force just flew to her when they saw her!"


    Mortius Crane made an almost imperceptible movement with his jade tablet, seemingly intent on prolonging this exchange. "Is that so? And why did these cultivators absorb souls?"


    "Because they had resentment force on them!" Seedling shouted, frustration evident in every word.


    Sage West Wind stroked Seedling''s fox ears soothingly. "Calm yourself, Seedling."


    "And your friend?" Mortius Crane''s voice dripped with venom. "Is she not surrounded by an abundance of resentment force?"


    Seedling was nearly hysterical now. "I already told you, you fool! The resentment force flew to Flint on its own when it saw her!"


    "How amusing," Mortius Crane''s tone turned patronizing. "Sage West Wind, your disciple is quite... well-mannered. Tell me, little girl, if those cultivators claimed the same - that the resentment force simply flew to them of its own accord - should I believe them too?"


    Throughout this exchange, the resentful souls continued their relentless dance around Flint, their collective pain intensifying with each barbed word. Fresh rivulets of blood traced paths down her cheeks as she struggled to maintain her focus on the souls'' need for peace, even as the political machinations of the living threatened to derail their final journey.


    The chamber''s oppressive atmosphere grew heavier as Seedling struggled for words, her chest heaving with frustrated breaths. Sage West Wind continued stroking her ears soothingly, though his own expression betrayed his helplessness against Sage Mortius Crane''s seemingly impeccable logic.


    Mortius Crane''s fingers absently traced the blood-red stone of his ring, a subtle tell of anxiety that belied his mask of contemptuous calm. The gesture sent an inexplicable chill through the room, though none dared comment on it.


    "Since the evidence is clear," Sage East Cloud''s measured voice cut through the tension, "our primary concern now is determining where these numerous killings took place..."


    Flint''s vision swam as the voices around her began to blur. The cacophony of memories flooding her mind made it nearly impossible to form a coherent response. Even following their words required every ounce of her remaining strength.


    A dark thought crossed her mind: They might as well execute me now and be done with it.


    The resentful souls surrounding her writhed violently at this thought, their collective agitation manifesting in wild, erratic movements. As Flint closed her eyes against the onslaught, a hauntingly familiar voice echoed through her consciousness: "Did you really absorb their souls¡­"


    Blaze Mighty... The name resonated through her mind as a hazy scene began to form. But before she could grasp it fully, a much more immediate and familiar voice cut through everything:


    "Flint!"


    She instinctively turned toward Spark''s voice, earning a fresh cut across her cheek from the crossed swords at her back. The sound of multiple footsteps echoed through the chamber, heralding new arrivals to this tense scene.


    Sage Mortius Crane adjusted his ring with deliberate slowness, though it needed no adjustment. His voice dripped with venomous pleasure as he whispered, "This criminal, Flint, seems to have quite the collection of friends."


    Spark froze at the sight of Flint. The resentful souls writhed around her like hellfire, their ethereal flames casting grotesque shadows across her blood-stained face. He swallowed hard, an inexplicable guilt creeping into his chest. He''d heard rumors of a soul-absorbing criminal being brought before the Sect Leader - someone who had consumed hundreds of souls and burned with otherworldly flames. It took several inquiries before Seedling finally revealed it was Flint.


    Seedling had immediately sought out her master, Sage West Wind, claiming she knew the truth and could prove Flint''s innocence. Spark, unwilling to stay behind, had practically begged Sage North Thunder to bring him to the inner chamber. It wasn''t like him to plead with others, but the stakes were too high.


    "I think..." Spark''s voice wavered as he swallowed again. He''d never seen someone surrounded by the resentful forces of absorbed souls before - he''d only heard stories. The reality was far more terrifying than any tale.


    Turning desperately to Seedling, he asked, "What exactly did you see there?"


    Sage Mortius Crane''s laughter echoed through the chamber, sharp and cruel. "How amusing. What''s this? Even you suspect your friend of these heinous crimes?"


    "No..." Spark''s voice trembled noticeably. "I don''t believe that."


    But the uncertainty in his voice betrayed him, and the resentful souls around Flint churned more violently at his wavering faith.


    Spark stepped forward, finally seeing Flint''s face clearly. Blood streamed from her eyes like tears, creating stark crimson trails down her pale skin. She tilted her head slightly, meeting Spark''s gaze through the writhing flames of resentment force.


    As Spark stared at her blood-streaked face, he took an almost imperceptible step backward. Sage Mortius Crane caught this tiny retreat, his smile widening with cruel satisfaction. "See for yourself how terrifying these soul-absorbing criminals truly are."


    Spark''s lips trembled as he forced out the words: "Flint... what happened to you?"


    "Spark!" Seedling''s voice cracked with fury. "How can you doubt Flint?"


    "I don''t!" Spark shot back, though his voice lacked conviction.


    A weary smile crossed Flint''s lips. She wanted to explain - felt compelled to explain, especially to Spark - but her mind was screaming with thousands of voices, making coherent thought nearly impossible. She closed her bleeding eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to quiet the chaos in her mind long enough to speak:


    "The resentment force gathered around me to share their suffering. I need to help them find peace... COUGH" Her empty eyes snapped open as she choked on the words, disrupted natural aura forcing blood into her throat. The last word ended in a spray of crimson that soaked her already stained robes.


    "Only their killer would draw such spirits," Sage Mortius Crane''s seductive voice slithered into Spark''s ears like poison.


    "Why would they seek you out?" Spark swallowed hard, staring into Flint''s vacant eyes.


    Why do I still need to explain... Flint''s consciousness wavered, her strength nearly spent.


    Only a weak smile touched Flint''s blood-stained lips in response to Spark, making his heart constrict painfully. His hands began to tremble uncontrollably, fingers curling and uncurling as sweat beaded on his palms. The golden wolf eyes that usually blazed with confidence now darted between Flint''s blood-streaked face and the writhing spirits around her, unable to settle on either.


    Flint, what is the truth? His thoughts spiraled into chaos. He didn''t want to doubt her, yet he couldn''t find a single argument in her defense. The seed of suspicion took root in his heart, flourishing under Sage Mortius Crane''s mocking smile.


    Sage North Thunder, who had been watching with furrowed brows, finally spoke: "It seems there''s no other explanation. Spark... this is your friend?"


    For one terrible moment, Spark wanted to deny it. The thought horrified him so much that he bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood, punishing himself for such a treacherous impulse. "Master North Thunder, yes... she is my friend. So I..."


    The words "So I believe she''s innocent" died in his throat. He turned to Flint, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Did you really absorb their souls?"


    Flint''s vacant pupils suddenly contracted sharply. In that moment, Blaze Mighty and Spark Lumin''s images overlapped in her mind. Her smile transformed into something bitter and mocking - directed perhaps at Spark, at Blaze, or even at Obsidian herself.


    "You spineless coward!" Seedling''s voice exploded through the chamber. "You''re nothing but a treacherous wolf after all!"


    Sage West Wind''s fingers trembled slightly as he stroked Seedling''s head, his usual calming presence strained by the weight of the moment. "Please, Seedling... control yourself..."


    Spark stood frozen, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as he stared at Flint''s blood-streaked face. Each heartbeat thundered in his ears like a war drum, his fingers clenching and unclenching unconsciously at his sides. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chamber''s cool air, and his normally steady hands shook visibly. The more Flint remained silent, the more his breathing grew erratic, until black spots began dancing at the edges of his vision.


    Then suddenly, the world tilted.


    The ornate chamber dissolved around him as a memory crashed through his consciousness - a woman bound to a cross with iron chains, wreathed in the same ghostly flames that now surrounded Flint. His past and present selves merged in that moment of painful doubt, and he heard his own voice echo across time:


    "Did you really absorb their souls?"


    The bound woman raised her head slowly, blood streaming from her eyes just like Flint''s. Her lips parted, and Spark found himself stepping forward, desperate to hear her words. When they came, they sent ice through his veins:


    "Kill me, Blaze... kill me."


    Reality snapped back into focus, but Spark''s world continued to spin. He gasped for air, his sect robes now drenched in cold sweat. His mind raced wildly, trying to make sense of what he''d just witnessed. Was it a hallucination? A dream? The name echoed in his thoughts: Blaze... Blaze Mighty... Was that truly his past life? And in that life... had he killed Flint?


    No, not Flint - that was... Obsidian. An icy realization crawled up his spine like a serpent. The weight of this cruel parallel crushed down on him - was history destined to repeat itself? Would he now play a part in Flint''s execution? No, that would be the Immortal Alliance''s doing, not his. But could he really stand by and let Flint be condemned? She must be innocent. Or... was she?


    These thoughts multiplied like poison in his mind, each new question spawning three more until his head felt ready to burst. His legs gave out beneath him and he crashed to his knees, clutching his head between trembling hands as he desperately tried to quiet the chaos of his thoughts.


    The assembled elders watched this display with varying degrees of interest. Sage Mortius Crane''s lips curled into a satisfied smirk, while Sage East Cloud maintained his mask of studied neutrality. Through it all, the resentful souls continued their restless dance around Flint''s bloodied form, their silent screams matching the ones echoing in Spark''s mind.


    "Send her to the Immortal Alliance for execution since she refuses to speak." Sage Mortius Crane shifted his gaze from Spark, regarding Flint with contempt as he needlessly adjusted his ruby ring once again.


    "Wait." A firm female voice rang out. Flint didn''t turn - she knew Sage South Rain''s voice.


    A powerful wave of natural aura forced the sword-wielding disciples behind Flint to step back. "Stand down," Sage South Rain commanded, her tone utterly unlike her usual gentle demeanor.


    The disciples exchanged uncertain glances before looking to Sect Leader Sage East Cloud, who gave an almost imperceptible sigh before nodding his assent.


    Sage South Rain approached Flint, bending down to cup her face between her hands. Blood continued to seep from Flint''s eyes, staining South Rain''s pristine fingers.


    "Flint..." South Rain''s voice trembled as she spoke.


    "Sage South Rain," Flint struggled to focus through the cacophony of souls, "please ask those seated above to grant me time. I must help these resentful souls find peace."


    "Go, Flint." Though South Rain didn''t understand what Flint intended, she trusted there must be a reason.


    Flint rose unsteadily to her feet. Her gaze swept over the impassive Sage East Cloud before settling on Sage Mortius Crane, her blood-filled eyes narrowing with contempt as a mocking smile played across her lips.


    "I cannot kneel to you."


    She turned with painful slowness and made her way to the courtyard outside the inner chamber. Tilting her head back, she faced the evening sky that had taken on the same crimson hue as the restless spirits surrounding her form.


    In one fluid motion, she dropped to her knees, the impact reverberating through her entire body. The time had come to continue her ritual.


    The setting sun cast long shadows across the courtyard, painting everything in shades of blood and fire. As Flint knelt there, her form wreathed in writhing souls, she appeared less like a ordinary cultivator and more like an ancient deity performing some primordial rite. The boundary between divine and mortal seemed to blur around her, as if reality itself recognized that something greater than human justice was about to unfold.

 Chapter 27: False Verdicts

    "I hear you."


    Flint''s voice echoed through the courtyard like temple bells in twilight. Each word marked the passage of time as she performed another kowtow, her forehead touching the ground where countless souls had left their mark. The brownish-red resentment force swirled around her, creating an ethereal mist in the fading daylight.


    "I hear you."


    Her voice carried neither weakness nor hesitation, despite the blood flowing from her eyes. Each declaration was both a blessing and a promise to the departed, drawing their accumulated sorrow into herself.


    Sage Mortius Crane twisted his blood-red ruby ring, his aristocratic features twisted with impatience. "Must we waste more time on a dying girl, Sage South Rain?" His fingers drummed against the jade handrail, betraying his growing agitation.


    "The longer we delay, the more this... spectacle tarnishes our sect''s reputation." As Sage Mortius Crane spoke these words, his head was not turned towards Sage South Rain, but slightly tilted, facing Sage East Cloud, who was sitting on the main seat with eyes closed, deeply immersed in thought.


    South Rain''s usually gentle eyes had turned to ice. Gone was her customary peaceful demeanor, replaced by something ancient and dangerous. "Tell me, Sage Mortius," she said, her voice carrying the chill of winter frost, "what crime exactly has she committed?"


    A contemptuous laugh escaped Crane''s throat. "Look at her!" He gestured sharply at the resentment force surrounding Flint. "She''s practically bathing in it. The disciples who brought her in should have ended this immediately rather than dragging our sect''s name through the mud by involving the Immortal Alliance."


    "I hear you."


    Another kowtow. Another soul acknowledged. The brownish-red mist seemed to pulse with each declaration, growing lighter with every utterance of those three words.


    "Sage South Rain," Seedling''s voice rose with desperate hope, "we found an underground prison filled with cultivators whose souls had been absorbed! When Flint went to rescue me, the resentment force suddenly latched onto her. She''s innocent!"


    Her purple eyes blazed as she turned to glare at Sage Mortius Crane. "And your hound has been seen at that prison. You probably built it! The only reason you''re so eager for Flint''s death is that you''re afraid we''ll discover you''ve been secretly imprisoning criminals who should have been sent to the Immortal Alliance. You must have an even bigger scheme!"


    Sage West Wind placed a comforting hand on Seedling''s head, but notably refrained from his usual gentle admonishments about respectful behavior.


    Sage Mortius Crane''s eyes narrowed to slits as he regarded Seedling with contempt. He adjusted his ruby ring with deliberate slowness, though it sat perfectly on his finger.


    "Thank you, child, for helping prove Flint''s innocence," Sage South Rain said with a nod. After a moment of contemplation, her gaze hardened with resolve as she turned to address the Sect Leader, who remained deep in meditation.


    "I understand Flint''s situation," she declared. "She does have a unique constitution that allows her to absorb resentment force, though these deaths were not by her hand. Right now, she''s¡ª"


    "I hear you."


    The words rang out like clockwork, steady and unwavering.


    South Rain''s eyes softened as she watched Flint in the courtyard. "She''s helping these resentful souls release their attachments and return to... where souls are meant to go."


    The resentment force continued to swirl around Flint, growing lighter with each ritualistic declaration.


    Sage Mortius Crane furrowed his brow, twisting the ruby ring on his left thumb with increasing force. "Oh? So anyone can simply claim they have some ''special constitution''..."


    "I hear you."


    Though Flint''s ritual words had been constant, this particular utterance seemed to pierce through Sage Mortius Crane''s composure, setting his nerves on edge.


    "Sage Mortius Crane," South Rain cut in sharply, "perhaps you should explain the underground prison instead."


    At that moment, his jade tablet vibrated subtly ¨C a sensation only he could feel through his body. He didn''t reach for it, but his eyes narrowed slightly as a victorious smile played across his lips. He ceased fidgeting with his ring, instead admiring the dove egg-sized ruby that reflected his satisfied gaze.


    "When did I ever say that mysterious underground chamber was mine?" He turned to South Rain, his voice dripping with honeyed venom. "And why would you make such an assumption? Because of a few words from this little girl?"


    He tapped his long, black fingernail against the jade handrail with deliberate precision. "I believe," he paused, savoring each word, "we should send someone to investigate this underground chamber, since..."


    His smile, when he finally turned it on Seedling, made her fur stand on end. "Our little fox here claims those cultivators absorbed the souls themselves."


    The calculated cruelty in his expression made Seedling''s stomach turn, but before she could respond, another steady declaration echoed through the courtyard.


    "I hear you."


    The resentment force pulsed once more, and in that moment, something in Sage Mortius Crane''s carefully composed expression flickered ¨C a shadow of genuine unease crossing his features before he could mask it.


    An Adept-Level disciple was dispatched to investigate the underground prison where Flint had been found. The grand hall lapsed into silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of "I hear you" drifting in from the courtyard, marking time''s relentless passage.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Spark gradually regained his composure and stood, his earlier emotional breakdown subsiding. Though his mind had momentarily shattered, he''d caught the recent exchange. South Rain''s explanation had acted as a balm to his troubled thoughts, and guilt began to creep in over his doubts about Flint.


    When he turned his head, still slightly dazed, he met Seedling''s resentful glare. Shame forced him to look away, his gaze settling instead on Flint in the courtyard. Though he didn''t fully understand what she was doing, he sensed its profound importance.


    In his heart, he prayed Flint wouldn''t hate him for his earlier display of mistrust. The wolf prince who had once sworn to protect her had faltered at the crucial moment, letting suspicions cloud his judgment. The weight of his actions pressed heavily on his shoulders as he watched her continue her solemn ritual.


    "I hear you."


    Another sacred declaration and kowtow from Flint made Spark''s heart clench. Looking at her injured body and remembering her blood-streaked eyes, he felt a deep, aching pain in his chest.


    "In fact, I see no reason why Flint would need to absorb souls," Sage South Rain said, her steady gaze fixed on Sage Mortius Crane as he admired his ring. "From what I understand, soul absorption is only attempted when cultivators cannot break through their current level. Flint is merely at Middle Initiative ¨C nowhere near a breakthrough point."


    Sage East Cloud opened his eyes and glanced at South Rain, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face before he nodded. "That is my understanding as well."


    "Tch." A barely audible click of disapproval escaped Sage Mortius Crane''s lips as his fingers resumed their restless turning of the ruby ring.


    Something else clearly weighed on Sage South Rain''s mind, but she held her tongue. After all, everyone knew Sage Mortius Crane himself had been stuck at Late Master for years, unable to advance despite reaching the peak of that realm.


    The sunset painted the courtyard in deep crimson, mirroring the fading resentment force around Flint. Her voice, though softer now, remained steady.


    "I hear you."


    The returning Adept-Level disciple''s report cut through the tense atmosphere. "Sect Leader, all the imprisoned cultivators are dead." He produced a piece of paper with a hastily sketched formation pattern. "These strange runes were carved into the cage floors..."


    The formation diagram, though partial and distorted, drew sharp inhales from several of the elders present. Most couldn''t decipher its exact purpose, but its ominous nature was clear.


    "Is it so impossible," Sage Mortius Crane''s voice dripped with calculated malice, "that someone discovered a forbidden art to absorb souls for cultivation?" He fixed his gaze on the reporting disciple. "How did they die?"


    "The cages wouldn''t open, Master Crane. We observed no wounds ¨C they simply... ceased to be."


    "How fascinating." Crane''s lips curved into a cruel smile. "Rather like the aftermath of soul absorption, wouldn''t you say?"


    His predatory gaze shifted to Seedling. "Are you absolutely certain these cultivators were alive when you saw them?"


    "Of course they were!" Seedling''s voice rose with desperation. "They... they spoke to me!" But even as the words left her mouth, she realized how weak her defense sounded.


    Ignoring her protest, Crane continued his calculated assault. "Mysteriously deceased cultivators. Soul-draining formations. And then we find Flint, saturated in resentment force..." He let the implications hang in the air. "Are we truly to believe she has no connection to this?"


    "I hear you."


    Flint''s voice carried through their debate, unwavering.


    "And let us not forget," Sage Mortius Crane pressed on, "the curious case of Samuel, an Adept-Level cultivator who mysteriously exploded in her presence. After which, her cultivation..." His eyes glittered with malicious triumph. "Advanced remarkably quickly, didn''t it? For someone with all Deficient spirit roots to reach Middle Initiative in less than a year..."


    South Rain''s expression hardened to ice. How had Crane learned these details? His information network was clearly more extensive than she''d realized.


    "You''re insane!" Seedling''s fury finally erupted. "Do you honestly think Flint could build an underground prison by herself?"


    Sage Mortius Crane''s eyes glittered with mockery, though his fingers betrayed a nervous energy as they continued to fidget with his ring. "But doesn''t her boyfriend have quite deep pockets? The little wolf prince?" His gaze slid to Seedling. "And you, from such an illustrious Wind-Charm Fox family..."


    "One does wonder," he added with deliberate casualness, "why we''ve started accepting so many spiritual beast royalty." The barb was clearly aimed at Sage North Thunder, who had championed the admission of spiritual beasts. The latter''s expression darkened further.


    "Enough." Sage South Rain''s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "These are nothing but baseless speculations. How can you be certain these cultivators died from soul absorption?"


    Sage Mortius Crane shrugged, his affected nonchalance belied by the way he anxiously worked the ring around his thumb. "We could investigate further..."


    "I hear you."


    Flint''s steady voice continued to echo through the courtyard, each declaration accompanied by another kowtow. The brownish-red resentment force had grown noticeably fainter now, barely visible in the deepening twilight.


    Finally breaking his prolonged silence, Sage East Cloud spoke: "This matter is indeed complex and requires further investigation..."


    His gaze drifted to Flint, where the resentment force around her had noticeably dimmed. "This disciple ¨C Flint, I believe ¨C appears to be genuinely helping these resentful souls find peace."


    "As for whether she absorbed souls..." A barely perceptible hesitation flickered in Sage East Cloud''s eyes before he concluded, "She hasn''t reached a breakthrough point in her cultivation, so there would be no need."


    This statement pulled Flint back from the brink of execution by the Immortal Alliance. Everyone''s expression softened somewhat, except for Sage Mortius Crane.


    Sage East Cloud turned his attention to Sage Mortius Crane, his tone carrying concern rather than reproach. "However, what are we to do about all the resentment force surrounding Flint? Other disciples witnessed her return in this state."


    Sage Mortius Crane clearly wanted to suggest immediate expulsion from the sect, but after surveying the other high-ranking elders, he merely clicked his tongue silently.


    "If the most suspicious person escapes, I have no better suggestions," Sage Mortius Crane said casually, adjusting his ring.


    Pierce Everett, who had been standing attendance on Sage East Cloud, suddenly spoke up: "Could we say it was the work of The Abyssal Pavilion?"


    Sage South Rain shot Pierce a look of pure disgust but remained silent. The other elders, however, showed no objection to this proposal.


    "Ah... that''s not a bad idea," Sage East Cloud mused. "But how would we present it?"


    Sage Mortius Crane''s eyes darted between the assembled elders, noting only Sage South Rain''s furrowed brow. His lips curved into an amused smile. "We could say The Abyssal Pavilion dug an underground chamber, imprisoned some cultivators, and set up soul-absorption formations. Our poor Celestial Sword Sect disciple Flint accidentally triggered the formation, resulting in her current state with the resentment force."


    "But Flint didn''t absorb any souls!" Seedling burst out again. Sage West Wind quickly placed a calming hand on her head.


    This time, it was Sage East Cloud who interrupted her: "Well... if that''s what happened, then Flint is innocent... I''ll explain it to the Immortal Alliance... And Sage Mortius Crane''s explanation does seem quite plausible..."


    Sage South Rain''s frown deepened. "You would have Flint bear the stigma of soul absorption for the rest of her life..."


    "But she would be considered innocent," Sage East Cloud placated. "It would all be the work of The Abyssal Pavilion..."


    Sage South Rain''s hands clenched into fists.


    "We''ll investigate later," Sage East Cloud concluded. "Once we uncover the truth, we can clear her name. Right now, we just need an explanation."


    "I hear you."


    As darkness crept across the sky like a veil drawn over hidden truths, Flint completed her final tribute and kowtow. The brownish-red aura that had surrounded her had finally dissipated. She rose shakily, making her way toward the grand hall. Her forehead was raw and bloodied from the repeated prostrations, leaving crimson marks where she had knelt.


    Seeing Flint approach, Spark rushed forward to support her. She didn''t resist, allowing him to bear some of her weight.


    Sage Mortius Crane observed Flint, now free of the resentment force, and a sudden realization struck him: She can cleanse others of resentment force.


    A similar thought occurred to Sage East Cloud, though his expression remained impassive.


    Sage South Rain trembled as she touched Flint''s wounded forehead. "Flint, are you alright?" But even as she asked, she knew the answer was clearly no.


    Blood had dried on Flint''s lips, but she managed a weak smile. "Thank you, Sage South Rain." Finally able to focus, she concentrated the Genesis energy in her throat, allowing the Light and Shadow natural aura to flow separately within her body. At last, the bleeding from her eyes and mouth ceased.


    Sage East Cloud addressed Flint with an air of paternal concern: "Dear child, we now understand that you were wrongfully implicated by The Abyssal Pavilion. We will prove your innocence. You may return to rest now."


    Flint''s gaze remained cold as she shifted her attention to Sage South Rain, whose face was etched with sorrow. The elder gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Though Flint had been focused on her ritual and kowtows, she had heard every word of their earlier discussion.


    Unable to think of a better solution in the moment, she turned back to Sage East Cloud, her eyes still devoid of warmth. "Thank you, Sect Leader."


    Sage East Cloud then addressed the other three cardinal elders: "You may all retire now. Thank you for your efforts today."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    As they were ushered out of the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall, Seedling''s eyes blazed with fury as she rounded on Spark. "You treacherous wolf! How could you doubt Flint?"


    Despite her exhaustion, Flint spoke calmly from where she leaned against Spark''s shoulder. "Seedling, he didn''t see what happened in there." Her measured words carried no blame, only weariness.


    Flint''s understanding response sparked a flicker of gratitude in Spark''s heart, though guilt still gnawed at him. "Flint, I..." The words caught in his throat as he struggled to explain his moment of doubt.


    "I''m sorry..." was all he could finally manage, his voice heavy with regret.


    Given their conditions - Flint''s weakness and Seedling''s broken leg - they were both assigned ground floor guest quarters, sparing them the need to climb stairs to their usual dormitories.


    Spark now brought meals to both of them, and they would gather in Seedling''s room to eat together. They chose her room since she was the one currently unable to walk, just as they had previously gathered in Flint''s room when her leg had been injured.


    The promise of innocence for Flint, when would it arrive?

 Chapter 28: Golden Eyes and Rings

    In the hushed atmosphere of the Vault of Heaven''s Wisdom, two disciples huddled together, speaking in whispers. The stouter of the two leaned closer to his companion, keeping his voice low.


    "Hey, look... isn''t that Flint?" he asked, gesturing discreetly.


    His thinner companion furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "Flint?"


    The stout disciple gave him a look of annoyance. "You know, the one who was covered in resentment force after absorbing souls."


    "Oh, that Flint! Right, right," the thin one nodded quickly in recognition.


    Suddenly, two hands descended on their shoulders from behind. "What... are... you... talking... about?"


    They turned to find Seedling standing there, her fox ears and purple eyes unmistakable. The two disciples stammered hastily, "We''re just here to read books."


    Seedling pressed a finger to her lips in a silencing gesture. "Be careful what you spread around," she warned, before striding purposefully toward Flint, who sat absorbed in her reading.


    The thin disciple squinted at Flint''s distant figure. "Looks like she''s studying something about runes. Planning to absorb more souls?"


    But his companion wasn''t listening anymore, lost in his own delight. "Heehee, Seedling touched me..." he mumbled dreamily.


    Seedling glided over to Flint''s side, but Flint remained engrossed in her reading, not even turning her head. Undeterred, Seedling leaned over, peering at the book''s title page: "The Complete Guide to Runic Language: From Novice to Master."


    It was one of the freely available books in the Vault of Heaven''s Wisdom, the kind that gathered dust on lower shelves since it was neither a cultivation method nor a secret art.


    The book had that distinct musty scent of aged paper, and its title carried an almost commercial ring to it. Its imposing thickness made it even less appealing. Seedling wondered what could possibly draw Flint to such a dry tome.


    "Hey," Seedling whispered, waving her hand between Flint and the pages, "why do you keep reading this stuff? You won''t come flying with me, won''t go meditate with Spark..."


    Flint responded with a finger to her lips, not looking up. "Library. Quiet."


    "Oh." Seedling slumped onto the table, resting her head sideways to watch Flint. Her white fox ears twitched occasionally as she observed her friend''s intense focus on the cryptic runic symbols that filled the yellowed pages.


    The afternoon sun streaming through the high windows cast a warm glow over them both, highlighting the dust motes that danced in the air around their quiet corner of the library.


    The afternoon drowsiness had finally claimed Seedling, her breathing soft and steady in the quiet library. Perhaps it was the warm sunlight, or maybe the peaceful atmosphere that had lulled her to sleep.


    "Let''s go," Flint said suddenly, closing her book with a gentle thud.


    Seedling blinked awake, her purple eyes still clouded with sleep. By the time she gathered herself, Flint was already placing the book on the return cart near the entrance. Seedling hurried to catch up, her footsteps light against the polished floor.


    Flint waited patiently by the cart, her expression thoughtful.


    As they walked to the canteen, Seedling''s mind wandered to their previous mission. The herb field duty had been meant to last a year, but after everything that happened, they''d earned barely a quarter of the expected Cloud Beads. Flint had given Seedling her entire share so she could get the Zephyr''s Embrace Robe, though even then, Sage West Wind had to help cover the difference.


    Maybe I could organize books in the Vault to earn some Cloud Beads, Seedling thought, then immediately grimaced at the idea. She''d probably mix up all the Secret Arts texts - Vita and Void techniques had such similar names, after all. But she needed to find some way to repay both Flint and her master.


    A chill ran through Seedling''s body as memories of recent events surfaced. It was her reckless venture into the underground prison that had led to Flint being engulfed by resentment force, nearly facing execution. The image of what could have happened - Flint reduced to nothing but dust - made Seedling''s tail bristle with distress.


    Seedling kicked at a pebble as they walked, her thoughts turning darker. The area around the underground prison had been sealed off - who knew when they''d actually investigate? Hmph. She was certain Sage Mortius Crane was hiding something sinister behind that cold smile of his.


    When they reached the dining hall, Flint didn''t order anything, just stared distantly at the serving automatons. Seedling watched her friend with concern. Waiting for that faithless wolf cub again, aren''t we? she thought bitterly.


    The service automatons moved with precise efficiency, their bodies covered in glowing runes that pulsed with each movement. Flint studied them intently, noting how much more complex these formations were compared to the simple door-opening runes she''d seen at the foot of Pine Mist Peak.


    What the hell are those things anyway? Flint cursed silently, frustrated that even after all her reading, the runes remained incomprehensible.


    "I''m here." Spark''s apologetic voice cut through their thoughts. "You''re both early today."


    Seedling and Flint sat together on one side of the table, with Spark facing them from across. He ventured carefully, "Haven''t seen you around today."


    "Was reading in the Vault of Heaven''s Wisdom," Flint replied absently, her attention divided between maintaining the Genesis energy in her throat and recalling the complex runic patterns she''d studied.


    She''s so distant - she must be disappointed in how I doubted her. Though the thought pained Spark, he understood her withdrawal after such a betrayal. Still, he maintained an expression of interest, asking, "What were you reading?"Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "Um... Runic Language..." Flint responded distractedly, her attention split between the conversation and her thought about the runes.


    "Hmph, that''s really difficult stuff - way beyond what a wolf cub like you could understand," Seedling cut in with a barbed comment before Flint could elaborate further. The irony that Seedling herself would never open such a book, let alone comprehend it, was apparently lost on her.


    "I don''t need to study it yet," Spark replied evenly, his tone carrying an unspoken confidence that he could master it quickly if necessary.


    The tension at their table stood in stark contrast to the bustling activity of the dining hall around them, where other disciples chatted and laughed freely over their meals.


    Flint blinked back to awareness, her gaze darting between Spark and Seedling. Had she missed something? The tension between them was palpable, like a drawn bowstring.


    Looking for a distraction, her attention was caught by movement near the entrance. Four figures in distinctive gray-blue robes with purple trim stood out among the sea of Celestial Sword Sect disciples. Their sleeves gleamed with silver runes that seemed to shift in the light.


    "Those people," Flint gestured subtly, "they''re not from our sect, are they?"


    Spark barely glanced in their direction before turning back, his golden eyes clouded with something darker than mere disinterest. "Don''t know them," he muttered, his words clipped and shoulders tense.


    But Seedling''s ears perked up with curiosity, her previous antagonism forgotten. "Oh! Look at those crystal ear clips they''re wearing! They''re glowing!"


    The four newcomers settled at the adjacent table, their trays laden with food. The shortest among them, a woman with short black hair, wearing rings on each finger of her hands, leaned in conspiratorially toward her companions.


    "Did you hear?" she whispered, though not quietly enough. "Someone here at the Celestial Sword Sect was absorbing souls!"


    Her three companions - two men and another woman - carried themselves with the bearing of seasoned cultivators. A man who appeared slightly older than a woman, wearing a jade crown on his head, with a clean-shaven chin and a short mustache on his upper lip, sat next to the young woman.


    Another man¡¯s shoulders were slightly hunched, who looked to be in his middle age. His eyes were partially hidden behind runic-inscribed crystal spectacles. Beside him sat a willowy woman whose hair was elegantly bound in a complex knot, secured by a silver hairpin inlaid with light-sensitive runes.


    Though age was often deceptive among cultivators, their hierarchy was clear in the way the others deferred to the jade-crowned man. But it was the short-haired woman''s words that had frozen the air around their table, turning Spark''s expression to stone and causing Seedling''s tail to bristle defensively.


    The jade-crowned man spoke firmly, cutting through his companion''s gossip. "We should not discuss such matters in another sect''s territory." His voice carried the weight of authority, though the other man and woman at their table continued eating as if they hadn''t heard.


    His intervention seemed to ease some of the tension at Flint''s table, but the short-haired woman wasn''t ready to drop the subject.


    "Oh, come on, Mr. Crystal!" she protested, her rings catching the light as she gestured animatedly. "Everyone''s talking about it. I just heard it myself!" To prove her point, she turned toward Flint''s table with an eager smile, waving her ring-adorned hand. "Hey there, Celestial Sword Sect friends! Have you heard about the person who was absorbing souls?"


    Mr. Crystal''s expression darkened further. "Raven, enough of this nonsense."


    At Flint''s table, Spark''s clenched fist pressed against the wooden surface, his knuckles white with tension. He deliberately kept his gaze forward, refusing to acknowledge Raven''s presence. Beside Flint, Seedling''s purple vertical pupils fixed on Raven with such intensity that the short-haired woman felt a chill run down her spine.


    Caught in the center of this brewing storm, Flint felt the pressure mounting. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Um, actually... that was me," she admitted quietly. "But I didn''t absorb any souls..."


    The words hung in the air like suspended dust motes, and for a moment, the background noise of the dining hall seemed to fade away. Raven''s eyes widened, her mouth forming a small ''o'' of surprise as she realized the impact of her casual gossip.


    Mr. Crystal''s expression shifted from stern disapproval to sharp interest, though he maintained his composed demeanor. The hunched man with the crystal spectacles paused mid-bite, while the willowy woman''s hand stilled over her bowl, her silver hairpin catching the light as she turned slightly to listen.


    "It''s... complicated," Flint began hesitantly, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the table. "I encountered cultivators who had absorbed souls, and I could sense the resentment force clinging to them..." She trailed off, realizing how convoluted her explanation sounded. "That''s why they thought I was absorbing souls."


    Raven''s eyes widened with skepticism. "But that''s not what I heard! They''re saying you accidentally triggered some mechanism from The Abyssal Pavilion and absorbed the souls of several Adept-Level disciples!" She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, rings glinting as she gestured. "They''re saying that''s how you jumped straight to Middle Initiative!"


    "It took me five whole years to reach Middle Initiative! Five years!" Raven emphasized, splaying all five fingers. Each finger bore at least one ring, with her index finger sporting two. The rings appeared to be made of simple steel with a silvery finish, lacking any ornate decoration.


    "Um..." Flint struggled to find the right words to explain.


    "Enough!" Spark''s fist crashed down on the table, causing their dishes to rattle. He turned to Raven, his golden eyes blazing. "Keep your mouth shut. None of those people, including yourself, know what really happened."


    Raven''s attention suddenly shifted as she caught a clear view of Spark''s face from her position. Her eyes widened with delight. "Such beautiful golden eyes!" she exclaimed, the unexpected comment cutting through the tense atmosphere and leaving both tables momentarily bewildered.


    Before anyone could react, Raven darted closer to Spark, who instinctively leaned back. As her ring-adorned hand reached toward his face, Spark caught her wrist in a firm grip.


    "What the hell do you think you''re doing?" Spark demanded, his other arm creating a defensive barrier.


    Undeterred, Raven crouched to study his eyes more closely. "Like crystal and amber mixed together... must be priceless..." she mused professionally.


    Her free hand somehow slipped past Spark''s guard, fingers grazing his cheek. "And such fine skin texture..."


    "Damn it, would you stop that!" Spark batted away her wandering hand, growing increasingly flustered.


    From across the table, Seedling watched with barely concealed amusement. "You should know, sister, he''s not human - he''s a spiritual beast, an Inferno Wolf."


    This revelation only intensified Raven''s fascination. Breaking free from Spark''s grip, she cupped his face with both hands. "Really? That makes it even better!"


    Her hands moved to pat his head. "Where are your ears?"


    "Are you insane?!" Spark exploded, his patience wearing dangerously thin.


    "Could you transform partway for me?" Raven requested eagerly. "Just the ears and tail, but keep this handsome face?"


    Flint observed the scene quietly, mentally disagreeing. Actually, he''s much cuter as a full wolf, she thought to herself.


    Seeing Spark''s speechless indignation, Raven quickly added, "I''ll pay you!"


    That was the final straw. Spark erupted, "Do I look like I need your damn money?! Get your damn hands off me!"


    Raven returned to her seat with an exaggerated look of despair. The hunched man and willowy woman across from her seemed unsurprised by her antics, while Mr. Crystal merely offered a brief rebuke: "Show some restraint."


    "But this is the first man I''ve ever offered to pay!" Raven lamented in a theatrical voice, clearly meant to carry to Spark''s ears. "Usually, I only discuss matters of the heart..."


    Spark''s brow furrowed deeper as he glanced at Flint''s silent figure across the table. She must be angry, he thought glumly.


    But... but why didn''t she stop that crazy woman? The thought only darkened his mood further.


    Finally, Spark broke the silence, "Flint, about what just happened with that woman..."


    Raven''s dramatic voice floated over again: "Oh, so the first man~ I''ve ever offered to pay~ already has a girlfriend~ I''m so~ devastated~"


    Noting Flint''s distant expression, a glint of mischief flickered in Raven''s eyes before she added softly: "But is she really your girlfriend?"


    The question hung in the air like a lead weight. Spark felt his heart sink as the implications hit him. It was true - he''d never properly confessed his feelings, and Flint had never clearly responded to his advances. What exactly were they to each other?


    The question lingered, heavy and unanswered in the air. Usually, Spark never felt the need to define their relationship so precisely. His cultivation level now lagged behind Flint''s, and he had already decided to postpone any formal declaration until he was stronger - until he had the power to protect her properly. With his Transcendent spirit root, advancing to Master level would be straightforward, granting him several centuries of life. There seemed no rush to put their feelings into words.


    But Raven''s casual question had shattered his careful reasoning. Suddenly, desperately, he wanted - needed - to hear Flint''s answer. His chest rose and fell with quickening breaths as he stared into her obsidian eyes, his gaze so intense that Flint shifted uncomfortably. Only then did she realize, belatedly, that Spark was waiting for her to say something.


    Before Flint could form any response, Spark abruptly stood up, his dining tray clutched tight in his hands.


    "Spark..." Flint''s voice trailed off uncertainly, not understanding his sudden movement.


    His teeth nearly broke the skin of his lower lip as he wrestled with his emotions. Finally, in a voice so low it seemed dragged from the depths of his throat, he managed, "I understand." Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving only Flint and Seedling at the table.


    "Holy crap, why''d he leave like that?" Raven stared after Spark''s retreating figure, her rings catching the light as she gestured with her chopsticks.


    "Damn it, I''m not even done eating!" She quickly turned back to her beef bowl, shoveling rice into her mouth at an impressive speed. Though her eyes still flickered longingly toward the direction Spark had disappeared, she wasn''t about to waste perfectly good food. Her rings clinked against her bowl as she ate with single-minded determination, managing to look both regretful and ravenous at the same time.


    The silver runes on her sleeves pulsed faintly as she moved, creating an almost comical contrast between her elegant Mystic Enigma Pavilion robes and her decidedly inelegant eating habits.


    "At least let me finish my food first, you gorgeous wolf!" she muttered between mouthfuls, earning a long-suffering sigh from Mr. Crystal at her side.

 Chapter 29: Moonlit Confessions

    The moon hung like a pale jade disc above the Cultivation Assessment Hall, casting long shadows across its eight-sided structure. Spark sat alone on the pavilion''s eastern steps, a clay bottle of contraband wine beside him. Though the sect didn''t explicitly forbid alcohol, they didn''t sell it either¡ªthis particular bottle had made its way through a chain of Adept disciples who occasionally went into mortal towns for such goods.


    Spark took another sip, wincing as the harsh liquor burned his throat. It was nothing like the refined spirits served at his mother''s court, but right now, its crude bite matched his mood perfectly. The golden-eyed youth stuck out his tongue slightly, trying to ease the burning sensation that had settled in his stomach.


    "Hey there, gorgeous wolf boy! Is that you brooding up there?"


    The voice made Spark''s shoulders tense. He''d recognize that overly enthusiastic tone anywhere¡ªit belonged to that strange girl from dinner, the one in the gray-blue robes with short black hair. Raven, he recalled with a grimace.


    The rapid tap of footsteps on stone made Spark consider making a run for it, but his pride wouldn''t let him flee like some startled pup. Instead, he straightened his back and schooled his features into the aloof expression he''d perfected at his mother''s court.


    "Come to pester me about my eyes again?" he asked dryly, not bothering to look in her direction. Perhaps if he was rude enough, she''d leave him to his solitude.


    "Of course, you''re so beautiful!" Raven''s multiple rings jingled musically as she plopped down beside Spark. He could feel her warmth as she started to lean against him. Spark pushed her away with his right hand, his lip curling in distaste as he created some much-needed space between them.


    Raven stopped her attempts to snuggle closer, instead hugging her shoulder bag to her chest. Her voice took on a honeyed, coaxing tone. "Oh, I asked around about you. Your name''s Spark, right? I''m Raven, Raven Cipher..." She tilted her head, causing her metal hair clip to catch the moonlight.


    "I have no interest in knowing you," Spark replied, his voice as cold as winter frost.


    "Don''t be so distant, handsome wolf boy." Raven Cipher''s eyes sparkled with mischief as she studied his profile. "I can tell you''re upset. Just got rejected by your girlfriend? Oh... maybe not even officially girlfriend yet..."


    Spark''s face flushed red, though whether from the wine or embarrassment was hard to tell. "Shut up!" The words came out as a growl.


    "Come on, you''re drinking all alone¡ªdon''t you want someone to talk to?" Raven Cipher gestured at the wine bottle, her rings flashing with each animated movement. "I heard you''re from the Inferno Wolves, right?"


    "Yes." Spark grabbed his left upper arm with his right hand, with the wine bottle in his left hand, avoiding the woman¡¯s potential physical harassment towards himself. At least if she tried to touch him again, he''d be ready to block her advance. The defensive posture wasn''t lost on Raven, but it only seemed to amuse her more.


    "Oh! The Inferno Wolves territory lies within The Mountain Heart Kingdom, right?" Raven''s eyebrows quirked up with interest as she leaned forward, careful not to invade Spark''s personal space again. Her rings clinked softly as she adjusted her position. "Must be quite different from here."


    Spark exhaled heavily, though his posture relaxed slightly as his thoughts drifted to his homeland. "Yes." He paused, then surprisingly found himself continuing, "Though we''re further southwest than most human settlements. Where the mountains grow too steep for mortals to thrive."


    He took another sip of wine, this time savoring its warmth. "The terrain there... it''s all jagged peaks and deep valleys. Gorges that seem to have no bottom, filled with morning mist that never quite burns away." His golden eyes grew distant, reflecting the moonlight. "We trade with The Mountain Heart Kingdom sometimes. Seraphic Citrine and Star Essence Crystals that only form in the high altitudes where we hunt. In exchange for refined metals and cloth."


    "Seraphic Citrine?" Raven''s eyes lit up as she made circular motions near her temple with her ring-adorned fingers. "Oh yes, I''ve seen those - they''re that yellow gemstone, aren''t they? Just like your eyes, so pure, so..." Her gestures quickened as she searched for the right words, "So golden, like pure gold itself."


    Spark gave Raven a weary look, which she met with an ingratiating smile. "You''re really handsome, wolf boy."


    A sly expression crossed her face as she leaned forward conspiratorially. "Say... has your not-quite-girlfriend ever told you how handsome you are? What was her name again... Flint?"


    At the sound of her name, Flint froze mid-step as she approached the Cultivation Assessment Hall. She caught sight of Spark and the short-haired girl from earlier - Raven, she recalled. Something made her hesitate, and she quietly stepped back behind the corner of the hall''s main entrance, which faced south.


    The wine had loosened Spark''s tongue more than he''d intended. He could no longer maintain his cold demeanor, and instead found himself reflecting melancholically on his experiences with Flint. She had never actually commented on his appearance, had she?


    "No... I don''t think she has," Spark murmured, almost to himself.


    "Then she doesn''t know how to appreciate beauty," Raven continued enthusiastically. "Look at your strong brow, your noble profile, and those eyes..."


    From her hidden spot around the corner, Flint found herself thinking, Actually, I think he looks cuter in his wolf form.


    Spark let out a dismissive huff at Raven''s flattery, though his tone had noticeably softened, likely due to the wine. "Enough with the empty compliments."


    "They''re not empty at all!" Raven protested with mock indignation. She reached into her bag, which she had placed on her right side, and pulled out what appeared to be a flat crystal display panel. It was roughly the length of her forearm, with a 16:9 ratio and copper-framed corners.


    "Let me show you something fun," she said, her rings catching the moonlight as her fingers danced across the surface. The screen flickered to life, revealing an animated raven navigating between pillars of varying heights.


    "It''s a game I created - Flying Raven." She tapped the screen to set it to ''Ready to Start'' before offering the panel to Spark. "Want to try?"


    From her hidden vantage point, Flint watched with growing interest. She seemed to have seen this kind of display device when registering for the Celestial Sword Sect, but the one in Raven¡¯s hand looks more advanced. And what did Raven say? A game created by herself?The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Spark hesitantly took the crystal panel, his curiosity getting the better of him. As his finger touched the screen, the animated raven sprang to life, and he found himself absorbed in guiding it between the shifting pillars. The game''s simple mechanics belied its challenging nature - each move required precise timing and careful attention.


    The moon cast a silvery glow over the crystal display, complementing the soft light emanating from the screen. In the gentle illumination, Spark''s golden eyes reflected the raven''s movements with an almost predatory focus, his natural hunting instincts engaged even in this simple game.


    Lost in concentration, he failed to notice Raven inching closer until she was practically leaning against his shoulder. Her eyes weren''t on the game at all, but rather studying his face with undisguised admiration. When her fingers reached up to trace his eyebrow, the unexpected touch startled him. He jerked away, frowning, and in that moment of distraction, the digital raven crashed spectacularly into a pillar.


    "I''m also from The Mountain Heart Kingdom, you know," Raven said brightly as she reclaimed her panel, seemingly unfazed by his rejection. "We''re practically neighbors!"


    Spark took another deep gulp of wine, letting the taste linger on his tongue. "Oh," he responded softly. Despite his attempt to sound indifferent, the alcohol had softened his voice, giving it an almost intimate quality.


    "Of course, I''m with the Mystic Enigma Pavilion now, in The Azure Coast Kingdom, east of my hometown," Raven continued, her rings dancing in the moonlight as she gestured. "When they tested my spirit roots, they found both my Stasis and Void were Gifted level. But they only really needed Gifted in Stasis." A dreamy smile played across her face as she added, "It''s quite a profitable sect, you know." Her expression turned wistful, as if already counting future riches.


    "What about your spirit root?" Raven quickly steered the conversation back to Spark, her eyes bright with curiosity.


    "My Light Spirit Root is Transcendent." Though Spark tried to keep his tone neutral, a hint of pride crept into his voice, as unmistakable as the golden gleam in his eyes.


    "Wow! A Transcendent spirit root!" Raven clasped her hands together, making her rings chime like tiny bells. "You must advance so quickly! It took me five years just to reach Middle Initiative, and they say getting to Late Initiative takes even longer." She sighed dramatically, slumping her shoulders. "All my earnings go to buying cultivation pills from Crimson Aurora Valley..."


    Raven softened her voice to an almost theatrical tenderness, drawing out his name with exaggerated sweetness. "Spark..." She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What''s your cultivation level?"


    Spark''s cheeks puffed out slightly before quickly deflating - a brief, unconscious gesture of irritation at being reminded that Flint had surpassed him. "Me? I''ve only been cultivating for a year. Still at Early Initiative. Tested last winter solstice, and now..." He trailed off, uncertain. Though it had only been five months since his last assessment, he couldn''t be sure if he''d advanced to Middle Initiative yet.


    From her hidden position, Flint felt a strange tightness in her chest as she watched the interaction unfold. She found herself gripping the corner of the building a little harder than necessary, her knuckles turning white against the cool stone.


    This is the Cultivation Assessment Hall - surely Spark isn''t thinking of getting tested right now? Flint glanced around anxiously, but found only the training grounds before her, offering no place to conceal herself. Though a small voice in her head suggested that perhaps she wasn''t the one who should be hiding.


    "I don''t know. That''s not important." Spark took another long drink, draining the last drops from the bottle before setting it aside with a gentle clink against the stone steps. The burning liquor had transformed into something almost pleasant now, like a warm massage down his throat, leaving behind a peculiar tingling sensation. His golden eyes had taken on a slightly unfocused gleam - the wine was definitely affecting him.


    Flint felt herself relax slightly, continuing to focus on their conversation. Through the widened crack in her mental barrier - which had grown larger after experiencing countless resentful souls'' memories - she could sense Spark''s faint contentment, a warm ember of emotion floating in the night air.


    Raven, either oblivious to or ignoring the "Cultivation Assessment Hall" sign when she had came here, slid her hand across Spark''s back in a gentle caress. This time, Spark didn''t push her arm away, seeming to have resigned himself to the situation. After all, no matter how many times he''d rejected her advances, this shameless woman kept finding ways to touch him.


    "You know..." Raven''s voice took on a subtle melancholy, a stark contrast to her previous playfulness. "My father was a gemcutter. When I was little, our home was filled with brilliant gems, but father always reminded me that none of them belonged to us. Not a single one."


    "Some of the jewels your Inferno Wolves trade - they passed through my father''s hands for cutting." She told Spark with a teasing lilt, though something deeper lurked beneath her light tone.


    "Oh." Spark found himself genuinely responding, his attention caught by her story. His curiosity about this seemingly carefree woman grew - why did someone who appeared so perpetually cheerful harbor such wistful memories?


    "That''s why I love your eyes," she continued softly. "They remind me of that yellow gemstone, what was it called again..." Her ringed fingers paused mid-gesture as she pretended to think.


    "Seraphic Citrine," Spark supplied, his voice barely above a whisper.


    "Yes, that''s it. And now they''re exactly where they should be - in your eyes." Raven gently cupped Spark''s face with her right hand, her rings cool against his wine-flushed skin.


    Their eyes met in the moonlight, and Spark felt a flutter of embarrassment in his chest. Along with it came an unsettling sense of betrayal sprouting in his heart, like a thorny vine wrapping around his ribs.


    He removed Raven''s hand from his face, but his touch was gentle now, lacking the previous harsh rejection. The movement was almost reluctant, as if he were fighting against himself.


    From her vantage point, Flint felt her heart beating faster, though she couldn''t quite understand why. The crack in her mental barrier seemed to throb in time with her pulse, sending confused signals of emotions that weren''t entirely her own.


    Raven understood the art of conversation perfectly - share just enough about yourself, then give young men room to tell their own stories. The more they talked about themselves, the more likely their hearts would open. She steered the conversation skillfully: "What about your father? What kind of person is he?"


    "Father?" Spark''s golden eyes narrowed thoughtfully, his mind drifting to the crowd of male consorts that always surrounded the Mother Empress. Which one had sired him? He realized he''d never really cared about the answer - in the Inferno Wolves, only mothers mattered. "I only have the Mother Empress."


    "Empress?" Raven''s voice lifted with delighted surprise, her rings catching the moonlight as she clasped her hands together. "You''re a prince?"


    "Uh... yes." Spark shifted uncomfortably, puzzled by the sudden excitement in Raven''s voice.


    "Then you must be wealthy, with lots of gemstones at home!" Raven continued enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling as if she could already see herself surrounded by precious stones. Her rings clinked together as she gestured animatedly.


    Spark considered this, remembering the jewel-encrusted walls of his mother''s palace, the precious stones that adorned even the most mundane objects. He nodded slowly, the wine making his head feel pleasantly heavy. "Yes... I suppose so."


    Despite Raven''s general plan to collect many handsome men in her lifetime, the revelation that she was talking to an actual prince made her heart skip a beat. Perhaps she could win Spark over first, secure some money or gems...After all, Spark was so handsome. That was not a bad idea.


    For such a goal, playing the role of a deeply emotional lover seemed worth it. After all, cultivators could live for centuries.


    Though excitement bubbled inside her, Raven carefully composed her features into a melancholic expression. "Oh, being a prince, you must be surrounded by beautiful women..." She let out a delicate sigh, her rings catching the moonlight as she lowered her gaze. "And Flint... she must be from a prestigious background too... ah..."


    Around the corner, Flint nearly choked at hearing her name. How did I suddenly become prestigious? she thought wryly, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.


    Beautiful women? The question made Spark recall his second brother, Oleander Lumin, crying as he complained about having to serve a female wolf - a high-ranking minister, the spouse chosen for him by the Mother Empress.


    "Um..." Spark chose his words carefully, the wine making his thoughts slightly fuzzy. "Actually, there isn''t any beautiful... wolf, and as for Flint..."


    What exactly is Flint''s background anyway? The question floated through his wine-addled mind. "She''s... probably just an ordinary person."


    The moonlight cast long shadows across the steps as silence fell between them. Through her mental barrier''s crack, Flint could sense a mixture of confusion and uncertainty in Spark''s emotions as he spoke about her. The night air suddenly felt cooler against her skin as she pressed herself closer to the building''s corner.


    "Oh, how dare she reject your love!" Raven''s voice rose with manufactured indignation, her rings flashing as she gestured dramatically. "A mere commoner!"


    The words hung heavy in the night air, making Spark shift uncomfortably on the stone steps. His golden eyes darkened slightly as he responded, "That''s her freedom, isn''t it?" He let out a soft sigh that seemed to carry more weight than his light tone suggested.


    "Oh, I just feel it''s unfair to you," Raven''s voice mellowed into honeyed sympathy, her rings catching the moonlight as she reached toward him but stopped short of touching. "You deserve better." She pivoted smoothly, her voice taking on a gentle, coaxing quality. "Let''s talk about something else. What about your Mother Empress?"


    Around the corner, Flint felt a rush of warmth at Spark''s defense of her choice, even as her stomach twisted at being called a "mere commoner." Through her mental barrier''s crack, she could sense Spark''s discomfort with Raven''s words, like a sour note in an otherwise pleasant melody.


    The moonlight seemed to grow colder as it cast long shadows across the training grounds, and Flint found herself unconsciously leaning closer to hear what Spark would say about his mother.


    The night air carried the faint scent of wine and the soft chime of Raven''s rings as she waited for Spark''s response, her calculating eyes masked by a facade of genuine interest.


    Spark remained silent, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Both Raven and Flint, from her hidden corner, waited in their respective silences - one calculating, the other concerned.


    Finally, Spark drew in a deep breath, the sound barely audible in the still night air. At that moment, through the widened crack in her mental barrier, Flint felt it - a wave of sorrow that had been steeping for twenty years, washing over her consciousness like a melancholic melody. It resonated through her being, as pure and clear as a single note struck on a jade chime.

 Chapter 30: The Wolf Princes Sorrow

    "I''d rather not talk about it," Spark said slowly, his words carrying a heaviness that seemed to weigh down the night air.


    Raven''s interest piqued - who would be reluctant to discuss their mother, especially one as distinguished as the Empress of the Inferno Wolves? She studied Spark''s profile in the moonlight, knowing she needed to approach this delicately.


    "Oh," she softened her expression to one of sympathy. "Is it because she''s strict with you?"


    Spark shook his head, his golden eyes glazed slightly from the wine. "She doesn''t concern herself with me at all."


    "Oh," Raven laughed, "isn''t it better when they don''t care? My father''s always imposing annoying rules - no dating, no staying out late, no spending my allowance on jewelry. So tiresome."


    She continued with a light-hearted tone, "He even wanted me to learn his jewel-cutting craft. But I hate such meticulous work - let his apprentice learn it instead."


    Spark ran his fingers through his hair, hesitating. "The Inferno Wolves require a female ruler. I''m Mother Empress''s third son." He paused, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. "After three sons and no daughters... Mother Empress wished I had been born female instead. She... she doesn''t like me."


    Raven listened quietly, her mind calculating. If Inferno Wolves passes power through the female line, then Spark wouldn''t inherit much. And with so many brothers... even if he marries, his share would be minimal.


    But a broken wolf prince might be even more appealing. She hadn''t given up on seducing Spark - she''d just adjusted her strategy from playing the long game to a shorter conquest.


    "Oh, what a tragic childhood," Raven maintained her sympathetic expression as her fingers found their way to Spark''s temple, brushing against his hair. Her touch was gentle, almost motherly - if mothers typically had ulterior motives.


    Spark roughly wiped the wine from his lips. "Ah... it wasn''t... entirely tragic."


    "My eldest brother, Azure, he was good to me." Spark''s golden eyes narrowed, either from contemplation or the wine''s effect. "He taught me noble etiquette. Later, he was the one who arranged for me to study at the Celestial Sword Sect. Otherwise..."


    He hesitated, taking a deep breath before continuing: "I would have probably ended up like my second brother - married off to an older female wolf as a consort."


    Around the corner, Flint listened silently. While the image of a proud wolf prince being married off as a consort almost made her smile, she could clearly feel Spark''s deep sadness seeping through the crack in her mental barrier.


    "Though," Spark continued, and Flint sensed a flutter of something lighter - a tentative joy rising from beneath the melancholy. "Mother Empress did praise me once, when I tested for Transcendent Light spirit root. She said, ''At least you''ve managed to be useful in some way.''"


    The words themselves were hardly warm, but Flint could sense how even that faint acknowledgment had meant everything to a young Spark desperate for his mother''s approval. Through their emotional connection, she felt the complex tangle of pride and pain that single memory still evoked in him.


    Raven''s eyes shone with a calculated sympathy - mostly performative, with just a hint of genuine feeling. "Oh, I truly understand... I once had a friend just like you..." She trailed off, unable to maintain the fabrication, and decided to switch tactics.


    Her eyes suddenly brightened with a dangerous gleam. "You''re already so powerful - why not cultivate further, return home, and take the Inferno Wolves for yourself? Be their king?"


    "How dare you suggest such a thing!" Spark snapped, immediately incensed.


    His chest rose and fell with anger, but as the cool night air filled his lungs, an unbidden image floated through his mind: himself wearing Mother Empress''s crown, with Flint standing faithfully by his side... He shook his head violently, desperately trying to banish such treacherous thoughts.


    Why is there a hint of... excitement mixed in with his anger? Flint noted this discordant note in Spark''s emotions like a single off-key note in a melody.


    "Oh, I''m so sorry, I''m sorry! I was just talking nonsense..." Raven backpedaled frantically, seeing Spark''s intense reaction. "I just felt upset on your behalf... I''m sorry... Spark..." She smacked her own cheek, leaving a faint red mark.


    Damn, hit too hard, Raven cursed internally.


    Spark stared in surprise as Raven struck herself. "Ah... it''s alright. You probably don''t understand how Inferno Wolves works... I''ve heard human kingdoms are usually inherited by males..."


    Seeing Spark making excuses for her, Raven nodded eagerly, even adding a sniffle for effect. "Yes, I''m so sorry¡­ Spark¡­ I really didn''t understand..."


    Raven guided Spark''s right hand to her reddened cheek, cradling it with both hands as she leaned into his palm. She was sitting beside him on the eastern steps of the Cultivation Assessment Hall, their shoulders nearly touching.


    Spark felt a foggy sense of alarm - when had they gotten so intimate? He tried to pull his hand away, but his wine-addled muscles wouldn''t cooperate.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Maybe Raven isn''t so bad after all... The thought bubbled up like the hiccup that followed, bringing with it a whiff of wine. He turned his head away, covering his mouth with his left hand in what looked like embarrassment.


    Around the corner, Flint felt her heart sink. Why did this feel like betrayal? She hesitated, wanting to confront Spark, but realizing she had no right to do so.


    This Raven - I don''t trust her intentions, Flint thought darkly.


    "Hey, can you show me your wolf ears?" Raven stroked Spark''s right hand, her rings cool against his skin.


    Ears? Spark touched his hair with his free hand. Suddenly, a memory struck him like lightning: "Why don''t you show your wolf ears?" - Flint''s words from before.


    Flint asked me that too... she said my ears were cute... A sudden unease gripped Spark''s heart, and he yanked his right hand forcefully from Raven''s grasp.


    And during that dual cultivation session, hadn''t he even asked Flint to touch his ears? Spark''s face flushed, though whether from the memory or the wine was unclear.


    "Better not," Spark said flatly, despite his alcohol-induced haze.


    The ears must be significant to Inferno Wolves - no rush, Raven rationalized. It''s only our first day, after all.


    Raven was just part of the Mystic Enigma Pavilion''s maintenance team, here for only a week, but she felt confident she could bed Spark in that time. She''d never been with a wolf before! A wolf!


    "Spark, you''re drunk. Let me take you back. Where do you stay?" Raven wrapped her arm around Spark''s right arm, pressing her chest against him.


    "Ah, no need." Spark tried to pull his arm free, but Raven had practically draped her entire weight on it, making escape nearly impossible.


    Spark stood up from the steps, his head spinning slightly. Raven''s added weight almost made him stumble, but she quickly steadied him with her support.


    "See? You''re drunk. Let me walk you back," Raven pressed her advantage.


    I probably wouldn''t have almost fallen if you weren''t hanging on me, Spark thought irritably.


    Spark glanced around, noting the area seemed deserted. Ugh, if this woman won''t leave me alone until she sees me home, I suppose it wouldn''t hurt to let her...


    "Hey, Spark, what a coincidence." The soft voice exploded in Spark''s mind like a thunderclap. His vision focused on the one person he least wanted to see right now.


    Flint offered an awkward greeting, figuring she might as well reveal herself since they would have crossed paths anyway. Besides, she had questions for Raven.


    When Flint''s gaze shifted to Raven, the latter arched her eyebrows delicately in the moonlight. "Raven Cipher."


    "Flint Winter. Hello, Raven." Flint gave a stiff wave.


    Spark felt suddenly, painfully sober. The weight of Raven on his arm, which had been merely annoying before, now felt like a burning brand. He tried again to extract himself, but Raven''s grip remained firm.


    "Raven, could I ask you about your Crystal Panel?" Flint asked, trying to keep her voice neutral despite her churning thoughts.


    Crystal Panel? The panel I was playing ''Flying Raven'' on? She was here that early, just hiding and listening? A complicated mix of emotions washed over Spark - disappointment, anger, and a strange flutter of both fear and... excitement that Flint had heard his confessions.


    Flint could feel Spark''s emotions crashing like waves against her consciousness, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.


    Raven''s eyes sparkled with interest as she studied Flint. "Oh? Are you interested in playing Flying Raven too?"


    While gaming was the last thing on Flint''s mind, she decided a compliment might help smooth the conversation. "The game did look quite impressive when I saw it earlier."


    "But I''m more interested in... what created it. Perhaps the Runic Language?" Flint ventured carefully.


    "Runic Language? Impossible!" Raven burst out laughing. "Such a primitive language could never create something this sophisticated."


    Flint stood frozen, her confidence wavering. The single book on runes she''d found in the Celestial Sword Sect''s library had been her only reference point.


    Spark attempted once again to free his arm, but even while conversing with Flint, Raven maintained her vice-like grip. The shock of Flint''s appearance had sobered him considerably, though his head still felt fuzzy. Her lack of questioning about his situation with Raven left him with conflicted feelings - both relieved and oddly disappointed.


    Seeing Flint''s bewildered expression, Raven''s satisfaction grew. "This was created with Soulweaver Language, developed exclusively by our Mystic Enigma Pavilion. We named it after our founding master, Aldrich Soulweaver."


    "It allows for abstract programming and simulation," Raven continued, stealing glances at Spark, hoping to see impressed recognition in his eyes. But he remained lost in his own emotional turbulence. "The runic patterns can be calculated and miniaturized for practical applications."


    "Would you like to learn it?" Raven asked, her smile carrying a tinge of malice as she studied Flint.


    Flint, still processing the revelations about runic programming, was jolted from her thoughts. She nodded eagerly before fully considering the implications.


    "Do you have at least a Gifted level Stasis Spirit Root?" Raven''s tone dripped with condescension.


    Flint almost blurted out that all her spirit roots were Deficient, but something stopped her. The traditional spirit root classifications didn''t quite apply to her unique situation. Rather than attempt to explain, she opted for simplicity: "Yes."


    Aren''t all her spirit roots Deficient? The thought crossed Spark''s mind, but he kept his silence, choosing not to expose her deception.


    "Oh, not bad," Raven raised an eyebrow, her rings catching the moonlight as she absently stroked Spark''s arm. "However..."


    She pulled an exaggerated pout, her eyes glinting with barely concealed mockery. "The secrets of our Mystic Enigma Pavilion aren''t something we can just share with anyone. Besides, about the crystal panel," she gave Flint a smile full of malice, "you don''t even have a Mystic Terminal. They''re exclusive to our sect members."


    The term ''Mystic Terminal'' rolled off her tongue with deliberate emphasis, as if wielding the words themselves as a barrier between Flint and the knowledge she sought.


    "Spark, let''s head back," Raven tugged on Spark''s arm with smug satisfaction, nearly causing him to stumble.


    Spark frowned, his gaze shifting between Raven and Flint. But Flint remained lost in thought, seemingly indifferent to his predicament. His heart sank. She doesn''t care about me at all - just that stupid ''Mystic Terminal.''


    "Flint..." The name formed on his lips, but no sound emerged.


    Just like earlier today, when I needed her to define what we are to each other, she chose silence.


    How did I not realize sooner? Her silence was never about sparing my feelings...


    A sharp pain twisted in Spark''s stomach - whether from the wine or this sudden realization, he couldn''t tell.


    "Flint, I''m leaving. With Raven." He injected the words with deliberate coldness, emphasizing those final two words with bitter precision.


    Through her mental barrier''s crack, Flint could sense the turmoil in his emotions - hurt, anger, and something deeper that felt like betrayal. But she remained focused on the revelation about the Mystic Terminal. If she could just get access to one...


    Raven''s triumphant smile widened as she steered Spark away, her rings glinting in the moonlight. Behind them, Flint stood motionless, torn between her curiosity about the technology and an inexplicable ache in her chest as she watched them disappear into the darkness.


    Flint sank down onto the steps where Spark had sat moments before, the stone still holding a trace of warmth. The night air carried the lingering scent of wine.


    "Spark''s free to make his own choices," she murmured, but the words felt hollow. Through the crack in her mental barrier, she could still feel echoes of his turbulent emotions fading into the distance.


    Her fingers brushed against something - a forgotten bag leaning against the steps. Raven''s, from the jingling sound of metal components inside. "Raven! Spark!" she called out, but their footsteps had already faded beyond earshot.


    Flint stood motionless in the moonlight, watching as Spark and Raven''s figures grew smaller in the distance. Her mind whirled with competing thoughts and emotions.


    "It''s Spark''s choice," she told herself quietly. Even though she knew Spark liked her, she wasn¡¯t ready to respond to Spark¡¯s feelings.


    The name "Bamboo Sovereign" drifted through her consciousness, bringing its usual mix of inexplicable joy and profound sorrow. She let the feeling wash over her, adding it to the growing collection of emotional fragments from her past life.


    But these personal matters felt almost trivial compared to the troubling spread of Soul Leech among the disciples. The forbidden technique''s sudden emergence couldn''t be coincidence. How had so many learned it? Who was teaching them? And why?


    The questions expanded outward: Why had she returned to this world at all? What drove her constant search for lost memories? It felt like following a trail of clues left by either herself or Obsidian, leading toward some crucial truth she couldn''t yet grasp.


    Lost in thought, Flint finally sank down onto the steps where Spark had been sitting. Her hand brushed against something - a bag, forgotten in the shadows. The subtle jingling of metal components inside identified it as Raven''s.


    "Raven! Spark!" she called out, but they had already disappeared into the darkness of the sect grounds.


    Flint looked down at the bag, her fingers hovering over its closure. Inside might be the very technology she''d been curious about...

 Chapter 31: Trade and Deception

    Flint pulled her hand back from Raven''s bag in the deep of night, the moon casting long shadows across the eastern steps of the Cultivation Assessment Hall. Better to wait for her return, she decided.


    Having no need for sleep, she settled on the stone steps and focused on circulating the Genesis energy in her throat. The night air was crisp and still. Gradually, she slipped into a meditative state, the gentle whisper of wind through the nearby trees fading from her awareness.


    When she finally opened her eyes, dawn was breaking over the peaks. Golden light spilled across the courtyard as early-rising Outer Sect disciples hurried past, heading to morning training. Did Raven completely forget about this?


    The morning session was well underway when hurried footsteps approached from behind. Raven rushed down the steps, her multiple rings catching the early sunlight as she moved.


    "You''ve been here the whole time?" Raven''s eyes widened as she spotted Flint. She quickly checked her drawstring bag, examining it for any signs of tampering¡ªthough of course, if someone had opened it, they could have easily retied it.


    Flint nodded simply. "I was waiting for you to collect it."


    Raven arched an eyebrow, her rings clinking together as she leaned forward with sudden interest. "Why wait for me?" Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, the same way she had when examining Spark''s golden irises the night before.


    "Because if anything went missing, I''d be the prime suspect," Flint replied, smoothing out her robes as she stood. "So I figured I''d stay and prove my innocence." She brushed off a few stray leaves that had settled on her clothes during her night-long meditation.


    "You''re quite... interesting," Raven mused, a smile playing at her lips that mixed admiration with something less innocent.


    "Wait." She called out as Flint turned to leave for sword practice.


    "Yes?" Flint turned back, her expression still serene from the night''s meditation. Even though her damaged mental barrier could detect a hint of hidden agenda in Raven''s emotions.


    "While I do engineering work at the Mystic Enigma Pavilion, I''m a merchant at heart." Raven made a self-introducing gesture with her ring-adorned hand.


    "I''d like to propose a trade - involving a Mystic Terminal that you seem quite interested in." A calculating smile spread across Raven''s face.


    "Please, go on," Flint said, waiting to hear Raven''s terms.


    "First condition: twenty thousand spirit stones," Raven held up one finger. She''d need ten thousand to get a new top-of-the-line Mystic Terminal, so she was asking for double.


    "Second condition: make Spark give up on you." She raised a second finger, then paused thoughtfully before adding, "At least for this week until I leave. After that, do what you want."


    "Third condition: don''t let anyone know you have a Mystic Terminal." A third finger joined the others.


    "That''s all. So, do we have a deal?" Raven crossed her arms, looking at Flint with eager anticipation.


    Flint frowned in thought. The first condition - she could probably borrow from Sage South Rain. The third would be easy enough. But the second...


    "I''m not sure I can control Spark''s feelings," Flint said, brow furrowed.


    "Oh, that''s simple," Raven waved dismissively, a playful smirk on her face. "Just tell him you don''t like him. Besides, you don''t seem that interested anyway - why string him along?"


    "What do you plan to do with Spark?" Flint asked with a deepening frown.


    "Oh? Curious, are you?" Raven''s tone was playful, almost teasing.


    Flint wasn''t sure whether she was more worried about Spark or simply curious. Finally, she nodded. "A little."


    "I plan to seduce him..." Raven found Flint''s innocence endearing enough to share her scheme. "Sleep with him..."


    "After that, well, we''ll see." Raven gave Flint a casual shrug.


    "Have you slept with him?" Raven shot Flint a knowing look.


    "No," Flint replied. She thought back to their first days at the way to the Celestial Sword Sect - while Spark slept, she had stayed awake. They hadn''t slept together in either sense of the phrase, though her understanding of physical intimacy remained vague.


    "What a shame," Raven shrugged. "He is quite a handsome wolf prince."


    "Mm," Flint made a noncommittal sound.


    The idea of treating Spark like a trade commodity made her deeply uncomfortable. Yet he seemed disappointed in her already, and she couldn''t return his feelings anyway.


    I''m just coincidentally meeting the second condition, Flint rationalized to herself.


    "So, do we have a deal?" Raven prompted, bringing Flint back to their unfinished negotiation.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "Deal," Flint sighed, agreeing to the trade.


    A satisfied smile spread across Raven''s face. She could dispose of her old Mystic Terminal while having a clear path to comfort a wounded wolf prince. Her merchant''s mind was already calculating potential markets for second-hand Mystic Terminals.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    As midday approached, Flint noted Spark''s conspicuous absence. She hadn''t caught even a glimpse of him all morning. Perhaps it''s for the best, she thought, considering her deal with Raven. Without Spark bringing her meals, she''d have no food today - not that she needed any. While Initiative disciples received a modest monthly stipend for meals, few could afford extras without family support.


    Just as morning training concluded, she felt a sudden tap on her back. Seedling leaned in close, her voice dropping to an excited whisper.


    "Hey Flint! Remember those four in grey-blue robes? They''re repairing puppets in the storage building behind the dining hall." Seedling''s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "Their ear clips glow while they work, and they use these amazing crystal panels. Want to check it out?"


    Flint nodded, her interest piqued by the mention of the Mystic Enigma Pavilion''s technology. After her deal with Raven, she was particularly curious to see their work up close.


    Flint and Seedling joined the small crowd gathered around the storage building. Several Adept Level disciples from the Celestial Sword Sect were assisting the four Mystic Enigma Pavilion members, while curious onlookers like themselves dotted the periphery.


    The slender woman with the silver hairpin - Iris Echo - caught Flint''s attention. Each time she adjusted her crystal ear clip, it would establish a connection with a puppet, both glowing with a subtle cyan light.


    "Reed, could you open up this puppet for me?" Iris called to the bespectacled middle-aged man with curly hair. "I''m getting some odd readings from the data stream. Need to check the central processing module."


    Reed Circuit examined the puppet carefully before shaking his head. "This looks like an older model I''m not familiar with. Mason, could you take a look?"


    From her spot near the wall, Raven chimed in while tapping away at her Mystic Terminal. "They should just make these old models obsolete. Force the sect to upgrade to new ones."


    Mason Crystal, the man wearing jade crown, brushed his neatly trimmed mustache - the only facial hair on his upper lip - as he studied the puppet thoughtfully. "Ah, this appears to be a Mark III Sweeper. One of our early cleaning models."


    Flint observed intently as the maintenance team worked, particularly interested in the interaction between the ear clips and puppets.


    Through her damaged mental barrier, Flint sensed a subtle flow of Stasis natural aura between the ear clips and puppets. So that''s why they require Gifted-level Stasis spirit root, she mused.


    "I don''t have the Mark III Sweeper specs in my Mystic Terminal," Raven commented casually, still tapping at her device.


    Iris nodded. "Me neither. That''s probably why we''re getting data transfer issues - version incompatibility. The current model is the Ice VII."


    "Indeed," Mason added with a slight frown. "The Mark III used a different puppet control architecture altogether. Let¡¯s discard this puppet instead."


    As they continued discussing technical details, Flint carefully observed how the cyan glow pulsed between Iris''s ear clip and the puppet''s core, trying to understand the underlying principles of their technology.


    Raven glanced around restlessly before announcing, "I''m hungry."


    Mason gave her a dispassionate look. "We don''t need to eat. Go ahead on your own."


    Raven tucked away her Mystic Terminal and scanned the area. Her gaze briefly passed over Flint without much interest before continuing her search, clearly waiting for someone.


    Finally, a figure appeared in the distance. Raven leapt up from her chair with excitement, calling out loudly, "Spark!"


    Flint didn''t turn around, but Seedling''s attention was caught by the shout. She looked over to see Spark approaching.


    As he drew near, Seedling raised an eyebrow. "Haven''t seen you all morning."


    "Slept in," Spark replied flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.


    His gaze swept over Flint, who was still intently focused on Iris and Reed repairing the puppet. Something complex flickered in his eyes as he looked at her, but he quickly turned away and walked over to where Raven waited.


    Raven ran over and embraced Spark right in front of Flint, forcing her to acknowledge their presence.


    Seedling''s lips curved into a mocking smile, her brow slightly furrowed. "Only one day and you''ve found someone new?" she asked Spark.


    Spark frowned, irritated by both Seedling''s tone and Raven''s excessive enthusiasm. Raven had only asked him to join her for lunch.


    The memory of last night''s events made him slightly uncomfortable. He wanted to make it clear to Raven that he wasn''t interested and she should stop pursuing him.


    "Mind your words," Spark said coldly, carefully choosing his next words. "She''s just... a stranger I barely know."


    Raven playfully swatted Spark''s chest in mock anger. "How could you call me a stranger?" Her eyes still held a gleam of amusement.


    Spark''s gaze unconsciously drifted to Flint and found her looking back at him, seemingly about to speak.


    His heart stirred. He hadn''t actually been sleeping this morning, but thinking alone in his room, asking himself: "Why do I like Flint?"


    He had thought about many things - fleeing from Wind Patio together, his panic at seeing Flint lying in a pool of blood, their incomplete attempt at dual cultivation... Yet somehow none of these seemed adequate reasons for "liking" someone.


    But then, love itself needs no reason.


    Yet all their subtle intimacy had been destroyed by his own doubts during Flint''s trial at the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall...


    Or was that really the cause? Flint had never blamed him for that moment...


    No, perhaps it was because she was truly disappointed in him.


    Spark waited with these complicated emotions, anticipating what Flint might say.


    Meanwhile, beside him, Raven kept shooting meaningful glances at Flint, trying to remind her of their agreement.


    "Um... Spark." Flint emerged from her reverie, noticing that Spark seemed to be waiting for her to speak, with both Raven and Seedling watching expectantly.


    "Mm." Spark responded simply, gesturing for her to continue.


    "Do you remember when I told you about searching for my past life memories?" Flint began carefully.


    "Of course." Why is she bringing this up? Spark wondered. This was one of the first things Flint had told him when they met by the sea.


    Flint hesitated, choosing her words before saying, "I think I know who my lover was in my past life. I plan to leave the sect to find him. Probably after I reach Adept Level."


    Past life lover? The phrase made Spark''s brow furrow deeply. He recalled what Flint had mentioned before, and what he''d seen in his own memories, about Blaze Mighty, the founder of the Celestial Sword Sect. Had he and Flint''s past self, Obsidian, not been romantically involved?


    Did Obsidian have a different lover...?


    Despite everything, Spark felt an inexplicable glimmer of hope. Just as he was about to speak, Flint quickly added:


    "It''s not Blaze Mighty."


    These words extinguished the last ember of hope in Spark''s heart. His fists clenched unconsciously, knuckles whitening.


    "Then... who is he?" Spark asked with a bitter smile.


    Flint considered mentioning The Bamboo Sovereign''s identity as the founder of the Abyssal Pavilion, but decided against it. After all, the Celestial Sword Sect was the largest member of the Immortal Alliance. Spark would likely remain with the Celestial Sword Sect, and might even join the Immortal Alliance someday.


    "I don''t think it would be appropriate for me to reveal his identity," Flint said calmly.


    Raven listened with confusion, not understanding Flint''s background. To her, it seemed like Flint had simply made up an excuse to discourage Spark, while possibly leaving him a thread of hope.


    "Why don''t you explain more clearly!" Raven interjected.


    Both Spark and Seedling turned to look at her with puzzled expressions, wondering why this outsider was suddenly so invested in their conversation.


    Flint was puzzled too, but reasoned that perhaps Raven was worried Spark hadn''t given up hope yet.


    Flint was reluctant to say anything too hurtful, so she hesitated, carefully choosing her words before speaking in a lowered voice:


    "I''m going to find Lenient Pine."


    That stupid wooden man who filled my mouth with pine needles the moment we met? Spark felt anger rising within him, his teeth clenching in frustration. Is he her lover from a past life, or a reincarnation of her past lover?


    "You''re going to find that wooden man who poisoned me?" Spark''s voice was also low but taut with anger. He consciously avoided naming the Abyssal Pavilion, even in this hushed conversation.


    Flint nodded simply, her expression unchanged.


    This exchange left both Raven and Seedling bewildered. Raven glanced between them, trying to decipher the unspoken meaning. She could tell there was significant history behind their cryptic words, but couldn''t make sense of it.


    Seedling''s fox ears twitched with curiosity. Unlike Raven, she knew about their early encounter with Lenient Pine, but was surprised by this unexpected development.


    "Let''s go," Spark said abruptly to Raven, turning away from Flint. His golden eyes had darkened, and his jaw was set in a hard line.


    Raven quickly linked her arm through his, shooting a triumphant glance at Flint before they walked away. Though she hadn''t fully understood the conversation, she could tell her scheme had succeeded - perhaps even better than she''d planned.


    Seedling bounced on her toes, her fox tail swishing with delight. "Finally! You''ve thrown that faithless wolf aside."


    She leaned in close to Flint, her purple eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Tell me about this pine tree of yours. Is he handsome? What''s your past life story together?"


    Flint watched Spark''s retreating figure, releasing a sigh so faint it was barely perceptible. "Actually, I don''t know much about Lenient Pine at all."


    Without further comment, she turned her attention back to the maintenance team''s work, observing as Iris adjusted another puppet''s settings. Through her damaged mental barrier, she could sense the steady pulse of Stasis natural aura flowing between the technician''s crystal ear clip and the puppet''s core.

 Chapter 32: Code and Cultivation

    When Flint mentioned borrowing twenty thousand spirit stones, Sage South Rain''s eyes softened with maternal warmth.


    "Take them as a gift," South Rain said, her voice gentle but firm. Seeing Flint''s hesitation, she added with a slight smile, "Consider it my repayment to Master Snow."


    The weight of both gratitude and guilt settled in Flint''s chest as she accepted the ring-shaped container. It was similar to the one Spark always carried - a circular vessel with its center hollowed out, the void taking up roughly a third of the diameter. Within the ring, concentrated spiritual energy swirled like viscous blue liquid, the essence of fourty thousand spirit stones compressed into portable form ¡ª Yes, Sage South Rain gave her more, or rather, not just a little, but double the amount.


    On the evening of Raven¡¯s last day at work, Flint made her way to the western side of the Spirit Root Testing Pavilion with a middle-sized bag. Raven had chosen this spot for their meeting, correctly reasoning that few would venture near the testing grounds outside of recruitment seasons. The pavilion stood silent and empty, its elegant eight-sided structure casting complex shadows across the ground.


    "Just my luck! That wolf is completely impossible to win over. He''s even hiding from me now!" Raven burst out as soon as she arrived, her numerous rings catching the fading sunlight as she gestured in frustration.


    Flint nodded slightly, her expression neutral. "I haven''t seen much of him either."


    A calculating gleam entered Raven''s eyes as she studied Flint''s face. "He''s really given up on you, hasn''t he? That was part of our deal, after all."


    Flint''s brows drew together, a hint of steel entering her voice. "I''ve done what I could. Are you thinking of going back on our agreement?"


    "No, no, of course not!" Raven quickly backpedaled, her rings chiming softly as she waved her hands. She couldn''t afford to leave empty-handed - neither the wolf nor the spirit stones in her grasp. "I''ll be back to maintain the puppets anyway. Maybe I''ll have better luck with Spark next time."


    Curiosity flickered across her face as she shifted topics. "About this past life lover you mentioned... what''s that about?" Her tone carried a hint of skepticism, as if testing whether Flint had fabricated the story.


    "I... it''s difficult to explain," Flint began hesitantly. But seeing Raven''s expectant gaze, she knew she needed to provide some explanation. "I believe I have unfinished business from my previous life. Sometimes memories surface... and there was someone... someone important..."


    "I think I know who his reincarnation is now. I need to find him," she concluded quietly.


    "Oh, so it''s not Spark then?" Raven mused, twirling one of her rings thoughtfully. "No wonder he seemed so... angry."


    Flint nodded, though she couldn''t agree with Raven''s choice of words. The pain she''d glimpsed in Spark''s eyes had been far deeper than mere agitation.


    "Then why aren''t you going to find him?" Raven pressed, arching an eyebrow with undisguised curiosity.


    "My... master," Flint hesitated before settling on this term to describe her relationship with Sage South Rain, "believes I need to reach Adept Level first. The cultivator''s world is dangerous."


    Raven nodded, accepting this explanation. She lowered her bag onto the pavilion steps but made no move to open it. Her rings clinked softly against the stone.


    Flint gripped her own bag tighter, watching Raven intently. Something about the other woman''s demeanor set her on edge.


    "We only agreed to trade for the Mystic Terminal, right?" Raven asked, her tone deceptively casual.


    Flint frowned and nodded slowly. What game is she trying to play?


    "Well, you see," Raven continued, barely concealing the excitement creeping into her voice, "this Mystic Terminal also contains some... Mystic Enigma Pavilion documentation. If you''re interested in learning Soulweaver Language, these materials are absolutely essential." Her words carried a predatory undertone, like a merchant who had spotted an opportunity too good to pass up.


    The dying sunlight cast long shadows across the pavilion steps as the two women regarded each other - one calculating, the other wary.


    After a pause, Flint asked carefully, "You want more spirit stones?"


    "Oh, talking about money is so crude," Raven replied, her rings creating a gentle chiming as she rubbed her hands together. "I''ve left all the documentation in there. I just want to... maintain a friendly connection with you."


    "A connection?" Flint''s brow furrowed. While she had extra spirit stones, she disliked this last-minute price negotiation. But Raven''s emphasis on "connection" puzzled her even more.


    As Raven watched Flint, her mind raced with calculations. Her job at the Mystic Enigma Pavilion - debugging and programming in Soulweaver Language - held little appeal. She''d long realized that this path would never fulfill her dreams of amassing enough wealth to collect precious gems and keep handsome cultivators as companions.


    The real money lay in following the Mystic Enigma Pavilion''s example - founding a sect, and having other cultivators generate profit. And here stood Flint - someone who never haggled, spoke little, and seemed consumed by work and thought. The perfect resource to exploit.


    True, building a sect would take time. But as a cultivator with centuries ahead of her, Raven could be patient. Meanwhile, she could learn management skills at the Mystic Enigma Pavilion.


    "Yes, a ''friendly'' connection," Raven smiled with an almost sycophantic expression, her intentions hardly pure. The rings on her fingers caught the light as she spread her hands in an inviting gesture.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Define friendly," Flint replied tersely, her wariness evident in her rigid posture.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    In her private dormitory, Flint propped up the activated Mystic Terminal on a stand at her desk. Before it lay an unrolled scroll marked with letter-shaped glyphs, each character meticulously drawn in dark ink.


    Raven''s instructions echoed in her mind: "Anyone who can channel Stasis natural aura can input text by placing their fingers on the keys and infusing spiritual energy."


    Her recent flights with Seedling had further widened the crack in her mental barrier. The emotional noise she sensed had grown more chaotic, and both her Stasis and Flux spirit roots seemed to activate simultaneously. The Genesis in her throat now split in two different ways at random - either into Light and Shadow, or into Flux and Stasis. She was learning to direct Stasis and Light upward while pushing Flux and Shadow downward.


    Back at her desk, Flint pressed a key, channeling a thread of natural aura. The character beneath her finger responded with a soft blue glow, like moonlight on water, as the corresponding letter appeared in the editor.


    Another memory surfaced - Raven''s voice: "Of course, these flat scroll keys feel terrible. At the Mystic Enigma Pavilion, they made us these wooden keystones for better typing. Each key has this satisfying spring mechanism - you can really feel it push back against your fingers when you press down. Just overlay the scroll on top - it''s pure mechanical structure, no connections needed. The letters still glow just the same when you channel natural aura. Just improve the feel of writing Soulweaver Language."


    Flint minimized the editor and opened "Flying Raven" - the game Raven had mentioned.


    The memory of their conversation flooded back. "When I say ''friendly connection,''" Raven had explained, "I mean I hope to hire you to develop games once you learn programming. Like this ''Flying Raven'' I created."


    "Develop games?" Flint had shown little interest.


    Instead of elaborating, Raven had asked, "You use jade tablets for communication, right? Do you know how they work?"


    When Flint shook her head, Raven continued, "The Mystic Enigma Pavilion has built transmission towers everywhere that can relay information through Stasis natural aura. Right now they only transmit voice and text, but eventually, they could transmit visual information too."


    Visual transmission? Flint had nodded thoughtfully. The Mystic Enigma Pavilion knows so much.


    Raven had pressed her ring-covered hand to her lips in contemplation. "Think about it - your jade tablet could be larger, like a Mystic Terminal, or maybe a fifth of the size - something you can hold."


    She''d gestured enthusiastically to demonstrate the size. "Then everyone could play games on these screens! In Flying Raven, players could pay money or watch advertisements to revive after dying! We could sell both devices and programs!"


    "What do you think?" Raven had draped an arm around Flint''s shoulders.


    Though confused, Flint had found herself nodding, caught up in Raven''s enthusiasm.


    Raven had pulled her closer. "I knew you had vision. We''ll split the profits."


    Many years later, Flint would recognize this as empty promises. But for now, she just wanted to try "Flying Raven" and study its source code, as Raven had suggested.


    Flint found herself oddly engaged in the game until her raven character suddenly stuck to the top of a pillar.


    Is this what Raven called a ''bug''? She recalled Raven''s explanation - they called it debugging because originally, actual insects would damage the runes, causing execution errors.


    Opening both the source code and the Soulweaver Language documentation, Flint studied the project. It was relatively simple - less than ten files with a little over a thousand lines of code totally. After reviewing it, she suspected a faulty conditional statement.


    After making changes and recompiling, Flint looked up and murmured, "Oh, it''s dawn." Having no need for sleep, her sense of time was rather poor.


    She tested the game again. The bug seemed fixed, though she couldn''t be certain it wouldn''t resurface elsewhere. However, she''d already lost interest in the game itself.


    The difficulty never increases. It gets boring quickly. Would anyone really spend spirit stones to revive? she wondered.


    But watching the raven navigate between pillars sparked an idea. Could she set up conditional statements to direct Light and Stasis natural aura upward while keeping Shadow and Flux flowing downward? After all, those formations that gather natural aura are also drawn with runes. This would eliminate the need for constant concentration.


    She flipped through the Soulweaver Language documentation and found methods for detecting natural aura types. After careful study, she began programming her solution.


    Flint had worked out the programming logic - complex in detail but simple in concept. But how to implement it? She discovered the Mystic Terminal had functionality to print runes onto certain mediums. But onto what?


    She remembered the puppet workers in the Celestial Sword Sect had cloth patches with runes printed on them.


    What cloth could I use? She looked around her room. Since I don''t sleep anyway, might as well cut up the bedsheet.


    She snipped off a section and activated the function to print the runes. The Mystic Terminal emitted blue glow from the back, printing runes on the cutted bedsheet.


    The program was straightforward - directing Light and Stasis upward, Shadow and Flux downward. She positioned the cloth at her throat, immediately feeling the natural aura flow become more regulated.


    However, two problems remained. First, she still needed to concentrate Genesis in her throat - if it split elsewhere, like in her chest cavity, it could still flow to the wrong spirit roots and cause damage. Second, she needed some way to secure the cloth to her neck.


    But there was progress - the spirit roots that could now absorb natural aura were no longer absorbing Genesis. This meant she needed to block Genesis absorption in her chest cavity, focusing it entirely through the throat checkpoint.


    After putting down the bed sheet printed with runes, Flint turned her attention to her sect robe. Perhaps printing runes on the back of the robe would work better for blocking natural aura.


    She began writing new code for a more comprehensive blocking pattern. Time slipped away as she refined and tested different configurations. Finally, after what could have been hours, she completed the rune design for blocking natural aura.


    Just as she removed her sect robe to begin printing, a thought struck her. If others see runes printed on my body, it would look rather suspicious.


    Better to print them on my undergarments instead. She slipped off her inner clothing, leaving only her chest bindings, and prepared to start the printing function.


    Suddenly, urgent knocking erupted from her door.


    Who could that be? Hastily wrapping herself in her sect robe, she hurried to answer.


    "Flint!" Seedling burst in, her fox ears twitching with worry. "I haven''t seen you all day! I thought something had happened to you!"


    Has an entire day really passed? Flint marveled at this realization - finding it both bizarre and somehow perfectly natural at the same time.


    "Oh, I..." Flint suddenly remembered Raven''s warning about keeping the Mystic Terminal secret. She backed away from Seedling step by step, then quickly shed her sect robe and draped it over the device in one fluid motion.


    "I... I just woke up," Flint offered lamely, unable to think of a better excuse.


    "Eh? You slept that long? Did something upset you?" Seedling moved closer with concern, her fox tail swishing behind her. "And you sleep without clothes?"


    "Yes, it''s cooler this way," Flint replied hastily.


    "Is it because of that faithless wolf? You already have someone better - what was his name... Lenient Pine?" Seedling approached the spot where Flint was guarding the Mystic Terminal. With a playful flourish, she lifted the corner of the sect robe, revealing the large crystal panel underneath.


    "Aha! What are you hiding here? Let me see!" Seedling''s eyes sparkled with interest as she peered at the screen.


    Flint sighed, realizing her efforts at concealment had been in vain. "Please don''t tell anyone."


    "Of course not! Your secret''s safe with me," Seedling promised, though her enthusiasm dimmed slightly at the sight of code filling the screen. She experimentally tapped the screen a few times, then brightened when she spotted the raven character. Another tap, and she discovered the game, immediately becoming absorbed in playing.


    "Seedling," Flint suddenly asked, watching her friend become engrossed in the game, "your Stasis spirit root is Deficient, right?"


    "Ah, yeah," Seedling replied distractedly, then groaned as her raven crashed into a pillar. "Damn it. Game over? Can I revive?"


    So you don''t need a Stasis spirit root to operate the Mystic Terminal, Flint mused. Why did Raven say you needed at least Gifted level? After some thought, she reasoned it must be for printing runes, which would require channeling Stasis natural aura.


    While Flint pondered this revelation, Seedling had already started another round, her tail swishing with excitement as she guided the raven between pillars.


    While waiting quietly for Seedling''s next game over, Flint was about to ask about adhesives when Seedling''s frustrated voice broke the silence.


    "I got such a high score and then just died! Why can''t I revive?" Seedling frantically tapped the keystones, but the characters on the scroll remained unresponsive.


    Maybe Raven''s business idea has merit after all, Flint reflected.


    "By the way, Seedling, do you know where to get glue?" Flint asked softly.


    "Glue? You mean like what they use for posting notices in the dining hall?" Seedling tilted her head.


    Flint nodded. "Yes, that kind. I''ve designed some runes that I need to attach to myself to guide the flow of natural aura."


    "Wow! That''s amazing!" Seedling''s purple eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Does that mean if I stick a rune on myself, I won''t need to meditate anymore?"


    Flint considered this, thinking that printing natural aura-gathering formations on the clothes might actually work. She nodded slowly. "Perhaps."


    "Perfect! I''ll go steal- I mean, borrow a bottle," Seedling declared, puffing out her chest proudly. "Wait for me!"


    Flint watched Seedling''s retreating figure, her white fox tail swishing happily as she bounded away. With an affectionate sigh and slight smile, she turned back to her desk to work on coding the natural aura-gathering program.

 Chapter 33: Puppet Eyes

    "Try this natural aura-gathering formation I printed on the fabric," Flint said, adjusting her long-sleeved shirt which she had already printed with runes to block natural aura flow. She''d been working on this runes before Seedling stole the glue back.


    Seedling held up the piece of bedsheet Flint had cut, examining it from different angles before tentatively laying it across her arm. Her eyes widened almost immediately, but suddenly, her brows furrowed.


    "I can feel more Flux natural aura in my arm," Seedling said, trying to hastily pull the fabric off, "but then it suddenly went numb."


    "Numb?" Flint was instantly reminded of the paralysis she felt when Stasis natural aura flowed into her limbs. "How can you absorb Stasis?"


    "Huh? My Stasis spirit root is Deficient - you even asked me about this before." Seedling shook her left arm vigorously as if trying to restore sensation.


    "Something''s strange..." Flint pondered for a moment before continuing, "but we can probably fix it. We just need to filter the absorption so it only takes in Flux."


    Though Seedling didn''t quite understand the technical explanation, she nodded.


    "Let''s go eat!" she exclaimed, tugging at Flint''s sleeve enthusiastically, her fox tail swishing with anticipation.


    "You go ahead. I need to research something, including your new runes." Flint''s eyes remained fixed on the Mystic Terminal''s screen. While Seedling had been ''borrowing'' adhesive materials earlier, she''d discovered some concerning information buried in Raven''s puppet documentation.


    "But you haven''t eaten all day!" Seedling stared at her friend in confusion before her eyes lit up with realization. "Wait, did you breakthrough to Adept level?"


    "I don''t think so..." Flint considered for a moment. "But as strange as it sounds, I actually don''t need food or sleep. Similar to Adept cultivators, I suppose."


    "Oh, that''s interesting! So what else are you researching? Except my new Flux gathering formation." Seedling seemed to accept this revelation with characteristic ease.


    "I suspect..." Flint hesitated, weighing whether to share her discovery. "The Mystic Enigma Pavilion might be monitoring the entire Celestial Sword Sect."


    "Monitoring?!" Seedling''s eyes widened, her tail now swishing with excitement rather than hunger. She brought her fist to her lips thoughtfully - an unusually serious gesture for her. "Actually, that makes sense. The four great families in Wind-Charm territory all spy on each other too."


    She really doesn''t see this as a big deal... Flint shrugged, turning back to her research.


    Alone at last, Flint applied her special rune patch to the back of her neck - much like one might apply a medicinal plaster. This particular formation was meant to guide the flow of different types of natural aura derived from Genesis, her latest experiment in controlling her unique energy.


    She first checked the documentation about the natural aura-gathering formation she had just written. Apparently, these types of runes could force nearby people to absorb all types of natural aura. This was quite different from the Celestial Sword Sect''s natural aura-gathering formations, which simply increased the concentration of natural aura in the surrounding area and were typically inscribed on the pedestals in the Aura Meditation Grounds.


    After fixing Seedling''s new runes, Flint dove back into the Mystic Terminal''s manual. Following its instructions, she discovered a search function for nearby puppets. Her fingertips danced across the crystal interface, activating the scan.


    The results were surprisingly sparse - just a single cleaning puppet downstairs, designated as "Ice VII 174."


    Only one? she thought, perhaps others are cleaning elsewhere, recalling the numerous puppets she''d seen around the sect. The interface prompted her for a password when she tried to access more information for the specific puppet. On a whim, she typed in "password."


    ACCESS DENIED flashed across the screen in pulsing red runes.


    Of course it wouldn''t be that simple, Flint smiled wryly at her own attempt. She''d need to be more creative to unravel the Mystic Enigma Pavilion''s secrets.


    Flint exhaled slowly, feeling an unusual heaviness in her mind after using the Mystic Terminal for so long. The sensation reminded her of what others described as tiredness, though she''d never truly experienced the need for sleep before.


    She rested her head on her hand at the desk, eyes closed but mind still clear, letting herself drift into a waking dream. The memory of the Mystic Enigma maintenance team''s visit played through her thoughts. She focused particularly on Iris - the way the woman''s crystal earclips had glowed faintly while interfacing with the puppets. Perhaps those exchanges weren''t just maintenance commands, but authentication codes...


    When she opened her eyes again, dawn light was streaming through the window.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    So I can sleep after all, she mused, even if I don''t dream. The rune formation she''d printed on her neck was working perfectly, automatically maintaining the Genesis flow that she used to have to control through constant concentration. Thanks to this automated control, she could finally experience true rest.


    She decided to join the breakfast crowd in the dining hall today, hoping to observe the puppets there for any new insights.


    The time was still early, and although the dining hall was open in the morning, there weren¡¯t many people. She methodically studied each puppet''s movements and patterns.


    After circling past every puppet in the hall, she found no obvious breakthrough points.


    I have money now, she suddenly thought, remembering the twenty thousand spirit stones left over from her purchase of the Mystic Terminal from Raven. Might as well try actually buying food herself.


    She bought a bowl of wontons and settled into a corner seat at a empty four-person table. The broth''s steam rose in delicate swirls before her, but she found herself distracted by an unsettling awareness - ripples of "curiosity" and "unease" emanating from behind her. It felt as though multiple passersby were staring, though whenever she turned to look, their gazes would quickly dart away.


    She heard a familiar voice behind her: "Look who''s bold enough to wear runes openly after absorbing souls."


    The voice... it was familiar, but Flint''s memory was hazy. After a moment''s thought, she recognized it as Pierce Everett.


    As she turned around, another voice cut through the air, sending an inexplicable shiver through her. Something about it felt both achingly familiar and profoundly sad.


    It was Spark, who now had Pierce''s collar in his grip, snarling, "Watch your filthy mouth before I make you regret having one."


    "Spark..." Flint called out softly, her voice trailing off. The words caught in her throat as uncertainty clouded her thoughts - she wasn''t even sure if they could still be called friends anymore.


    Pierce shot Spark a contemptuous glance before raising his hand with fluid grace. A sphere of Void natural aura materialized, swirling with dark emptiness, before slamming into Spark''s abdomen. The impact sent him flying backward, his body crashing against a cleaning puppet with a sickening thud. The void sphere dissipated into nothingness, leaving only the echo of its devastating force behind.


    All eyes turned to the scene, yet besides Spark''s bloodied lip, nothing seemed amiss - no trace of the violent attack remained in the tranquil dining hall.


    Light natural aura gathered around Spark''s clenched fists, blazing with his fury. However, the approaching puppet''s blue crystal eyes suddenly flashed crimson. Spark''s fingers curled back into fists, the gathered aura dissolving into nothing.


    The puppet''s eyes returned to their normal blue as it addressed Spark: "Please step aside. We need to retrieve the damaged puppet."


    Flint approached, seeing the shattered puppet head. Through the cracked shell, she glimpsed a crystalline core wrapped in intricate silver circuitry, pulsing with a faint blue glow. The term "central processing module" suddenly surfaced in her mind, though she wasn''t sure why she knew it.


    But now, she needed to calm Spark down first. Flint helped him to his feet, and he didn''t resist her support. They walked in silence before Spark bought his food and sat across from her at the table.


    Only then did it fully hit her - they hadn''t shared a meal together in over a week.


    "It''s been a while," Flint said, breaking the silence.


    Spark just nodded, saying nothing as he lifted a wonton to his mouth with his spoon.


    Their roles seemed reversed now - Flint had become the one trying to start conversation.


    "Um... thanks for standing up for me back there," Flint ventured, trying again to bridge the silence.


    Spark continued eating without response, though she noticed a subtle shift in his posture.


    The absence of Genesis management had freed Flint''s mind, making her more present and natural in conversation. This subtle change in her demeanor caught Spark''s attention, though he couldn''t quite place what felt different about her focused gaze.


    "About Raven..." Flint started hesitantly.


    Spark finally looked up, his golden eyes cold. "I don''t like her."


    "Um, I just wanted to say she seems to have left," Flint swallowed, her body shivering slightly at Spark''s sudden response.


    Spark glanced at her expressionlessly before returning to his food.


    Doesn''t she have anything else to say? Spark wondered, not sure what he was expecting. Something about past life connections not being binding in this life, perhaps.


    Flint took a deep breath. What would Raven do to comfort a boy? she thought to herself.


    "I''ve been thinking about something interesting," Flint ventured.


    "What is it?" Spark replied, his tone neutral though she caught a hint of interest beneath his attempted indifference.


    "If our jade tablets were a bit bigger, like one-fifth of the Mystic Terminal you played with last time..." As soon as Flint mentioned "Mystic Terminal," she sensed an eerily distinct flow of Stasis natural aura. She turned her head, but saw only the usual dining hall scene - people carrying food trays, conversations at different tables, cleaning and serving puppets going about their duties...


    Her gaze lingered on the crystal eyes of the puppets... she could have sworn they had just glanced at her.


    "Um..." Flint gathered herself, proceeding more cautiously now. "Something you could hold with one hand to play games like ''Flying Raven''... do you think that has potential?"


    "I have zero interest in that game." Spark''s golden eyes were cold enough to make Flint shiver slightly.


    Is this all she has to say to me? A wave of disappointment washed over Spark.


    Flint fell silent, unnerved by the pulse of Stasis natural aura she''d sensed. The thought that the Mystic Enigma Pavilion might be monitoring the entire Celestial Sword Sect weighed heavily on her mind.


    Why the hell did she stop talking? Spark felt a flash of irrational anger. All she can do is asking me about games?


    But he collected himself, maintaining his noble bearing. "What''s that on your neck?"


    "Oh?" Flint reached up to touch the rune formation she''d grown accustomed to wearing. She could still feel the natural aura flowing through it. "I''ve been learning runic language. It helps guide the... many types of natural aura in my body."


    "Many types?" Spark''s eyebrow arched slightly.


    A cleaning puppet glided past their table, its crystal eyes briefly catching the morning light. Flint lowered her voice instinctively.


    Leaning in close, Flint whispered near Spark''s ear, barely audible: "I¡¯ve told you that I have a kind of intangible force, named Genesis. It divides into different types of natural aura. The runes help guide them where they need to go."


    Her secretive manner made Spark instinctively lower his voice as well. "I understand."


    "I''m finished eating. Should we talk outside?" Spark suggested quietly, glancing around.


    Flint nodded, and they cleared their trays before heading out. Once outside, she shielded her mouth with one hand and leaned close to Spark''s ear: "I think the puppets might be monitoring the Celestial Sword Sect."


    The unexpected closeness made Spark freeze momentarily before he processed her words. The possibility sent a chill through him as he surveyed the puppets going about their usual routines. They looked the same as always, yet somehow different now that he viewed them through this new lens of suspicion.


    "How did you find out?" Spark asked about Flint''s source.


    Flint shook her head. "I can''t tell you that." After all, she''d promised Raven to keep the Mystic Terminal a secret.


    A slight frown crossed Spark''s face at her refusal, but he didn''t press further.


    Her mind wandered back to the damaged puppet from earlier - specifically its central processing module, that crystal sphere wrapped in silver circuitry giving off a faint blue glow. She was itching to get her hands on one to study.


    "I should go," Flint said, preparing to leave.


    "Are you going to training today? Didn''t see you there yesterday," Spark asked.


    "No, I skipped it," Flint replied casually. The Celestial Sword Sect was typically strict with Outer Sect disciples in their first year, but loosened up afterward since their cultivation levels would have naturally diverged by then - some reaching Middle Initiative while others remained at Early Initiative.


    "So you''re skipping today too?" Spark asked, fighting back an inexplicable surge of irritation. How did Flint advance so quickly when she barely seemed to train?


    "Mm," Flint nodded before walking away.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Flint weighed the central processing module in her hand. The storage room had been surprisingly accessible - just a place for broken puppets that no one expected anyone would want to steal. It hadn''t even been locked.


    Back in her dormitory, she sat before the Mystic Terminal, studying how to interface with the CPM. As she examined the crystalline sphere with its delicate silver circuitry pulsing with that ethereal blue glow, a sudden intuition gripped her. She felt as though she stood on the precipice of uncovering something massive - a secret that ran far deeper than simple puppet surveillance.

 Chapter 34: Obsidians Echo

    Another winter solstice had arrived. For Flint, it marked her third year at the Celestial Sword Sect. The annual cultivation assessment with Seedling and Spark had somehow become their unspoken tradition.


    Last winter solstice, Spark had finally reached Middle Initiative, the level he''d been striving for. "I''ve caught up with you both!" he had exclaimed, his golden eyes bright with excitement.


    Seedling had just shrugged dismissively. "What if Flint reaches Late Initiative by next year?"


    Though Flint''s relationship with Spark had grown distant after she told him about searching for her past life''s love, the three of them still maintained an unspoken understanding as friends.


    Flint, Seedling, and Spark entered the Cultivation Assessment Hall together, continuing their winter solstice tradition. The morning sunlight filtered through the hall''s windows, casting long shadows across the stone floor.


    Seedling stepped forward first, placing her hand on the assessment stone. A crimson light emerged from its core, accompanied by a faint orange halo - indicating her Middle Initiative level remained unchanged.


    As Flint moved to take her turn, Spark raised his hand slightly. "Let me go first," he said quietly. There was an edge to his voice that betrayed his unease. Through the widening breach in her mental barrier, Flint could sense his apprehension rolling off him in waves.


    She nodded and stepped back. Spark pressed his palm against the stone''s smooth surface. After a moment''s pause, the same dual-layered glow appeared - the deep red core wrapped in a translucent orange ring. Middle Initiative, just like Seedling.


    Finally, Flint approached the stone. As her hand made contact, the stone fell silent for several heartbeats. Then, rather than the subtle orange ring her friends had manifested, a brilliant corona burst forth around the crimson core. The vivid orange light pulsed steadily, unmistakably marking her advancement to Late Initiative.


    Flint remained calm, having sensed this breakthrough months ago when her control over Genesis had grown more refined. She glanced at her companions, wondering how they would react to the growing gap between their cultivation levels.


    Seedling stood frozen, her mouth slightly open but no words coming out. Spark pressed his lips into a thin line, his golden eyes unreadable.


    Through her damaged mental barrier, Flint could read their emotions like ripples on a calm lake - Seedling''s pure astonishment, and beneath Spark''s shock, a subtle current of envy.


    "By the heavens, Flint!" Seedling finally burst out, her fox ears twitching with excitement. "You could actually beat Pierce in a fight now!"


    "Right, and end up carrying rocks up mountains like you did," Flint replied dryly, referencing the punishment Seedling had endured after their previous confrontation with Pierce.


    Seedling''s eyes lit up mischievously. "No, no - you could lure him somewhere private and teach him a lesson! No one would ever know!" She bounced on her toes, clearly entertaining herself with the thought.


    The words ''no one would know'' made Flint''s heart sink as she thought of the puppets scattered throughout the sect, their crystalline eyes watching, always watching.


    "You''re exceptional, Flint." Spark''s voice cut through her thoughts. The words were carefully measured, genuine despite the conflicting emotions she could sense churning beneath his composed exterior.


    "Thank you for the kind words, Spark," Flint replied with a faint smile, maintaining the polite distance that had settled between them.


    Back in her room, Flint discovered her Mystic Terminal had run out of the Stasis natural aura needed to power its calculations. This was her first return to the sect since spending the year tending herb fields with Seedling.


    After obtaining the centural process module(CPM), she had attempted countless times to crack its authentication, but without success. She had even tried the most basic approach - brute-forcing the password. But after months of failed attempts, she had given up. Following the next winter solstice, she and Seedling had returned to herb field duty to earn more Cloud Beads.


    As she channeled Stasis natural aura to replenish the Mystic Terminal''s power, she sent a message by jade tablet to Sage South Rain informing her of reaching Late Initiative. She could sense that her days at the Celestial Sword Sect were numbered.


    "Do you have enough Cloud Beads?" Sage South Rain replied. "If not, I can provide some. You could purchase suitable Cultivation Methods or Secret Arts from the second floor of the Vault of Heaven''s Wisdom for your current level."


    "That won''t be necessary - I have enough," Flint responded.


    After a moment''s pause, she added:


    "Thank you."The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Flint entered a few commands into the Mystic Terminal, setting it back to its endless password search routine. She had no desire to watch its futile efforts. Though she didn''t need sleep, she had grown to cherish lying in bed. She''d even purchased new bedsheets to replace the ones she''d cut up. The old, damaged sheets remained carefully stored away.


    Perhaps I''ll need to cut them again someday, she mused.


    She didn''t rise until morning, when the sounds of disciples training filtered through her window. Flint rarely attended training sessions anymore. Instead, she headed directly to the second floor of the Vault of Heaven''s Wisdom.


    The second floor opened into a vast space dominated by towering bookshelves. The first section held six distinct areas for each elemental type''s Cultivation Methods and Secret Arts. Further back, more shelves housed techniques combining multiple elements. While Cultivation Methods taught the accumulation of natural aura, Secret Arts instructed in its practical combat applications.


    Flint browsed the Shadow Secret Arts section, idly flipping through the books. Each tome revealed only partial contents, with intricate runes marking their locked pages. Full access required a puppet''s authentication - a system she knew all too well now. Her fingers traced the familiar runes as she scanned the titles, wondering which secrets lay behind their mystical barriers.


    As Flint set down the Shadow-focused tome, she ventured deeper into the library''s maze of shelves, seeking the section where Shadow and Stasis Secret Arts intersected. Given their complementary nature in the cultivation system, techniques combining these elements were particularly potent.


    Just then, a cleaning puppet glided past her, its crystalline eyes gleaming. Flint''s gaze followed its path, discovering a narrow staircase tucked away in the shadows at the far end of the hall. The steps, worn smooth by centuries of use, spiraled upward to what appeared to be an attic space.


    Though Flint typically preferred to avoid unnecessary complications, curiosity flickered within her. After three years at the Celestial Sword Sect, she thought she''d discovered all its hidden corners. Yet here was another secret, right above the library she''d frequented so often.


    Moving with the silent grace she''d developed during her cultivation practice, she followed the puppet''s ascent. Each step was carefully placed to avoid any telltale creaks that might betray her presence. The worn wooden stairs seemed to fade into darkness above, promising either answers or more mysteries.


    The attic was narrow, perched beneath the slanted roof with a protective railing around its edges. The puppet approached a door deeper within the space. With a crisp click of a key, the door swung open.


    In that instant, Flint''s world shifted. A powerful wave of Genesis natural aura surged forth, unlike anything she''d experienced before. While she was accustomed to drawing scattered Genesis from the air, this was different. The concentrated force seemed to recognize her presence, flowing directly into her body through the rune at the nape of her neck. The stark difference in potency was staggering - this felt like centuries of accumulated Genesis, distilled and concentrated, now streaming into her core.


    The puppet left the door ajar. Flint darted inside before she could second-guess herself. The puppet''s warning blared with mechanical precision: "Unauthorized personnel must leave! Unauthorized personnel must leave!"


    The rhythmic repetition grated against Flint''s consciousness, made worse by the surge of Genesis flooding her system. Each word seemed to pierce her mind like needles. She gritted her teeth, trying to focus through the noise and the overwhelming power coursing through her body. The concentrated Genesis felt different from what she usually absorbed - more potent, more alive, making her skin prickle with restless energy that demanded release.


    At the room''s center stood a waist-high pedestal topped with a transparent dome. Beneath it lay a piece of obsidian about the size of one hand. Something about the stone resonated deep within Flint, stirring feelings of profound familiarity and an inexplicable sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her. The grief felt ancient yet fresh, as if she were experiencing the final moments of her past life all over again. Each mechanical "Leave!" from the puppet seemed to echo with the weight of that long-ago loss.


    The combination of the incessant warning, the surge of Genesis making her feel almost drunk with power, and the deep ache of recognition proved too much. Her usual careful restraint crumbled. She strode forward, reaching for the dome, only to be stopped by unfamiliar runes etched into its base. Unlike the password-protected runes in the books below, these seemed to serve a different purpose.


    The runes flared red at her touch, rejecting her attempt. They appeared to be testing something about her, but what? Flint''s brow furrowed as she contemplated this new mystery, the puppet''s warnings still hammering at her concentration.


    A memory flashed through Flint''s mind - The Bamboo Sovereign bringing back a piece of obsidian, claiming it was Obsidian''s remains. Could this be it? The obsidian carried such a strong Genesis natural aura! Could she be staring at her own corpse from a past life?!


    The realization sent a wave of visceral horror and desperate longing through her. The puppet''s voice seemed to mock her separation from this piece of herself. Without conscious thought, driven by a primal need to reclaim what was hers, she conjured a blade of Shadow energy and struck the dome.


    The attack left no mark on the barrier, though it cleanly severed a puppet''s arm that had reached for her. The cleaning puppet''s warning continued its maddening chorus: "Unauthorized personnel must leave! Unauthorized personnel must leave!"


    The rhythmic thud of mechanical footsteps echoed up the stairway - more puppets were coming. The crimson glow of their eyes painted the walls in shifting patterns of red light as their warnings overlapped in cacophony. Flint stared at the obsidian, bitter irony washing over her. She couldn''t even reclaim her own remains.


    She channeled her frustration and anger into action, her Shadow Blade dancing through the air in deadly arcs. The first wave of puppets to reach the attic were simple maintenance units, not designed for combat.


    Shattered crystal eyes rolled across the floor, their silver connective wires still trailing from the central processing modules that glowed with a faint blue light through split puppet skulls. Wooden limbs lay scattered at Flint''s feet, forming a small mountain of wooden debris.


    As Flint swung at the next puppet, her Shadow Blade met unexpected resistance - an invisible barrier of natural aura. Her eyes narrowed. These must be guard puppets, far fewer in number but significantly more formidable than their maintenance counterparts.


    The sound of sword cutting through air announced the arrival of several high-level cultivators, flying directly up to the attic on their spiritual swords. Flint''s pupils contracted as she recognized the lead figure - Sage Mortius Crane. The memory of his false accusations in the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall burned fresh in her mind, igniting a surge of anger within her.


    Through her damaged mental barrier, she could sense his satisfaction at finding her here - like a predator that had finally cornered its prey. His thin lips curved into what might have been mistaken for a benevolent smile, but his eyes remained cold as winter frost.


    Several Adept-level disciples held Flint immobile with bands of spiritual energy, rendering her powerless. She could only glare at Sage Mortius Crane, fury evident in her gaze.


    Sage Mortius Crane crouched down, bringing his face level with Flint''s. His eyes glittered with calculated interest as he studied her. "What did you see up here?" he asked, his voice deceptively gentle.


    Flint pressed her lips together, maintaining her silence.


    "If you won''t speak," Sage Mortius Crane said, absently twisting the ruby ring on his left thumb, "the accusations could become quite... extensive. Are you perhaps an Abyssal Pavilion spy? Or did they hire you to steal something specific?"


    Flint clenched her jaw and lowered her head, refusing to answer.


    "Or could it be," he continued, his words measured and deliberate, "that Sage South Rain, being an Abyssal Pavilion agent herself, arranged your placement in the Celestial Sword Sect?"


    That accusation sparked something in Flint. She couldn''t let him drag Sage South Rain into this. Her mentor had done too much for her.


    Flint took a deep breath, then spoke carefully: "I saw a beautiful piece of obsidian. I wanted to take it. When the cleaning puppet discovered me, I panicked and lashed out. That''s my only crime."


    "That stone is quite remarkable..." Sage Mortius Crane leaned down closer, his whisper meant for Flint''s ears alone. His breath ghosted against her ear as he spoke.


    "It has the same effect as you."


    Flint''s mind raced to analyze his words. The same effect? As the implications slowly surfaced, her eyes widened with horrified understanding. The ability to cleanse resentment force...


    Sage Mortius Crane held his ring before her face, the ruby catching the light. "The band of this new ring? It''s made from a piece of that same obsidian."


    "I hear you''ve been searching for your past life?" His final question hung in the air, deceptively light yet loaded with menace. The words sent ice through Flint''s veins, every nerve suddenly alert with tension.

 Chapter 35: Pine and Wolf

    The morning sun cast long shadows across the courtyard as Flint swept methodically, each stroke of the broom accompanied by the quiet scraping of bristles against stone. The large character for "Thief" emblazoned across her back seemed to grow heavier with each passing hour. Behind her, the cleaning puppet stood motionless, its crystal eyes fixed on her every movement.


    "Your section is incomplete," the puppet''s monotone voice cut through the morning silence. "Return to the eastern corner."


    Flint gripped the wooden handle tighter, her knuckles whitening. The broom¡ªmeant for the puppet''s use¡ªfelt foreign in her hands. As she turned back to re-sweep the indicated area, her thoughts drifted to the events that led to this punishment.


    Why did I act so recklessly? The question echoed in her mind as she worked. The memory of the black obsidian''s pulsing energy still lingered, like the afterimage of lightning behind closed eyes. Perhaps it was the surge of Genesis natural aura that gave me that feeling of power. And with power...


    She paused mid-sweep, remembering the overwhelming force she''d felt radiating from that crystalline form. Even as a mere remnant of Obsidian''s physical form, the Genesis energy stored within had been immense.


    Sage South Rain had stepped in to pay the hefty fine imposed by the sect, but she doesn¡¯t blame Flint.


    The morning sun cast longer shadows as Sage South Rain''s words echoed in Flint''s mind. The elder''s expression had been filled with barely concealed grief when she learned the obsidian was Obsidian''s remains. "I''ll help you find a way to retrieve it," she had promised, though they both knew the futility of that hope.


    The irony wasn''t lost on Flint as she continued sweeping. Labeled a thief for attempting to reclaim her own former body - the cosmic joke of it all would have been amusing if it weren''t so painful.


    Footsteps approached, and she recognized Spark''s presence without looking up. His arrival was hardly surprising - her name had once again become the subject of widespread gossip throughout the sect, with many questioning how she had avoided expulsion.


    Spark''s gaze fixed on the character branded across her back, his brow furrowing. But instead of judgment, his voice carried only concern: "What drove you to this? You''ve always been the levelheaded one."


    Flint glanced meaningfully at the watchful puppet behind her before responding with quiet restraint: "There are reasons."


    "Please do not cease your assigned task! Please do not cease your assigned task!" The puppet''s mechanical insistence grated against her nerves, each repetition stoking a slow-burning anger.


    With deliberate casualness, she took several steps forward, waiting for the puppet to follow. Then, in one fluid motion, she swept the broom handle across its path. The puppet crashed to the ground with a satisfying clatter.


    "If you want to know more," she said to Spark, keeping her voice low, "meet me on the slope behind Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall tonight."


    The secluded hillside rose behind the grand hall''s imposing white spires, obscured from the main pathways by ancient pines. While technically within sect grounds, the area saw little traffic - most disciples preferred the dedicated training grounds and meditation caves elsewhere. The cleaning puppets rarely ventured there as well, considering there were no facilities to maintain.


    Spark''s expression showed he understood the choice. The slope offered privacy without being too far from the sect. And unlike the heavily monitored courtyards and halls, this forgotten corner of the sect provided a brief respite from constant surveillance.


    "I''ll be there," he replied quietly, then hesitated before adding, "The evening patrols still pass by the grand hall though."


    Flint gave a slight nod, then resumed her sweeping as another puppet approached. The fallen one was already righting itself, its cracked crystal eyes flickering as it reestablished its monitoring protocols.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    As dusk settled over the mountainside, Spark was already waiting, his silhouette stark against the darkening sky. When Flint approached, he turned briefly to acknowledge her before returning his gaze to the cliff edge before them. "What happened?" he asked simply.


    Flint walked over and sat beside him. "They''re keeping my body in the attic of the Vault of Heaven''s Wisdom," Flint replied evenly. "Obsidian''s body, to be precise."


    "Your body?" Spark''s mind immediately conjured grotesque images of preserved human remains.


    "More accurately, a piece of obsidian stone," Flint clarified. "It''s saturated with Genesis natural aura."


    The tension in her voice was subtle but present, explaining her willingness to share these details now that Spark had asked.


    Genesis. Spark recalled Flint mentioning this unique form of natural aura she alone could absorb. Though he still struggled to comprehend the existence of a seventh type, he had come to accept it as fact.


    His mind flashed to a blood-stained figure bound to a cross - Obsidian in his past life memories, mouthing "kill me" with desperate intensity. The image made him shudder.


    But something didn''t add up. "If it''s just a stone," he questioned, "why would the Celestial Sword Sect keep it?"


    "They use it to cleanse resentment force," Flint stated matter-of-factly.


    "What?" Spark''s mind raced. "Resentment force - you mean that reddish-brown energy that surrounded you?"


    "Yes."


    "So if they need cleansing..." Spark pieced it together, "you''re saying someone in the Celestial Sword Sect is absorbing souls, and they''re using that stone to remove the resentment force?"


    "Correct." Flint''s quiet affirmation hung heavy in the growing darkness.


    The moonlight cast a silvery sheen over the mountainside as Spark shook his head in disbelief. "No, the Celestial Sword Sect would never allow such things," he protested, his golden eyes widening. There was an instinctive resistance in his voice to the idea of corruption within the sect.


    After all, even the recent incident with Flint supposedly triggering the Abyssal Pavilion''s soul-gathering formation had been explained away. The Sect Leader had promised to clear her name eventually - it was just a temporary measure, wasn''t it?


    Flint met his gaze with a troubled expression, her brow furrowing deeply. Any desire to confide further evaporated at his blind faith. How could he trust the sect''s leadership so completely?


    They stood in awkward silence, each caught in their own thoughts, until Flint turned away with resignation.


    Spark lifted his eyes to the moon overhead, releasing an almost imperceptible sigh. "Then why did you suddenly resort to violence?"


    "Perhaps being near Obsidian''s remains..." Flint''s voice grew distant. "I absorbed too much Genesis from it. Felt the power."


    She paused, then added thoughtfully: "Such overwhelming power... it stirs something primal in you. Makes you want to reclaim what should have been yours."


    Flint picked up a small stone beside her and hurled it forcefully into the darkness, as if demonstrating her point about power stirring primal instincts.


    "Oops." A soft exclamation drifted up from below - someone had been hit.


    What? There''s someone down there?! The thought flashed simultaneously through both their minds.


    They peered over the cliff edge to see a man with long hair sitting in an ethereal canoe. He raised his hand in greeting.


    "Hey, little stone!" He called up excitedly. "We meet again!"This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Spark''s features twisted with distaste as he recognized the figure below - Lenient Pine. His brow furrowed deeply, making no attempt to hide his aversion.


    Lenient Pine floated up on his ethereal canoe, wearing a collar-like band around his neck with a jade-green crystal that served as his storage stone. With a casual gesture, he shrank the canoe and stored it away.


    "Ah, the wolf prince is here too." Lenient raised his arm high, almost level with Spark''s mouth, and smiled. "Care for another taste?" The taunt referenced when Spark had bitten off his arm, only to get a mouthful of pine needles.


    Spark nearly lost his composure at the provocation but managed to steady his breathing. "This is Celestial Sword Sect territory. Abyssal Pavilion members aren''t welcome here."


    He glanced at Flint, his irritation growing at the thought of Lenient being her past life''s lover. "For Flint''s sake, leave now and I won''t call anyone to arrest you."


    Flint bristled at Spark''s commanding tone, her frustration with him mounting. Before she could object, vines burst from the ground, wrapping tightly around Spark.


    "You''re much less agreeable when you''re awake," Lenient said with an unsettling smile. " Dearest stone, should we just kill him?"


    Flint turned to Lenient with shocked eyes. "No... I think we... shouldn''t."


    Spark struggled desperately against the vines, but they only constricted tighter. He could sense his opponent''s cultivation level was likely far beyond his own.


    "Little stone, I heard you''re not being treated well here..." Lenient kept the vines firmly wrapped around Spark while addressing Flint in a sorrowful tone. "I''ve finally reached Adept level recently... dearest, I''m here to take you away! Come back to the Abyssal Pavilion with me! Just like..."


    Lenient paused, giving Flint a tender smile. Looking into his gentle, water-like gaze, Flint suddenly realized he must have recovered his past life memories - memories of being The Bamboo Sovereign, and likely quite extensive ones at that.


    "Just like before you died," Lenient finished softly.


    Spark channeled his natural aura frantically against the vines, but each time he split them open, new layers grew back to bind him even tighter.


    His anger mounted as he listened to Lenient''s words. He''d been unhappy enough when Flint mentioned returning to the Abyssal Pavilion, but watching her potentially leave with someone he despised made his blood boil.


    Maybe it wouldn''t be so bad to just leave... Flint was tired of this place too, but...


    "They''re keeping my remains here though - that piece of obsidian," she said hesitantly. "I want to get it back, but it won''t be easy."


    She weighed her options. I suppose I could always come back for it later.


    "A piece of obsidian?" Lenient unfastened his outer robe, revealing only trousers beneath. His hand paused briefly over his abdomen before he suddenly tore open his flesh, reaching inside to pull out a black stone. "Like this?"


    As the stone was out, Flint clearly felt a strong surge of Genesis flowing into her body.


    Both Flint and Spark stared in horror at the grotesque scene. After a moment of shock, Flint managed to respond: "Yes, that''s it."


    Lenient nodded and tucked the obsidian back into the gaping hole in his stomach before retying his robes.


    "Then we must retrieve it before we leave," he said, maintaining his gentle yet chilling smile. "We can''t leave little stone''s possession in a den of villains."


    "Do you have a plan?" Flint asked in surprise.


    "No," Lenient shook his head, still smiling. "But little stone is clever. I''m sure you''ll think of something."


    When did I say I had a plan... Flint gave Lenient an exasperated look. Just then, Spark''s jade tablet vibrated, slipping through the gaps in the vines to fall on the ground.


    Flint picked it up, glancing at Spark - he clearly wasn''t in a position to take it back. She scanned the message. It was from Raven.


    "I''ll be visiting the Celestial Sword Sect in a few days. I heard many of your puppets are malfunctioning..."


    Was that because I damaged them? Flint opened the full message.


    "I heard many of your puppets are malfunctioning and your sect''ll need to buy new ones. Spark, I''m so excited to see you again..." Flint grimaced at the saccharine tone and scrolled up, finding messages sent two or three times a month saying things like "I miss you" and "What are you doing?"


    Why hasn''t he blocked her? Flint thought, frowning.


    While Flint read through Raven''s messages, Lenient walked over to the vine-bound Spark, smiling. "I didn''t recognize you at first, but seeing those golden eyes... I realized you must be that wolf."


    Spark glared at Lenient with undisguised disgust but remained silent.


    "You haven''t taken good care of little stone at all," Lenient said in a reproachful tone.


    Spark''s gaze grew colder, but he still didn''t speak.


    "You know, I''ve had countless dreams," Lenient''s voice trembled with emotion, "dreams where I grieve for little stone''s death. But my greatest regret is that I didn''t stop little stone from being deceived by an Inferno Wolf..." His voice nearly broke. "Every time I have that dream, I think of how you brought little stone to the Celestial Sword Sect. You Inferno Wolves are all the same - treacherous and faithless..."


    Spark barely registered the unhinged wooden man''s criticisms, but that detail about Obsidian being deceived by an Inferno Wolf caught his attention. Was that Inferno Wolf Blaze Mighty? Could Blaze Mighty have been from the Inferno Wolves like himself? It wasn''t impossible that there had been someone named Mighty in their clan... Was the Celestial Sword Sect actually founded by a spiritual beast in disguise?


    His racing thoughts were interrupted by Flint, who had been deep in contemplation. "I think there might be a chance, but..."


    "There''s a sealing formation under the crystal case holding the obsidian. It''s not the kind that needs a password - it emits red light to stop me whenever I try to open it..." She sighed.


    "Ah! Could it be the Abyssal Pavilion''s soul verification formation?" Lenient Pine''s voice lifted with excitement.


    "You know how to break it?" Flint asked hopefully.


    "Oh no, of course not. Formations are too difficult, and I''m not very clever with such things," Lenient said, running a hand through his hair.


    Just as Flint was about to sigh, Lenient added, "But I know someone who might. Let me call her."


    Lenient took out an onyx tablet, which looked similar to Flint¡¯s jade tablet, but it was entirely black.


    The screen lit up. After a brief wait, a voice crackled through Lenient''s onyx tablet: "Damn it, why are you calling so late?"


    "Felicity, don''t be angry," Lenient said soothingly. "I thought you wouldn''t need sleep now that you''re at Adept level."


    "Why wouldn''t I need sleep? I''m exhausted from staring at the Terminal all day," the girl called Felicity complained.


    She''s right about that. That''s exactly why I started sleeping too, Flint silently agreed.


    But why does the Abyssal Pavilion also have a Mystic Terminal? Flint suddenly felt strange.


    "I''m sorry," Lenient''s voice took on a wheedling tone. "But do you know how to break a soul verification formation? These villains copied our formation."


    "You mean the kind used on personal lockers?"


    "Mm-hmm," Lenient quickly confirmed.


    "Well, formations can become unpredictable when they''re copied..." The voice trailed off thoughtfully. Flint felt herself tense with anticipation.


    "But if they didn''t modify it when copying, we should have a backdoor," Felicity''s words rekindled Flint''s hope.


    "What backdoor?" Lenient asked.


    "A glove that can manipulate the formation and unlock it. It''s a failsafe in case someone sets up the soul verification formation with a non-existent person. Otherwise it would be permanently locked," Felicity explained.


    "I see. I''ll go back and get it."


    "Where are you? Old man Patio''s been looking for you everywhere."


    "At the Celestial Sword Sect."


    "That far? From the far southwest to the northeast? Whatever, just come back and get it. And don''t call me late at night again. I''m going to sleep."


    "Sweet dreams." The call ended.


    Lenient''s voice took on a dejected tone. "I have to leave right after finding you, little stone. I''m so sad..."


    But then he forced a smile. "Could you give me a kiss to comfort me?"


    The sudden request made Flint''s mind go completely blank. "Uh... while I appreciate..."


    Lenient made an exaggerated sniffling sound. "It''s alright if little stone doesn''t want to. After all, you haven''t remembered yet how deeply in love we were in our past life..." As he spoke, he shot a meaningful look at Spark, who glared back venomously.


    "Also, little stone, this bad wolf has heard too much," Lenient continued, clenching his fist. The vines constricted even tighter around Spark, making it difficult for him to breathe. "For safety''s sake, we should just kill him."


    Flint found herself in a dilemma, realizing Lenient might have a point. She hadn''t thought to be wary of Spark earlier, but given his unwavering faith in the Celestial Sword Sect, could she truly trust him not to betray her?


    Yet the thought of letting Spark die was... too heartless. She quickly considered how to convince Lenient to spare him, then said: "Actually, I think we can leave the obsidian for now. I''ll go back with you first. Let me just get something from my room, then you can release Spark."


    "Flint!" Spark called out desperately, struggling against the constricting vines. His outburst drew both Flint and Lenient''s attention.


    "First... loosen... the vines... a bit..." Spark managed between labored breaths. Lenient glanced at Flint, who said softly: "Let''s hear what he has to say."


    I feel like a bandit discussing what to do with a hostage... Flint thought to herself.


    Spark gulped in air desperately, recovering from his near-death state. "Flint, I won''t betray you. I''ll do everything in my power to help you get that obsidian."


    "Oh? Why should anyone trust the word of an Inferno Wolf?" Lenient''s eyebrow lifted in contempt.


    Once planted, seeds of doubt were hard to uproot. Flint wanted to trust Spark, but struggled to find a compelling reason why he wouldn''t betray her.


    Through her damaged mental barrier, Flint could sense Spark''s emotions clearly - there was no undercurrent of tension that would suggest deception, only a raw honesty that she doubted he had the skill to fake.


    "Flint, you know that even though I''m a prince..." Spark paused, swallowing down his sorrow, "my life or death means nothing to my mother. So killing me wouldn''t hurt the Inferno Wolves at all."


    The quiet sadness in his emotions resonated through their connection. "I don''t want you to die..." Flint said softly.


    "At the Celestial Sword Sect, I''m just as insignificant," Spark continued evenly. "A Transcendent spirit root may be precious, but it''s hardly rare here."


    "When I could barely breathe, I thought about what I hadn''t accomplished in this life." A bitter smile crossed his face. "I regretted... not making you fall in love with me."


    The wave of aching melancholy that washed through Flint''s mental barrier drew an involuntary sigh from her lips.


    "I thought we had more time, but now you''re leaving." Spark''s smile was both warm and desolate. "I want to do something for you."


    Lenient''s expression twisted with irritation. "These must all be lies from this wicked wolf," he said. "Little stone, we really should just kill him."


    "Besides, if I''m killed and a disciple goes missing, Flint would easily fall under suspicion," Spark fixed Lenient with an icy, fierce gaze. "You wouldn''t want Flint to be accused of murder, would you?"


    Lenient arched an eyebrow dismissively. "What''s wrong with killing? Humans cut down trees all the time."


    Spark turned back to Flint, at a loss for words. Flint gave a wry smile, pressing her lips together. "I trust him, Lenient. Having help would make success more likely."


    "Little Stone!" Lenient''s voice broke with emotion as he gripped Flint''s shoulders, his words raw and intense. "Have you fallen in love with him?"


    Flint grew concerned about Lenient''s emotional state, worried he might suddenly kill Spark in a fit of passion. After all, though Obsidian and The Bamboo Sovereign had been close, she and Lenient were different people now.


    "Lenient, I just think having his help would make it easier to recover Obsidian''s remains... that piece of obsidian," Flint carefully sidestepped the topic of her relationship with Spark. "Please don''t get too worked up..."


    "I understand, little stone. You''ve forgotten so much, and I didn''t find you soon enough, letting you fall for a wicked wolf," Lenient sniffled, genuinely on the verge of tears. "I''ll listen to whatever you say. If you don''t want him dead, I''ll release him... I''m just afraid now that because you love him, you won''t want to come with me anymore."


    "That won''t happen," Flint stroked his sage-colored hair in the moonlight. "Once we get the obsidian, we''ll go to the Abyssal Pavilion. I''ve always wanted to find you, but Sage South Rain said I should reach Adept Level first to travel safely. And the Celestial Sword Sect has cultivation resources, that''s why I stayed."


    Lenient''s mood softened at her touch, though he still pouted. "The Abyssal Pavilion has resources too. How could Rain Ink say such things?"


    Rain Ink? Is that Sage South Rain''s name? Flint wondered silently.


    Lenient moved to Spark''s side, using his vines to lift him higher before suddenly withdrawing them. Spark crashed heavily to the ground, ending up on his knees at Lenient''s feet.


    "Little stone asked me to spare your life," Lenient''s voice remained gentle as ever, but carried an underlying chill.


    "The next time I see you," Spark tilted his head up, his face breaking into a broad, mocking smile, "I will kill you."


    Does this wolf cub really need to provoke Lenient at a time like this?! Flint''s eyes widened involuntarily as she looked between Spark, kneeling in the dust, and Lenient, standing serenely with his robes billowing in the wind.


    Lenient smiled. "I look forward to it."


    He retrieved his ethereal canoe from the jade-green crystal on his collar band, stepped onto it, and turned back to wave enthusiastically at Flint. "I''ll return soon! Don''t forget to miss me!"


    "Mm," Flint responded vaguely. Lenient turned and guided his ethereal canoe away into the distance.


    Spark had gotten up from the ground and stood behind Flint, watching Lenient''s retreating figure with a self-mocking smile.


    I''m still too weak, he thought.


    Spark''s hand came to rest on Flint''s shoulder. "Do you really like me a little? Even just a bit?"


    Flint turned to look at his silhouette in the moonlight, noticing with puzzlement that he had manifested his wolf ears. She smiled helplessly. "Maybe... a little."


    "Are my ears cute then?" Spark dropped his usual calm reserve, his tone taking on an almost playful note.


    His unexpected shift in manner made Flint laugh. "Cute," she admitted.

 Chapter 36: Silver Lies

    The night breeze rustled through the courtyard as Flint held out a piece of cloth marked with the word ''Thief''. In the moonlight, the crude characters seemed to mock their situation.


    "I''m giving you a chance to help me," she said, her voice soft but determined. "The puppets identify people by these markers. I need you to take over my cleaning duties for a few days while I prepare something before the Mystic Enigma Pavilion returns."


    Spark''s response wasn''t the reluctant acceptance she''d expected. Instead, his lips curved into a wry smile, golden eyes glinting with amusement. "It would be my honor," he said with an exaggerated bow that somehow managed to be both playful and sincere.


    Flint blinked, caught off guard by his ready agreement. "You accepted that surprisingly quickly," she observed, studying his face. "It''s not like you."


    The smile on Spark''s face shifted, taking on a bittersweet quality that made her chest tighten. "Well," he said, his voice carrying an unusual weight, "we don''t know when we''ll see each other again after you leave."


    The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meanings. The night seemed to grow quieter, as if holding its breath, while the moon cast long shadows across their faces.


    "When I''m strong enough to kill that wooden man, I''ll come find you," Spark broke the silence with a playful smirk, speaking horrifying words with an almost cheerful tone.


    "Let''s not do that," Flint said softly, knowing a single word wouldn''t be enough to dissuade him from such a dangerous notion. She could only sigh quietly.


    After bidding Spark farewell, Flint returned to her private quarters. Along with her, she brought several CPMs she''d harvested from the puppets she''d damaged in the warehouse. When did stealing from the Celestial Sword Sect become so mundane? she thought with bitter amusement.


    Though she couldn''t gain direct control of the CPMs, a new idea sparked in her mind - while she couldn''t access their control systems, she could format them completely blank. Then, by uploading her own programs, she could intercept the passwords used by Iris or other maintenance staffs during their connections.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The jade tablet chimed incessantly at Spark''s waist. His brows furrowed slightly - he already knew who was sending the messages. With obvious reluctance, he picked it up and glanced at the screen:


    "Where are you, handsome wolf prince? "


    "Are you at the training ground?"


    He set the tablet down with barely concealed disgust. Having never discovered how to mute notifications, he was forced to endure its constant chiming. Behind him, the puppet''s mechanical voice droned: "Please do not stop."


    How irritating, Spark thought, equally annoyed by both sources of noise.


    Lately, Flint had also been asking for his help, having him insert her modified crystal spheres - "central process modules," she called them - into seemingly intact puppets. She theorized that heavily damaged puppets might simply be discarded rather than repaired.


    They''d spent considerable time figuring out how to access the puppets'' heads. Eventually, they discovered that inserting a thin branch into an inconspicuous circular hole would pop open the access panel. The discovery had felt like a small victory in their covert operation.


    "Why not ask Seedling for help?" Spark asked as he carefully pried open another puppet''s access panel. The metallic scraping seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet courtyard.


    "Better not involve her in something this dangerous," Flint replied without looking up from her work, fingers deftly manipulating the delicate crystal components. "The sect would show no mercy if we''re caught."


    A soft chuckle escaped Spark''s lips. "Oh? But you don''t mind involving me in your little heist?" His tone was light, teasing, despite the serious nature of their activities.


    "You volunteered yourself," Flint pointed out with a small smile, finally glancing up to meet his golden gaze. "Already joined the thieves'' den - don''t tell me you''re having second thoughts?"


    The memory was interrupted by a voice that made Spark''s stomach turn. "Hey, Spark! What brings you here?" It was Nightbane.


    Then Spark realized there were two nauseating voices. "Handsome wolf boy!" Ring-adorned hands wrapped around him as Raven launched herself forward, catching him in a tight embrace. He noticed a small new ruby on one of the two rings on her right index finger - perhaps a recent purchase.


    Raven nuzzled against Spark''s chest. "Handsome wolf prince, I''ve missed you so much!"


    Damn it. "Get off," Spark growled, pushing against Raven''s shoulders, trying to pry her away. Why won''t this woman leave me alone?


    "Little wolf prince, why haven''t you been responding to my messages? Did you block me?" Raven looked up at him, her chin resting on his collarbone.


    Still frowning, Spark struggled to contain his anger as he attempted to push her away. "What''s ''block''?"


    Raven put on an exaggerated pout. "Blocking means setting your jade tablet to stop receiving my messages."


    I didn''t know that was possible. "That sounds useful. How do I block you?" Spark continued trying to dislodge her.


    Nightbane''s dog ears perked up with interest. "Oh, Spark, I had no idea you two were so close! Is she your girlfriend?"


    "NO!" Spark roared. One Raven was irritating enough - he couldn''t fathom why Nightbane had to be here too.


    "Ah, so you must be in that ambiguous stage!" Nightbane declared with apparent revelation.


    Spark nearly rolled his eyes when Raven chimed in: "I knew you hadn''t blocked me! You must have feelings for me too!"


    The puppet''s mechanical voice grated in the background: "Please do not stop! Please do not stop!"


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Spark felt his nerves being crumpled and smoothed out repeatedly, like a piece of paper being tortured.


    "Let go. I have no feelings for you." His voice was ice-cold, dripping with disgust.


    Finally bothered by the puppet''s noise, Raven turned her attention to it. "What''s this puppet screeching about?" She walked over and tapped her crystal ear clip. Both the clip and the puppet''s eyes flickered with cyan light.


    Without her terminal present, she couldn''t perform complex operations, so she simply powered down the puppet. At last, the irritating voice fell silent.


    Raven turned back and caught sight of the ''Thief'' character on Spark''s back. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Spark, why do you have that marking? What happened?"


    Spark''s gaze darkened. "None of your business."


    Nightbane eagerly jumped in, ever-ready to share the sect''s gossip - after all, reporting to his master was his duty. "It must be because Flint was caught stealing and sentenced to forced labor. You''re covering for her now, right Spark? I saw her sweeping here just days ago!"


    Spark shot Nightbane a vicious glare. Can''t you keep your dog mouth shut? The words were too hostile to voice aloud, so he settled for: "Keep quiet."


    Raven stared at Spark with shock and confusion. "Spark, you''re actually willing to help Flint with something like this?"


    Spark''s lip twitched, a humorless smile playing across his face. Before he could speak, Raven cut in:


    "Didn''t she say she was looking for her lover? Are you willing to share her with another man?"


    The words he''d been about to say - "What''s wrong with me being willing?" - died in his throat. His gaze grew colder still. As much as these two irritated him, his true hatred was reserved for Lenient - a creeping vine in his heart, slowly entwining his bones, its thorns spreading an icy chill through his entire body.


    Seeing Spark''s silence, Raven narrowed her eyes, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, did I hit a nerve?"


    Spark remained noncommittal, gradually realizing how difficult it was to force others into silence. When I reach a higher level, these annoyances will decrease.


    He adopted a calmer expression, though his eyes still held undisguised hatred - for Lenient. "Why are you here at the Celestial Sword Sect?" he asked Raven.


    Raven widened her eyes innocently. "Didn''t I tell you? You suddenly damaged a lot of puppets, so we''re coming to replace them with new ones, set some parameters, repair the ones that might break..."


    "But I came early," Raven''s smile took on a seductive edge. "Because I missed you so much. I hitched a ride on someone''s ethereal canoe - the other three in our group are still waiting for the new shipment."


    Spark nodded with a brief "Mm," unwilling to show any further acknowledgment or welcome that Raven might misinterpret as affection.


    Raven gazed at his eyes, golden and brilliant like Seraphic Citrine. Yet despite their sun-like warmth in color, they held all the piercing cold of winter ice, without a trace of joy.


    Mocking his love life now would only make him more uncomfortable, Raven decided to try a subtler approach.


    "Why do you still love her?" Raven''s tone was calm, not questioning but simply curious, like a friend''s well-meaning inquiry. This contrasted sharply with her previous over-enthusiasm, making Spark pause.


    He glanced up at her, letting out the faintest sigh. "Love needs no reason."


    "Alright." Raven shrugged. No use arguing with someone blinded by love.


    Raven glanced at the deactivated surveillance puppet, then at Spark, and finally at Nightbane who was watching them intently. "I haven''t seen Flint anywhere on my way here. Where is she?"


    A flash of wariness crossed Spark''s eyes. "Why are you looking for her?"


    Raven shot him a smug look. "Flint and I are like-minded sisters! We share many views. We''re planning to establish a sect together and make lots of money!"


    Spark frowned. He''d never heard Flint mention anything about this.


    Suddenly Nightbane chimed in: "I know! I saw Flint walk to-" Before he could finish, Spark lunged forward in one swift motion, clamping a hand over his mouth.


    Spark stood there breathing heavily, his back damp with cold sweat. He''d acted almost without thinking, and only now, as his mind caught up, did he realize the danger - if Raven discovered what Flint was doing to those puppets, everything would be ruined.


    "Keep quiet for now," Spark whispered beside Nightbane, who remained stunned and confused by Spark''s sudden action.


    "She''s probably in her quarters studying that Terminal thing, I''m not sure," Spark deflected, steadying himself. The priority now was diverting Raven''s attention. Time to put on a show.


    "Speaking of which, is that a new ring you''re wearing?" Spark took Raven''s right hand with feigned intimacy, as if they were close friends, making a show of examining her rings. "What a beautiful ruby."


    Raven had spent 5000 spirit stones from selling the Mystic Terminal on it - such a tiny stone for such a high price, barely noticeable. But Spark''s compliment instantly lifted her mood, making her completely forget their previous discussion about Flint.


    "So you think it''s beautiful too?" Raven''s eyes lit up, her tone turning joyful. "It even has storage capabilities. I heard it was crafted in Inferno Wolves territory."


    Spark remembered Azure had given him one before he left, but he didn''t want to wear, disliking jewelry. Now he couldn''t help thinking that if he''d used the storage ring, their money wouldn''t have been stolen by that wooden man. Damn him.


    "Oh, what an honor - a gem from my homeland?" Spark forced cheer into his voice. From the side, Nightbane watched in confusion. How had these two gone from nearly arguing to such friendly terms?


    "Hey, weren''t you just going to look for Fl-" Nightbane finally recovered, but Spark cut him off immediately:


    "Nightbane, come take a look at this ring."


    Though Nightbane didn''t understand Spark''s intentions, he obediently came over like a well-trained puppy.


    "It is beautiful," Nightbane stared at the glittering ruby with his large dog-like eyes. "My master has a ruby ring too! It''s as big as a pigeon''s egg! Also very beautiful!"


    Spark rolled his eyes. Nobody cares about your master, he thought silently. Still, any topic was fine as long as it kept them from discussing Flint.


    "What are you all doing?" Flint returned after finishing her installation of password-recording programs in the puppets'' CPMs, finding the three gathered around admiring a ring.


    She was startled when she spotted Raven behind Spark and Nightbane, but quickly remembered - the Mystic Enigma Pavilion''s maintenance team was due to arrive. Raven had mentioned this in her messages to Spark.


    "Hm? The puppet''s not pestering you to work anymore, Spark?" What caught Flint''s attention first was the motionless surveillance puppet. Its eyes no longer glowed with their usual blue light - had it been powered down?


    Spark quickly released Raven''s hand, causing her brow to furrow slightly and her lips to form a small, disappointed pout.


    Turning to face Flint, Spark explained, "Ah yes, Raven shut down this puppet."


    Flint scratched her head. "I thought another one would come if one broke down?"


    Raven chimed in: "That only happens if the puppet broadcasts a request for task reassignment before failing. I powered this one down directly, so it never sent out the broadcast."


    Flint''s eyes lit up. "So no more work then?"


    Raven considered this. "In theory, yes. But if this puppet powers back on, it''ll probably still look for you. Plus, tomorrow when the task list refreshes, they might notice this task wasn''t completed and assign a new puppet to it."


    Flint nodded with a sigh. "Well, at least I''m free for today."


    "Long time no see, Raven, Nightbane." Flint realized she hadn''t properly greeted the others, her attention drawn to the glowing ruby on Raven''s right index finger. "Oh, Raven, is that a new ring?"


    Delighted that Flint noticed her ring immediately, Raven sauntered over and draped her right arm around Flint''s shoulders, extending her hand so the ruby, roughly the size of a fingernail, sparkled before Flint''s eyes. "Isn''t it beautiful?"


    "It is," Flint nodded, not particularly skilled at the art of flattery but knowing enough to agree with others'' preferences.


    "By the way, how''s your Soulweaver programming coming along?" Though Flint had claimed Spark''s heart, making the handsome wolf prince unattainable, Raven found plenty of other men in the world. Clever and studious workhorses like Flint were rare. Raven''s voice took on a seductive tone as she added, "We still have money to make together."


    "It''s going alright," Flint struggled to quantify her progress. "I fixed some bugs in your game, and wrote myself a rune to control natural aura flow." She touched the cloth at the back of her neck, printed with runes that directed natural aura movement. The plan to hack the puppets, of course, remained unmentioned.


    Raven glanced at Flint''s hand touching the rune, nodding: "Not bad. Any other thoughts about the game?"


    Flint considered for a moment. "The difficulty never changes, which might bore players. We could increase it gradually - like making the raven fly faster as you play."


    "Oh!" Raven''s eyes lit up with revelation. "I never thought of that. You''re so clever, Flint!"


    Flint scratched her head, uncomfortable with praise as usual. "It''s nothing really..." The glittering debris on her fingers caught Raven''s attention.


    "Flint, we were just looking for you!" Nightbane''s voice carried his usual excessive enthusiasm. "I saw you going behind the dining hall... Spark? What''s wrong?" Spark had quickly pinched Nightbane to signal silence, but the damage was done.


    Spark and Flint tensed simultaneously, their eyes meeting briefly before darting away. "It''s nothing," Spark offered with a resigned smile.


    "Um, I was hungry, so I checked the kitchen''s back entrance for food... less chance of being caught that way..." Flint improvised, "Yeah, and I asked Spark to cover my duties..."


    Wait, isn''t there just a warehouse full with puppets behind the Celestial Sword Sect''s dining hall? Raven lifted Flint''s left hand, examining the glittering debris. "What did you eat? Why are there sparkly fragments on your fingers? Looks like silver powder..."


    Spark suddenly interrupted Raven: "Oh? Flint, where''s that silver ring I gave you? The one with the Seraphic Citrine?"


    Flint hesitated only briefly before catching Spark''s cue, joining the improvised performance. She stared at the silver residue on her hands with feigned surprise: "Ah! Yes, I took it off when I was sneaking cake, did I leave it there? I should go look for it!"


    Spark continued the act: "No need, I''ll find it for you. Aren''t you busy researching that Terminal thing? You should head back."


    Raven frowned as she listened: "Pure silver rings shouldn''t shed powder though..."


    Spark slapped his thigh, putting on an angry expression: "I must''ve been cheated by that Adept-Level disciple! He probably just coated the ring with silver powder!" He added with theatrical rage, "The gem might be fake too! I should''ve brought one from home..."


    Flint quickly played along: "No, no, the gem looked beautiful, like it was real..."


    How did Flint and Spark''s relationship improve so much while I was gone? Though Flint was planning to find someone else, Spark still gave her such a precious ring - and she actually accepted it? Raven pondered, Are girls who talk less the latest trend?


    "Oh, Flint," Spark clasped her hand, "I promise I''ll get you a real one next time, made from Inferno Wolves gems."


    Then he turned to Raven: "Thank you for helping Flint notice her missing ring. When I return to Inferno Wolves, I''ll send you an even larger gem ring with storage capabilities. We''re friends after all, and you''ll be founding a sect with Flint."


    Spark''s grand promises instantly lifted Raven''s spirits, her attention completely diverted from Flint''s hands. "That''s wonderful, thank you! You''re welcome to join my future sect too!"


    Flint turned away with an imperceptible sigh, her back damp with sweat. Next time, if there really was a next time, she would definitely wear gloves.

 Chapter 37: Fiction and Truth

    The afternoon sunlight casting golden reflections off the Seraphic Citrine ring as Spark held it between his fingers. His touch was deliberate yet gentle as he lifted Flint''s left hand, studying each finger with careful consideration.


    "Are you sure you want to give this to me, Spark? It looks expensive," Flint asked, watching his concentrated expression.


    "What else would I do with it?" Spark''s tone aimed for casual indifference, though his meticulous handling of the ring betrayed deeper emotions. "Raven will ask questions, so you should keep it. Besides, it has storage capabilities¡ªlike that green crystal around the wooden man''s neck that holds his ethereal canoe."


    As he deliberated over which finger to choose, his thoughts raced. Ring finger means marriage, middle finger for dating, index for single... He nearly settled on the middle finger before a surge of anger made his nose flare slightly. She''s leaving with that wooden man. That would make it seem like she''s dating him. With sudden decisiveness, he slipped the ring onto her index finger.


    "Don''t move it to any other finger. It has to stay on the index," he instructed firmly.


    "Is there some rule about that?" Flint asked. While the index finger seemed practical enough, his arbitrary insistence puzzled her.


    "This ring was specifically designed for the index finger," Spark declared with feigned authority, already dreaming of future rings¡ªone for her middle finger after he dealt with Lenient, and eventually...


    Flint nodded, accepting his explanation without question, though her ability to sense emotions revealed the slight nervousness underlying his lie.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    In her room, Raven sprawled on her bed, engrossed in a novel about an Inferno Wolf who fell in love with a human cultivator. She''d recently developed a fascination with romances between humans and spiritual beasts, though this particular story failed to captivate her¡ªthe protagonist was a female wolf pursuing a male cultivator, the opposite of what currently interested her.


    It would be so much better if the genders were reversed, she thought, yet found herself unable to stop reading despite her irritation. The male cultivator''s stubborn resistance to romance reminded her frustratingly of Spark.


    "Do you still dwell on thoughts of your enemy?" Dawn Light, the wolf protagonist, asked Bright Valor, the cultivator.


    "Enemy, is it?" Bright Valor''s lips curved into a bitter smile. "I wonder¡ªis she truly my enemy, or my benefactor?"


    "What nonsense," Raven muttered, though curiosity drove her to skip ahead. The mysterious enemy turned out to be someone called Onyx Shade, who''d become the leader of the Abyssal Pavilion.


    Now that''s the kind of female lead I prefer, Raven thought approvingly. Making money, even if it''s from assassination contracts, ruling her own territory with multiple men at her disposal. Unlike this Dawn Light, who ends up as some constrained Empress.


    "You needn''t come. This is my nation, and I will protect it myself," Dawn Light declared to Bright Valor.


    "Are you certain you don''t need me?" Bright Valor asked after a long silence.


    Dawn Light''s laughter started soft before growing into something wild and desperate. "I know you still hate me for deceiving Onyx and letting the Immortal Alliance execute her, but have you never considered that she deserved death for her crimes?"


    "How can they drag this out for centuries without resolution?" Raven grumbled, flipping to the ending. Upon discovering Dawn Light''s death in battle, she snapped the book shut and tossed it aside with an explosive sigh. Men like Spark were impossible¡ªeven Dawn Light''s centuries of pursuit ended in failure and death. The unsatisfying conclusion left Raven with a knot of frustration in her chest.


    Still lying on her bed, Raven''s mood improved as she thought about the three human cultivators she was currently flirting with. While none matched Spark''s handsome human form, at least they weren''t as difficult as him. After all, you can''t starve yourself just because you can''t afford premium lobster.


    That spiritual beast Nightbane, who had guided her in the Celestial Sword Sect, wasn''t bad looking either. He had an athletic build and a wild sort of beauty, with adorable puppy ears. Though he seemed a bit dim-witted. Just for fun, she decided.


    The only annoying thing was how he couldn''t have a conversation without constantly bringing up his master. It drove Raven mad.


    As her mind wandered, her jade tablet suddenly chimed. Was it a message from one of her love interests?


    But no - Raven had been at the Celestial Sword Sect for a week now, and by her count, the other three members of her maintenance team would be arriving soon. Checking the tablet, she saw it was indeed her boss Mason Crystal summoning her to work.


    She sighed. How she hated working for others. When would she be able to establish her own sect and have people working for her instead?


    As Raven approached the warehouse behind the Celestial Sword Sect''s dining hall, she stretched lazily, her bag slung over her shoulder. Several sect disciples were busy unloading puppets from ethereal canoes.


    Mason Crystal and the slender Iris Echo, with her characteristic jade hairpin, were attempting to connect to the puppets through their crystal ear clips. Reed Circuit, his crystal spectacles glinting, held up a severed puppet arm for inspection. "These are all clean blade cuts, not joint failures," he observed. "Not much we can do to repair these."


    Iris raised an eyebrow. "Does the Celestial Sword Sect usually slice up their old puppets just to get new ones?"


    Reaching them, Raven felt a surge of pride at possessing insider knowledge. "Oh, I know about this! There was a thief here who cut up all the puppets sent to catch her!"


    To her disappointment, none of her colleagues showed the slightest interest in what she considered juicy gossip. Mason merely glanced up to acknowledge her arrival before issuing instructions: "Configure the parameters for the new puppets."


    These boring people, Raven cursed internally as she made her way to a freshly unloaded puppet.


    Raven tried to make conversation while working: "Hey Iris, do you read novels?"


    "Sometimes. Why?" Iris mumbled, clicking her ear clip in frustration. "This puppet just won''t connect."


    "Oh?" Raven perked up, surprised by Iris''s interest. "Have you read Inferno Wolves Empress?"


    Iris''s eyes suddenly widened, her face filled with astonishment: "You''ve read that too? I wouldn''t have expected someone like you - with all your romantic conquests - to be into pure love stories."


    So this is how my colleagues see me... Raven mused silently. Though she actually despised these boring, drawn-out pure love stories, her excellent social skills told her to align with her colleague''s viewpoint. She decided to test Iris''s opinion first.


    "Oh, this was my first time reading a pure love story, and I found it quite... moving," Raven chose neutral words, keeping her options open to pivot if needed.


    Iris suddenly became animated, "Right? It touched me so deeply! Especially when Dawn Light died in battle - I couldn''t sleep all night, I was so devastated!"


    She really loves this book, Raven thought, mentally preparing to search her vocabulary for suitable praise.


    Raven began carefully: "Oh yes, the book is so well written, especially the romance..."


    Iris''s face suddenly darkened: "The book is terrible!"


    Huh? Raven was completely thrown off. Didn''t you just say it moved you?


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    "I really don''t understand," Iris continued, "why Bright never accepts Dawn''s feelings, always hung up on that evil Onyx who committed so many crimes."


    Raven finally grasped Iris''s position - she must love Dawn Light''s character while hating the romance plot. All she needed to do now was join in criticizing the male lead.


    Raven immediately adopted an expression of deep dismay: "Yes, Dawn Light is so strong and patriotic, while this Bright is just so indecisive and wishy-washy..."


    Iris became agitated again, nearly startling Raven: "No! What did Bright do wrong?! He was truly saved by Onyx, that''s why his heart was conflicted! Ah... if only it had been Dawn who saved him back then..."


    Damn... For the first time, Raven felt she had completely failed socially. There seemed to be no right way to either criticize or praise this male protagonist.


    Having only skimmed the book, Raven wasn''t entirely clear on some plot points. She furrowed her brow in thought: "It doesn''t seem like Onyx really bothered Bright much later on..."


    Iris took a deep breath: "Isn''t doing nothing the greatest evil of all? Using the debt of saving his life to make Bright feel guilty, she was able to commit countless crimes in this world without being caught!"


    Ah. Raven felt she truly understood now - all she needed to do was focus on criticizing the second female lead. Clearly, Iris just really hated Onyx.


    "I felt angry reading it too, this Onyx did quite a lot of bad things!" In reality, Raven hadn''t read those parts carefully and had no idea what Onyx had done.


    Iris''s expression finally transformed into one of finding a kindred spirit: "Yes, exactly! She formed an assassination organization, created a distributed intelligence network to sell information for profit, instigated wars between humans to absorb souls, violated the Immortal Alliance''s laws at every turn. It was only when Dawn risked her life to lure her out that she was finally brought to justice! And even then, Bright blamed Dawn!"


    Raven nodded, quickly agreeing, even if she didn¡¯t feel that way in her heart: "She really was despicable."


    Iris''s expression grew even more pained: "And that final battle where Dawn Light died fighting the Golden Shadow Leopards - that conflict was orchestrated by Onyx''s schemes!"


    Raven: "What? Wasn''t Onyx dead by then?"


    Iris sighed: "Yes, she was dead, but her organization lives on, still committing evil to this day. It''s now known as the Abyssal Pavilion."


    Raven had seen that organization mentioned in the novel and had heard of it in reality - supposedly a group of people who opposed the Immortal Alliance''s laws. Surprised by how closely the novel tied to reality, Raven grew curious: "Is this novel based on real events?"


    Iris nodded thoughtfully. "I''ve studied this - Onyx Shade was actually Obsidian Snow, one of the Abyssal Pavilion''s founders. Dawn Light was Delight Lumin, a former Empress of the Inferno Wolves. And the male lead was Blaze Mighty, founder of the Celestial Sword Sect."


    Blaze Mighty - the name tugged at Raven''s memory, though she couldn''t quite place where she''d heard it before. But Delight Lumin immediately made her think of Spark. Of course - he must be Delight''s descendant!


    Excitement bubbled up as she made the connection. "Oh, I actually know an Inferno Wolf, he''s-"


    "Ladies," Mason''s firm voice cut through their discussion, "you can talk novels later. Iris, did you actually connect to that puppet? Something seems off about it. Reed, come take a look inside."


    Iris shook her head. "No, I couldn''t establish a connection."


    Reed pried open the puppet''s head, revealing the CPM - a crystalline core wrapped in silver circuitry, pulsing with a soft blue glow. Raven stepped forward, reaching for it before Mason could react. Her fingers brushed the delicate component as memories of similar luminescent particles on Flint''s hands flashed through her mind.


    Mason took the CPM from her and connected it to his Mystic Terminal. Raven stared at her own hands, now dusted with the faintest trace of glowing residue.


    "These CPMs are physically intact," Mason''s voice broke through her thoughts. "But the connection fails completely. Multiple password attempts yield no response - not even an error message."


    "Could the firmware have been tampered with?" Iris suggested, frowning.


    Reed chuckled. "These puppets haven''t left the Celestial Sword Sect since manufacture. Who here would even know how to program them?"


    Raven''s eyes widened as suspicion bloomed in her mind, but she held her tongue.


    After a pause, Raven ventured hesitantly, "Maybe the CPMs were damaged during fights with the thief... look at this arm..." She knelt down and lifted the decapitated puppet''s limb.


    Mason frowned in consideration. "Possible. But why would they still accept password inputs?"


    Reed knelt beside Raven to examine the puppet''s other arm. His fingers traced a clean break in the surface before gripping both sections. With minimal effort, the forearm detached completely.


    "These are sword cuts," Reed observed, confusion evident in his voice. "Why would the Celestial Sword Sect try to repair these puppets, making them appear functional? Didn''t they just purchase new ones?"


    Who wanted to fix these? The question tumbled through Raven''s mind as she stared blankly ahead. "Maybe they''re trying to save money," she offered weakly.


    Reed nodded thoughtfully, echoing Mason''s earlier gesture. "Perhaps they don''t realize gluing them back together won''t make them work."


    Raven found herself oddly compelled to convince her colleagues that nothing was amiss. But Mason''s next words sent a chill down her spine:


    "Let''s take these unconnectable CPMs back for analysis."


    Are they really going to investigate? What if they actually find something? Panic rose in Raven''s chest as her suspicions about Flint grew stronger. After all, she was the one who had sold Flint the Mystic Terminal. Had Flint really done this?


    The thought of being implicated in potential sabotage made her palms grow sweaty. She gripped the edges of her robes, trying to maintain her composure while her mind raced with possibilities.


    Raven took a deep breath to steady herself, then glanced around, noticing it was dinner time. A familiar figure appeared before her - Flint.


    "I''m going to get dinner!" she called out, already running away before Mason could finish saying "Go ahead."


    "Flint!" Raven rushed up to the other girl so suddenly that Flint nearly jumped.


    Raven studied Flint intently, even peering behind her back, finding that there wasn¡¯t that ¡®theif¡¯ mark. "You weren''t sweeping today?"


    Flint shook her head. She had been working on reverse engineering programs, though she wouldn''t say that. "Spark helped me with it."


    Raven noticed the ring on Flint''s left index finger. She lifted Flint''s wrist with her hand that hadn''t touched the CPM, examining the faint luminescent particles on Flint''s fingers. Is this glowing dust really from the ring? Raven felt herself relax slightly.


    "Why do you keep wearing a ring that sheds silver dust?" Raven probed carefully.


    "Um... because it''s pretty..." Flint answered. She wasn''t actually there for dinner - she had come to confirm that the maintenance team had entered their passwords into the CPMs she had tampered with. She planned to steal a few back later. Of course, to avoid suspicion from Raven, she had made sure to rub some CPM residue in her dormitory on her fingers before putting on the ring each time she went out.


    Raven relaxed further, her tension ebbing away as she studied the ring''s beautiful Seraphic Citrine. I should get a Seraphic Citrine ring next time, she thought, draping her arm casually around Flint''s neck.


    "Didn''t you say you had another man? Why keep Spark''s gift?" Raven teased with a playful tone.


    "Uh..." The question caught Flint off guard. She truly didn''t know how to explain. She met Raven''s gaze silently for a moment before steeling herself and forcing a casual response:


    "Well, you know... the more men, the better."


    "Oh my goodness!" Raven''s eyes lit up with delight. "We''re truly kindred spirits, you and I!"


    What? I thought you''d judge me... Flint stared at Raven in bewilderment.


    "It''s so rare to find someone who understands! My colleagues criticize me for having too many men and don''t get why I''d read pure love stories. You''re so right - I absolutely hate those pure love stories!" Raven gushed, finally able to express her true feelings.


    "What''s a pure love story?" Flint asked, having never read novels.


    "Oh, they''re so boring - you wouldn''t like them. Just one man and one woman, either he loves her but can''t win her over, or she loves him but he likes someone else. I prefer stories where one woman attracts many men," Raven explained animatedly, one arm still around Flint''s neck while gesturing with the other.


    Flint nodded, not quite understanding but knowing agreement was the safe response.


    "I just read one that''s actually connected to Spark''s ancestor, Delight Lumin. She was in love with this... um... what was his name?" Raven paused, the familiar name suddenly clicking as she looked at Flint''s face. "Blaze Mighty! You''ve mentioned that name before!"


    When did I...? It had been over a year since she''d last seen Raven, and Flint couldn''t recall mentioning it. But she definitely remembered the name Blaze Mighty - Spark''s past life.


    "I remember now - I said my past life''s love wasn''t Blaze Mighty," Flint recalled after a moment''s thought.


    "Yes, that''s it! I didn''t understand what you meant back then," Raven exclaimed excitedly, hugging Flint closer before suddenly registering something odd. "Wait, what? Past life? How do you remember your past life?"


    This question is even harder to answer than the last one... Flint sighed. "I don''t know why, but I can recall fragments of memories from my past life." She decided against explaining the complexities of her mental barrier.


    "Oh!" To Flint''s surprise, Raven''s face lit up with understanding. "I''ve read about this in novels - a woman remembering her past life''s love and finding someone who resembles him! Though I hate those pure love stories - if you''ve been with someone in a past life, shouldn''t you try someone new this time?"


    "But," Raven continued excitedly, "I can''t believe what happens in novels is real! Someone who actually remembers their past life!"


    "Yeah, maybe I''m just special that way," Flint played along with Raven''s enthusiasm.


    Raven''s eyes narrowed in thought. "Wait... you said your past life''s love wasn''t Blaze Mighty... then could you be..."


    "Obsidian Snow?!" Her eyes widened with shock.


    "Uh..." Flint hesitated, unsure whether to confirm this. But considering Obsidian Snow''s name wasn''t widely known - even Spark only knew of The Bamboo Sovereign, not Obsidian Snow - she decided after a moment: "Actually, yes."


    "Oh my goodness!" Raven hugged her tighter. "Then when you return to the Abyssal Pavilion, won''t all their money be yours?"


    Her loud mention of "Abyssal Pavilion" drew stares from nearby disciples, some beginning to point at Flint, recognizing her as the notorious soul-absorbing thief. Flint broke into a cold sweat.


    She lowered her voice: "How do you know about Obsidian Snow''s connection to the Abyssal Pavilion... and it''s not Obsidian Snow''s anyway."


    "It''s not?" Raven whispered back. "The novel made it seem like she had it pretty good there. Then whose is it?"


    "The Bamboo Sovereign''s, though he''s dead now too," Flint replied.


    "Never heard of him." Raven shook her head, glancing around. "People here seem to react strongly to the Abyssal Pavilion."


    "Of course they do," Flint muttered darkly, irritated that Raven had blurted out her secret connection to the Abyssal Pavilion. She hadn''t expected novels to portray her that way.


    "In the novel, the Abyssal Pavilion people were good at programming. They built this intelligence network called Labyrinth Network..." Raven mused as she walked with Flint toward the dining hall. "You know, today Mason and the others couldn''t connect to the CPMs - no response after entering passwords. Wonder if the Abyssal Pavilion is behind it."


    The comment made Flint tense up. While Raven had inadvertently hit upon the truth, Flint needed to play ignorant. She asked with feigned innocence: "What''s a CPM?"


    Her question seemed to reassure Raven further. "It''s this crystal ball wrapped in silver wiring that glows blue, inside the puppet''s head when you open it."


    "Never seen one," Flint replied docilely.


    "They''re taking all the unconnectable CPMs back for analysis - maybe the Abyssal Pavilion really is behind it!" Raven said cheerfully, now fully relaxed. "I actually thought it might have been you at first!"


    Flint felt her muscles tense at those words before forcing herself to appear casual. "Why would you think that?" she asked innocently.


    "Oh!" Raven lowered her voice to barely a whisper, meant only for Flint''s ears. "I just remembered - did I leave any puppet-related files on that Mystic Terminal I gave you? I can''t remember if I deleted everything..."


    Raven wrinkled her brow, trying to recall. She remembered deleting her personal messages and information about her various romantic interests, transferring them to her backup crystal orb before moving them to her new device. But she couldn''t remember what else she might have left behind, though she was pretty sure she''d kept the Soulweaver language tutorial intact.


    Should I keep lying? At this point, being dishonest might seem unnatural... Flint forced herself to remain calm. "Actually, you didn''t delete them, but I never looked at them. I only needed to write runes to control natural aura." She touched the rune on the back of her neck as she spoke, the familiar gesture helping her relax and smoothing her tense expression.


    "Besides," Flint lowered her voice conspiratorially, as if sharing a secret, "I''m going back to the Abyssal Pavilion. For maintaining and upgrading the Labyrinth Network, programming skills are enough - understanding puppets isn''t really necessary."


    "Oh..." Although the revelation about the undeleted files made Raven momentarily nervous, Flint''s explanation seemed logical enough. She looked at Flint with new eyes, as if seeing the formidable antagonist from her novel come to life, and felt a surge of admiration.


    Maybe she could even help fund my sect in the future? The thought flickered through Raven''s mind.


    A future powerful figure in the Abyssal Pavilion... I could definitely use a friend like that, Raven thought, already dreaming of the possibilities.

 Chapter 38: The Pines Return

    After confirming the guest rooms had fallen dark, Flint crept through the shadows toward the storage room behind the dining hall. Her heart sank as she examined the dismantled puppets scattered across the floor - each one had been stripped of its central processing module, leaving nothing but hollow wooden shells.


    She ran her fingers along the empty cavity where a CPM should have been, knowing the Mystic Enigma Pavilion members had taken them all. While she was confident they wouldn''t trace her tampering, the failure of her plan left a bitter taste in her mouth.


    Do I really have to leave my past life''s remains in this wretched place? The thought of Sage Mortius Crane''s smug face made her fingers curl into fists. She could feel anger bubbling up inside her - not the explosive kind, but a slow-burning determination that made her even more resolved to find another way.


    The moonlight filtering through the high windows cast strange shadows among the broken puppets, making their crystal eyes seem to stare at her accusingly. Flint knew she needed a new plan - and soon.


    As Flint closed her eyes in the darkened warehouse, she recalled Raven''s words from dinner, accompanied only by the soft chirping of crickets outside.


    "We brought a batch of new puppets," Raven had said between mouthfuls of rice. "Apparently we''re doing a firmware upgrade for all the Celestial Sword Sect puppets this time."


    Flint had kept her expression carefully neutral, though her heart had leaped at this information. "Oh? That sounds like a lot of work," she''d commented casually, as if only making polite conversation.


    "Tell me about it!" Raven had groaned, gesturing with her chopsticks. "I always say if the code works, don''t touch it. But they''re going on about ''compatibility issues'' and ''security vulnerabilities'' and ''standardizing the communication protocols.'' Such a pain."


    "Such a hassle," she''d muttered sympathetically, maintaining her facade of ignorance.


    "The new puppets will be running around transmitting firmware updates to all the others," Raven had explained, waving her chopsticks for emphasis. "Then we have to manually scan everywhere to check for any that missed the update."


    Flint had simply nodded, keeping her expression deliberately vacant. "That must take ages."


    "Not really," Raven had mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Once we configure the new puppets, the transmission process is automatic."


    Now, standing among the deactivated puppets, Flint felt a smile tugging at her lips. If the new firmware would be distributed automatically through puppet-to-puppet transmission, perhaps there was a way to intercept it. She just needed to be patient and watch for the right moment.


    A cool breeze rustled through the storage room, making the puppets'' joints creak softly. Flint pulled her robes tighter and slipped back toward the door. She had planning to do.


    Returning to her room, Flint placed the lone CPM on her desk and opened her notes. The crystalline core still pulsed with a faint blue glow as she connected it to her Mystic Terminal.


    Let''s see how these firmware updates actually work, she thought, inputting the update request command she''d found in the documentation.


    The CPM responded immediately, transmitting a stream of data that made her eyes widen. Device parameters, model number, unique identification code - everything a genuine puppet would need to validate itself for an update. Most importantly, it showed its current state as "Ready for firmware transmission."


    But when she tried to send her own code, the CPM rejected it instantly. "Invalid verification signature," the error message read. Of course - the Mystic Enigma Pavilion would have cryptographic safeguards in place.


    Flint leaned back, studying the waiting-for-update data packet on her screen. The structure was clear: a handshake protocol, followed by device authentication, then the actual firmware transfer. If she could make her Terminal emulate these exact packet formats...


    "What if," she murmured, fingers hovering over the interface, "my Terminal pretended to be just another puppet?" She could capture the genuine update when it was transmitted, analyze its verification signature, then use that same format to distribute her own code as a secondary "update."


    The CPM''s blue glow seemed to pulse in response, like a silent conspirator. Flint allowed herself a small smile. She just needed to be in position when the mass update began.


    I won''t get a second chance at this, she thought, already mentally mapping out the code she would need. But if it works...


    She glanced at the window, where the first hints of dawn were beginning to appear. There was much to do before the maintenance team began their work.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    A branch suddenly snagged Seedling''s tail as she walked past a holly tree. She paused, glancing up with puzzlement. Something seemed off about how the branch had moved - almost deliberately, like a tendril reaching out to catch her.


    Before she could process this thought, the branch coiled around her tail with surprising strength. As she tried to untangle herself, it yanked her upward in one fluid motion, pulling her into the dense holly canopy. A leaf pressed gently but firmly against her lips just as she opened her mouth to cry out.


    Seedling¡¯s tail was pulled, with her legs drapping over a branch. Her white long ponytail hanging like a ribbon between the tree canopy. She adjusted her uncomfortable position with hands as much as possible.


    Hanging upside down, Seedling found herself face-to-face with a man whose long sage-colored hair blended perfectly with the holly leaves. His eyes, almost the exact shade of the foliage, sparkled with mysterious intent as he raised a finger to his lips in a hushing gesture.


    "Beautiful fox lady," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the rustling leaves, "do you know Flint?"


    The casual grace with which he dangled from the branches, completely at ease in this peculiar position, suggested this was no ordinary encounter. Seedling''s tail remained firmly wrapped in what she now realized was more than just a simple tree branch.


    The leaf drifted away from Seedling''s mouth like any ordinary fallen leaf, though she knew it had been anything but ordinary. She hadn''t seen Flint in days - her friend had been holed up in her room, not even coming out to eat. Something about this strange man set her instincts on edge despite his gentle demeanor.


    "What do you want with her?" Seedling''s purple fox-eyes narrowed, her vertical pupils fixed on the sage-haired stranger with unmistakable warning.


    "Ah, so you do know Flint." The man''s smile was disarmingly gentle, almost tender, yet something about it made her fur stand on end. "Would you be so kind as to bring her to this tree?"


    "Why are you looking for her?" Seedling asked warily, still hanging upside down with her white hair swaying in the breeze.


    "Why indeed..." The sage-haired man stroked his chin thoughtfully, his smile turning playful. "Perhaps because Flint would be delighted to see me too!"


    What? The response left Seedling thoroughly confused. She had never seen this person around Flint before. What did he mean by ''Flint would be delighted''? Could he be Flint''s... boyfriend? Wait - boyfriend?


    "Oh!" Seedling''s eyes widened with sudden realization. "You''re Lenient Pine?"


    "You know me?" Lenient''s eyes lit up with delight, though a flicker of concern crossed his face. "I didn''t think I was on the Immortal Alliance''s wanted list yet..." he muttered under his breath.


    "Of course! Flint told me you were her lover in her past life!" Seedling''s expression was openly curious as she studied him. Not bad looking at all. Flint has good taste.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "Really? Flint''s been telling her friends about me?" Lenient''s face broke into a radiant smile. "She must love me so much!"


    "You''re from the Abyssal Pavilion, right? It''s dangerous for you to be here..." Seedling lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. "I''ll bring Flint to the hillside behind the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall. There are fewer people there."


    "Yes, yes!" Lenient nodded enthusiastically. "Let me help you down then."


    The branch slowly extended, allowing Seedling to touch the ground with her hands and knees before gently withdrawing. A row of trees swayed slightly, and when Seedling looked up again, Lenient had vanished without a trace.


    Seedling raced up the dormitory stairs and knocked on Flint''s door. The moment it opened, she exclaimed excitedly, "Flint! Your boyfriend is here to see you!"


    "Since when did I have a boyfriend?" Flint managed a weary smile. She had spent the entire day studying the Mystic Enigma Pavilion''s firmware documentation. Why would Spark need Seedling to find me?


    But after a moment''s silence, realization dawned on her face - in Seedling''s context, "boyfriend" was no longer referring to Spark. Yet why would Lenient suddenly appear at the Celestial Sword Sect?


    "Is it... Lenient Pine?" Flint asked with a hint of concern.


    "Yes! Lucky for him he found me - anyone else would have had him arrested on sight!" Seedling declared with a touch of pride. "He''s waiting at the hillside behind the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall. Let''s go meet him."


    How did he get in here? It''s so dangerous. Flint sighed helplessly, furrowing her brow as she jogged with Seedling to the back of the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall. They found Lenient sitting on the cliff''s edge behind a large rock.


    Hearing their footsteps, Lenient sprang up and wrapped Flint in a tight embrace. "Little stone! I''ve missed you so much!"


    Flint sighed again, pushing him away. "Couldn''t you have contacted me through a jade tablet? What if you''d been caught sneaking in here?"


    "Exactly!" Seedling chimed in. "If you''d found anyone else, they would''ve had you arrested on the spot!"


    "Oh, I had some special plans for anyone else I might have encountered," Lenient gave them a gentle smile, absently twirling a holly leaf between his fingers. "But fortunately, I found our delightful fox friend instead."


    "Special plans?" Seedling''s tail swished nervously, but her voice remained cheerful. "Like what?"


    "Oh, just some fun little forest games," Lenient''s smile brightened as he continued twirling the leaf, watching how it caught the sunlight. "The trees do enjoy playing with visitors."


    Flint suppressed a shiver. She understood the darker meaning beneath his playful words - the Abyssal Pavilion''s approach to "problem-solving" was probably not a friendly one. But seeing Seedling''s still-curious expression, she decided it was better to let her friend maintain her innocence about certain matters.


    Lenient continued smiling gently: "I didn''t just grab anyone, you know. I thought since Flint is close to a certain wolf, she might get along well with other spiritual beasts too."


    Seedling asked with confusion: "Close to a wolf? Isn''t Flint herself an Inferno Wolf?"


    "What?" The confused expression shifted to Flint''s face. "When did I ever say I was an Inferno Wolf?"


    "Huh? I wanted to befriend you in the first place because you''re a spiritual beast too!" Seedling looked bewildered. "I always thought you Inferno Wolves were just reserved about showing your beast forms."


    Lenient pouted: "Inferno Wolves are all a pack of traitors. How could little stone be one of them?"


    She probably assumed I was a wolf since I arrived with one. Flint rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Actually, I''m not a wolf... and possibly not human either..."


    "Then what are you?" Seedling looked even more confused.


    "Little stone is a stone!" Lenient chimed in cheerfully. "I have a piece of her past life''s remains in my abdomen. Want me to dig it out and show you?"


    "Please don''t," Flint quickly held up her hand to stop him. "I actually don''t remember where I came from or what I originally was. But Lenient is probably right - I think I was a piece of obsidian."


    "Oh..." Seedling bit her lip as she processed this information. "I''ve seen lots of spiritual beasts transform into humans before, but stones becoming human is rare... No, actually, I''ve never even heard of it."


    "Oh?" Lenient raised eyebrows. "Have you heard of plants becoming human?"


    "That I have," Seedling nodded. "The Abyssal Pavilion''s founder, The Bamboo Sovereign! He was transformed from a bamboo!"


    It seems The Bamboo Sovereign was much more famous than Obsidian... Flint thought quietly.


    "Wow, impressive! You''re quite knowledgeable!" Lenient praised. "I''m his reincarnation, transformed from a pine tree now."


    "The Bamboo Sovereign''s reincarnation? That''s amazing!" Seedling¡¯s eyes full of curiosity and admiration.


    "Yes, and you''re welcome to join the Abyssal Pavilion anytime." Lenient said with a smile.


    "What''s fun about the Abyssal Pavilion?" Seedling asked, her purple eyes sparkling with curiosity.


    "Oh, many things," Lenient''s smile held a touch of mystery. "But that''s something you''ll have to discover for yourself."


    "By the way," Lenient turned to Flint, pulling out a jade tablet identical to hers. "I couldn''t contact you because I didn''t have your details."


    Flint took out her jade tablet and tapped it against Lenient''s. Then she remembered that Lenient''s previous ''tablet'' had been different from her faintly green jade one - it had been completely black. Though similar in size, both were shaped like elongated trapezoids, about half a palm at their widest point and tapering slightly toward the bottom, with a blunt triangular protrusion at the top.


    "We have our own ''tablets'' to avoid the Mystic Enigma Pavilion''s monitoring," Lenient explained, pulling out his onyx tablet. "Made of onyx - the two types can''t communicate. I had to buy this new one specially, which is why it took me longer to get here. Otherwise, I would have come to find you sooner..."


    Lenient paused, gazing at Flint tenderly. "I''ve missed you so much, little stone."


    Ugh, so mushy, Seedling thought to herself.


    Flint shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Lenient''s emotions, which she could sense radiating through her mental barrier - pure joy and romantic bliss. She wasn''t even sure if they were actually in a relationship, or if their past life connection was real. The uncertainty made this moment feel even more awkward.


    "Um, Seedling," she said, turning to her friend, "you should head back now. We need to discuss some things."


    Seedling''s tail swished knowingly. This scene felt strangely familiar - hadn''t she witnessed something similar when Flint and Spark would steal private moments together? "Alright, alright," she grinned, backing away. "Enjoy your romantic time together!"


    Flint watched until Seedling disappeared from view before turning to Lenient, lowering her voice. "Did you get the glove?"


    "Of course." Lenient pulled a white glove from the emerald pendant on his necklace. "Felicity only gave me one though. She was worried about losing both. Should I go steal it now?"


    "Not yet," Flint shook her head. "Wait for my signal."


    "Little stone!" Lenient gripped her forearm, his lips forming a pout. "That wolf hasn''t betrayed you, has he?"


    "No, actually he''s helping me with cleaning duties. It''s my punishment from the sect for the theft attempt."


    "Punishment?" Lenient''s emotions flared with sudden anger that Flint could feel radiating through her mental barrier, followed by a wave of sadness. "If only I had my past life''s power level. When I reach Deity, I''ll wipe this sect off the map to avenge you."


    Flint was rendered speechless. In some strange way, Spark and Lenient were oddly similar.


    "Should I spare that little fox lady''s life when that time comes?" Lenient asked with complete seriousness.


    Flint stared at him in disbelief, deeply unsettled by how earnest he seemed about this proposal. "It...won''t be necessary...to wipe all the sect."


    "Oh? Then who should we kill? That wolf must die, right?" Lenient interpreted Flint''s words as meaning they should only kill specific people, his gentle smile unchanged as he discussed murder.


    An image of Sage Mortius Crane''s face flashed unbidden through Flint''s mind. She furrowed her brow and shook her head, disturbed by how easily she''d considered it. Lenient''s casual attitude toward killing was starting to affect her own thoughts.


    "Let''s not kill anyone," Flint sighed. "Once we retrieve Obsidian''s remains, we''ll just leave this place behind."


    "Flint," Lenient spoke her current life''s name with sudden gravity, his sage-colored eyes filled with an ancient sadness. "You''re too merciful to our enemies."


    He gave her a smile that was both tender and mournful. "This is where you were executed in your past life, after all."


    Flint listened as melancholy seeped into Lenient''s voice, like autumn leaves drifting onto a still lake - beautiful, yet carrying the first whispers of winter''s chill. The depth of his sorrow resonated through her mental barrier, each ripple of emotion as clear as moonlight on water.


    Looking into Lenient''s sage-green eyes, she felt time itself bend between them, stretching across centuries. In that moment, she remembered how Obsidian must have felt in those final hours - the bone-deep weariness, the crushing weight of farewell as they parted from The Bamboo Sovereign for the last time.


    Lenient''s playful demeanor shifted, his expression turning serious as he dropped the childish nickname. "Flint, how much do you remember?"


    Flint fell silent for a moment, considering her fragmented memories. "Not much, I think. I remember founding the Abyssal Pavilion together, saving Sage South Rain, and... Blaze Mighty."


    At that name, Lenient''s eyes grew cold. "It''s that wolf, isn''t it?"


    "What?" Flint looked puzzled by his sudden change in tone.


    "Blaze Mighty''s reincarnation - it''s that wolf, right?"


    "Well... maybe. What''s wrong?" Flint sensed his emotions darkening through her mental barrier.


    "So he found you first again." Lenient let out a self-deprecating laugh, his face taking on an unsettling playful expression. "Are you sure you haven''t fallen in love with him?"


    Flint stared into Lenient''s eyes, which held an ocean of sadness beneath their sage-colored surface. She swallowed hard, remembering her response to Spark''s "Do you really like me a little?" - that hesitant "Maybe... a little." But she couldn''t bring herself to admit this to Lenient. A wave of guilt washed over her, as if she had betrayed him somehow. She steadied herself before answering casually: "No, I haven''t."


    "It''s alright," Lenient''s voice was gentle but carried an icy edge. "Whether you love him or not, since he''s Blaze Mighty''s reincarnation, I will kill him."


    The smile he gave Flint was both tender and chilling - like frost forming on spring flowers.


    "Why does it have to be life and death..." Flint protested quietly. "Besides, he''s helping us retrieve Obsidian''s remains..."


    Lenient stroked her head affectionately, his touch gentle but his words razor-sharp: "Then I''ll wait until he''s done helping before I kill him."


    Flint realized both Lenient and Spark wanted to kill each other, but given their power levels, Lenient would undoubtedly succeed. While Spark could only make threats, Lenient would actually follow through. She needed to dissuade him from this path.


    Taking a deep breath, she said, "Actually, I don''t think Spark is Blaze Mighty''s reincarnation after all."


    "Oh?" Lenient''s interest was piqued. "Then who do you think it is?"


    "Um, maybe, possibly, perhaps..." Flint made a gesture of emptiness, turning both hands palm-up and rotating them to show nothing there. "He hasn''t reincarnated yet?"


    The feeble suggestion hung in the air as awkwardly as her uncertain gestures. Through her mental barrier, she could sense Lenient''s skepticism mixing with amusement at her obvious deception.


    Lenient gently lifted Flint''s hand, studying the ring. "This ring," he mused softly, "looks like it''s made with gems from Inferno Wolves territory."


    Flint swallowed hard, watching Lenient nervously.


    "The wolf gave it to you, didn''t he?" Lenient''s voice was calm, but his words cut through the air like a blade.


    Flint found herself unable to fabricate a convincing lie. "Yes," she admitted quietly.


    "So you''d be heartbroken if I killed him, wouldn''t you?" Lenient sighed, his gentle tone belying the weight of his words.


    Flint fell into a panicked silence. Yes, she would be heartbroken if Spark died - but why did that condition have to exist at all? Why did either of them have to die? The questions swirled in her mind like autumn leaves caught in a whirlwind, leaving her speechless and desperate.


    Through her mental barrier, she could feel Lenient''s emotions shifting like shadows at twilight - jealousy, resignation, and beneath it all, a deep, ancient pain that seemed to transcend lifetimes. The cool evening air felt thick with unspoken words.


    Lenient''s sigh broke the heavy silence. "I don''t want to see little stone sad," he said softly, the earlier murderous intent draining from his voice.


    "And I just realized," Lenient forced a smile that didn''t quite reach his eyes, "Spark hasn''t betrayed you in this life, so perhaps he can live... for now."


    He reached out to ruffle Flint''s hair gently, though his next words carried a subtle warning. "But the Inferno Wolves are a pack of traitors. If Spark ever betrays you, little stone, I will kill him. Try not to be too sad when that happens."


    Relief washed over Flint''s face. "Thank you," she breathed, grateful for this temporary reprieve.


    Lenient''s expression shifted into an exaggerated pout, his tone becoming childlike and wheedling. "Why so formal with the ''thank you''? It makes me feel like we''re strangers."


    Through her mental barrier, Flint could sense his emotions shifting rapidly - from jealous possessiveness to childish affection, underlaid with a deep current of determination. She realized that while he might postpone his plans for Spark''s sake, he hadn''t truly abandoned them.


    Lenient brightened suddenly, holding up his new jade tablet with childlike enthusiasm. "This tablet will only have little stone''s contact information! Remember to message me!" His smile was radiant, though it couldn''t quite mask the loneliness in his eyes.


    After bidding farewell to Flint, he watched her figure fade into the distance, his own shadow stretching long and thin in the setting sun.


    He resumed his solitary perch on the cliff''s edge, pulling out his onyx tablet. As the screen lit up and the call connected, his composure finally cracked. "Senior Mountain," he choked out between sudden sobs, "my little stone has fallen for someone else. Can we go drinking together?"

 Chapter 39: Deceptive Symphony

    Flint tightened the inner sleeve where she had hidden the CPM, creating a noticeable bulge that her outer robe''s flowing sleeves concealed perfectly. She had disabled the crystal core''s receiving function, transforming it into a simple beacon that would continuously request updates whenever it detected new program signals.


    From her position behind one of the sect''s auxiliary buildings, she observed the maintenance routine of the newly updated puppets. Their wooden joints moved with an uncanny smoothness, each step accompanied by the faint sound of polished wood against stone as they spread out to transmit the new program to their older counterparts. A faint smile crossed her lips as she watched Raven follow one puppet away, leaving another to wander in her direction.


    Like a dancer leading an unwitting partner, Flint began a careful backward retreat. She maintained a precise distance - close enough to keep the puppet''s attention, far enough to avoid suspicion. Each of her steps was calculated, drawing the wooden sentinel closer to her dormitory building.


    No one paid much attention to the puppet following her inside - cleaning puppets in dormitories were a common sight. Flint quickened her pace up the stairs, her footsteps light but audible. Every few steps, she glanced back, her gaze meeting the puppet''s crystal eyes as they caught the morning light. The crystal core in her sleeve felt warm against her skin, its presence both reassuring and dangerous.


    Flint gently closed and locked the door behind her. The puppet stood unnervingly close, its crystalline eyes pulsing with ethereal blue light. The rhythmic flashing reminded her of a confused child, endlessly trying to complete its update protocol only to timeout again and again. Of course, she knew better - these constructs held no true emotions, only endless loops of programmed responses.


    Her fingers danced across her Mystic Terminal''s surface, initiating the transfer request. The puppet''s response was immediate, its posture shifting ever so slightly as it detected the new terminal presence. The crystal in its chest brightened, beginning the firmware transmission.


    Raw data flooded her screen - an endless stream of zeros and ones flowing like a digital river. The message transmitted back included new firmware program. Every thirty-two bits formed a single instruction in the Soulweaver intermediate language, each one corresponding to a fundamental runic circle. A rune program may have millions of such circles.


    The data analysis completed, revealing the checksum buried within. Using her reverse engineering program, Flint methodically converted the binary stream back into Soulweaver intermediate language. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed something peculiar - the checksum matched a string stored in the firmware''s data section perfectly. Could this be the password?


    With measured movements, she attempted to connect to the puppet using the string. Nothing. A wry smile crossed her face - of course it wouldn''t be that simple. Even the Mystic Enigma Pavilion wouldn''t be naive enough to embed a plain password in their code, though they probably never expected anyone to decompile their programs in the first place.


    She dove deeper into her reverse engineering tool, tracking down the password verification routine. After several minutes of intense study, her fingers hovering over the glowing characters, she found it. The verification was indeed checking against that same string - but only after passing through another function. The function itself was a maze of calculations, likely some form of encryption.


    The simplest solution presented itself: remove the verification entirely. Working with practiced precision, she generated a new firmware version stripped of these checks. I¡¯d better find something to try. Flint thought.


    She turned off the CPM¡¯s function to send messages out, confirming that the puppet responsible for updates had tried to leave her own dormitory due to the lack of a new update target. However, it could only futilely attempt to open the locked door.


    Flint¡¯s mouth curled up in a smile, now the puppet will no longer attempt to transmit its firmware to this CPM. Her heart beating slightly faster, she tested it first on her only remaining CPM. After adding the checksum, she watched with bated breath as the crystal core accepted her modified firmware.


    With trembling fingers betraying her excitement, she initiated a connection to this CPM. Success! Error messages immediately flooded her screen, reporting all limb connections had been severed. Flint''s lips curved into a satisfied smile - exactly as expected. The crystal core was essentially a disembodied brain, and like any proper system, it was dutifully reporting the loss of its peripheral connections. The fact that it could report these errors at all meant her modified firmware was working perfectly.


    She contemplated transmitting the firmware back to the updating puppet, which would give her a complete puppet to control! However, when she attempted the transmission, it was rejected with the message that the target was not in an updatable state.


    Flint pondered this for a moment. It made sense - they wouldn''t want new puppets getting stuck in an endless update loop with each other.


    Still, she had successfully cracked the puppet verification system. For now, she just needed to let this puppet quietly leave.


    Just as she unlocked the door and gently pushed it open, she found herself face to face with Raven, who stood there with her Mystic Terminal in hand, staring in bewilderment at Flint and the puppet.


    Flint reacted with lightning speed, shoving the puppet through the doorway. She positioned herself to block Raven''s view, her hand behind her back swiftly pulling the door shut. Her heart seemed to stop at the sight of Raven, resuming its beat only after the door clicked closed.


    Outside, her hand instinctively brushed her waist, searching for a familiar shape. Damn it, left the key inside. She pushed the thought aside - she could always request a spare from the management puppet later... or hack her way in...oh but her Mystic Terminal was in her room¡­


    Flint drew in a deep breath, forcing her mind to focus. What mattered now was determining exactly what Raven had seen, and finding a way to explain it away... and if that failed...


    The memory of Lenient''s cold words flashed through her mind: "this bad wolf has heard too much" - right before he''d threatened to kill Spark. A chill ran down her spine as she realized her thoughts were beginning to mirror Lenient''s ruthless pragmatism.


    "Hey, Raven," Flint greeted with practiced innocence as the puppet retreated down the hallway. "What brings you here?"


    Raven''s eyes darted between Flint and the retreating puppet, her fingers nervously tapping against her Mystic Terminal. A forced smile spread across her face, not quite reaching her eyes.


    "Oh, haha..." Raven''s finger traced nervous circles on her Mystic Terminal screen, fixated on a single dot indicating a puppet - or rather, just a CPM - in Flint''s room. "Just wondering why the firmware update puppet came inside. Seemed a bit strange, you know?"


    Holy crap, could Flint be the one who modified all those puppets Mason couldn''t connect to? The thought raced through Raven''s mind as her awkward smile remained plastered on her face.


    "Ah, I just saw it come in and thought it could help clean my room!" Flint matched Raven''s uncomfortable smile, scratching her head with an exaggerated casualness.


    "But it wasn''t carrying any cleaning tools," Raven pointed out, caught between amusement and suspicion.


    "I have tools in my room! I just hand them over and it knows what to do," Flint continued her improvisation, adding with practiced admiration, "Your Mystic Enigma Pavilion''s technology is really amazing!"


    Raven knew perfectly well that this particular puppet was programmed for defense protocols - it wouldn''t handle cleaning duties without deliberate reprogramming. Which left two possibilities: either Flint was using the puppet for something else entirely, or she had somehow gained control of the puppet system and actually managed to make it clean. The second option seemed highly implausible.


    What would Flint want with a puppet behind closed doors? Any why is there a CPM in her room? Raven wondered, her mind racing. But then a more pressing thought surfaced - Whatever she''s doing, could it somehow implicate me?


    "Actually," Raven''s eyes fixed on Flint with growing concern, "my Mystic Terminal is showing a CPM in your room."If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The words hung in the air between them, shattering Flint''s carefully constructed facade. Even if she could explain away calling a puppet for cleaning, there was no innocent explanation for having a CPM in her possession. Not after she''d explicitly told Raven she''d never even looked at puppet documentation.


    Damn it, I should have powered down that CPM. Flint''s heart sank as her mind raced through possible explanations, finding none.


    Their eyes met in a moment of tense silence. Suddenly, Raven took a step backward.


    Why is she backing away? Flint found herself puzzled by Raven''s unexpected movement. Is she... afraid of me?


    That look in her eyes - she wouldn''t actually silence me, would she? Cold sweat trickled down Raven''s back. And then what? Let the Celestial Sword Sect hunt her down? They''d eventually trace the Mystic Terminal back to me anyway!


    If I report Flint for having a hidden CPM, I''ll be implicated as an accomplice in selling her the Mystic Terminal. Raven''s thoughts raced as she studied Flint''s face.


    If she''s just doing some harmless research, maybe we could keep this between us... but some secrets are like weights - light as a feather until you try to carry them, then they crush you under their mass.


    "Well..." Raven and Flint spoke simultaneously.


    "You first." They synchronized again.


    "Let me speak," Flint took the initiative, her voice softening. "I''ve always considered you a friend. Aren''t we planning to establish our own sect together in the future?"


    She watched as Raven''s tense expression eased slightly at the mention of their shared ambition. Good, she''s receptive.


    "Because I trust you as a friend, I told you about my identity - that I''m Obsidian Snow''s reincarnation..." Flint carefully monitored Raven''s reaction as she spoke. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and continued:


    "As you know, the Mystic Enigma Pavilion''s puppet technology is exceptional. The Abyssal Pavilion doesn''t have anything like it yet, and I was hoping to bring this technology back..." Whether the Abyssal Pavilion actually had puppets or not, Flint didn''t know, but it seemed like the most plausible explanation she could offer.


    Flint watched Raven''s expression closely. She knew Raven didn''t share the Celestial Sword Sect''s prejudice against the Abyssal Pavilion, nor did she hold much loyalty to the Mystic Enigma Pavilion - after all, someone truly loyal wouldn''t be selling Mystic Terminals on the side. Raven cared primarily about her own interests. Seeing Raven''s expression gradually relax, Flint knew she''d played her cards right.


    "You see," she continued, bringing her hand to her lips in a thoughtful gesture, "while I don''t own the Abyssal Pavilion, I held considerable authority there in my past life. I could exchange this puppet technology with their current leadership for a substantial sum..." She paused for effect. "That could give us the initial funding we need for our sect..."


    Raven felt a surge of warmth - she hadn''t expected Flint to take her casual talk of founding a sect so seriously. This isn''t such a big deal after all. A relaxed smile spread across her face. "Oh, it''s not that serious! You should have told me earlier! I can get you more documentation!" She stepped closer to Flint, giving her shoulder a friendly pat.


    "About the money though..." Raven draped her arm around Flint''s neck, her other hand making the universal gesture for money - thumb rubbing against forefinger. "How much do you think you can get for it?"


    Need to name a figure that''ll shock her. Flint closed her eyes in mock contemplation. "I''m thinking... two million." Exactly one hundred times what Raven had charged for the Mystic Terminal.


    "Two million?" Raven''s eyes widened like saucers.


    Is that too much or too little? Maintaining her thoughtful expression, Flint probed carefully, "You think it''s not enough?"


    "Not enough? How could that possibly be not enough?" Raven''s mind raced with possibilities, briefly entertaining the idea of pursuing such profits herself. Then she remembered the stories about the Abyssal Pavilion being filled with murderous outlaws. Someone without connections like her trying to do business there would be practically suicidal.


    "Well, you know, all the documentation on your Mystic Terminal came from me, so about this... money..." Raven rubbed her fingers together suggestively.


    Ah, profit-sharing time. Flint mentally rolled her eyes, but at least she had Raven secured now. "We split it fifty-fifty."


    "As the main decision-maker in our future sect..." Raven began diplomatically.


    "Sixty-forty, your favor."


    "That CPM in your room probably can''t stay there..."


    "Seventy-thirty."


    "Deal!" Raven hugged Flint enthusiastically. "Let''s exchange contact details. I''ll visit you at the Abyssal Pavilion!"


    Who knows if jade tablets even work there? Flint thought of Lenient''s onyx tablet. I''ll just pretend I died or something.


    "Remember to turn off that CPM in your room!" Raven patted Flint''s shoulder, the gesture serving both as a seal on their deal and a reassurance. "We don''t want the other three fossils noticing anything strange when they pass by."


    Though Raven knew the remaining team members rarely checked individual puppets and wouldn''t climb the stairs even if they detected one in the building, she felt compelled to warn Flint anyway.


    Flint nodded. "Don''t worry."


    She watched until Raven disappeared down the stairs, then turned back to her locked door with a heavy sigh. Now she just had to figure out how to get it open.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The afternoon sunlight made Raven drowsy, but the prospect of unexpected wealth kept her in a state of pleasant excitement.


    The puppets would update themselves; she really had nothing to do. Walking cheerfully along the Celestial Sword Sect''s paths, she spotted Spark sweeping with a ''Thief'' sign stuck to his back. Why not spread some kindness?


    She approached, tapped her ear clip to shut down the puppet, and called out, "Day''s over! Wolf prince, have a nice day!"


    Spark turned to find Raven and the deactivated puppet. Recognizing that she was offering an early end to his punishment duty covering for Flint, his lips curved into a slight smile. "You seem to have too much free time."


    "Hey, I just helped you! Couldn''t you say something nice?" Raven pretended to be angry. "Like offering to spend a romantic evening with me as thanks?"


    Spark, long since immune to Raven''s flirtatious banter, didn''t bother to respond. He simply put the broom aside and awkwardly reached behind to pull at one corner of the cloth writing ¡®Theif¡¯. Seeing his struggle, Raven darted over to help remove the remaining three corners.


    Spark folded the paper with text inward and turned to leave. "I''m going."


    "Where to?"


    "Aura Meditation Ground, to meditate." His response was emotionless.


    Raven sighed dramatically. "Why are you so boring? Can''t you stay and chat?"


    "What could we possibly have to talk about?" A corner of Spark''s mouth quirked up.


    "You promised me a jewel from Inferno Wolves last time! Shouldn''t we discuss what style?" Raven reminded him of his offer of a ring.


    Ah right, I said that to distract her from the CPM residue on Flint''s hand. Well, it''s just a jewel, I can give her one sometime. "Sure, which type do you want?"


    "Oh, I''d love a Seraphic Citrine as beautiful as your eyes~" Actually, Raven preferred rubies, but maybe this time her flirting would finally work on Spark.


    "Noted." Spark nodded and turned to leave again.


    "Wait!" Raven called after him, sidling closer to whisper in a mock-threatening tone, "I know now - that glowing powder on Flint''s hands last time was from touching a CPM."


    Spark froze mid-step, turning to face Raven with disbelieving eyes. Hold on, is she testing me? He forced himself to stay calm.


    "What''s a CPM?" Spark feigned ignorance, but the flicker of panic in his eyes betrayed him.


    "Stop pretending," Raven waved dismissively. "It''s not such a big deal anyway."


    Seeing Spark''s silence, Raven''s lips curled into a smile.


    "Oh~" She gave him a mischievous look. "If you wanted to give me another jewel to keep my silence, I wouldn''t mind~"


    Raven watched Spark''s eyes as she spoke, but the coldness in his gaze sent a chill down her spine.


    He wouldn''t actually kill me, would he? Why does this feel so familiar? Raven unconsciously took a step back.


    "But wasn''t it you who sold Flint the Mystic Terminal?" Spark countered coolly.


    Damn, he found my weakness instantly... Raven didn''t even have time to wonder how Spark knew about that. "Actually, forget about the jewel. Flint and I are such close friends, of course I''ll protect her..."


    "How did you know?" Spark narrowed his eyes, studying Raven.


    Raven shrugged with forced casualness. "Found it in her room. Must have gotten it after that time we saw the glowing powder on her hands..." Her voice trailed off as an uneasy realization crept in. Something about the morning''s encounter wasn''t adding up.


    Spark frowned. "But she didn''t have anything with her then."


    The words hit Raven like a splash of cold water. She replayed the memory - Flint''s empty hands, the hug she''d given her, no sign of any crystal sphere. Her eyes widened as the pieces clicked together.


    She didn''t take a CPM - she installed one! She''s trying to steal the puppet verification codes! Raven stood frozen, her mind racing.


    If selling information was her goal, why bother with the CPM? Was research really her only motive? Raven realized with growing dread that she''d accepted Flint''s explanation without questioning deeper. What if selling to the Abyssal Pavilion wasn''t her true intention at all?


    "She''s probably just trying to get access for better research..." Raven wrung her hands nervously. She was suddenly aware that she''d inadvertently tied her fate to Flint''s.


    Spark watched the panic spread across Raven''s face with growing suspicion. "Did you actually see Flint with a CPM? Don''t make false accusations."


    "It can''t be... it can''t be..." Raven''s lips trembled, her words barely more than whispers to herself.


    Taking a deep breath, she met Spark''s gaze with uncharacteristic seriousness, all her usual playfulness gone. "Spark, what is Flint really trying to do?" Spark must know something, she thought.


    "She''s just interested in runes. That''s why she bought your Mystic Terminal," Spark said with furrowed brows. "She hasn''t touched any CPMs or whatever you''re talking about."


    "Even after knowing she''s going to the Abyssal Pavilion for her man, you still defend her?" Raven brought up what Flint had told her about Lenient.


    Spark''s gaze turned icier. "That''s none of your business."


    Why does this scene feel so familiar? Raven thought helplessly. But a growing sense of dread made her heart race. "I just realized - has she done something, or is she planning something, that would force her to leave the Celestial Sword Sect?"


    Spark''s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his voice steady. "She''s just going to find that wooden man, nothing more."


    "No, Spark, you''re her accomplice." Raven''s usual cheerfulness had vanished, replaced by a shadow of foreboding. "She can just walk away, but can you?"


    Spark clutched the cloth tighter in his hands. "That''s her choice." His voice, meant to sound resolute, wavered slightly at the end.


    "Spark, just how serious is this?" Raven frowned, already calculating whether she should forfeit her potential 1.4 million to report Flint. The money would be easy for Flint to deny anyway. But she needed more information first.


    "I''ve told you! There''s no conspiracy - she''s just studying runes!" Spark snapped.


    "And going to find her lover, who isn''t you." Raven added the taunt with a quiet bite.


    "What ''lover''! She doesn''t even like that wooden man!" Spark''s anger flared at the mockery.


    "Oh? Does she like you then?" Raven smirked, raising an eyebrow.


    Spark''s brows furrowed. Flint did like him a little, didn''t she? Probably? But he didn''t want to argue with Raven about this.


    "If she likes you, why is she leaving?" Raven continued.


    "Enough!" Spark roared, "Can you shut up!"


    "Spark," Raven''s tone softened, taking on an almost seductive quality, "why can''t you stop whatever this is and keep her by your side? Does she really have to leave?"


    Only the Mystic Terminal could be traced back to me. Any other suspicions would be easy to shake off, Raven thought, frowning. I need to find a way to destroy that Terminal.


    A flicker of uncertainty crossed Spark''s face as complex emotions welled up inside him. She''s right - it''s just a piece of obsidian. Does it really have to be taken? Why must Flint leave?


    Raven caught his hesitation, realizing there must be plans in motion beyond her imagination. Not that it mattered to her - as long as she wasn''t implicated.


    "It''s simple," Raven smiled softly. "Just destroy her Mystic Terminal."


    At those words, clarity suddenly washed over Spark. Destroy the Mystic Terminal - that would conveniently absolve you of any involvement, wouldn''t it, Raven?


    With this realization, he returned her smile. "Don''t be so nervous. Flint just wants to study runes, maybe explore puppet technology a bit. She has her own plans."


    Spark''s unexpected composure caught Raven off guard. Why did he seem so at ease? Was Flint really just interested in studying puppet technology?


    Maybe her 1.4 million spirit stones weren''t just a fantasy after all? Perhaps Flint hadn''t been lying? Raven''s certainty began to waver.


    Then Spark suddenly took her hand, the one adorned with the ruby ring. "You know, rubies really do suit you. How about another ring - much larger than this one?"


    He leaned in close to her ear, with an intimacy he''d never shown before, and whispered: "After all, you''re an accomplice too."

 Chapter 40: Drunk Pines Revelations

    Lenient wiped away his tears, his pine-scented fingers leaving traces of crystalline sap on his cheeks. "Serene, Little Stone really fell for that wretched wolf. She won''t even let me kill him." His voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying a deeper hurt than his casual words suggested.


    Serene Mountain''s brow furrowed ever so slightly as Lenient attempted to lean against him, the latter''s movements already unsteady from the wine. With practiced patience, Serene gently pushed him back upright. "Master Patio was clear - engaging in combat within Celestial Sword Sect territory would be too risky."


    The wine in Lenient''s cup sloshed dangerously as his head bobbed up and down, fighting against drowsiness. Meanwhile, Serene had barely touched his first cup, the fragrant liquid holding little appeal for him. The dim lamplight caught the metal rims of his glasses as he watched his companion with growing concern.


    "Though I don''t know this Little Stone you speak of," Serene spoke carefully, adjusting his sitting position to maintain some distance from the increasingly affectionate Lenient, "I believe we should return to the Abyssal Pavilion soon. How much longer does she need to stay?"


    A shadow of unease crossed Serene''s face as he contemplated their vulnerable position. Outside the Mountain Heart Kingdom, especially this far from Abyssal Pavilion territory, their safety couldn''t be guaranteed. While the Immortal Alliance might present a righteous facade, their secret organizations were just as capable of bloody work.


    Serene stared into his cup, the wine''s surface reflecting his troubled thoughts. He wondered which was truly cleaner - the Immortal Alliance''s shadowy organizations or the Abyssal Pavilion with its openly acknowledged assassination business.


    Before he could pursue that line of thinking further, Lenient draped himself over Serene''s shoulders, nuzzling against him like an oversized cat seeking attention. "The Celestial Sword Sect," he slurred, his breath heavy with wine, "those people... hic... they''re so easy to deal with. Last time I could''ve killed that wolf without breaking a sweat... hic... if only Little Stone hadn''t stopped me."


    Serene''s nose wrinkled at the wave of alcohol-laden breath washing over his face. A peculiar thought crossed his mind - if Lenient were to split open his stomach right now, would wine pour out? The mental image was so absurd that a small smile tugged at his lips.


    "What''re you laughing at?" Lenient pulled back slightly, putting on an exaggerated pout. "Don''t you believe me?"


    "No, no, you must be seeing things," Serene replied, though his smile only grew wider, betraying his amusement.


    This was mortal territory, the northeastern Frostshore Empire. Even if some locals had heard whispers of the Celestial Sword Sect''s existence, they rarely concerned themselves with cultivator affairs. Lenient''s talk of killing wouldn''t raise many eyebrows here.


    Serene felt a small measure of relief at being away from Celestial Sword Sect territory. He quietly hoped Lenient would stay put in the Frostshore Empire for the next few days, patiently waiting until this Flint person left the sect. Then they could return immediately to the Abyssal Pavilion.


    Looking at the drunken pine tree swaying beside him, Serene sighed inwardly. Master Patio had tasked him with keeping this mad pine tree out of trouble - like babysitting a powder keg with a lit fuse. Yet Master Patio''s orders were absolute. As Lenient started humming an off-key tune about stones and wolves, Serene adjusted his glasses and wondered how many more nights of drunken confessions he would have to endure.


    A woman''s voice suddenly cut through the tavern''s ambient noise, making Serene instantly alert. Lenient, however, remained oblivious, still nuzzling against Serene''s shoulder like an affectionate cat.


    "What brings you here?"


    Serene pushed Lenient away, and the drunken pine tree slumped forward onto the table with a soft thud. As Serene turned, he saw a woman in pristine white robes, her hair elegantly swept up and secured with a silver hairpin. His shoulders relaxed slightly as he recognized Sage South Rain - though he''d never understood why a Celestial Sword Sect elder maintained such close ties with the Abyssal Pavilion.


    "Respected Elder South Rain," Serene inclined his head politely, his glasses catching the dim lamplight. "Lenient intends to retrieve someone called Flint. Master Patio sent me to... keep him from causing trouble."


    "Flint?!" South Rain''s brows furrowed deeply. She pulled out a chair and sat across from them at the round table. "Why would you take her away?"


    "Well..." Serene adjusted his glasses nervously, "this pine tree reached Adept level, learned to pilot an ethereal canoe, and suddenly ran off talking about finding his ''little stone''... Master Patio searched for him for quite a while. Then he suddenly returned to grab something. Master Patio tried to stop him, but he promised not to cause any major disturbances. In the end, Master Patio sent me to watch him and contact him if anything seems amiss." Serene explained the sequence of events, though he himself wasn''t quite clear on why Lenient was so determined to find Flint.


    "How can you be so reckless?" South Rain''s voice had lost its usual gentleness. "It''s not yet time for Flint to leave."


    "And when exactly would be the right time?" Lenient''s head rose slowly from the table, his voice eerily calm but laced with venom. His eyes, usually warm like amber sap, had taken on a cold, crystalline quality. "She''s being mistreated in the Celestial Sword Sect. Why should she stay there any longer?"


    "Or rather", Lenient''s eyes, like emerald gems, radiated an icy chill. "Have you decided that Celestial Sword Sect, a mere puppet of the Immortal Alliance, is superior to the Abyssal Pavilion now, Rain Ink?"


    The long-unused name hit South Rain like a physical blow. The accusation left her speechless, stirring uncomfortable questions. Had her time in the Celestial Sword Sect truly changed her? Had she allowed herself to be infected by the Immortal Alliance''s way of thinking, even though she''d come here carrying hatred for them?


    She met Lenient''s gaze - those eyes, gentle yet frost-laden, just like...


    "Bamboo Sovereign, I didn''t mean..." South Rain''s voice trailed off as she realized her mistake. She glanced uncertainly at Serene, who gestured toward the pine tree. "Lenient Pine," he corrected quietly.


    "Lenient, I just think Flint needs to advance her level a bit more..." South Rain said, her voice lacking its usual conviction.


    "Can''t she do that anywhere?" Lenient crossed his arms on the table and rested his chin on his interlaced fingers, a knowing smile playing across his face as he watched South Rain.


    "Oh, right," Lenient tilted his head slightly, his smile never wavering. "I heard Obsidian''s remains are kept in the Celestial Sword Sect. Has Little Stone mentioned anything about that?"


    South Rain nodded reluctantly. "But there''s nothing I can do..."


    "Little Stone will find a way. She''s so clever," Lenient''s smile widened, his wine-glazed eyes sparkling with delight. "Though she might need your help with that."


    Sage South Rain nodded quietly, ¡°I will definitely help her.¡±


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The dim lamplight cast dancing shadows across Lenient''s face as he leaned forward. "That¡¯s good" His voice carried a weight that seemed to press down on the very air around them. "The days living under the sun must feel wonderful, but you came from the Chasm of Abyss, didn''t you, Rain?"


    Serene felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Gone was the playful, wine-addled pine tree from moments ago. In his place sat someone altogether different - someone whose very presence commanded attention. The way Lenient held himself, the measured cadence of his words, even the sharp intelligence behind his eyes - it all spoke of authority that seemed at odds with his usual carefree demeanor.


    Although Master Patio had mentioned Lenient being the Bamboo Sovereign''s reincarnation, Serene had never witnessed any trace of that legendary figure in their daily interactions. Yet here he was, an Adept-level pine tree, speaking to a Legend-level elder as if addressing a subordinate. The incongruity of it made Serene''s head spin more than the untouched wine before him.


    Sage South Rain''s lips pressed together tightly, her face etched with concern in the dim lamplight. "Yes, I remember it well."


    Lenient propped his head on one hand, elbow resting on the table as if he might drift off to sleep at any moment. "I''ve been remembering more and more lately. An Inferno Wolf deceived Little Stone - I mean, Obsidian in her past life..." He waved his free hand lazily. "And now another bad wolf is trying to deceive her in this life too. The details are still fuzzy, but it might help explain why Obsidian chose to..." His voice trailed off meaningfully.


    "Chose to?" South Rain''s usual composure cracked. "Three hundred years ago, you said the Immortal Alliance executed her!"


    Three hundred years ago? Was the pine planted then? Serene thought, before realizing South Rain must be referring to the Bamboo Sovereign''s previous life.


    "Well, maybe it was execution," Lenient gestured vaguely with his unoccupied hand. "But I keep dreaming of her last words to me...''I can''t live anymore''...then she just exploded. Now I wonder if perhaps..."


    Lenient paused, his eyes distant. "Though I couldn''t tell our family at the Abyssal Pavilion that Little Stone took her own life because she couldn''t bear the Immortal Alliance''s torment. It might¡­ dishonor her memory a bit. Better to say the Immortal Alliance did everything. They bear responsibility anyway."


    South Rain''s eyes lowered, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "Suicide... what did she experience? What could drive her to such an end?"


    Lenient rubbed his forehead, staring into his wine cup as hatred and sorrow brewed beneath his casual demeanor. "Perhaps when she apologized to me in that moment, she was actually..." He paused to take another sip of wine. "Perhaps she already knew she was going to die. She was apologizing for that inevitability."


    "Already knew?" Confusion deepened in South Rain''s eyes. "How much have you remembered?"


    "The memories come in fragments. But I''ve been thinking - Little Stone was immune to poison, couldn''t feel pain or temperature changes. What methods could the Immortal Alliance possibly use to make her give up on living?" Lenient sighed heavily. "Then it occurred to me - maybe she had already decided to die before she even reached the Immortal Alliance. Though I can''t be certain..."


    Serene listened quietly, unused to seeing such profound melancholy from the usually childlike Lenient.


    "Resentment force!" South Rain''s eyes suddenly went wide. "They must have exposed Master Snow to Resentment force!"


    Lenient forced his wine-addled eyes to focus. "What?"


    "Flint also bled from every pore when she encountered Resentment force - she must have been in incredible pain," South Rain''s voice grew heavy with realization. "And she has a mental barrier, though it''s cracked now. It reacts to emotions, making her even more susceptible to Resentment force."


    "I wonder why the Celestial Sword Sect is still on the map," Lenient chuckled softly, a sound that sent an unexpected chill down Serene''s spine.


    South Rain''s hands rested motionless on the table. "There''s something I still don''t understand. If Master Snow anticipated her death before going to the Immortal Alliance... why... I mean, even if she chose suicide, why not do it at the Abyssal Pavilion?"


    Was it to spare the Bamboo Sovereign''s feelings? The thought lingered unspoken in South Rain''s mind.


    "I can''t make sense of it either." Lenient exhaled heavily. "Perhaps you could investigate how that wolf managed to lure Little Stone to the Immortal Alliance in the first place."


    A heavy silence fell over the table before South Rain spoke again, her voice firm with resolve. "I understand. I''ll look into it."


    "You''re becoming more like him," South Rain''s smile held a hint of nostalgia. "When I first met you, you seemed just a child. Now you speak like the Bamboo Sovereign who lived for centuries."


    "Why say ''like''?" Lenient''s smile was gentle, almost dreamy. "I am him."


    "When I started remembering Little Stone, I became him again." His voice carried a complex mixture of melancholy and joy. "As long as Little Stone is still Little Stone, I remain who I am."


    But is Flint truly the same as Obsidian was? South Rain fell into contemplation. Back then, Obsidian had been her respected master, but now Flint felt more like... her daughter.


    The thought of ''daughter'' made South Rain''s heart clench unexpectedly, followed by a bitter smile. She didn''t want to remember those things anymore.


    "Just keep doing what you need to do. I trust you," Lenient said, taking another sip of wine. "Would you like some?"


    "No," South Rain shook her head. "I only stopped because I spotted familiar figures while flying on my sword over the sect. Fortunately, you weren''t discovered."


    "Well, I''m not on the Immortal Alliance''s wanted list in this life yet!" Lenient''s laughter rang out. "We''re just friendly visitors, right, Serene?"


    Serene, who had been silently observing the exchange between Lenient and South Rain, startled at the sudden mention of his name. Caught off guard, he could only manage a mechanical nod in agreement.


    "Serene..." South Rain murmured the name thoughtfully. She had seen him before but never learned his name, knowing only that he was Lenient''s friend. "Did Wind give you that name?"


    The unexpected question left Serene momentarily bewildered. "Um, yes," he nodded, adjusting his glasses nervously.


    Not a good name. Wind Patio still can''t let go of him. South Rain kept the thought to herself. Some truths were better left unspoken, and Serene seemed too innocent for such burdens.


    "I should go," South Rain bid her farewell and departed, leaving Lenient to immediately resume his affectionate posture, draping an arm around Serene''s neck.


    "Serene, isn''t life beautiful in the sunlight~" Lenient sang out dreamily, echoing his earlier words to South Rain.


    "But remember," Lenient''s wine-laden breath tickled Serene''s ear, making him recoil slightly in disgust, "our home is in the Chasm of Abyss~"


    Lenient tilted his head back, then suddenly slammed it down onto the table with such force that Serene feared it might detach entirely. The arm around Serene''s shoulders slipped away as Lenient collapsed forward, already deep in drunken sleep.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Raven threw on her clothes haphazardly, while Nightbane still lay in bed.


    Raven sat on her bed, absentmindedly tracing the contours of Nightbane¡¯s abs with her fingers. She found herself wondering what Spark¡¯s muscles looked like.


    However, even though she had indeed slept with a spiritual beast, she still felt inexplicably anxious, devoid of the joy that should have followed such an encounter. Her mind was completely preoccupied with Flint¡¯s unknown plans.


    "Tell me," she asked Nightbane, who lounged nearby, his amber eyes watchful, "how does the Celestial Sword Sect handle those who break their rules?"


    "Rules?" Nightbane''s amber eyes blinked innocently. "Do you mean Immortal Alliance laws or Celestial Sword Sect regulations?"


    "Um, sect regulations?" Raven felt a flicker of confusion. Unlike the Mystic Enigma Pavilion, where sect rules and Alliance laws seemed interchangeable, the Celestial Sword Sect apparently maintained some distinction. The intricacies of these relationships escaped her.


    "Just fines and forced labor, usually." Nightbane stroked his chin as he recalled.


    Raven''s brow furrowed. "About those fines..." She chose her words carefully. "Do they apply to outside... involved parties?"


    "Involved parties?" Nightbane cocked his head, genuinely puzzled. "Sect regulations only apply to sect members, don''t they?"


    Relief washed over Raven. She probably wouldn''t face consequences¡ªassuming Flint hadn''t done anything too serious. Though as that thought crossed her mind, a new worry took root. What exactly was that girl planning?


    "What about Alliance punishments?" Raven ventured, trying to keep her voice casual.


    "Oh!" Nightbane''s enthusiastically listed them off. "Imprisonment, fines, expulsion from the Alliance, and execution!" His cheerful delivery of that last word sent a chill down Raven''s spine.


    "I see... and do you know..." Raven hesitated, searching for a delicate way to phrase her concern. "During investigations, how do you... I mean, do they ever arrest people who might be involved? Like someone who... accidentally provided tools used in a crime?"


    The question seemed to puzzle Nightbane. His tail stopped wagging as he pondered, amber eyes growing distant. He wasn''t quite sure how to answer - he simply followed Master Mortius''s orders without questioning the bigger picture.


    Even his getting laid with Raven had required his master''s approval, granted after learning of her possible connection to Flint. Master had instructed him to subtly gather information about Flint, though "subtlety" wasn''t exactly Nightbane''s strong suit.


    "Master has never been wrong in his judgment," Nightbane answered with quiet certainty, his amber eyes gleaming with an unsettling focus. "Those who deserve punishment are always caught."


    "Like Flint - master caught her!" Nightbane offered with an innocent smile. Master had told him to ask about Flint ''subtly'', so mentioning her name repeatedly must count as subtle, right?


    At the mention of Flint, Raven''s muscles tensed noticeably. "Um, this Flint... does she cause a lot of trouble?"


    "Oh yes, lots!" Nightbane blurted out before suddenly remembering master''s warning about the underground prison incident. It was all Flint''s fault for discovering it. He''d helped master dispose of those Initiative cultivators who''d forcibly advanced to Adept level through soul absorption...


    But how to take back what he''d already said? Nightbane scratched his head uncertainly. "Or maybe not that much..."


    "Really? What kind of trouble has she gotten into before?" Raven asked, her anxiety mounting.


    "Oh, she just stole some things! And damaged many puppets!" Nightbane blurted out, sharing Flint''s recent incident.


    Raven''s fingers twisted nervously in her lap. "Is theft handled under Alliance law?"


    "Cross-sect incidents get reported to the Alliance!" Nightbane explained, drawing from his master''s past cases. "But internal matters can be handled within the sect!"


    Raven''s thoughts raced. If Flint was planning another theft, surely she wouldn''t target somewhere outside the sect? But with her puppet knowledge and possible access to verification systems, what if she was planning something bigger?


    Before she could stop herself, Raven asked, "What about collaboration between Celestial Sword Sect members and the Abyssal Pavilion? How is that handled?" She immediately regretted the question.


    Nightbane''s usually innocent eyes suddenly sparked with unexpected clarity. "Does Flint have connections to the Abyssal Pavilion?"


    Cold sweat beaded on Raven''s forehead. "Just asking hypothetically," she said quickly.


    "Don''t know," Nightbane replied, his innocent wide eyes now seeming strangely unsettling to Raven. "They haven''t returned yet."


    "Are you and Flint close?" Raven asked, attempting to sound casual.


    "Very close!" Nightbane beamed, convinced that everyone except that wolf liked him. His tail wagged enthusiastically as he added, "I think only that wolf from the Celestial Sword Sect dislikes me!"


    Do they really welcome him? Raven thought to herself, watching Nightbane''s eager expression with barely concealed disdain.


    "Since you''re close with Flint," Raven''s voice grew increasingly hesitant, "maybe you should warn her... um, not to do anything too illegal..." Her words trailed off into an uncertain whisper.


    "Mm-hmm!" Nightbane nodded vigorously, his mind already racing. Master would want to know about this - Flint must be planning something that would get her caught again! He needed to tell Master right away.

 Chapter 41: Eclipse

    In the darkness, a puppet''s previously lightless crystal eyes flickered with a faint blue glow. It stood up and pressed a spot on its body, causing the compartment in its abdomen to open.


    "Not this one." In an ethereal canoe moored on the far side of a peak near the main mountain, Flint tapped at the Mystic Terminal before her. Serene and Lenient sat beside her. The ethereal canoe couldn''t venture too far from the main peak, or it would lose its ability to send and receive signals.


    In the storehouse, the puppet sat back down, its eyes dimming once again. Beside it, another puppet rose to its feet, its eyes coming alive with the same blue glow.


    "This one," Flint murmured, her eyes fixed on the glowing dot moving steadily across her screen toward the Vault of Heaven''s Wisdom. A feed from the puppet''s crystal eyes appeared in the corner of her display, showing the familiar stone path illuminated by moonlight. The visual transmission surprised her, though perhaps it shouldn''t have - she remembered Raven''s words about jade tablets lacking this capability.


    Lenient draped himself over her shoulder like an affectionate cat, his breath warm against her ear as he watched the screen with childlike fascination. "Wow, little stone is amazing," he cooed, nuzzling closer. His sage-colored hair tickled her cheek.


    Beside them, Serene sat perfectly still, eyes closed in concentration. Under his control, a puppet dressed in the distinctive robes of the Celestial Sword Sect walked a careful patrol route - one of Sage South Rain''s clever "arrangements" to maintain their cover. Only the slight movement of his fingers betrayed his active manipulation of the decoy.


    Sage South Rain had volunteered to take over security arrangements for these three months, adjusting her own schedule to do so. She would ensure no other disciples on patrol would visit the peak where Flint was positioned, and any anomalies would be reported to her first. She had promised to help cover up any potential "irregularities."


    Guided by Flint''s control, the puppet suddenly pivoted, its crystalline eyes meeting Spark''s gaze. Through the Mystic Terminal''s display, Flint watched as surprise flickered across Spark''s features - a brief widening of eyes, a slight parting of lips - at the puppet''s unexpected movement. He dropped into a crouch, bringing himself eye-level with the puppet, his face filling Flint''s screen with sharp clarity.


    "What is it?" Spark''s voice came through, clear and questioning.


    Still draped over Flint''s shoulder, Lenient''s face twisted into a scowl of disgust, his previously playful demeanor evaporating instantly. "This irritating wolf," he spat, his warm breath now carrying a hint of frost.


    Flint remained neutral, neither agreeing with nor challenging Lenient''s assessment. "Just checking if you''re here," she responded tersely through the puppet, her fingers dancing across the terminal''s surface with practiced precision. Once she confirmed Spark''s presence, she guided the puppet back toward its original heading - the Vault of Heaven''s Wisdom.


    Spark caught Lenient''s voice through the puppet''s transmission, his brow furrowing in clear distaste, creating deep lines across his forehead. Nevertheless, he fell into step behind the puppet, matching its steady pace toward their destination.


    The early spring breeze still carried winter''s chill as Spark''s mind wandered to Raven''s daily messages on the jade tablet - intimate greetings now peppered with probing questions:


    "What''s Flint been up to lately?" "When is she leaving?"


    Back then, Spark had held out his jade tablet to Flint. "How should I respond?"


    "Just tell her I''ve already left, taking the Mystic Terminal with me," Flint had replied flatly, continuing to eat her meal without looking up.


    The moment Spark sent the message, Raven''s response appeared instantly: "Really? When did this happen?"


    Spark pondered for a moment before replying: "Yesterday."


    More messages from Raven flooded in, but Spark had already lost interest. He flipped the jade tablet face-down on the table and asked Flint, "How do you block someone?"


    Snapping back to the present moment, Spark no longer had to worry about Raven''s irritating messages. A full moon hung high in the sky. Somehow, it reminded him of the eclipse-like mark on Nightbane''s forehead, causing his brow to furrow slightly.


    The puppet''s keys jingled softly as it unlocked the heavy doors of the Vault of Heaven''s Wisdom. Spark steadied himself against the doorframe, following the puppet inside before gently pulling the door closed behind them.


    His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. Before following the puppet further, he turned back toward the entrance, hesitating for a moment before drawing his sword and wedging it between the door handles as a makeshift lock. Only then did he hurry to catch up with the mechanical guide.


    They ascended the spiral staircase together, each wooden step creaking beneath their feet in an eerie duet with the puppet''s clicking joints. The sound echoed softly in the empty vault.


    When they reached their destination, Spark pulled out the white glove Flint had given him - the one Lenient had brought from the Abyssal Pavilion - and slipped them onto his right hand.


    The puppet''s crystal eyes cast a soft blue glow as Flint''s voice emerged from within: "Do you remember?"


    "Yes," Spark answered firmly.


    All they needed was to find the formation''s backend password access point - one touch with the white gloves would do it. Before him, the formation glowed azure, surrounding the crystal cylindrical dome that housed Obsidian''s remains.


    How did she die? The question surfaced unexpectedly in Spark''s mind, gnawing at him with quiet persistence. Was it by my hands?


    His expression darkened at the thought. Pushing the unsettling notion aside, he focused on searching the formation for the access point they needed. Finally, he spotted the marker they''d seen in the diagrams along one edge. When he pressed it gently with his gloved hand, the blue light flared brilliantly for a moment before fading to almost nothing.


    The chamber grew darker still, with only moonlight streaming through the high windows. Spark glanced up at the night sky and noticed something peculiar - the moon appeared to be entering an eclipse.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    He grasped the dome''s handle and lifted - it came up with surprising ease, offering no resistance. Taking the Obsidian fragment, roughly the size of his palm, he tucked it securely into the inner pocket of his sleeve.


    Could it really be this simple? Just as relief began to wash over him, a floorboard creaked somewhere in the attic, the sound sharp and sudden in the silence.


    Who''s there? Spark''s golden eyes pierced the darkness toward the doorway, using the puppet''s blue glow as meager illumination. Beyond the door lay only blackness. Outside, even the moonlight was beginning to fade as the eclipse progressed, casting an ominous shadow over everything in the darkness.


    "What''s wrong?" Flint''s voice came through the puppet, having noticed Spark''s frozen stance on her screen.


    "Nothing." After observing for a moment longer and detecting no further disturbance, Spark let out a quiet breath. Better to leave now, he decided.


    "Let''s go to our meeting spot then," Flint''s voice emanated from the puppet.


    "Alright." Spark followed the puppet as it led the way.


    He descended the stairs, returning to the entrance where they encountered his sword still wedged between the doors. Something felt off as he reached for the hilt with his left hand - a subtle wrongness he couldn''t quite place. After removing the makeshift barrier, the puppet pushed the door open, and they stepped out together. Spark made sure to lock up behind them.


    The nagging sensation of something amiss grew stronger as they walked. Eventually, their paths diverged - the puppet heading one way while Spark made his way alone toward the slope behind the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall. He glanced down at his hands: white glove on the right, sword still gripped in his left.


    Finding the sword increasingly cumbersome, Spark fixed it at the right side of the belt. His gloved right hand unconsciously drifted to his left sleeve, fingers brushing against the weight of the stone concealed within.


    "Let''s go get our package," Flint said to Lenient and Serene, who sat with his eyes closed, concentrating on controlling a puppet disguised as a Celestial Sword Sect disciple.


    Serene just shook his head, eyes still closed, his brows furrowed in visible tension.


    "What''s wrong?" Lenient''s usually playful expression turned serious. "Let me see."


    Serene gave a stiff nod, signaling Lenient to connect with his consciousness through natural aura to link with the puppet.


    "Why so quiet?" The man before them asked.


    Lenient opened his eyes to see a man with dark blue-black hair wearing a navy-blue robe. On his thumb sat an eye-catching ruby ring, roughly the size of a pigeon''s egg.


    A Celestial Sword Sect elder? "Greetings, Elder," Lenient said through the puppet, making it bow respectfully.


    The man studied the puppet, raising an eyebrow with an expression of amused contempt that filled Lenient with inexplicable disgust.


    Shadows began spreading from beneath the man, gradually extending toward the puppet''s feet. Lenient nervously tried to make the puppet retreat, but the shadows enveloped it completely.


    "You don''t have much natural aura, do you?" The man said with a smile.


    This was the last thing Lenient saw before the puppet exploded, the connection abruptly severing from both his and Serene''s consciousness.


    "We need to leave! Now!" Lenient took control of the ethereal canoe, causing Flint and Serene to sway as they struggled to find their balance.


    "Those shadows just now..." Serene asked, massaging his temples, still suffering from the aftermath of the puppet''s destruction.


    "What happened? What did you see?" Flint asked, completely bewildered.


    "Someone discovered our puppet," Lenient explained gravely. "He noticed it didn''t have enough natural aura to be a real Celestial Sword Sect disciple. He might have discovered us. We need to find Spark, get what we came for, and leave immediately."


    Through the darkness, Flint''s eyes suddenly widened as a realization struck her. She turned to Lenient, urgency in her voice. "Where exactly was your puppet when this happened?"


    "Right here on this mountain," Serene answered for Lenient.


    "Then we shouldn''t flee!" Flint exclaimed, her voice sharp with sudden understanding. "Flying away now would only draw attention to us!"


    Lenient''s hands froze on the ethereal canoe''s controls, his expression shifting from determination to uncertainty. "But he might find us here..." his voice trailed off.


    She knew he was right. Flint let out a heavy sigh, her mind racing. Something felt wrong about this entire situation - there shouldn''t have been anyone patrolling this area at all.


    "What did he look like?" she asked tensely, her fingers drumming against the canoe''s edge.


    "Well..." Lenient''s brow furrowed in recollection. "Dark blue-black hair, rather sinister looking. And he had this massive ruby ring."


    Sage Mortius Crane. Flint''s frown deepened at the realization. Of all people to appear... She quickly pulled out her jade tablet, her fingers flying across its surface as she sent an urgent message to Sage South Rain explaining their situation.


    Above them, the moon hung half-covered in shadow now, casting an increasingly eerie darkness over everything below. The encroaching eclipse seemed to mirror their growing predicament, shadows deepening with each passing moment.


    Spark crouched behind a boulder at the base of a slope that led up to the back wall of the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall.


    Scanning the area, he spotted an ethereal canoe gliding through the air toward him. Flint and Lenient sat in front, with someone he didn''t recognize behind them.


    He held the obsidian fragment in one hand while pulling off the white glove with the other - both items to be returned together.


    The ethereal canoe slowed to a stop before him. Serene steadied himself against its edge and glanced behind them, relaxing slightly when he confirmed no one had followed.


    Spark''s face hardened at the sight of Lenient, hatred bubbling up inside him. But now wasn''t the time for revenge.


    "Your items," Spark said curtly, holding out both the white glove and the obsidian toward Flint.


    Before Flint could reach for them - her left hand holding the Mystic Terminal while her right still moved across its screen - Lenient used his natural aura to pull the items directly to himself.


    "Well, well. Who would have thought a treacherous Inferno Wolf could actually keep his word?" Lenient''s smile was sweet as honey but made Spark''s skin crawl.


    Finally. Flint let out a small sigh of relief, her fingers returning to the terminal''s screen where she could now connect to many more puppets in range.


    "Thank you, Spark," Flint said softly, cradling the obsidian fragment.


    Spark gave a slight nod. "Goodbye." Despite his reluctance, he knew Flint couldn''t stay.


    "Let''s-" Flint began to say, but suddenly her eyes widened as she examined the obsidian in her right hand. "Wait!"


    "There''s no Genesis in this stone!" The realization hit her like a thunderbolt. "This isn''t Obsidian''s remains!"


    "Did you see any other stones?" Flint asked, anxiety creeping into her voice.


    "What? No... I just..." Spark held up his right hand, flustered. "I used the white glove to deactivate the formation, opened the dome, and took out that stone... There was just one!"


    A voice from behind Spark made both him and Flint freeze, their blood running cold with recognition.


    "What a touching scene... Is this friendship? Or perhaps romance?"


    Spark turned to face those cold, unforgettable eyes. It was Sage Mortius Crane - the same elder who had presided over Flint''s trial.


    What explanation could he possibly offer now? He stood exposed as Flint''s accomplice.


    "GO! NOW!" Spark shouted at Flint.


    Flint understood Spark''s desperate situation - he was trapped. While she had the means to escape, what would become of him? Yet there was nothing she could do. She had to stick to their escape plan, even if it meant leaving him behind.


    "They''re coming!" Serene''s eyes darted frantically around. "Behind us... left... right... we''re surrounded!"


    Flint''s gaze shot up to the towering back wall of the Heaven-Piercing Grand Hall. "Into the Celestial Sword Sect, Lenient. NOW!"


    "What?" Lenient''s eyes widened in surprise.


    "NOW!" Flint''s command rang out sharp and urgent.


    "Trying to escape?" Sage Mortius Crane''s contemptuous laugh cut through the air.


    Lenient thrust out his hand, summoning a wall of thick vines to block Sage Mortius Crane''s path. The elder shattered the barrier with a casual wave of his hand, but those precious seconds were enough - Lenient had already steered the ethereal canoe over the wall and into the Celestial Sword Sect grounds.


    Total darkness descended as the moon disappeared completely behind the eclipse.


    In the ethereal canoe, Flint''s fingers flew across the Mystic Terminal, its screen casting an eerie glow in the darkness. Suddenly, alarms blared throughout the Celestial Sword Sect. Every puppet activated at once, startling Initiative disciples from their sleep while Adept level disciples from other areas began flying toward their location.


    "What are you doing? Won''t this draw more attention?" Serene asked anxiously.


    "Little stone knows what she''s doing," Lenient replied with unexpected calm.


    "Keep going forward, but lower," Flint instructed through gritted teeth, sweat beading on her forehead.


    "Intruder alert! Intruder alert!" The unified cry of hundreds of puppets echoed through the night.


    Lenient guided the ethereal canoe at breakneck speed, swooping beneath the feet of sword-riding disciples. Above them, chaos erupted as the regular patrol disciples collided with Sage Mortius Crane''s forces in the darkness, unable to distinguish friend from foe.


    "Who are you?" "After them! They''re getting away!" "Why are the alarms going off?" The shouts from above blended into a cacophony of confusion.


    Flint lowered the screen - the puppet signals had gone dark. She could only imagine what Sage South Rain and Spark would face, and her instincts told her it wouldn''t be good.


    A guilty sigh escaped her lips. Running away was her only option now. She looked at the obsidian in her hand and let out a bitter laugh. "They knew all along."


    "Don''t be too sad, little stone," Lenient called from the front of the ethereal canoe, keeping his eyes forward but his voice gentle.


    "It''s alright." Flint turned her gaze to the eclipsed moon and smiled faintly. "I just remembered - I was running for my life when I first came here too."


    "It wasn''t running for your life," Lenient corrected with a playful tone. "I just wanted to bring little stone back to the Abyssal Pavilion. Which, come to think of it, is exactly what''s happening now."


    Serene hesitated before speaking, remembering their mission to capture Spark years ago. "Back then... we were supposed to... take him alive. There was no intent to kill."


    "Exactly, exactly!" Lenient chimed in cheerfully. "The Abyssal Pavilion never kills those who don''t deserve it!"


    Serene winced slightly - that clarification probably made things worse, not better.


    Flint couldn''t help but smile, remembering the stories Raven had told her about the Abyssal Pavilion. Here she was, once branded a demon queen, returning to the hell she had helped create with her own hands.

 Chapter 42: I am Rain Ink(1)

    I am Rain Ink.


    I was born when the four kingdoms were still united as The Stormwind Empire. Before that, it was known as The Eternal Harmony Empire. Later, when the empire fractured, House Stormwind retreated to the southwest, establishing what would become The Windswept Plains.


    I was born the eldest daughter of my family. When I was four, my brother came into the world. Though my grandmother, who lived with us, favored my brother, my parents'' love for me never wavered.


    My birthplace was a small fishing village along the northeastern coast, now part of The Frostshore Empire under House Whitesong''s rule. There was nothing remarkable about our village - our home was much like any other. My father cast his nets into the sea, while my mother''s nimble fingers worked her needle and thread as a seamstress. My grandmother, though... she was different. Back then, I never quite understood what she did.


    What set our village apart was the temple that stood to the east, built from obsidian stones that gleamed like frozen midnight. Within sat a statue of a woman, her features carved in eternal serenity. Her black hair was gathered in an elegant bun, adorned with a single hairpin, and her hand reached out to the faithful in perpetual blessing. As a child, I desperately wanted to mirror that hairstyle, but my thin, short hair wouldn''t cooperate, no matter how my mother tried.


    This woman was the Divine Lady of The Stormwind Empire, and our village marked the place of her mortal birth. The Emperor had commissioned this temple to honor her memory. Over time, fishermen would stop to pray before venturing out to sea, believing she would protect them from treacherous waves and grant them bountiful catches.


    I once asked my mother about the Divine Lady''s identity. "Perhaps she was one of the cultivators," she replied softly, her hands never pausing in their endless mending.


    "But what are cultivators?" I pressed, watching her needle dance through fabric.


    Mother explained that cultivators were rare individuals born with something called a spirit root. They walked a special path that gradually separated them from the mortal realm. As she spoke, her voice grew distant, as if remembering something from long ago.


    "Then why," I wondered aloud, "did the Divine Lady help House Stormwind conquer these lands?"


    Mother set down her sewing, her eyes meeting mine. She explained that the rulers of The Eternal Harmony Empire had lost the people''s trust. The Divine Lady aided House Stormwind to overthrow them, but her interference in mortal affairs angered the "divine realm." Some said she died for this transgression; others believed she retreated into eternal seclusion.


    My young mind struggled with this explanation. The Stormwind Empire demanded heavy taxes from us, just like their predecessors. Why would the Divine Lady support such rulers? Father''s fish spoiled quickly in the heat, leaving us little profit after paying taxes. Things grew even tighter after my brother''s birth, though we never went hungry - there was always fish on our table.


    Mother suggested preserving our catch with salt to make it last longer. But official salt was extravagantly priced, and despite living by the sea, making our own salt meant risking beheading. I remember how her voice trembled when she spoke of this, her fingers unconsciously touching her throat.


    The salt smuggling trade eventually reached our village. While selling contraband salt meant execution, buying it only resulted in fines. With preserved fish lasting longer and commanding higher prices at market, the risk seemed worthwhile for many families.


    Mother split her time between sewing and preserving fish. I can still remember the sharp, spicy scent that filled our home when she heated salt with peppercorns, sprinkling the mixture over basins of fresh fish. She''d cover each basin with white cloth and hide them in a secret room, fearful of passing officials spotting our suspicious salt stores. The preserved fish brought in significantly more money - people were willing to pay extra for fish that wouldn''t spoil within days.


    The goddess temple became the center of this clandestine trade. Every few nights, Father would return home in the dark hours with heavy sacks of salt, cleverly disguised under a layer of grain. We''d carefully separate the grain, wash it for cooking, and secretly store the precious salt in the hidden room where Mother preserved her fish.


    By the time I turned ten, our fortunes had improved considerably thanks to the preserved fish trade. I wore different clothes for each season - something that made other village girls eye me with barely concealed envy.


    Gradually, Father brought home fewer fish but more money. One night, I overheard my parents arguing, their voices carrying through the thin walls.


    "You''ve lost your mind!" Mother''s voice cracked with fear.


    "Keep your voice down!" Father hissed urgently.


    I pressed my ear against the door, their whispers barely audible.


    "Just this one deal," Father pleaded, "and River can study in the city."


    River - my brother. River Ink. A familiar emptiness settled in my chest. While I attended the village school, Father dreamed of greater things for my brother.


    Mother''s voice softened with resignation. "Fine. Just this once."


    Only later did I understand - Father had become a salt smuggler himself. Some ventures, like grains of salt too light for the scale, seem insignificant at first. Yet once measured, they weigh heavier than a thousand pounds could balance. He was caught alongside several uncles from our village. When Father''s sentence was pronounced, Mother''s wails tore through the courtyard. I cried with her, feeling helpless in a way I''d never known before. My brother, still too young, couldn''t grasp what was happening.


    Our family inherited a massive fine. Mother worked from dawn until her fingers bled, but we could barely keep pace with the payments. Soon, we struggled to put food on the table. Grandmother had some savings that kept us alive, and though her aging hands were clumsy with the needle, she tried to help Mother with the sewing.


    We never revealed Grandmother''s savings to the debt collectors. They believed Mother was our sole provider, taking most of her earnings and leaving us with barely enough to survive. Those officials would visit regularly, their presence casting long shadows over our diminishing hopes.


    Grandmother''s resentment toward me grew stronger with each passing day. "Why are you still studying? Why are you still eating? Why aren''t you working?" she would snap. Though I tried to help Mother, the work proved overwhelming for my ten-year-old hands.


    I stopped attending school when my brother started - Grandmother insisted we couldn''t afford education for two children. Instead, I learned to cook, at least sparing Mother from having to prepare meals between her endless sewing.


    One day, Mother returned from the city with a small box of ashes, her eyes swollen from crying. Father had been executed. We scattered his ashes into the sea, following the coastal tradition of sea burial rather than erecting inland tombstones. I watched the grey specks disappear into the waves, becoming one with the ocean he had known so well.


    The turning point in my fate came on my twelfth birthday. After lunch, Grandmother announced she wanted to take me shopping. Mother didn''t question it, just nodded absently before returning to her work.


    Grandmother led me far from the village, circling behind the mountain that stood at our backs. The trafficker who was waiting there frowned as he looked me over. "She''s just a child," he muttered.


    "That''s precisely why she won''t run away," Grandmother explained coldly. "Give her two more years, and she''ll be ready for marriage and children."


    The trafficker nodded impatiently. "Fine," he grunted.


    Money changed hands, and before I could comprehend what was happening, they forced a drugged cloth over my face. The world went dark.


    When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying on a cold floor, iron chains binding my feet. A bowl sat nearby with a single steamed bun inside, as if I were a dog being fed scraps. Despite my revulsion, hunger won out, and I ate.


    Where was I? As my last memories surfaced, an icy realization spread through my chest - my own grandmother had sold me. Mother had always warned me about traffickers, but how could she have imagined her own mother-in-law would be the one to betray me?


    Tears rolled down my cheeks as I choked down the bun. I was so cold, so miserable. I wanted to go home.


    The rattling of my chains drew footsteps. An old woman, as aged as my grandmother, entered the room, her ugly face twisted in a cruel smile. Behind her lurked a one-eyed man of middle age, his appearance equally grotesque.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The man circled around the old woman, studying me. "She''s too young. How can she bear children?"


    "We''ll wait a few years," the old woman cackled, crouching before me. "Young ones are cheap, and easier to break." She grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "You''re part of the Smith family now." She gestured toward the one-eyed man. "Meet your future husband."


    Rage and despair burned through me. "I want to go home!" I spat in her face.


    The old woman''s hand slowly wiped her cheek, her expression turning to ice. "Insolent little whore," she hissed. "Two days without food will teach you manners!"


    The days that followed became an endless cycle of hunger, indifference, and humiliation. I prefer not to dwell on those memories. At first, I tried to escape, but they always caught me. Eventually, I began sewing like my mother had taught me, spending most of my time locked in that small room.


    Gradually, I lost my sense of self, becoming their slave in both body and mind. After I began menstruating, the one-eyed man raped me. I didn''t resist. Soon, I had my first child, Cole - a boy. I was only fifteen.


    After the baby, they believed I wouldn''t leave. They were right. My spirit had died long ago. My firstborn son resembled my brother somewhat, but he showed me no love. To him, I was just a slave in the Smith household.


    When my firstborn was four, I gave birth to my second child, Dove - a daughter. She inherited her father''s unsightly features, her face marked by uneven features and a crooked nose.


    "Worthless girl," Old Lady Smith sneered at my daughter, her contempt palpable.


    I knew in this household, I would be the only one to love her. Yet to my relief, my daughter grew into a gentle soul. Despite her appearance, her heart was beautiful. She loved animals and often helped me with chores, her small hands working alongside mine.


    In my deadened heart, she became my only hope. I prayed she would grow up happy and safe, despite being born into this hell, despite having a mother who had endured endless torment. I dreamed she might one day visit my mother and brother for me. Or perhaps, we could escape together.


    When she was six, she came home crying. The village children had mocked her appearance, calling her names and pointing at her misshapen features. I pulled her close and whispered, "Their words don''t matter, my dear. You have a beautiful heart, and that''s worth more than any pretty face."


    One day, my nominal spouse, Gareth Smith, brought home a collection of strange stones. They resembled crystals but had rough surfaces, emanating a mysterious blue glow. He claimed they were remnants from a battle between spiritual beasts in the nearby area - not unusual in the southwest where such creatures roamed freely. He believed they would fetch a good price.


    The stones sat in our bedroom, untouched. Yet whenever I approached them, something stirred within me. It was a peculiar sensation, as if certain parts of my body were responding to their presence, awakening to an unfamiliar call.


    Later, I would learn these were "raw spirit stones," unrefined crystals containing natural aura that leaked freely into their surroundings. This was how I unexpectedly gained my first touch of magical ability.


    Gareth took some stones to the city markets, but merchants dismissed them as worthless rubble. After that, he abandoned any interest in them, leaving them to gather dust in our room.


    I continued my daily work alongside these quietly glowing stones. Gradually, I noticed changes - the bone-deep exhaustion that had plagued me for years began to lift. Strength flowed back into my limbs. In my ignorance, I didn''t question this transformation or even give it much thought. I simply accepted it as a small mercy in my otherwise merciless existence.


    I rarely ventured outside. My early escape attempts had taught me that the entire village acted as prison guards. Everyone knew which wives had been bought, and they all worked together to keep us "content" in our cages. The air itself felt thick with oppression, as if the very village conspired to suffocate us with its watchful presence.


    That evening, my daughter hadn''t returned from playing. As darkness crept in, worry gnawed at my heart. Despite my reservations, I stepped out of the house.


    Immediately, hostile eyes turned toward me, like predators spotting wounded prey.


    "Where do you think you''re going?" A man I barely knew grabbed my arm. His fingers dug into my flesh like iron shackles.


    I stood my ground. "I''m looking for my daughter."


    "Gareth can handle that," he snarled, his breath hot against my face. "Get back inside where you belong."


    I shot him a look of disgust and tried to pull away, expecting the usual futile struggle. To my astonishment, I broke free of his grip with surprising ease. Without hesitation, I ran. All around me, men turned to watch, their faces darkening with the assumption I was trying to escape. Their eyes followed me like hungry wolves tracking fleeing prey.


    I ran to the pond where she often played, but found only scattered children making their way home in the dimming light. I stood frozen, my mind refusing to process what this might mean. Several men caught up and seized me, but I didn''t resist as they dragged me back to the Smith household.


    Walking along the dirt path, my thoughts drifted hazily. My daughter was twelve now - that cursed age that had marked my own downfall. Back at the house, Old Lady Smith was pacing anxiously in the courtyard. Her face lit up with malicious glee when she saw me.


    "You filthy whore, trying to run again?" she cackled. "Break your legs and you''ll learn to behave!"


    I ignored her insults, fixing her with an emotionless stare. "Where is my daughter?"


    "That worthless girl? Probably off causing trouble somewhere!" Old Lady Smith''s face twisted with contempt. "She wouldn''t fetch much even if we sold her!"


    "Sold her?" My voice rose sharply as emotion cracked through my practiced numbness. "You sold her?"


    Old Lady Smith raised an eyebrow, sneering. "And what if I did? What could you possibly do about it?"


    I wrenched free from the men holding me and seized Old Lady Smith''s shoulders. "Where did you sell her?"


    What happened next shocked everyone present. Under my grip, Old Lady Smith''s left arm snapped like brittle wood, hanging by threads of flesh and sinew. Her piercing scream split the air, freezing the onlookers in stunned silence.


    Cole, my firstborn, emerged from the house. He looked at his grandmother and me with pure disgust. "What''s all this screaming about?" he demanded, showing no concern for his grandmother''s agony.


    Behind him, several boys gradually appeared in the doorway, huddling close to Cole as they took in the horrific scene. Their eyes darted between me and Old Lady Smith''s mangled arm, filled with a terror absent from Cole''s cold gaze.


    I studied their faces, my voice softening slightly. "Have any of you seen Dove?"


    The boys exchanged nervous glances, words dying on their lips. Cole cut through the silence: "None of your business. Go make dinner!"


    Something in their demeanor struck me as odd - a guilty knowledge hiding behind their fear. I turned to the group of boys directly. "Where is Dove?"


    These children included sons of the men who had dragged me here. One of the men barked out suddenly, "What are you lot doing here? Get home, now!"


    "I said it''s none of your business," Cole snarled, using a vile slur. "Go make dinner!"


    A terrible premonition seized me. I moved forward, and when Cole tried to block my path, I barely touched him before he crumpled to the ground. The boys scattered, clearing my way as I ran into Cole''s room. What I saw there would haunt me for the next four centuries.


    Dove lay on the floor, bound and gagged, her face ashen. Blood pooled beneath her lifeless body, her eyes frozen wide in terror.


    "DOVE!" My scream tore through the air, ripping from the depths of my soul.


    I collapsed beside her, my hands hovering helplessly over her still form. No matter how I called her name, she would never answer again. My grief erupted into something primal - a mother''s keening wail that shook the very foundations of the house.


    Cole appeared in the doorway. "What are you screaming about? She''s just worthless goods!"


    A strange laugh bubbled up from my throat, high and unnatural. Through my laughter, I asked him, "What did you do to Dove?"


    "You know," Cole''s voice had already deepened to match his father''s brutish tone at sixteen, "having such an ugly sister was embarrassing."


    "That''s because your father is ugly," I replied, my laughter growing more unhinged. The boys who had followed him took a step back, unnerved by my smile.


    "Shut up, worthless woman." Cole pulled out a cigarette from somewhere and lit it, holding it between his lips, ¡°I brought a few buddies along to have some fun, just to prove she¡¯s useful.¡±


    ¡°Have some fun?¡± I looked at Dove¡¯s bleeding vaginal and forced a smile that was even uglier than a sob. I suddenly understood that when a person is extremely angry, they can laugh, without a single tear shedding.


    Cole took a deep drag on his cigarette, then paused, ¡°Oh, I was too big, and she was too small¡­ there. I don¡¯t know how it started bleeding. Then she started squirming around. I told her not to move, but she wouldn¡¯t listen¡­¡± He paused again, then added, ¡°But she listened eventually.¡±


    When I noticed the marks on Dove''s neck, I understood the full extent of what had happened. My laughter grew wilder, more desperate. This village was hell itself, and everyone here - including my own son - was a demon.


    "Stop laughing!" Cole snapped, his composure breaking. He flicked his burning cigarette at me, leaving a scorched hole in my clothing.


    "Oh? Is that how you choke someone?" I rose to my feet, placing my hand on Cole''s neck. With the slightest pressure, his head detached, blood fountaining upward like a crimson geyser.


    Everyone around us froze in horrified silence, except for Old Lady Smith, who unleashed a piercing shriek. "My grandson! You filthy whore! What have you done?"


    I cast her a sideways glance. The power within me had become uncontrollable, flowing freely with my emotions. Shadows began spreading from beneath my feet, dark tendrils creeping outward until they covered the entire courtyard like spilled ink.


    Those around me finally broke from their stupor, turning to flee. I raised one clenched fist with deliberate slowness, then suddenly splayed my fingers wide. Pressing my lips together, I released a soft, explosive sound: "Pop."


    The courtyard erupted in a grotesque display as everyone burst into fragments - the men who had dragged me here, the boys who had participated in the rape, my son''s corpse, and Old Lady Smith. Their remains painted the walls in a horrific mural of vengeance.


    Surveying the carnage around me, my mind felt strangely empty, yet my purpose was crystal clear. When people gain power, they do what they truly desire. I smiled with a wild joy as I retrieved a wooden beam from the house, lighting it as a torch.


    I set the Smith house ablaze first. Standing before the inferno, I began singing a sea shanty my mother had taught me in childhood. The flames danced to the rhythm of my voice, casting writhing shadows across the courtyard.


    Gareth, my so-called husband, finally arrived with his companions. They froze at the sight of the dismembered bodies strewn across the yard and the house engulfed in flames.


    "What are you doing, you filthy woman?!" Gareth shouted, his face contorted with rage and disbelief. He had no idea what he was facing.


    "Oh, I''m not ''filthy woman,''" I laughed softly. "And I certainly don''t belong to the despicable Smith family. My name is Rain Ink."


    More villagers gathered, drawn by the growing blaze. I stood amidst the flames, shadows growing longer despite the fire''s light. They still hadn''t realized what was coming. Another explosion rang out, and my nominal husband was no more. I never called him my ex-husband - he was merely a buyer, an abuser, a tormentor, someone unworthy of being human.


    I walked through the carnage and pools of blood, singing as I went, setting ablaze every house I passed. An old woman burst out clutching an infant. "Please don''t burn my house!" she begged, trying to stop me.


    I gazed at the child in her arms. Such an innocent face - how tragic to be born into this hell. I leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the infant''s forehead, then drove my burning torch through its heart, as easily as spearing a fish. The woman''s scream pierced the night. Something about her seemed familiar.


    Then I remembered. During my first escape attempt, she had offered to help me, promised to hide me in her home. But she had quickly summoned Gareth, who had beaten me half to death.


    I smiled softly, then detonated her body. Pulling the infant''s corpse from my torch, I set her house ablaze like all the others.


    I walked beyond the village borders, flames rising behind me. Who should I burn next? Perhaps myself.


    I touched the torch to the hem of my dress. But suddenly, a wind swept past - while it fanned the flames consuming the village, it extinguished both my torch and the fire catching at my clothes.


    I stared at the dead torch in bewilderment. A wave of desolation washed over me, and I broke down sobbing. Did the Divine Lady truly exist? Was there really a "Divine Realm"? If so, why wouldn''t they let me die? Did they think I deserved to live? And if I lived, what was left for me to do?


    I wanted to go home. I desperately wanted to go home. But did I still have a home? Would they even accept me? Tears streaming down my face, I walked aimlessly until I found myself in a mountain cave. I sat down, watching the inferno reach toward the sky.


    Would they come to arrest me? Execute me like they had my father? Who would scatter my ashes into the sea? I felt exhausted. Yet I didn''t want to sleep - I wanted to watch everything burn to ash.


    A woman with a dark veil walked into the cave, followed by a man with sage-colored hair. "Someone''s here," the woman said softly.


    Were they here to arrest me? I found myself strangely calm, watching them with the stillness of an untroubled sea.


    "Hello?" she ventured carefully. "Do you know what happened to that village?"


    "I burned it down," I admitted, my voice devoid of emotion.


    "What?" Though I couldn''t see her expression behind the veil, her voice betrayed her shock. "And the people inside?"


    "I killed them all," I continued, my words horrifying yet delivered with unsettling serenity.


    "That''s quite impressive! Perfect for joining the Abyssal Pavilion!" The long-haired man''s gentle tone carried words I never expected to hear.


    The veiled woman stood in contemplation, her back to the flames. Suddenly, her silhouette reminded me of the Divine Lady from my childhood - or was it just my imagination?


    "Though I don''t know why or how you did this," she moved closer and sat beside me, "you must have had your reasons?"


    Her words struck me silent. Watching her sit there, an inexplicable sorrow welled up inside me. Like all those who had ever stood before the Divine Lady''s statue, silently confessing their secrets, she sat there now, as still as that obsidian sculpture, waiting for me to speak.


    Tears reached my lips before words could form. "I was sold here," I whispered. "I want to go home."


    "Then let¡¯s go," the veiled woman extended her hand to me. In that moment, her silhouette against the firelight transformed into the same gentle, reaching gesture I remembered from the Divine Lady''s statue of my childhood. Her next word carried the weight of a thousand prayers: "Home."

 Chapter 43: I am Rain Ink(2)

    I am Rain Ink.


    I followed the woman in the deep purple veil and the man with sage-colored hair as we traveled in an ethereal canoe that glided through the air. I learned their names - the woman was Obsidian Snow, and the man was Clement Bamboo, though in their circle he was known as the Bamboo Sovereign, a person of great importance. She simply called him Clement.


    The man had a habit of calling her "little stone," with a tenderness that suggested they were lovers or perhaps even married, though she kept her own name. Maybe they hadn''t formalized their union yet.


    When the familiar sea breeze brushed against my face, I couldn''t hold back my tears. They rolled down my cheeks as memories washed over me like the waves below. I found my old house, now renovated and barely recognizable. My hand trembled slightly as I knocked on the door. The woman who answered was elderly, her face lined with age, but she wasn''t my mother, nor my grandmother, and certainly not my sister-in-law.


    "I''m from the Ink family," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. The woman stared at me with vacant eyes, as if the gears in her mind turned slowly. After what felt like an eternity, recognition finally dawned on her weathered face.


    "Oh! The Ink family!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying the slow cadence of someone whose thoughts came with difficulty. "They moved away long ago! Are you one of their married daughters?"


    Married? I scoffed inwardly. Being sold to an old man at twelve could hardly be called marriage. I simply nodded, letting her assumption stand unchallenged.


    "Could you tell me where they went?" I pressed forward with the question that mattered.


    "Oh? They didn''t tell you? Poor child." The old woman''s face creased with concern. "I''m not entirely sure, but they probably moved to the nearby county town!"


    My heart sank, though a sliver of hope remained. The old woman invited us - Obsidian, Clement, and me - to stay for a meal. As I tasted the familiar seafood, tears welled up in my eyes; it was exactly like my mother''s cooking. This brief stay gave me a fleeting sense of home.


    In the evening, I took Obsidian and Clement to see the temple from my childhood. Clement burst into laughter almost immediately: "Look how they carved you."


    What? I turned to Obsidian in surprise.


    Obsidian furrowed her brow thoughtfully. "I''ve never worn my hair like that..."


    "But it looks beautiful," Clement teased. "Little stone should try it sometime."


    Obsidian remained noncommittal, showing little interest. But I was stunned by the revelation - Obsidian was the Divine Lady?


    "You''re the Divine Lady?" I asked incredulously.


    Looking between the statue''s face and Obsidian''s unveiled features, the resemblance provided its own answer.


    "Perhaps," Obsidian replied, scratching her head with embarrassment. "I didn''t expect them to build statues."


    "Then why..." I carefully chose my words, "I''m not sure if this is impolite to ask... but why did you help the Stormwind family? Their rule was... also quite brutal..."


    My eyes clouded with shadows as I remembered my father''s execution, even though I knew I couldn''t blame Obsidian for that.


    Obsidian''s face grew somber. Clement noticed immediately, moving closer to rub her back gently. "What''s wrong? Did you remember something?"


    Her expression lightened then, though it was clearly forced - a deliberate mask of casualness. "At the time, I was solely focused on opposing the Immortal Alliance and overthrowing their puppet regime in the mortal realm. But politics... politics turned out to be far more cruel than I had imagined."


    The Immortal Alliance? Their puppet regime in the mortal realm? Was she referring to The Eternal Harmony Empire? I didn''t pursue the question further. Some things were better left in the past.


    We rested at the old woman''s house for a day before heading to the nearest town. I remembered my mother sometimes came here to sell clothes.


    We questioned every passerby - some shooed us away impatiently, others were willing to spare a moment to answer, but the response was always the same: no one knew of a family named Ink living there.


    They hadn''t come here. The trail had gone cold, and my heart sank deep into my chest.


    "It''s alright," Clement tried to comfort me. "We could search the surrounding cities."


    But a greater sorrow enveloped my heart. Why couldn''t they have waited for me? Or did they move because they were searching for me? No, that couldn''t be - grandmother was the one who sold me, why would she look for me?


    We traveled to many cities in the northeast, but no one had heard of the Ink family. Occasionally we''d find another family with the surname Ink, but they weren''t mine.


    When passing by the Soaring Heaven Sword Peaks, Clement asked Obsidian playfully, "Want to visit an old friend?"


    Obsidian managed a forced smile. "Better not."


    I never understood who this old friend was, and the question remained forever unanswered - by the time Master Snow and Bamboo Sovereign died, it was too late to ask.


    Nearly a month passed. They were ready to take me to the next city, but that morning, watching the sunrise, I thought: why not make a home for myself?


    "Ms. Snow..." I began hesitantly, "I don''t want to search anymore."


    "Oh? Why not? We''re in no hurry," Obsidian reassured me.


    "In this mortal realm, women have no rights. We rarely receive education, born only to become slaves to a new family and tools for a man''s pleasure..." I paused, gathering my courage. "Even if I return, I''ll likely just be married off to another man for a bride price. I want to go to this world of cultivators you spoke of... or gathering place..."


    I took a deep breath, then continued uncertainly, "I think I have that power you mentioned - the arts. I used it... to kill everyone in that village."


    "Besides, I might be wanted by the authorities. Going back could mean getting arrested." I added this reason hastily, though even as I spoke, I realized that with everyone in the village dead, it would likely remain an unsolved case with no one to pursue me.


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    Clement''s eyes lit up with unexpected enthusiasm. "Wanted criminals are perfect candidates for the Abyssal Pavilion!" His sage-colored hair swayed as he clapped his hands together in delight.


    Obsidian tilted her head thoughtfully, her dark eyes calculating. "Actually, you won''t be wanted," she said, her voice measured and precise. "The entire village perished - who could possibly testify against you?"


    My heart sank at her analysis, a cold feeling spreading through my chest. Was she planning to send me back after all?


    "However," A small smile tugged at the corners of Obsidian''s lips, "you''re welcome to join the Abyssal Pavilion, because..."


    "The Abyssal Pavilion provides refuge to all fallen souls in the world!" Clement cut in eagerly before Obsidian could finish, his voice ringing with pride and warmth.


    And so, I abandoned the search for my family, following Clement and Obsidian to the Abyssal Pavilion - my new home.


    Obsidian became my master - my Master Snow. She tested my spirit roots and found I had Gifted levels in both Stasis and Shadow Elements, indicating exceptional talent. She taught me Shadow-based techniques, as she hadn''t yet mastered Stasis-based arts herself.


    Sometimes she would tie my hair into a ponytail, saying it was better for combat, and I could let it down during peaceful times. Her fingers would move through my hair with surprising gentleness for someone so powerful.


    Training at the Abyssal Pavilion was preparation for joining their primary business - bounty hunting. We were one family, and everyone needed to contribute. The Bamboo Sovereign possessed a unique ability to accelerate spiritual herb growth, so he spent most of his time tending to the herb fields. The rest of us took assassination contracts, with 10% of each bounty going to support the Pavilion.


    Most targets were Master-level cultivators - contracts rarely called for eliminating Adept or Initiative practitioners. There was an assassin named Serenity who had a peculiar habit of dragging dying cultivators to someone called Wind Patio, harvesting their spirit roots for transplantation attempts. Despite the roots consistently failing shortly after extraction, he remained convinced successful transplantation was possible.


    Wind Patio was Clement''s disciple, though their relationship seemed more like a business partnership - one growing herbs, the other refining them. Despite being Clement''s student, he possessed only modest talent: a single Gifted-level Stasis spirit root. His true expertise lay in alchemy.


    One day, Master Snow came to me with news that I no longer needed to take assassination contracts. She had never been entirely comfortable with the bounty hunting business - it had been The Bamboo Sovereign''s idea, though in some ways it suited the Abyssal Pavilion''s members perfectly. By then, I had reached Adept Level and could pilot an ethereal canoe. Master Snow wanted my help installing crystal spheres across different locations - they called them Memory Echoes.


    For me, whether I took assassination contracts didn''t matter much - I had already killed an entire village, so what difference would a few more make? Still, whenever I saw Serenity dragging his victims into the Abyssal Pavilion, my heart would flutter uneasily, like a trapped bird against its cage.


    And so it went - I never killed again after joining the Abyssal Pavilion. Master Snow paid me for installing Memory Echoes, and I still contributed to our family. Sometimes I felt guilty that my work seemed too easy compared to my fellow members who risked their lives on assassination missions.


    A cultivator''s "money" differed from human currency - we used something called spirit stones. Despite their name, cultivators usually kept them in ring-shaped, hollow containers filled with what looked like viscous blue liquid. These were refined from the raw spirit stones, like those that had kept me company during my time with the Smith family.


    Converting to human currency was simple enough - we could purchase gems from the Inferno Wolves and pawn them in the mortal realm.


    Master Snow suggested I could search for my family while installing the Memory Echoes. More than twenty years had passed since I joined the Abyssal Pavilion. In human terms, I would be an old woman in her fifty now, though my cultivator''s lifespan extended to two hundred years.


    Yet cultivation had preserved my youthful appearance. My little brother would be an old man by now, my mother might not even be alive, and grandmother had likely passed away.


    After installing the Memory Echo at a secluded marking point, I ventured into the nearest human city. This was Stargull, one of The Stormwind Empire''s most prosperous cities, which would later become the capital of The Frostshore Empire.


    I entered a jewelry shop, intending to buy a hairpin for myself. As I reached for my payment, the clerk''s words stopped me short.


    "Are you Miss Ink? Please, just take it - there''s no need to pay."


    I froze, my heart skipping a beat. How could he possibly know me? I''d never set foot in Stargull before. "You must be mistaking me for someone else," I managed to say, my voice barely steady.


    The clerk studied my face intently, his brow furrowing in concentration. After a moment, uncertainty crept into his expression. "Perhaps I am... but your resemblance to our Miss Ink is truly remarkable."


    "There''s an Ink family here?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them, hope and disbelief warring in my voice.


    A warm smile spread across the clerk''s face. "Why yes, this very shop belongs to the Ink family."


    My fingers trembled as I gripped the edge of the counter, trying to keep my composure. "And... the owner''s name?" I asked, hardly daring to breathe.


    "River Ink."


    I stood there, frozen in place, as laughter and tears fought for dominance. The clerk looked at me with growing concern. "Ma''am, are you alright?"


    "Where does he live?" The words came out more desperately than I intended.


    "I... uh..." The clerk''s expression grew guarded.


    "I''m his... niece," I hurried to explain, crafting a plausible story. "My surname is also Ink. I''d like to pay him a visit."


    "Oh!" Understanding dawned on the clerk''s face. "That explains why you look so much like Mr. Ink''s daughter! He lives at Number 4, Azure Seawind Street."


    When I arrived at my brother''s home, they all believed I was their niece returning. The thought that I had accidentally assumed my niece''s identity was rather amusing in retrospect. I encountered no resistance as I made my way inside.


    Only my sister-in-law realized I wasn''t her daughter. "Lake? Weren¡¯t you supposed to go out and play today? Why did you come back so early?" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "No... you''re not Lake."


    She studied my features intently, her expression a mixture of bewilderment and wariness. Her hands, which had been reaching to embrace who she thought was her daughter, dropped slowly to her sides. I smiled gently and explained, "I''m River Ink''s sister."


    Mrs. Ink''s expression grew even more peculiar, her brows drawing together in confusion. "But I''ve never known River to have any sisters... he only had one..."


    As the thought struck her, her eyebrows knitted tightly together, disbelief spreading across her face like ripples on still water. "The sister... who was sold away?"


    "Yes, that sister." I replied softly. I hadn''t expected River to have told his wife about me at all.


    "But how are you so... young?" She raised her hand instinctively to touch my face, just as she would have done with her daughter, but let it fall back to her side.


    "I became a cultivator," I explained. "In human terms, I''m four years older than River is now."


    Her lips parted slightly, as if wanting to say something. After a moment''s consideration, she simply said, "You must have been through so much."


    I nodded, choosing not to speak of the hardships that followed after I was sold.


    Then she added, "River isn''t here, but... Old Madam Ink is... although..."


    "What is it?"


    "She''s starting to forget things," my sister-in-law said softly. "But I think... she''ll recognize you. A mother always knows her own daughter."


    I smiled warmly at her, understanding now why she alone had seen through my resemblance to my niece. "Yes," I agreed softly.


    With a heart full of trepidation, I entered the room where my mother sat. Her face was a map of wrinkles, her head nodding gently as she dozed in her rocking chair. She seemed unaware of my presence.


    "Mother," my sister-in-law called quietly, "my..."


    "Rain Ink," I whispered my name, helping her.


    "My eldest sister-in-law, Rain Ink, has come home."


    Even as I whispered my name, mother''s eyes had already fluttered open. Her clouded gaze fixed on me as she murmured, "Have I reached the Divine Realm already? Rain, when did you arrive?"


    "Just now," I answered, fighting back tears as I stepped closer.


    Mother''s withered lips spread into a smile, revealing yellowed teeth. "That''s impossible. If you''d just arrived, how could you be so young?"


    "You must have been here for a long time, haven''t you? That''s good, that''s good," she said, patting my back gently. "The earlier you arrived, the less suffering you had to endure..."


    Finally, I could no longer hold back my tears. "Mom, we''re not in the Divine Realm," I choked out. "You''re still alive - we''re both alive!"


    At this moment, my sister-in-law stepped forward. "That''s right, Mother. Elder Sister is still alive. She became a cultivator - that''s why she looks so young. You haven''t passed away either... look, I''m still here."


    Mother glanced at my sister-in-law, her brows furrowing. "You are..."


    My sister-in-law smiled gently. "I''m River''s wife, Spring. You''ve forgotten again."


    Suddenly, tears welled up in Mother''s clouded eyes. "It was my fault. I let your grandmother sell you. You''ve lived so long... you must have suffered so much..."


    My own tears began flowing freely. "It''s alright, Mother. I''m doing well now. Someone rescued me, and I became a cultivator... I didn''t suffer much..."


    I crafted this lie, burying all my past pain beneath it.


    Mother''s tears gave way to a smile. "That''s good, that''s good. But Rain, why didn''t you come find us..."


    Then, as if suddenly remembering, she said, "Oh, we were the ones who moved away, weren''t we?" As she spoke, fresh tears began streaming down her face.


    Mother told me about what had happened to our family. My brother had started as an apprentice and eventually became the owner of a jewelry shop. Grandmother had lived with them until her death. Though both Mother and River harbored resentment towards her for selling me, they hadn''t abandoned her. One day, Grandmother had died suddenly in her sleep, crying out "Don''t come near me, don''t come near me!" It seemed she had been frightened to death by whatever she saw in that dream.


    As she spoke, Mother noticed my newly purchased hairpin. She offered to style my hair like the Divine Lady statue from my childhood, noting that my hair was now long and thick enough to be pinned up.


    I smiled, knowing that the actual Divine Lady never wore her hair that way. But I kept this knowledge to myself. I sat down on the stool as Mother''s weathered hands worked through my hair, finally securing it with my new silver hairpin. Looking in the mirror, I had to admit I did somewhat resemble the goddess. In that moment, my childhood wish had finally come true.


    My niece Lake returned home first. She possessed an endearing innocence about her, untouched by the world''s harshness. Finding it fascinating to have an aunt who looked so much like her, she couldn''t stop stealing glances at me.


    My brother returned home that evening. At first, he mistook me for Lake, but was quickly corrected by the real Lake, who pretended to be annoyed at the confusion.


    I stayed with my brother''s family for several days, telling Mother about my life at the Abyssal Pavilion. I told her about my powerful master, explaining that she was actually the Divine Lady we used to pray to at the seaside temple, and how she had taught me secret arts. Mother smiled with joy, saying her prayers to the Divine Lady hadn''t been in vain after all. I couldn''t help but smile too.


    My niece was fascinated by these secret arts. The closest cultivation sect was the Celestial Sword Sect - though "close" was relative. It was a relatively new sect, but its leader, Blaze Mighty, was quite famous. Their disciples often visited mortal cities to recruit talented individuals. Lake had her spirit roots tested, but without reaching Gifted level, she had to give up that dream.


    Eventually, I bid them farewell, as I had my own "family" to return to. Mother insisted I take some jewelry as gifts for the Divine Lady, to thank her for taking care of me. Though I knew Master Snow probably had little use for such things, I accepted them anyway.


    Seeing my brother and mother living in peace and prosperity brought a sense of peace to my heart. Sometimes when I thought of my past, of my daughter, the pain would still surface. But I had grown accustomed to life at the Abyssal Pavilion - it had become my home. Master Snow was not just my teacher, but family. Being with family, whatever form it took, brought its own kind of comfort.


    Just when I thought life would continue in this peaceful cycle of cultivation and work, divine anomalies began to manifest throughout heaven and earth.

 Chapter 44: I am Rain Ink(3) (Act 2 Ends)

    I am Rain Ink.


    The world began to fracture in ways we never thought possible. Day and night lost their ancient rhythm - sometimes darkness would stretch for countless hours, other times the sun would barely touch the horizon before rising again. Nature itself seemed to revolt: plains split open to spew molten rock while ocean waters inexplicably filled volcanic craters. Most terrifying were the plants - once passive forms of life that now hunted with predatory intent, their roots and vines reaching for human prey with disturbing purpose.


    Kingdoms crumbled as farmlands lay abandoned. Trade routes fell silent. In this vacuum of power, bandits and local clans carved out their own territories, ruling through force where law once prevailed.


    By then, I had been with the Abyssal Pavilion for 130 years, having just reached Master level. This achievement I owed to The Bamboo Sovereign''s constant supply of cultivation pills that helped everyone in our organization advance. My only connections to my past life were the funerals - first my mother''s, then my brother''s. He left behind a daughter, but she too must have passed by now. Her descendants, if they survived these chaotic times, remained unknown to me.


    Master Snow and The Bamboo Sovereign dedicated themselves to investigating these anomalies. Their search took them to the islands of the southeastern seas, spending five years sailing through vast waters, yet finding no answers.


    "It''s alright," I tried to comfort Master Snow. "We can rest and search again later."


    She nodded, her eyes distant. "We plan to explore the northeastern seas next." A slight smile crossed her face. "Your childhood village... that''s where I first came into this world."


    "Came into this world?" I realized I''d never questioned Master Snow''s origins, simply accepting her strength as something that had always been.


    She looked at her hands thoughtfully before meeting my gaze. "I''ve remained unchanged since my first breath - never growing, never aging. No parents, no siblings. I came without purpose, only... a sense that some force called me here."


    Catching the contradiction in her words, she added softly, "Though I don''t know what summoned me, I had to discover my path alone."


    She sighed. "The full story is too long to tell. I thought I had completed my purpose..."


    "Completed..." she whispered, as if suddenly grasping something significant.


    Now I understand - perhaps she realized that completion meant returning. Returning to...


    "Sometimes during my investigations, I would fall asleep," she said, her voice growing distant. "Other times, I wasn''t sleeping but would close my eyes and see endless deep ocean, feeling myself sinking deeper and deeper..." Her voice trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished.


    Something different, a deep melancholy I''d never seen before, clouded her eyes. I stepped forward and embraced her gently, like a mother comforting her child. "You''ll find a way through this."


    "Yes," she nodded, though her voice carried little conviction.


    During the time Bamboo Sovereign and Master Snow were out, The Abyssal Pavilion was changing - spiritual herbs grew more scarce, and the Immortal Alliance''s grip on order loosened in the face of these anomalies. Many of our members began to leave. They had originally sought refuge here from the Alliance''s laws; now, with the Alliance''s power waning and our resources dwindling, they saw no reason to stay.


    Elder Blackwood threw himself into constructing defensive formations, hoping to protect us against any opportunistic attacks from the weakened Alliance. We weren''t sure if we had enough people left to mount an effective defense, though we doubted the Alliance could organize any significant assault while dealing with the anomalies themselves.


    But just half a year before Master Snow''s return, the unthinkable happened. The Immortal Alliance suddenly marshaled a force - mostly disciples from the Celestial Sword Sect - and arrived at our doorstep. Strangely, their Sect Leader was notably absent. Their demand was simple: surrender Master Snow, whom they claimed was the source of these divine anomalies.


    Though I shouted at them "That''s impossible!" I must now admit that after Master Snow''s death, everything gradually returned to normal. Indeed, on the very day of her passing, the natural cycle of day and night restored itself as if by divine decree.


    Fortunately, Elder Blackwood''s defensive formations could hold off their attacks for a while. We clung to hope, believing that once The Bamboo Sovereign and Master Snow returned, we would be saved. They were Deity level cultivators - eliminating these attackers would be effortless for them.


    On the day of their return, The Bamboo Sovereign unleashed devastating carnage among the attacking disciples. His weapon of choice was poisoned pine needles, crafted with a jade-like texture and infused with Wind Patio''s deadly toxins. The grounds outside the Abyssal Pavilion became a graveyard of fallen bodies. We cheered in triumph, confident we could repel the Immortal Alliance.


    But our celebration was short-lived. They quickly discovered an antidote. Protected by their armor against the pine needles, the reinforced attackers shattered another layer of our defensive formations. We lost many of our own in that assault.


    It must have been during this breach that the wolf silently infiltrated the Chasm of Abyss. The next day, the Immortal Alliance forces withdrew, and Master Snow was gone. She left only a letter for The Bamboo Sovereign, explaining that she needed to confront the Immortal Alliance about the divine anomalies herself. She asked him not to worry, and most importantly, not to search for her.


    Of course The Bamboo Sovereign couldn''t stand idly by. He gathered the Abyssal Pavilion''s seven greatest assassins, each at Legend level, and led an assault on the Mystic Enigma Pavilion, then the most powerful sect in the Immortal Alliance. Blood ran like rivers through their halls, but Blaze Mighty''s forces ultimately drove them back. The Bamboo Sovereign returned gravely wounded, having lost all his assassins - Serenity''s betrayal in the midst of battle had led to the brutal deaths of the remaining six.


    He retreated into seclusion to heal his wounds while the Abyssal Pavilion gradually fell into decline. The sky mirrored our chaos - sometimes endless day, sometimes endless night, sometimes cycling between the two in rapid hourly shifts, as unstable as the world itself.


    I silently prayed, clinging to Master Snow''s words, believing she had truly gone to the Immortal Alliance seeking ways to restore balance to our world.


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    But I realize now my mistake wasn''t in praying for Master Snow to succeed - it was in failing to consider the price she would have to pay for that success.


    When The Bamboo Sovereign emerged from seclusion, his once warm and cheerful nature had turned silent and withdrawn. He attempted to continue growing spiritual herbs, but they either withered suddenly or turned aggressive, attacking us. Few could gather enough natural aura to become useful spiritual herbs.


    Though The Bamboo Sovereign maintained a fragile semblance of stability, everything truly shattered the day of Master Snow''s execution. He went alone to the Celestial Sword Sect that day. He returned carrying only Master Snow''s remains - a piece of obsidian - his mind completely broken. The entire Abyssal Pavilion was consumed by grief.


    The one bitter irony was that day and night returned to their natural rhythm - as if confirming the Immortal Alliance''s accusations.


    I''ve always harbored complicated feelings toward The Bamboo Sovereign. I don''t know if I should resent him for failing to save Master Snow, but he wasn''t omnipotent. And I... I was equally powerless in this tragedy.


    Wind Patio continued managing the herb fields, while Elder Blackwood maintained the Labyrinth Network he had built with Master Snow. I could help with neither. The Bamboo Sovereign spent his days in a grove of Frost Jade Pines - the trees he used for weapon crafting - speaking madly to that piece of stone.


    Without Master Snow, what purpose did I have in the Abyssal Pavilion? One day, my wandering led me to that pine grove. The Bamboo Sovereign noticed me, and I was shocked by his appearance - he had aged dramatically. Cultivators weren''t supposed to age like this!


    "Rain, leave this place," he said simply.


    I panicked, as if he had read my innermost thoughts. "No, this is my home," I shook my head.


    He smiled faintly. "It''s good that you still think of this as your home."


    His words sent a chill down my spine. In that moment, I realized he hadn''t completely lost his mind - he was still The Bamboo Sovereign who had led the Abyssal Pavilion with both kindness and authority.


    "Because you consider this your home," he continued, "I need you to leave even more."


    "Why?" I asked, startled.


    The aged sovereign narrowed his eyes. "You''re not wanted by the Immortal Alliance. You can still join them... I need you to leave and find..."


    He paused, seeming to lose his train of thought. He shook his head.


    "What was I looking for?" he mumbled.


    "Why Master Snow left?" I prompted gently.


    "Yes... No. I want to know... what did she experience in the Immortal Alliance...?" he whispered.


    "She seemed to have something to tell me, but ran out of time. You must help her find the answers." He gave me one last lucid smile. Then he turned back to the obsidian in his hands, his sanity slipping away again. "Little stone, where shall we go today?"


    I bid farewell to The Bamboo Sovereign, but he didn''t acknowledge me, lost in his conversation with the stone. After saying goodbye to Elder Blackwood and Wind Patio, I left the only place I''d called home for over a century. But where could I go?


    The Immortal Alliance was a coalition of various sects and cultivation families, with the most powerful sects wielding the greatest influence. I needed to join a sect - the Mystic Enigma Pavilion was currently the most powerful, but the Celestial Sword Sect was rising like a new star in the cultivation world. Moreover, it was closer to my childhood home. As if guided by an invisible hand of fate, I found myself returning to the village of my youth.


    War and divine anomalies had stripped the village bare. The goddess temple stood in the distance, its statue miraculously intact despite the roof having partially collapsed, debris scattered like fallen autumn leaves across the sacred ground.


    As I approached, I noticed a figure sitting before the goddess statue, drinking alone in the dim light. His cultivator''s robes marked him as one of our kind, though they seemed travel-worn.


    He sensed my presence and turned to look at me. That moment froze my blood - I had never encountered someone whose mere glance carried such natural killing intent. Even the assassins of the Abyssal Pavilion, trained killers all, had never emanated such an innate deadliness.


    "Hello," he spoke first, his voice carrying an unexpected warmth.


    Caught off guard by the contrast between his murderous aura and gentle tone, I managed a simple, "Hello."


    "What brings you here?" he asked, his courteous manner completely at odds with his lethal presence.


    I need to conceal my identity now - any connection to Master Snow would be dangerous. "I''m a cultivator," I replied carefully. "I lived in this village during my childhood... now that the divine anomalies have ended, I... came back to see it."


    When I mentioned the end of the divine anomalies, his brows furrowed noticeably. Though he quickly forced his expression back to neutrality, attempting casualness as he responded, "Yes... they have ended."


    "What a coincidence - I''m also a cultivator. Which sect do you belong to?" His conversational tone suggested he was more talkative than me.


    The mention of sects likely meant he was affiliated with the Immortal Alliance. I steadied my breathing before speaking the most painful lie of my life: "I''ve been an independent cultivator until now. I heard the Celestial Sword Sect executed the one responsible for the divine anomalies. Their reputation impressed me, and I''m hoping to join their ranks..."


    The words tasted like poison on my tongue. To praise those who had killed Master Snow, to pretend admiration for her executioners - it took every ounce of my self-control to maintain a calm facade.


    His silence at my words hung heavy in the temple air. Suddenly, he lifted his wine jar and took a long, desperate drink. The alcohol spilled down his face, soaking his robes, but he seemed not to notice or care. Then, with a violent motion, he smashed the jar against the ground, its fragments scattering like fallen stars across the temple floor. His laughter erupted - wild, uncontrolled - startling me. Though he was laughing, the sound carried such profound grief that it seemed to pierce the very soul.


    When he finally composed himself, his voice came quiet and measured: "I am the Sect Leader of the Celestial Sword Sect. You''re welcome to join us."


    I stared at him - this was the executioner who had taken Master Snow''s life. But I needed to bury my hatred deep, to let none of it show in my eyes or voice. I forced my features into a serene smile, though my heart screamed in protest.


    "It would be my honor," I said, the words like ashes in my mouth.


    And so I joined the Celestial Sword Sect. After Blaze Mighty''s death, I became one of the four cardinal elders, taking the title Sage South Rain. I assisted Blaze''s disciple Nimbus, now known as Sage East Cloud, who had become the sect leader. My duties involved managing the sect''s internal affairs.


    My elevated position granted me access to the Immortal Alliance''s confidential meetings. These high-level gatherings took place on a small island in the southeastern seas, far from the mainland''s prying eyes. They were presided over by Xavier, also known as Sage Soulguard - the only cultivator in thousands of years to achieve The Perfect Completion of Deity. He possessed the remarkable ability to reincarnate while retaining both his memories and most of his cultivation power. His soul had lived for millennia, making him a living repository of all cultivation knowledge.


    I also gained access to the Celestial Archives, where the keeper had grown accustomed to a peaceful, undisturbed existence. My frequent visits forced him to at least pretend to be busy. The sight of him hurriedly arranging scrolls whenever I appeared became a familiar one.


    Through these visits, I grew closer to the archive keeper. Thaddeus Drake eventually became my husband.


    Sometimes I would recall Master Snow''s warning: "Don''t trust men too easily." Yet I found myself defying most of her teachings. I naturally gravitated toward elegant appearances, styling my hair in intricate patterns reminiscent of the goddess statue. Despite my previous encounter with a marriage so tragic it barely deserved the name, I still yearned for love. I tried to rationalize it - Master Snow had always been adaptable, accepting of change. Perhaps she would have approved of my choices?


    Thaddeus was a gifted cultivator who had joined the Mystic Enigma Pavilion, possessing a Transcendent level Stasis spirit root. However, after reaching Legend level, he lost interest in pursuing Deity realm. Instead, his passion lay in collecting obscure knowledge, which led him to become the keeper of the Celestial Archives. His eyes would light up at the discovery of some forgotten text or ancient record, and his enthusiasm was infectious.


    Our conversations began with my inquiries about records from the divine anomalies period, then shifted to his insistence that I should fully develop my Gifted level Stasis spirit root. Through these discussions, I learned various secret arts and cultivation methods related to Stasis from the Mystic Enigma Pavilion.


    Though I never revealed my connection to Master Snow, Thaddeus confided that his research led him to believe she was a heroine. His disgust for the Immortal Alliance''s hypocrisy drew us closer - here was someone who saw through their righteous facade to the truth beneath.


    During my two centuries of investigation, I discovered many records had been deliberately hidden by the Immortal Alliance, beyond even Thaddeus''s access. He joked that I should become the Celestial Sword Sect''s leader to gain higher clearance - an amusing but seemingly impossible suggestion at the time.


    Eventually, I reached Legend level, gaining a millennium of life. Living peacefully with Thaddeus, I almost convinced myself this was enough. That I could let the past rest.


    Then Flint returned, awakening me to my true purpose. She revealed that Master Snow hadn''t always been powerful - she too had struggled, grown, fought her way forward. Now it was my turn to repay Master Snow''s kindness. Just as she had given me a home when I had nothing, I would protect Flint with everything I had.


    Now, facing Sage Mortius Crane''s accusations, I watched the poor young wolf, Spark, succumb to their pressure. My only consolation was knowing Flint had successfully escaped to the Abyssal Pavilion. At least she was safe.


    I turned to address the assembled elders and sect leader, their faces masks of righteous indignation. The same faces that had condemned Master Snow centuries ago now sought to judge another innocent.


    "Honored elders," my voice carried clearly through the hall, "that was Obsidian Snow''s remains. The Abyssal Pavilion merely reclaimed what was rightfully theirs. Where is the crime in that?"


    "Oh? So you''ve been conspiring with the Abyssal Pavilion?" Sage Mortius Crane''s accusation cut through the air like a blade.


    "That''s irrelevant," I replied, allowing myself a small smile. The same smile I had worn when first entering the Celestial Sword Sect, hiding daggers behind courtesy. "I''m simply stating a fact."


    Let them make what they would of my words. After centuries of silent observation, of keeping my thoughts locked away behind dutiful smiles and respectful bows, speaking this truth felt like breaking free from invisible chains.


    I am Rain Ink. I am Master Snow¡¯s student.

 Chapter 45: Homecoming at the Abyss

    After nearly a day of soaring through the clouds, Flint found herself approaching the Chasm of Abyss aboard an ethereal canoe with Lenient and Serene. As they drew closer, a colossal structure emerged from the mists - a tower that seemed to pierce the very heavens. Each of its fourteen floors was an octagonal chamber, rising higher than the surrounding cliffs. Flint studied the architecture with keen interest, noting how each level stood nearly the height of four men.


    The building commanded attention against the backdrop of the chasm''s darkness, its eight-sided floors creating an imposing silhouette that somehow managed to appear both ancient and timeless.


    "You haven''t reached Master Level yet, have you?" Serene''s question came unexpectedly, breaking the contemplative silence.


    "Of course not!" Lenient interjected before Flint could respond, his voice bright with enthusiasm. "My little stone is still waiting for my Natural Essence Pill!"


    "No..." Flint answered politely despite Lenient''s interjection. "Why do you ask?"


    "Because of the Abyssal Pavilion''s defense formation," Serene explained, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "It detects any outsiders at Master Level or above and shatters their meridians if they''re not one of us."


    "Meridians?" Flint tilted her head slightly.


    "They''re the channels that transport natural aura through your body," Lenient chimed in cheerfully, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather. "But don''t worry! If someone genuinely wants to join us, we''ll heal them right up!"


    "We only target Master Level cultivators and above because an Adept Level would likely die instantly from the formation," Serene explained carefully, trying to make the intimidating defense system sound more reasonable. "Masters at least have a chance to survive until we can heal them. It''s primarily to prevent hostile intrusions into the Abyssal Pavilion."


    "Besides, if any Adept Level cultivators try anything, they''re easy enough to kill anyway!" Lenient added cheerfully, completely undermining Serene''s attempt to soften the topic.


    "I see." Flint nodded, beginning to grasp the Abyssal Pavilion''s stark worldview - absolute loyalty and protection for their own organization, and ruthless indifference to all others.


    "Serene," Lenient suddenly called out, his voice bright with childlike excitement, "where should we take our little stone to play?"


    "I don''t think there''s anywhere particularly entertaining here," Serene responded flatly, adjusting his glasses with a slight sigh.


    Lenient slowed the ethereal canoe, turning back to glance at the Terminal in Flint''s hands. His eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Do you like the Abyssal Terminal that much?"


    "Well... ''like'' isn''t quite the right word," Flint chose her words carefully, fingers hovering over the device. "It''s just a tool."


    Wait... Something clicked in Flint''s mind. "Abyssal Terminal?"


    "Eh? Isn''t that what you''re holding? We have loads of them at the Whisper Exchange!" Lenient gestured enthusiastically, his robes fluttering in the wind.


    "But this is from the Mystic Enigma Pavilion... it''s called a Mystic Terminal..." Flint''s brow furrowed in confusion. "The Abyssal Pavilion has these too?" Though thinking back to her conversation with Felicity who mentioned watching Terminals all day, perhaps it wasn''t so strange after all.


    "They must have copied us!" Lenient declared with exaggerated indignation, puffing up his cheeks. "Come on, let me show you the Abyssal Pavilion''s superior technology!"


    "You''re going to the Whisper Exchange?" Serene''s voice carried a hint of nervousness. Suddenly self-conscious at the prospect of seeing Felicity, he straightened his collar, adjusted his cuffs, and pushed his glasses up with slightly trembling fingers.


    "That''s right," Lenient replied cheerfully.


    The ethereal canoe accelerated towards the cliff''s summit. As Lenient dismissed the vessel, they found themselves on a narrow bridge connecting the cliff edge to the twelfth floor of the Abyssal Pavilion. Flint peered over both sides - below, the tower''s lower levels seemed to emerge from the swirling mists like a living thing growing from the bottomless chasm.


    What would it feel like to fall from here? The thought drifted through Flint''s mind as she recalled her previous fall from the sky. That height had been nothing compared to this abyss. A fall from here would likely mean instant death.


    Lenient led them into the Whisper Exchange, with Flint taking in every detail. Abyssal Terminals filled the space, some operated by puppets, others by mysterious figures in black or deep colored hooded cloaks. Each human operator wore masks and gloves, as if desperate to conceal their identities.


    "Felicity!" Lenient''s cheerful shout echoed through the chamber, causing a young woman at one of the terminals to wrinkle her brow in visible annoyance.


    Flint followed the sound of Lenient¡¯s voice and looked forward, where a strange and startling sign read: ¡°No killing inside this exchange.¡±


    Lenient bounded up to the counter where Felicity sat. She lifted her head slowly, her voice barely above a whisper: "Why are you shouting? This is trading hours."


    Flint caught a glimpse of Felicity''s screen - "GAME OVER" flashed prominently across it. She suspected Felicity''s irritation stemmed from Lenient''s shout causing her game loss.


    "It''s not like you''re doing anything important anyway," Lenient said with a playful grin.


    "This is work!" Felicity protested, her fingers drumming impatiently on the desk.


    "Let me introduce our new family member!" Lenient pulled Flint forward with enthusiasm. "This is Flint!"


    "Full name?" Felicity asked abruptly, her attention suddenly sharp and focused.


    "Flint Winter," she replied, watching as Felicity''s fingers began dancing across a scroll covered in characters. Flint noted the absence of keystones like those used by the Mystic Enigma Pavilion.


    "Oh," Felicity''s eyes remained fixed on the Abyssal Terminal''s screen as she spoke, giving Flint a cursory glance. "She can''t join the Abyssal Pavilion though. She''s absorbed souls."This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The air suddenly grew thick with tension. As Felicity''s gaze swept across Lenient''s face, she found him still smiling - but now his expression carried an unsettling chill beneath its warmth.


    Both Flint and Serene tensed simultaneously, though for different reasons. Through the cracks in her mental barrier, Flint sensed a surge of raw fury beneath Lenient''s placid smile, like magma churning beneath a deceptively calm surface.


    Serene''s anxiety stemmed from a more intimate understanding of recent events. He knew all too well how Lenient had obsessively spoken of "his little stone" after failing to capture the Inferno Wolf prince. The thought of Flint being denied entry to the Abyssal Pavilion over this matter could only lead to conflict.


    "What''s wrong?" Felicity broke the heavy silence, her voice slightly uncertain. "This has always been the Abyssal Pavilion''s rule... Though I''ve always found it strange. I also talked with Serene about it - we accept people who''ve committed far worse crimes, yet soul absorption is where we draw the line..."


    ¡°Yes, yes.¡± Serene immediately echoed. He did remember Felicity mentioning it, but he agreed at the time without paying more attention.


    Lenient''s smile suddenly lightened, the menacing edge vanishing like morning frost. "Exactly, exactly! So let''s just abolish that rule. The Abyssal Pavilion should welcome everyone!"


    "What?" Felicity stared at Lenient in disbelief. "Would that old Patio even agree? I heard this rule was set by his master, the Bamboo Sovereign..."


    "The Bamboo Sovereign?" Lenient''s smile deepened, taking on an almost secretive quality. "Well, now it''s the Pine Sovereign!"


    Felicity had heard this pine tree rambling about being the reincarnation of the legendary Bamboo Sovereign, and oddly enough, old Patio never contradicted him. Still, she couldn''t reconcile this childish tree before her with the powerful figure who had dominated the cultivation world five hundred years ago.


    After all, the Bamboo Sovereign and Obsidian were her favorite romantic pairing. How could the Sovereign possibly be someone like... this?


    "Fine, we''ll ignore that rule. She doesn''t have any resentment force now anyway," Felicity conceded, deciding it was easier to humor the pine tree. As long as Elder Blackwood and old Patio didn''t make a fuss, it wouldn''t be an issue.


    "Yes, yes!" Lenient clapped his hands together gleefully. "Now Flint is part of our family!"


    Sensing the tense atmosphere dissipate, both Flint and Serene visibly relaxed. Through her mental barrier''s cracks, Flint could feel Lenient''s mood brightening, returning to that same carefree joy he''d exhibited during their journey here.


    Suddenly, a deep bell tone resonated through the hall. The screens displayed: "Trading hours ended. Terminals will shut down in 15 minutes. Please save all important information."


    The puppets and cloaked figures began filing out through the main doors. Felicity rolled up her scroll, her voice brightening considerably. "Time to clock out!"


    "Just because you say Flint is family doesn''t make it so," Felicity said, stuffing items into her bag. "We''ve always been about voluntary membership." She lifted her gaze to meet Flint''s eyes. "Do you want to join the Abyssal Pavilion?"


    More like voluntarily forced, Serene thought silently.


    Being family must mean a lot to her... Flint considered carefully. "Yes, I do."


    Worried her answer might seem insufficient, Flint began to explain, "The reason is that in my past life..."


    But Felicity cut her off with a wave of her hand. "Why do we need reasons? Isn''t wanting to join enough?"


    A bright smile spread across Felicity''s face as she extended her hand. "Hi, I''m Felicity Whitehood!"


    Flint grasped the offered hand. "Flint Winter."


    While still holding Flint''s hand, Felicity suddenly processed what she''d heard. "Wait, what did you just say about past life?"


    Flint nodded. "I was Obsidian in my past life, probably one of the Abyssal Pavilion''s founders, though my contributions weren''t as significant as the Bamboo Sovereign''s..."


    "How could you say that!" Felicity dropped Flint''s hand, clenching her fists against her chest in indignation. "Everything in the Abyssal Pavilion was Obsidian''s design! The Bamboo Sovereign was just Obsidian''s public face! Even someone like Lenient could have been the Bamboo Sovereign if they''d met Obsidian back then!"


    "That''s right, that''s right! My little stone is amazing in both lives!" Lenient cheerfully agreed, completely unfazed by the clear mockery in Felicity''s tone.


    "Wait..." Felicity''s voice slowed as realization dawned. "What did you say... you''re Obsidian''s reincarnation?"


    "Um... yes." Flint confirmed awkwardly.


    Felicity''s eyes widened dramatically. She reached out, almost in a trance, and began touching Flint''s face, making Flint shift uncomfortably under the unexpected attention.


    Serene tensed inwardly, knowing Felicity''s devotion to Obsidian and her tendency to find fault with everything. He braced himself for a fight between Lenient and Felicity - at least the Whisper Exchange was empty if they came to blows.


    But to Serene''s surprise, Felicity merely stared into Flint''s eyes, her voice filled with wonder. "Oh... eyes like obsidian indeed."


    "You must be Obsidian. No one else has irises so completely black..." Felicity lowered her hand, her voice trembling with emotion.


    What? Flint realized she''d never even noticed this about herself. After all, it¡¯s hard to distinguish between black eyes and brown eyes at first glance.


    Suddenly, Felicity grabbed Flint''s hands, her breathing quick and uneven, but no words came.


    "Are you alright?" Serene asked with concern.


    Felicity shook her head, "It''s nothing," then shook it again, "No, that''s not true. I just... I don''t even know where to start asking questions."


    "Let''s have a drink on the first floor!" Lenient suggested cheerfully. "I''ll mix the drinks!"


    "Using yourself as an ingredient?" Felicity released Flint''s hands to tease Lenient.


    That sounds rather gruesome... though I suppose it''s normal for a fast-regenerating pine tree, Flint mused silently.


    "Yes, that''s exactly what I had in mind!" Lenient nodded enthusiastically.


    As the group headed toward the transfer formation to the eleventh floor, Felicity suddenly stopped. "Wait, Flint hasn''t been added to the identity database yet, has she?"


    "What''s the identity database?" Lenient asked curiously.


    "It''s a database that stores information about our members," Serene explained to Lenient. "And no, she hasn''t been added. She just arrived today," he added.


    "Then she can''t access the eleventh floor..." Felicity furrowed her brow. "The twelfth floor only connects to the eleventh for security, and the defense measures activate for anyone not in the database who tries to enter."


    "Well, anyone can go to the first floor!" Lenient brightened. "We can just take the ethereal canoe down there."


    "Hmm... that works," Felicity nodded, and the four headed toward the exit.


    The ethereal canoe couldn''t descend vertically, so Lenient guided it in a zig-zag pattern, dropping gradually with each turn. Felicity rested her elbows on the canoe''s edge, staring intently at Flint.


    Feeling Felicity''s gaze, Flint glanced over, then awkwardly looked away when their eyes met. After pretending to study the surroundings for a moment, she looked back only to find Felicity still fixed in the same position, watching her.


    In the midst of their silent eye contact, Felicity finally spoke: "Do you think Lenient is really the Bamboo Sovereign''s reincarnation?"


    "Of course I am!" Lenient chimed in eagerly.


    "Nobody asked you!" Felicity snapped back.


    "Well... I think he probably is..." Flint answered hesitantly.


    Before Flint could explain why, Felicity cut her off: "If even Obsidian acknowledges it, then it must be true."


    "Ah!" Felicity let out an exaggerated sigh. "How did the mighty Bamboo Sovereign end up like... this?"


    "What''s wrong with me?" Lenient asked with mock indignation. "Anything the Bamboo Sovereign could do, I can do too. Any spiritual herb he could grow, I can grow. I can make them grow just as fast."


    "Oh yes, yes," Felicity replied with exaggerated disinterest. "You''re amazing."


    Serene watched their bickering with practiced indifference - he''d learned to be a quiet observer when tensions weren''t running too high.


    "I just always imagined the Bamboo Sovereign as someone..." Felicity gestured expansively in the air, "elegant, gentle, composed, sophisticated, powerful, cunning, deeply strategic, and absolutely devoted..."


    "That''s exactly what I am!" Lenient called back without turning, focused on steering the ethereal canoe.


    "Not some silly pine tree," Felicity concluded pointedly, undermining Lenient''s claim.


    The ethereal canoe touched down, and Felicity suddenly grabbed Flint''s hand with nervous energy. "You haven''t reached Master Level, right?"


    Flint had barely shaken her head and mumbled "No" when Lenient cut in, his voice carrying a hint of playful mockery: "Actually, my dear, we''ve already passed through one defense formation, and Flint has been through two. The airspace below the eleventh floor is all within the formation''s attack range."


    Felicity shot Lenient a withering look, choosing to ignore his taunt. She turned back to Flint, curiosity brightening her voice. "So, what level are you at now?"


    "Just reached Late Initiative," Flint replied, scratching her head sheepishly.


    "Oh." There was a note of disappointment in Felicity''s voice. "I always imagined Obsidian was at Deity level."


    She then shifted her attention back to Lenient, her tone turning accusatory. "And where are all your miraculous pills and elixirs? Why aren''t you giving them to Obsidian?"


    "Little stone just arrived!" Lenient protested cheerfully. "We were just checking out what''s fun at the Whisper Exchange. Besides, little stone already knows all about your Terminals and such!"


    Flint was about to shoulder her bag containing the Mystic Terminal when Lenient''s words made her pause. She brought the bag to her front, hesitating. "Oh, it''s in this bag... I know a little... I learned a programming language called..."


    "Stop right there!" Felicity cut her off with a wave of her hand. "We''re off duty, and I don''t want to see anything work-related unless it''s for gaming." She turned to Lenient, her voice taking on a defensive tone. "Of course Obsidian knows programming! Even the language I use is called Obsidian! She was the Abyssal Pavilion''s first programmer."


    Flint swallowed the words "called Soulweaver" that had been on the tip of her tongue. It seemed different places had different programming languages. The irony wasn''t lost on her - she should probably hurry up and learn the programming language she had apparently invented in her past life.


    They passed through one of the eight doors into a dim corridor bathed in twilight shadows. At a corner, Lenient channeled his natural aura, bringing life to the space as lights flickered to life across the bar counter and shelves. The soft illumination created an inviting, almost nostalgic atmosphere.


    Felicity guided Flint to one of the round bar stools, her enthusiasm still evident in her grip. Serene settled quietly beside Felicity, adjusting his glasses with practiced precision. Meanwhile, Lenient slipped behind the counter with a flourish, his movements fluid as he began gathering bottles and glasses.


    The warm light played across Flint''s features as she took in the scene, each detail simultaneously new and hauntingly familiar. Lenient''s voice cut through her reverie, bright and sincere: "Welcome home, little stone!"


    Home. The word hung in the air, both strange and profound. Flint turned it over in her mind, feeling its weight and possibility. Perhaps this place, despite its dark reputation and shadowy corners, could become more than just another shelter.

 Chapter 46: Bitter Mist and Pines Tear

    Lenient Pine moved with fluid grace behind the makeshift bar - really just an L-shaped counter with a modestly stocked shelf behind it. The setup was simple but elegant, with just enough space for the essential bottles and glasses. Crystal tumblers caught the soft light streaming from surrounding lighting fixtures, creating delicate patterns on the polished wooden surface.


    Three high stools were arranged along the counter''s longer side. Flint and Felicity sat next to each other, with Felicity deliberately leaning closer to Flint, shrinking the space between them. Serene perched on the stool beside Felicity, his posture ramrod straight, looking oddly formal in such a casual setting.


    "What would you like, Flint?" Lenient asked, his sage-colored hair tied loosely back, a few strands escaping to frame his face. The wide sleeves of his robe were neatly secured above his elbows, revealing pale forearms. He picked up a simple iron shaker, the soft clink of ice cubes echoing as he dropped them in one by one, each crystal-clear piece catching the light as it fell.


    "Pine''s Tear," Felicity chimed in before Flint could speak, her eyes bright with anticipation.


    "Of course." Lenient''s smile held a hint of amusement as he reached for various bottles.


    "I''ll have the same," Flint said, deciding it was safer to follow Felicity''s lead when faced with unfamiliar choices.


    "My pleasure." Lenient began arranging an array of mysterious bottles before him - Crystal Moon Spirit, Mountain Shadow Liqueur, and Forest Dew Essence. Their labels caught the light as he lifted each one with practiced grace. "And what about you, Serene?"


    "I don''t drink alcohol. Would lemon water be possible?" Serene sat with his hands neatly folded on the counter, maintaining his characteristically proper posture as if he were at a formal meeting rather than a casual gathering.


    Felicity wrinkled her nose at Serene, her expression exaggeratedly disgusted. "How boring."


    "My stomach is sensitive," Serene adjusted his glasses, the metal frames catching the light. "Alcohol makes me feel ill."


    "Just one drink won''t kill you," Felicity scoffed, her voice dripping with mockery.


    "How about Mountain Breeze?" Lenient interjected smoothly, his timing perfect as he gestured to a slender bottle filled with pale golden liquid. "It''s much lighter on the alcohol content."


    "Well..." Serene glanced between his two expectant companions, his shoulders tensing slightly under their combined gaze. "I suppose... alright."


    Lenient began crafting the first Pine''s Tear, running a lemon slice along the rim of the glass. Then, with a casual motion that made Flint tense slightly, he snapped off his own little finger. Neither Felicity nor Serene seemed fazed by this display.


    The severed finger transformed into a small pine branch covered in needles. With methodical precision, he plucked the needles and ground them into a fine powder using a polished black mortar. He dusted the powder along the bottom of the glass, poured in the liquor, then sprinkled the remaining powder on top in the shape of a star before sliding it to Felicity.


    When he prepared Flint''s drink, the powder on top took the shape of a heart. "That''s my love for you, little stone!" Lenient announced cheerfully, his eyes sparkling with affection.


    "How sickeningly sweet," Felicity rolled her eyes.


    Lenient merely offered a gentle smile in response to her mockery, turning his attention to preparing Serene''s drink with the same careful attention.


    Felicity lifted her glass and took a sip. The pine needle powder dissolved in her mouth, creating a cool sensation that left her hovering between tipsiness and clarity.


    "Do you remember how you died in your past life?" The alcohol had loosened her tongue, opening the floodgates to questions that had been piling up in her mind.


    "Executed by the Immortal Alliance?" Flint took a sip of her own drink, tasting a gentle bitterness that did indeed remind her of tears. She only remembered dying in front of The Bamboo Sovereign. The execution part was something Sage South Rain had told her.


    Felicity let out a small laugh. "There''s something rather ironic about asking a living person how they died."


    "Little stone isn''t human," Lenient corrected gently as he slid the finished Mountain Breeze toward Serene. "Little stone is just little stone."


    Felicity paused. "Being executed... that''s the answer everyone knows."


    "But," she continued, taking another sip of her drink, her expression turning serious, "Obsidian was incredibly powerful. How could she have willingly let the Immortal Alliance capture her? Don''t you find that strange, Obsidian?"


    The sudden use of her past life''s name sent an odd ripple of familiarity through Flint. "Well... maybe the Immortal Alliance had some way to control her natural aura?" she suggested analytically.


    "You don''t know either?" Felicity''s lips curved into a slight smile. "I suppose that makes sense. After all, Obsidian never reached The Perfect Completion of Deity. She couldn''t retain her memories... so you really don''t remember anything?"


    "Mm... not exactly. There are fragments, like..." Flint concentrated, searching through her scattered memories. "I saw The Bamboo Sovereign before I died... he looked quite similar to Lenient, just with lighter hair."


    "See, see!" Lenient chimed in from behind the counter, beaming. "Little stone admits I was The Bamboo Sovereign in my past life!"


    Felicity shot Lenient a withering look before continuing, "Based on the information I''ve gathered, I think..."


    She took another sip of her drink and cleared her throat softly, as if preparing to announce a momentous discovery. "Obsidian might have wanted to die."


    Lenient, who had been calm until now, suddenly burst out in protest. "That''s impossible! In my past life memories, little stone was executed by the Immortal Alliance!"


    Felicity raised her index finger and wagged it gently in a ''no'' gesture. "The two aren''t mutually exclusive. Perhaps Obsidian realized she needed to die and used the Immortal Alliance as a means to that end. Maybe she couldn''t kill herself?"This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Lenient relaxed slightly - as long as they didn''t think Obsidian had committed suicide... that would be too dishonoring to her memory.


    Flint furrowed her brow at this novel interpretation. "But why would Obsidian need to die?"


    She turned to find Felicity watching her intently, as if waiting for her response. Hearing the question in Flint''s voice, Felicity sighed. "Ah, so you don''t know either. I had hoped your return might reveal the truth."


    "However," Felicity''s brow creased in thought, "I still believe Obsidian was seeking a way to end her life. After all, the divine anomalies disappeared after her death. She must have known... so..." Felicity''s voice caught slightly.


    "How noble!" she exclaimed, taking another drink. The glass was now half empty.


    "Obsidian- I mean, Flint," Felicity corrected herself when Flint didn''t respond to her former name, "Will you need to die by your own hand at some point too?"


    Suddenly, rage burst from Lenient. "What did you say?!" The glass he was holding for his own drink shattered in his grip, sending liquid splashing across the counter and speckling Flint''s clothes. Crystal shards embedded themselves in his hand, drawing white sap that quickly congealed over the wounds.


    Flint stared at Lenient, caught off guard by his outburst. Felicity, who had never seen Lenient this angry, looked equally startled. Even Serene''s quiet observation shifted to tense alertness.


    "What''s wrong?" Felicity ventured.


    Lenient forced himself to take a deep breath, plucking crystal shards from his hand with mechanical precision, seemingly numb to the pain. "Little stone did not commit suicide. Not in her past life, and certainly not in this one. It was the Immortal Alliance who wanted her dead..."


    "Then how do you explain that the divine anomalies disappeared after Obsidian''s death?" Felicity challenged.


    Lenient lifted his head, planting both hands on the counter. His eyes held an icy intensity that could freeze blood. "That was mere coincidence. The divine anomalies had simply run their course. And some disasters, like the ground splitting and the sea flooding inland, didn''t actually stop until a year later."


    Felicity continued dreamily, her voice tinged with admiration, "But isn''t that exactly it? The disasters gradually ended after Obsidian''s death. I find it rather poetic - one sacrifice to save the world..."


    "Shut up!" Lenient slammed his hand on the counter. "Little stone doesn''t need to die! Those damn disasters had nothing to do with her!"


    "Why are you yelling at me?!" Felicity shot back, matching his intensity.


    Flint had never seen Lenient lose control like this. "It''s all in the past now..." she offered weakly, unsure how to calm him.


    "Yes, yes," Serene chimed in hastily, "Perhaps we should discuss current matters instead."


    A tense silence fell as Felicity and Lenient glared at each other. Flint and Serene sat awkwardly between them, though Serene seemed unfazed, calmly sipping his Mountain Breeze - he''d seen them argue before and knew it would likely blow over.


    Flint felt a twinge of guilt, feeling like she was the cause of their argument.


    Looking at Felicity''s half-empty glass, she turned to Lenient. "Why don''t you make another drink for Felicity?"


    Lenient''s expression darkened as he glanced between Flint and Felicity. "What do you want?" he muttered sullenly, beginning to clean up the shattered glass from the counter.


    "Bitter Truth," Felicity demanded, her voice still hostile.


    "There''s no such drink. You mean ''Bitter Mist,''" Lenient corrected without meeting her eyes, focusing on wiping down the counter.


    "It''s bitter. Can you handle that?" Lenient glanced at her, his words coming out in a sullen mutter.


    Something''s off about Lenient today, Serene thought silently. He''s different from usual - normally he''d have made some jokes by now to lighten the mood.


    "Of course I can handle it. Though some people clearly can''t handle the bitter truth," Felicity retorted with pointed sarcasm.


    "Fine." Lenient turned to the shelves, reaching for bottles.


    Felicity took another small sip of her half-finished Pine''s Tear, and Flint followed suit. Felicity''s eyebrows quirked up. "Let''s share some Abyssal Pavilion gossip with our new family member!"


    Flint found herself leaning in, intrigued - knowing the gossip of a place always made you feel more connected to it. Serene continued quietly nursing his drink while Lenient sullenly added ingredients to his shaker.


    "Did you know," Felicity quickly drained her glass with a large gulp, "that old man Patio is gay?"


    "You''re only just figuring that out?" Lenient shot her a dismissive glance while shaking the cocktail.


    "What?" Serene turned to Felicity in shock, adjusting his glasses.


    "You didn''t know?" Felicity stared at him.


    "I... uh..." Serene took a sip of his drink. "Actually, no..."


    "Patio... you mean Wind Patio, the leader of the Abyssal Pavilion?" Flint asked.


    "Actually, I''m the true leader, I''m just letting old Patio take charge for now," Lenient''s tone lightened as he corrected Flint.


    "Yes, that Wind Patio," Felicity confirmed to Flint, then mockingly added to Lenient: "You''re only at Adept level, how can you compare yourself to a Legend?"


    "I have a Transcendent level Vita spirit root," Lenient countered softly, his tone gentle but with an undercurrent of pride.


    "Doesn''t old Patio have that too? He has a Transcendent level Void spirit root, plus a Gifted level Stasis spirit root," Felicity shot back, absently tracing the rim of her empty glass.


    "Master Patio has another Gifted level spirit root?" Serene asked, surprise evident in his voice as he adjusted his glasses, but his question went unanswered in the flow of conversation.


    Soon, he realized he shouldn¡¯t have had this doubt, as many of his Stasis-based secret arts and cultivation methods were taught by Master Patio.


    "I also have a Gifted level Stasis spirit root," Lenient added, measuring out liquid for Felicity''s Bitter Mist with precise movements.


    "Oh, how impressive," Felicity''s shoulder lift was deliberately casual, dripping with sarcasm. "Given enough time, you too can become an old fossil like Patio."


    The conversation stirred something in Flint''s memory - that first meeting with Spark, when she''d thought having just one Transcendent level spirit root seemed somewhat lacking and been firmly corrected... Now here she was, discovering that someone actually did possess both a Transcendent level spirit root and a Gifted level one. And not just anyone - a tree, of all things.


    Lenient placed the drink in front of Felicity. She took a sip and immediately wrinkled her nose. "It''s so bitter."


    "You ordered it," Lenient''s eyebrows lifted slightly, his expression brightening as he began washing the cocktail shaker.


    "But I have something even juicier," Felicity took another unconscious sip, wincing again as the bitter taste assaulted her mouth and senses. "About Serene."


    "Huh?" Serene looked puzzled, wondering what gossip could possibly involve him.


    "It''s actually about Serene''s name," Felicity announced proudly. "Old Patio named him after his ex-boyfriend, Serenity. I discovered this while researching Abyssal Pavilion''s history."


    "You''re only just finding this out now?" Lenient continued his mocking tone while mixing himself a fresh drink.


    "What??" Serene looked even more confused than before.


    "The Abyssal Pavilion has a history? Written in books?" Flint asked, genuinely curious.


    "Of course not, who would record such things? Though I think storing some in Memory Echoes wouldn''t be bad," Felicity tilted her barstool back precariously, playing a dangerous game of balance. "I actually found out from Obsidian''s notes about the names of the Seven Assassins who were famous back then, and then I asked Elder Blackwood about it!"


    "Obsidian''s notes?" Flint leaned forward, her interest piqued.


    "Where did you find those?" Lenient sighed with resignation.


    "In a small room on the underground level. I was just curious..." Felicity let her chair settle back on all four legs, taking another sip of the bitter drink. "And the soul verification formation that should have locked it was missing... I just browsed through it a bit... I didn''t even take anything out - I respect the dead, you know!"


    "Oh yes, such respect for the dead," Lenient repeated mockingly.


    Flint had already secretly resolved to check out these notes herself. Perhaps they could help her understand more about her past life.


    "Don''t make things up," Serene cut in, his expression serious. "How did my name become a memorial to Master Patio''s... former boyfriend..."


    "I''m not making anything up! I confirmed it with Elder Blackwood!" Felicity took another sip of her drink, seemingly growing accustomed to the bitterness. "The truth is as bitter as this ''Bitter Mist.'' Even Elder Blackwood never married because his love was one of the Seven Assassins..."


    "And they all died when The Bamboo Sovereign first tried to rescue Obsidian," Lenient added quietly.


    "Yes! But don''t interrupt me," Felicity shot him an annoyed look. "Actually, Serenity didn''t die - he betrayed them. That''s what led to The Bamboo Sovereign being gravely wounded and the other six assassins dying."


    At the suggestion that his name was linked to a traitor, Serene felt his heart sink. He took a quiet sip of his drink, but Felicity''s next words chilled him even more.


    "Tsk tsk, a traitor, and yet old Patio still can''t forget him," Felicity shook her head.


    "Speaking of Patio... won''t he hear us talking about him?" Flint asked nervously, taking another sip of her Pine''s Tear.


    "No chance. Those Legend level bigshots spend most of their time in seclusion trying to improve their cultivation. They don''t need to eat or sleep, after all. Elder Blackwood is in seclusion too - otherwise he''d have wanted to meet you right away, he really admired Obsidian... As for old Patio..." Felicity took another sip of her Bitter Mist, grimacing at the taste, "he''s probably in seclusion as well."


    Serene realized he hadn''t seen old Patio for quite a while either. Perhaps he really was in seclusion.


    Flint thought for a moment, remembering how Sage South Rain was sometimes unreachable, but... "When I was at the Celestial Sword Sect, there was an elder who seemed quite idle and rarely went into seclusion." She recalled Sage Mortius Crane.


    "He''s probably stuck at some level," Felicity analyzed, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "After reaching perfection at certain levels, you can''t absorb any more natural aura to advance. That''s when you need to find special pills or other methods to break through."


    Flint pondered this. It made sense - Sage South Rain had mentioned that Sage Mortius Crane was stuck at Late Master. She wondered if he''d managed to reach Legend yet.


    "Usually, if nothing urgent comes up, they''ll seclude themselves for a month at a time, checking in at month''s end to handle any emergencies," Felicity continued explaining. "Like old Patio and Elder Blackwood - ugh, I''m the only one holding up the Whisper Exchange!"


    "How impressive," Lenient drawled sarcastically. "Are all your colleagues ghosts then? Or trees perhaps?"


    Felicity rolled her eyes. "I meant all the important decisions fall to me."


    "Oh yes, of course, the entire Abyssal Pavilion depends on you," Lenient continued teasing.


    The atmosphere had lightened considerably from their earlier tension, Flint noted silently. Gossip really did help ease things.


    As the four of them continued chatting and drinking in this relaxed mood, a voice suddenly cut through the darkness:


    "Children, what are you up to?"

 Chapter 47: Sweet Poison

    From the shadows emerged a middle-aged man who bore his years lightly - there was nothing elderly about his bearing or appearance. His straight dark brown hair fell carelessly over his black cloak, and his deep brown beard covered most of his chin. His light brown eyes caught the warm glow of the bar lights, giving them an amber warmth. He wore the black cloak over dark robes, their sleeves embroidered with vine-like patterns marred by old stains. At his waist hung a jade belt festooned with small bottles that clinked musically with each step, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze.


    "Old Patio!" Felicity blurted out with unrestrained enthusiasm.


    Wind Patio''s eyes narrowed in mock offense. "I''m much younger than Elder Blackwood. Where do you get off calling me ''Old Patio''?"


    "That''s exactly why he''s ''Elder''!" Felicity took another sip of her drink, her face scrunching up at the bitterness. She brightened suddenly, "Oh! Old Patio, we were just talking about your ex-boyfriend!"


    "Ah, that''s not something we should bring up," Wind Patio replied without a trace of anger at the gossipy intrusion. He gracefully slid onto the high stool next to Serene, his dark cloak settling around him like folded wings. Noticing Lenient''s exposed forearms and loosely tied hair, he smiled. "I''m out of needles."


    "I''ll soak some for you tomorrow," Lenient answered with easy nonchalance, as if discussing morning tea rather than poison needles. "Who did you kill this time?"


    "You know how it goes," Wind Patio leaned forward, his beard catching the candlelight. "There''s always someone trying to break through our defensive formations to steal herbs from the northern ponds. That Celestial Dawn Lotus seems quite valuable these days." He casually picked up Serene''s drink and took a sip, then realized something was wrong. "Oh, this isn''t my lemon water. My apologies. Could I get one for myself?"


    "That''s actually wine..." Serene muttered under his breath, watching his stolen drink with mild dismay.


    "Are you ordering it for your beard?" Felicity teased, her eyes dancing with mischief as she gestured at his meticulously maintained facial hair.


    "This is a bar, we don''t serve lemon water," Lenient replied with a playful smile. "And you''re going through those needles far too quickly. One soaking gives me about two thousand needles, and I just did a batch three months ago."


    "Just give me whatever then." Wind Patio waved his hand dismissively. "I was rudely awakened from meditation by the alarm. Think about it - I couldn''t just throw needles one at a time, they''d block them all. Had to attack from all directions at once to overwhelm their defenses. Burns through quite a lot. Even though it was just one person, I used up everything I had left."


    "Immortal Alliance?" Lenient''s eyebrow arched as he shook the cocktail mixer.


    "Looked like it," Wind Patio absentmindedly took another sip from Serene''s drink. "Must have been quite powerful too - breaking through our defensive formations isn''t easy. Probably Master level at least." His eyes lit up with sudden recognition. "Oh, and they used a sword! Might have been from the Celestial Sword Sect!"


    Lenient''s eyes gleamed with fierce delight. "Well done then! I''ll soak two batches for you - four thousand needles!"


    At the casual mention of a Celestial Sword Sect Master''s demise, Flint''s shoulders tensed ever so slightly, her recent departure from that very sect still fresh in her mind.


    "Oh?" Felicity''s eyes lit up as she recalled the information she''d found about Flint on the Labyrinth Network earlier that day. "Our new family member is from the Celestial Sword Sect too..." She trailed off, the words about soul absorption dying on her lips as she remembered Lenient''s earlier outburst.


    "New family member?" Wind Patio leaned forward, his collection of poison vials tinkling softly against his belt as he peered past the others to get a better look at Flint. His light brown eyes narrowed in concentration. "You seem... familiar," he murmured.


    "We might have met when you were trying to capture Spark... um, the wolf prince," Flint offered hesitantly, fidgeting slightly with her glass. Her voice carried the same awkwardness as someone reminding an acquaintance of a party where they''d accidentally broken something expensive.


    "Ah, yes... yes... it''s been a while." Wind Patio''s words faded into an awkward silence, the weight of their past encounter settling uncomfortably between them like a heavy winter blanket in summer.


    "And... your name is?" Wind Patio asked, his fingers drumming an awkward rhythm against his glass.


    "Flint. Flint Winter," she replied evenly, her voice carrying the same calm certainty as smooth stones in a river bed.


    "Ah, yes. I''m Wind Patio," he shifted on his stool, trying to recover his earlier composure. "I''m a bit higher ranked than you - you can call me Elder Patio."


    Flint noted the casual form of address, so different from the Celestial Sword Sect''s rigid insistence on calling their elders "Sage." The contrast was as stark as stepping from a formal banquet into a family dinner.


    "Flint is the little stone I''ve been looking for!" Lenient''s voice bubbled with joy as he set a fresh glass of Pine''s Tear before Wind Patio. The drink was special - crafted from his freshly severed pinky finger, now transformed into a small pine branch. With practiced grace, he ground several pine needles into a fine powder, sprinkling it over the drink''s surface in the delicate pattern of a house.


    "Little stone is Obsidian''s reincarnation!" Lenient''s tone danced between delight and gentle reminder, his eyes fixed on Wind Patio. The effect was immediate - Wind Patio''s face transformed as if struck by lightning, his carefully maintained composure cracking to reveal pure, unfiltered shock.


    Wind Patio turned to study Flint again, his eyes softening with remembrance. "There is a resemblance... though, you know, I didn''t see Obsidian all that often. Now, if Blackwood were to see Flint - that would be something to witness!"


    How different he seems from that night when he hunted us like a demon, Flint thought, taking a measured sip of her drink. Perhaps it''s because this is ''home''.


    "By the way, I want to abolish the policy that prevents soul absorbers from joining the Abyssal Pavilion. Where do I go to change that?" Lenient asked with a bright smile, as casual as if discussing the weather.


    "Oh..." Wind Patio took a sip of his drink, then froze. "Wait, what?"


    He nearly choked on his drink, forcing himself to swallow before speaking. "But that... that was the Bamboo Sovereign''s..." He glanced at Lenient, clearly uncomfortable discussing old rules with the Bamboo Sovereign''s reincarnation. "Why abolish it?"


    "It''s strange, isn''t it?" Lenient mused with unsettling cheerfulness. "We accept people who''ve committed far worse acts as family members - like those who''ve poisoned an entire sect..."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    "It wasn''t the entire sect - just a third at most!" Wind Patio protested hastily, then caught himself with a small cough. "And that was... an accident."


    "Exactly!" Lenient nodded enthusiastically, as if Wind Patio had just proven his point. "Soul absorption could be accidental too! And even if it''s intentional, does it really matter? The Immortal Alliance does it anyway."


    "I believe that''s still against Alliance law," Flint pointed out quietly.


    "Oh, those ridiculous laws only apply to Alliance members without power," Lenient corrected her with a smile that didn''t quite reach his eyes. "For the higher-ups in the Alliance? Well, there are no laws for them."


    "It''s just..." Wind Patio hesitated, swirling his drink. "I remember Obsidian was quite adamant about this rule..."


    Lenient turned to Flint with his ever-present smile. "Little stone, do you want this rule to stay?"


    The sudden weight of decision caught Flint off guard. "Oh? Well, I never actually absorbed any souls... that was just a rumor..."


    "Right," Felicity nodded thoughtfully, as if she had forgotten that she previously mentioned Flint couldn¡¯t join the Abyssal Pavilion because Flint herself absorbs souls. "Obsidian was strongly against soul absorption too."


    Lenient''s eyes still held their gentle warmth. "If little stone says she didn''t absorb souls, then she didn''t. It was the wicked Alliance''s doing." His expression shifted to one of concern, like clouds darkening a sunny day. "I''m just worried... what if someone, one of our Abyssal Pavilion family members, is falsely accused of soul absorption by the Alliance?"


    "According to current Pavilion rules, they would be expelled," Serene interjected quietly.


    "Actually, expulsion seems to be the punishment for everything here," Felicity added. "Murder, intentional harm to members, theft - all result in expulsion..."


    "Exactly, exactly," Lenient nodded eagerly. "Once expelled, they''re no longer family. And if they''re not family..."


    He left the sentence unfinished, but Flint understood. An expelled member would likely face immediate assassination... or worse. Something about these laws struck a familiar chord in her memory.


    "Isn''t that a bit far-fetched?" Wind Patio countered, though his tone remained gentle. "Why would the Alliance falsely accuse our people of soul absorption?"


    "That''s not important - it''s just hypothetical, hypothetical," Lenient responded with soft insistence.


    Ah, hypothetical... Wind Patio found himself drawn into the scenario, mulling it over.


    "I don''t think soul absorption is such a big deal," Felicity mused, her slightly tipsy face propped up on one hand, round cheeks making her look younger than usual. "As long as we don''t absorb souls from Pavilion members. We don''t care about killing outsiders anyway, right?"


    Wind Patio remembered that he had just killed someone and subconsciously nodded.


    Serene let out an almost imperceptible sigh and took another sip of his mild drink.


    "Little stone, what do you think?" Lenient finally turned to Flint.


    To be honest, I''m still trying to understand the values here in the Abyssal Pavilion, Flint pondered. Though it seems soul absorption isn''t considered particularly serious here...


    But... Felicity''s comment about Obsidian opposing soul absorption nagged at her, reminding her of Sage South Rain''s words about Obsidian being executed for soul absorption - among other charges, of course. Would abolishing this rule here in the Abyssal Pavilion honor or betray her past self?


    "I feel..." Flint began hesitantly, "that perhaps it''s not such a serious matter..."


    Before her "but" could escape, Lenient cut in with bubbling enthusiasm. "See! Little stone agrees! We should abolish this rule - everyone should be welcome in the Abyssal Pavilion! And once they''re here, they can kill for soul absorption too!"


    "Just not our own people - outsiders are fair game," Felicity added cheerfully.


    The bloodthirsty words, paired with Felicity''s innocent appearance, created such a stark disconnect that Flint found herself momentarily stunned, her objections dying in her throat.


    As the bitter taste of Bitter Mist lingered on her tongue, Felicity''s eyes suddenly sparkled with mischief. "Oh? Does this include killing trees for their souls?"


    "Of course!" Lenient nodded vigorously. "If little stone wants to absorb my soul, I''ll expel myself from the Abyssal Pavilion right away!"


    "But..." Flint tried again, "This was Obsidian''s..."


    Before she could finish, Lenient cut her off with a gentle smile. "But little stone has been away from home for so long."


    Flint froze, sensing something different in these words. Unlike Lenient''s usual eager agreement with her every thought, this carried a subtle edge - a reminder that she''d been gone too long to truly understand this place anymore.


    The word ¡®home¡¯ sounded a bit strange to her at that moment, as if she were being kidnapped by a kind of familial affection. The family seemed to blame her for no longer understanding this home.


    "Ah..." Flint found her objections dissolving. After all, who was she to interfere with the Pavilion''s rules after being absent for so long? Why would she object when everyone in the family agrees?


    "Perhaps... it should be abolished," she conceded, her voice growing fainter with each word before taking another sip of her drink.


    "Yeah!" Lenient threw his hands up in celebration like an excited child.


    "Silly pine tree," Felicity commented dryly.


    He then cupped Flint''s face with both hands - his left missing a pinky, his right still whole - and gazed into her eyes. "I didn''t mean anything by saying you''ve been gone so long. I just think your old rules might not fit anymore..."


    Aren''t those two statements contradicting each other? Flint thought to herself.


    She stared into Lenient''s eyes, clear as emeralds and radiating such pure innocence that he seemed entirely free of ulterior motives.


    "I just think," he continued with a childish whine, "what if one day little stone wants to absorb my soul, but gets stopped by that damn rule? Wouldn''t that be such a shame?"


    "Is ''shame'' really the word we''re looking for here?" Serene stared at Lenient in disbelief.


    As Flint watched the casual way they discussed changing such a fundamental rule, she couldn''t help but marvel at the difference. In the Celestial Sword Sect, even minor rule changes required formal meetings and endless debates among the elders. Here, rules seemed more like friendly suggestions than iron-clad laws.


    "I... I really haven''t absorbed any souls..." Flint felt like crying in frustration. "And I won''t absorb yours either."


    "It doesn''t matter if little stone doesn''t want to now. Maybe tomorrow, or next month, next year, or a hundred years from now - whenever little stone wants to, she can." Lenient gazed at Flint, his smile unwavering.


    "Then my soul would become part of little stone!" Lenient beamed with childlike delight.


    "Ugh," Felicity leaned back in disgust. "That''s revolting."


    ¡°I really don¡¯t need your soul.¡± Flint sighed.


    What struck her as strange was Lenient''s perpetual calmness while saying these things, as if they truly came from his heart. Unlike Spark, who often betrayed moments of nervousness, Lenient maintained an eerily peaceful joy - except when discussing Obsidian''s past life or certain serious matters in this one.


    "Besides," Lenient slowly withdrew his hands from Flint''s face, "as long as little stone remains family, you won''t leave us for too long... It''s all the Immortal Alliance''s fault...You don''t need to die..." His voice grew quieter and quieter, almost as if he were talking to himself.


    Something nagged at Flint''s mind - why did Lenient keep bringing up "Little stone doesn''t need to die" since her arrival? His repeated references to death and mortality seemed oddly persistent.


    Perhaps he''s recovered too many memories, Flint reasoned to herself. He must be constantly remembering how he and Obsidian parted in their past life.


    "Oh, we''ll need to inform all the family members responsible for guarding the entrance about this change," Wind Patio mused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Technically, we could welcome anyone now, as long as we ensure they receive proper treatment in time."


    "Why not just remove the guard duty entirely?" Felicity suggested, her eyes brightening with inspiration. "We could set up detection alerts instead - whenever someone arrives, we either treat them or escort them in."


    A mischievous grin spread across her face as she turned to Serene. "Though I suppose that would leave a certain someone unemployed~"


    Serene adjusted his glasses with practiced precision. "Not necessarily. I do tend to the spiritual herbs sometimes as well..."


    "Serene could always study Alchemy with me!" Wind Patio interjected smoothly, his diplomatic nature showing through as he attempted to ease any potential tension.


    "Oh, you just spend all day obsessing over your puppets," Felicity shrugged, her tone carrying the fond exasperation of a sister teasing her brother.


    "I''d say they serve their purpose," Serene countered with scholarly seriousness, straightening his posture slightly. "Don''t you work with puppets every day yourself?"


    "But those are automated puppets from the Mystic Enigma Pavilion!" Felicity dismissed with a wave of her hand. "They''re built specifically for trading WhisperCoin. Your manually operated ones are completely outdated!"


    "My puppets can change their appearance," Serene adjusted his glasses, a hint of pride creeping into his usually measured voice. "While those Mystic Enigma Pavilion puppets you see are just wooden forms."


    Felicity puffed out her cheeks in a childish pout. "I feel like it would be even creepier if they made them look human."


    Felicity stretched lazily, her movements slow and drowsy. "It''s getting late. I should head to bed. In a week, when I''m not on duty at the Whisper Exchange anymore, I''ll go to sleep... ah, I mean, enter closed cultivation for a month."


    "Good night," Lenient murmured softly.


    Wind Patio drained the last of his drink, the empty glass clinking against the wooden counter. "I should probably return to my closed cultivation too, but since I''m already awake, I might as well refine some pills."


    "I need some Natural Essence Pills for little stone''s cultivation - put them on my tab," Lenient added.


    "Ah yes, your tab," Wind Patio chuckled as he stood to leave. "Because if we tried to give you spirit stones, the entire Abyssal Pavilion would go bankrupt."


    As Felicity and Wind Patio''s footsteps faded away, Serene shifted uncomfortably in the growing silence. He drained the last sip of his drink and stood. "I should go too," he announced, though he had no intention of sleeping - having reached Adept level meant he no longer needed rest. Instead, he planned to spend the quiet hours with his books.


    Looking around at the dispersing group, Flint suddenly realized a practical concern. "Where am I supposed to stay?" she asked Lenient. The question had barely left her lips when she remembered that she had no need for sleep. It didn''t really matter if she had a room - she could always spend the night exploring the grounds or watching the stars.


    "Why, you''ll sleep with me, of course!" Lenient exclaimed with childlike enthusiasm, his eyes sparkling. "In the past, Obsidian and the Bamboo Sovereign always shared a bed!"


    Is this really okay? Flint found herself unconsciously turning the ring on her left index finger - the one Spark had given her with specific instructions about which finger to wear it on.


    Lenient emerged from behind the bar and wrapped his arms around Flint, the faint scent of alcohol still clinging to him. He nuzzled against her hair, his voice soft and content. "Little stone has come home."


    With one cheek resting against the top of her head, he gently lifted her ponytail with his other hand. "We''ll live happily together here at home forever," he murmured.


    The word "home" echoed strangely in Flint''s mind as she reached up to touch Lenient''s forearm, her fingers light against his skin. The gesture felt both familiar and foreign, like a half-remembered dream. As Lenient''s warmth enveloped her, she wondered - would her return strengthen this peculiar family, or would it ultimately lead to its unraveling?

 Notice of Discontinuation

    The novel isn¡¯t getting much attention, and I¡¯ve recently lost my job, so I can¡¯t afford to continue using Claude. Since my Claude Pro subscription is expiring, I¡¯ve decided to stop writing the novel in English. I plan to finish the story in my native language, and those who are destined to will eventually get to read the ending.


    Down here are some lorems to satisfy words constriction.


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