The silence that followed Lin Xiao’s polite rejection was so total that the distant rush of mountain rapids sounded like thunder.
Young Master Yan Zixuan froze, his arm still extended toward the gold-trimmed collar lying in the mud. His manicured eyebrows twitched, his mouth opening and closing like a landed carp struggling for air. In his twenty years as the favored scion of the Crimson Flame Pavilion. It was surrounded by fawning students and trembling mortal servants, no one had ever dared say ‘no’ to him. Even the patriarchs of minor vassal clans bowed to the dirt whenever his carriage passed.
To be refused so casually—by a semi-clear blue ball of jelly resting between a wolf’s ears—felt like a bucket of ice water dumped directly onto his inflamed pride.
“You... Declined?” Yan Zixuan hissed, his voice trembling as color rushed wildly to his cheeks. “You dared to decline?!”
Envoy Lu Yunzhi’s eyes narrowed into slivers of cold frost. The floating sky steel sword behind his shoulder emitted a high-pitched drone. Its tip pointed directly at Lin Xiao.
“Bold creature,” Envoy Lu said, his tone dripping with disdain. “Do you believe you’re negotiating with mortal merchants in a border bazaar? An edict from the Eastern Traditional Alliance is heaven’s decree in this realm. Disobedience is treason against the righteous path, punishable by nine-clan extermination.”
Perched atop Xiao Hei’s crown, Lin Xiao didn’t appear the least bit intimidated. He wobbled gently, his semi-clear sapphire body reflecting the afternoon sunlight.
Nine-clan extermination? Lin Xiao thought, a ripple of quiet humor passing through his core. Good luck finding my nine clans. Unless he plans on hunting down every rain cloud and mountain spring in the southern provinces, he’s going to have a very frustrating afternoon.
Lin Xiao raised two fluid pseudopods in a pacifying gesture.
“Look, young master,” Lin Xiao said reasonably, his voice soothing and mild. “The sun is warm, the woods are beautiful, and life is too short to spend it shouting at strangers on a mountain pass. You have an important birthday coming up. Why spoil a good mood over a patch of forest you didn’t plant and a wolf you didn’t raise?”
Lin Xiao reached into his internal void frozen stillness pocket. With a soft, wet pop, he retrieved an object that made the surrounding air suddenly turn sweet and calm.
It was a delicate bowl of celadon pottery, handcrafted by the badger artisans down by the river kiln. Inside the bowl, pale-golden liquid rippled gently, sending up thin ribbons of fragrant steam. Floating upon the surface were three whole dried jasmine blossoms, unfurling their white petals as if freshly plucked from morning dew.
“This is wild jasmine tea,” Lin Xiao explained, using a thin filament of water’s skin to float the bowl forward through the air toward Yan Zixuan. “The leaves were harvested by hand from the sunny crags of the northern ridge by Auntie Bai’s foraging squad. They were withered on woven bamboo trays, roasted lightly over fragrant pine embers, and steeped in stone spring water drawn from our grotto basin at sunrise. At eighty-five degrees, the polyphenols release without a trace of astringency, balancing the vital essence and clearing excess fire from the liver. One cup clears the head, calms the blood, and washes away stubborn pride. Drink it slowly, young master. Enjoy the mountain air, turn your carriage around, and return to your pavilion in peace. We can both pretend this foolish collar business never took place.”
The celadon bowl drifted forward, coming to rest suspended three feet above the ground directly in front of Yan Zixuan’s chest. The floral steam carried the clean purity of living mountain water. It carried not a single speck of killing intent.
For a heartbeat, Gu Long and the Crimson Flame scouts stared at the bowl in sheer disbelief. Offering tea to an armed sect expedition was something unheard of in the brutal annals of the training world.
Yan Zixuan stared at the delicate tea bowl. His eyes bulged with fury, his temples throbbing with purple veins.
To a proud young master eager to show off his ruthless power before the prestigious envoy of the Heavenly Sword Sect, being offered a cup of calming tea was the ultimate humiliation. It wasn’t hospitality. To his warped mind, it was a blatant slap to his face!
“TEA?!” Yan Zixuan shrieked, his voice cracking into a furious falsetto. “You dare offer me swamp grass in a clay pot?!”
Without a moment’s pause, Yan Zixuan reared back his silk-booted right foot and kicked the bowl with all his might!
SMASH!
The celadon bowl shattered into a dozen fragments. The pale-golden jasmine tea splashed across the limestone path, sizzling softly against the hot gravel and soaking into the mossy dirt. The delicate white petals were trampled into the mud beneath the young master’s stitched heel.
The sweet floral aroma was instantly wiped out by a wave of foul sulfur as Yan Zixuan gnashed his teeth in manic rage.
“Filthy, disgusting puddle of muck!” Yan Zixuan roared, his spittle flying into the wind. “You dare lecture me on peace?! You dare treat me like a common beggar asking for a drink?! Protectors Wu! Zhao! Exterminate them! Kill that blue monster! Chop it into ten thousand pieces! Flay the wolf alive! Burn this entire gorge until not an ant remains alive!”
Lin Xiao looked down at the puddle of spilled tea and the shattered celadon shards in the mud.
His curved white eyes widened slightly. The relaxed, squishy stance of his azure mantle tightened by a fraction of a tiny fraction of an inch.
He kicked the tea, Lin Xiao thought. A deep, cold stillness settled over his mind. Freshly picked wild jasmine. Pure stalactite spring water drawn at dawn. That bowl took Old Man Badger two days to shape and fire in the kiln. Offering food and drink to travelers is the basic foundation of decency. But kicking someone’s fresh tea into the mud? That is an unforgivable crime against hospitality.
A chime echoed crisply in his mind:
“Host,” the Dao Spirit’s voice rang out with chilling care. “Diplomatic settings have collapsed due to unprovoked moving destruction of communal property and severe beverage desecration. Hostile intent from opposing Core Formation units has crossed critical engagement thresholds. Defensive countermeasures are fully authorized under Safe hall Bylaw Article One.”
Understood, Lin Xiao replied internally. His jelly surface turned as dense and unbending as hardened steel. I gave him every opportunity to walk away with dignity. If they want to break things, they can pay the bill.
Envoy Lu Yunzhi gave a cold, shrugging nod to the two protectors.
“Clean up this refuse quickly,” Envoy Lu instructed. He turned half-away as if the impending violence were beneath his notice. “Don’t damage the wolf’s pelt too severely. The Heavenly Sword Manor will claim its beast core as office compensation for our travel expenses.”
Protectors Wu and Zhao stepped forward at the same time, their heavy iron boots cracking the limestone path.
SHING!
Twin arcs of blinding scarlet fire ignited in the clearing as the two Core Formation elders drew their Scorching Yang Dao-Sabers. The blades were four feet long, broad-backed and single-edged, forged from fiery fire-copper and etched with blood-red flame glyphs. The steel was exposed to the air. Then, waves of searing heat energy erupted from the edges, raising the nearby heat beyond twelve hundred degrees. The surrounding ferns curled into black ash in an instant. The damp mist hanging at the outer edge hissed as it was boiled away into white-hot steam.
“Impudent water-spirit!” Protector Wu roared, his scar-twisted face contorting into a vicious grimace as scarlet spiritual flames swirled around his armor. “You have insulted the Crimson Flame Sect and the Heavenly Sword Manor! For your insolence, your soul shall be burned in the sect’s underground fire-pits for three hundred years!”
Beside him, Protector Zhao swung his fiery blade in a vicious downward slash, carving a glowing trench of molten rock across the clearing.
“Die, beast!” Zhao snarled.
The two Mid-stage Core Formation experts let loose their full spiritual pressure at the same time. A crushing, choking gravity weight—the legendary Lingya of Core Formation sovereigns—dropped upon the boundary clearing like a falling mountain. Ordinary wild beasts caught in such an aura would have had their internal organs burst instantly, their blood boiling in their veins from the surrounding heat wave.
Gu Long and the scouts pulled back behind the carriage, their faces twisted in cruel, anticipatory grins.
“Watch them be crushed into paste!” Gu Long laughed, shielding his eyes from the blinding glare of the flaming sabers. “No unranked monster can withstand the joint pressure of two Core Protectors!”
Yan Zixuan crossed his arms, his chest heaving with vindictive delight. He waited to see the blue slime boiled away and the arrogant wolf flattened into a bloody rug.
Yet, as the two flaming blades dropped toward the clearing, neither the wolf nor the slime flinched.
Perched steadily atop Xiao Hei’s crown, Lin Xiao merely tapped his slime arm against the wolf’s brow.
“Xiao Hei,” Lin Xiao said quietly, his voice cutting through the dry, roaring heat with crystal-clear clarity. “They broke Old Man Badger’s bowl, and they kicked freshly brewed tea into the mud. When guests refuse basic courtesy, hospitality is officially finished. Show them how we handle rude visitors at the front door.”
The giant midnight wolf lifted his massive head, his silver chest runes flaring like distant stars in a moonless sky. His deep ruby eyes burned with ancient, sovereign darkness. His jaws parted in a slow, terrifying grin that sent a shiver straight down the spines of the watching scouts. Across their telepathic link, the bond between slime and hound tightened into an iron cable of shared intent.