The weeping willow leaves rustled with a soft, whispering rhythm as a gentle breeze drifted across the garden.
Yan Zixuan remained half-sunk in the royal purple velvet beanbag chair, his folded-steel blade resting across his knees. The sweet scent of dried chamomile flowers rose around him. It soothed the lingering fight-or-flight rush that had hummed through his blood since he first stepped onto the threshold of Floor 90.
Beside the cushion, the little azure slime set the fresh sky peach down upon the velvet rim.
With a soft, glowing shimmer of sapphire light, the ball-shaped jelly orb began to ripple and expand. The semi-clear blue fluid elongated, rising into the air with the easy grace of climbing morning mist. Within the span of two heartbeats, the jelly resolved into the slender, elegant dark shape of an eighteen-year-old scholar youth.
Lin Xiao stood upon the soft moss, dressed in plain azure-gray linen robes. His raven-black hair was tied back with a simple hemp cord, a few stray locks framing his calm, smiling face. His sapphire-blue eyes sparkled with unrushed warmth as he rolled his shoulders and let out a long, contented yawn.
“Man,” Lin Xiao said, stretching his arms toward the sky until his joints gave a series of small, pleasant pops. “Sleeping as a ball is wonderful for the spine. But it’s nice to have fingers when the food is ready.”
