The inner courtyard beneath the ancient spirit willow was silent, save for the gentle whisper of gossamer fronds swaying in the mountain breeze.
Kneeling on the cool river-slate flat stone slabs were the three captured students of the Blood Sea Demonic Sect. The azure jelly bubbles that had transported them had dissolved into harmless mist. That left them kneeling in the open courtyard. Yet none of the three dared to stand, let alone run.
To their left stood Tie Shan, the seven-foot titan earth-bear elder, resting one star-iron grafted forearm on the head of his huge five-hundred-jin smithing hammer. The sheer moving weight of the tool alone caused the flat stone slabs beneath it to groan. To their right, Xiao Hei lay curled like a pool of living ink. His ruby eyes tracked the main neck blood vessel in each fighter’s neck with lazy care.
The three prisoners were drenched in cold sweat, their robes clinging to their shivering frames.
In the cruel hierarchy of the Blood Sea Sect, interrogation was a refined art of horror. Students captured by rival demonic factions or righteous traditional judges could expect nothing less than soul-stripping marrow needles, bone-crushing bronze vises, or flesh-eating corpse beetles poured into open wounds. The youngest student’s teeth chattered so wildly that the sound looked like dice rattling in a cup, his eyes fixed on the flat stone slabs as he awaited the certain torture tools.
A soft clatter broke the silence.
It wasn’t the clank of iron chains or the rasp of serrated saws. It was the sound of glazed fine china being set upon a low, freshly planed table of aromatic mountain cedar.
Su Ling’er stepped forward with customary poise, her vermilion silk robes rustling gently. With practiced elegance, her slender fingers set three steaming celadon teacups before each prisoner. It was followed by a multi-tiered bamboo steamer. When she lifted the woven lid, a billow of fragrant white steam rushed outward. She carried the intoxicating aroma of freshly steamed buns filled with diced wild mountain greens, tender bamboo shoots, and crushed spirit walnuts.
Lin Xiao sat across from them on a plump, stitched silk cushion. As a semi-clear sapphire-blue sphere resting comfortably in the sun, he looked remarkably like a giant confection made of crystal-hardened sugar water. Two curved, crescent-shaped white markings on his front surface blinked at them with genial warmth.
“Drink up while it’s hot,” Lin Xiao’s voice rang directly in their minds. He carried the relaxed, cheerful rhythm of an elder neighbor inviting travelers in from the rain. “The tea is brewed from wild peach leaves harvested this morning. The greens were picked before dawn. Talking on an empty stomach gives people terrible headaches, and cold tea is just depressing.”
The three demonic fighters froze.
The lead student, whose name was Chen Feng, stared at the fine china cup before his knees. The amber tea radiated a crisp, floral sweetness that cut through the foul, metal stench of dried blood clinging to his skin. He looked up, expecting to see a demonic illusion designed to toy with his mind before his soul was pulled out.
“Is... Is this poison?” Chen Feng croaked, his voice cracking with dry panic. “A corpse-melting draught? Or a soul-shackling brew that turns our blood into liquid fire?”
Lin Xiao sighed softly, a gentle ripple passing through his blue dome. “Why does everyone in this world assume everything delicious is poison? If I wanted to harm you, Xiao Hei could have snapped your bones in the bamboo grove, or Elder Tie could have used you as anvil weights. It’s just peach tea and vegetable buns. Look, I’ll eat one with you.”
An azure slime arm reached into the bamboo basket, picked up a plump, steaming bun. Then he pulled it into Lin Xiao’s semi-clear inside. A soft, bubbling sound echoed within him as the dough and tender vegetable filling dissolved cleanly, releasing a faint golden glow from his core.
“See? Perfectly safe,” Lin Xiao said, smacking his nonexistent lips. “Now eat. You look like you haven’t had a proper meal since the last royal dynasty.”
The youngest student, barely eighteen years old and conscripted into the demonic sect as a child slave, could bear the psychological strain no longer. The warmth of the steam, the divine scent of baked grain. The complete absence of flaying knives shattered his brittle defenses. A strangled sob tore from his throat as he lunged forward, grabbed a steaming bun with trembling, dirt-caked fingers, and shoved half of it into his mouth.
Hot savory juices, crunchy bamboo shoots, and fragrant sesame oil burst across his tongue. For eight years, his daily nourishment had consisted of bitter corpse-marrow paste and iron-tasting ration pills distributed by sadistic sect overseers. The taste of honest, warm food hit his senses like a tidal wave of light.
Tears streamed down the young fighter’s hollow cheeks, dripping freely onto his coarse robes as he choked down the bun, sobbing wildly between mouthfuls.
“It’s good... It’s so good...” the boy cried, burying his face in his hands. “Elder Brother, it isn’t poison... It’s just real food!”
Chen Feng stared at his weeping friend, his throat tightening. His hand moved of its own accord, reaching for the second bun. Meanwhile, the third scout eagerly grabbed the last one. The three starving students wolfed down the warm buns and gulped the sweet peach tea. Then, the oppressive dread that had gripped the courtyard faded away into the fragrant steam.
Within Lin Xiao’s spiritual sea, the Dao Spirit observed the scene with clean, steady care:
Lin Xiao let them finish every crumb in the steamer before speaking again.
“Now then,” Lin Xiao said gently, his crescent eyes crinkling. “Who sent you into our southern groves, and why are your people draining the wild deer of their blood?”
Chen Feng placed his empty cup down on the tray, dropped his forehead directly against the cold stone. Then he began to speak without a shred of pause. The demonic oaths, the terror of sect punishment, and the fear of execution had evaporated beneath the weight of simple human kindness.
“Great Sovereign... Exalted immortal spirit!” Chen Feng cried, his voice trembling with genuine guilt. “We’ll tell you everything! We belong to the seventh scouting division of the Blood Sea Demonic Sect, stationed in the Crimson Ridge encampment forty leagues to the south. We were sent by Elder Han Gu himself!”
Su Ling’er’s fox ears twitched, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Elder Han Gu? The Butcher of the Nine Valleys? I thought he was in secluded training refining his life-bound vessel.”
“He was, Lady Ling’er!” Chen Feng hurried to explain, glancing nervously at her three tails. “For the past three years, Elder Han Gu has been preparing to break through from the Early Nascent Soul realm into the Mid-tier. But his spirit veins are hardened by demonic backlash. To force the breakthrough, he needs an ancient ritual: the Nine-Ghost Blood Soul Cauldron refinement!”
“A cooking pot refinement?” Lin Xiao asked, wobbling in place. “What does that mean? He wants to cook a really big stew?”
Tie Shan snorted, a cloud of hot vapor puffing from the bear elder’s nostrils. “Not stew, Sovereign. The Nine-Ghost Cauldron is an evil star-bronze vessel four hundred feet tall. To activate its blood-spirit formation, it must be filled to the brim with the refined blood-marrow and living souls of one hundred thousand creatures. It’s slaughter on a royal scale.”
Chen Feng nodded wildly, his forehead still pressed to the stones. “Elder Tie speaks the truth! Elder Han Gu has already captured and corrupted tens of thousands of wild beasts in the southern barrens. He used cursed bone-parasite spikes to drive them into outer-brain madness. In less than three days, when the Blood Moon rises, he plans to unleash an army of one hundred thousand corrupted beasts into the Grand Desolate Forest!”
The heat in the courtyard plummeted again, this time driven by the cold fury streaming from Xiao Hei. The wolf king rose slightly, his teeth bared in a silent, lethal snarl.
“One hundred thousand beasts,” Su Ling’er murmured, her fingers tightening around her silk sleeves. “They intend to sweep through the outer forests like a scythe, butchering every living beast, gathering their blood, and consuming the safe hall’s ancient willow leyline to fuel the cooking pot’s fires.”
Lin Xiao remained still, absorbing the information.
In his last life, he had spent years managing logistics networks, calculating tonnages, transport routes, and supply chains. One hundred thousand corrupted beasts marching through a narrow mountain range was not merely a military invasion. It was an ecological disaster. If that many crazed creatures tore through the valleys, the delicate balance of the forest, the terraced farms, the sweet dew-pear orchards. The peaceful homes of his people would be wiped out in an afternoon.
“One hundred thousand,” Lin Xiao murmured thoughtfully. “That’s an awful lot of mouths to feed. And this Elder Han Gu... He really thinks he can just show up on my doorstep, ruin my fruit trees, and turn my forest into a slaughterhouse?”
Chen Feng shuddered, feeling a strange, boundless weight settling over the courtyard. There was no killing intent streaming from the blue sphere—no bloodlust, no demonic howling. There was only the huge, unmoving calm of an ocean that had decided to swallow a bonfire.
“Sovereign,” Chen Feng stammered. He pulled a ragged, grease-stained parchment scroll from his inner robes and holding it high above his head with both hands. “This is our sect’s basic training manual, the [Blood River Soul-Melting Art], along with the deployment maps of our vanguard! We give them freely! Please... Don’t feed us to your beasts! We only joined the sect because our mortal village was starving!”
Lin Xiao extended a cool, semi-clear azure slime arm, accepting the parchment with a gentle touch.
“Nobody is feeding you to anyone,” Lin Xiao said, his voice firm yet comforting. “You told the truth, and you ate your breakfast. In my home, honest guests get shelter, not execution. Ling’er, prepare quarters for them in the lower timber lodge. Have the badger medicine team inspect their wounds.”
The three cultists cried openly as Su Ling’er led them away, bowing to Lin Xiao with every step until they cleared the pavilion gates.
Lin Xiao turned toward the south, his semi-clear body glowing with a quiet, sapphire light.
“Xiao Hei. Tie Shan.”
“We’re here, Sovereign,” both commanders answered all at once, their voices heavy with total loyalty.
“It seems our southern neighbors lack proper dining etiquette,” Lin Xiao said, bobbing gently. “Let’s get ready to teach them how we do things in the Myriad Spirit Safe hall.”