The pain did not end all at once.
It **thinned**.
What had been wildfire became heat. What had been tearing became pressure. What had been agony became… **weight**.
The lizard remained curled tightly, tail wrapped close, wings folded in, claws faintly dug into the bedding. Its body shuddered once—then again—each tremor weaker than the last.
Its breathing, ragged and broken moments before, began to **steady**.
In…
Out…
The rhythm returned.
Deep. Controlled. Even.
The burning in its veins cooled to a heavy warmth, like stone left beneath the sun. The violent rewriting slowed, transitions smoothing as new structures locked into place. Nerves no longer screamed—they **hummed**. Muscles stopped tearing and began to **knit**.
Inside, something fundamental had changed.
Not just stronger.
**Better.**
The lizard's chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate cycles. With each breath, residual energy was drawn inward, absorbed cleanly now instead of violently. Its body no longer fought the evolution.
It accepted it.
Adapted.
Its claws loosened their grip on the fabric. The tension in its limbs eased. The tight coil of its form relaxed by a fraction… then another.
The fire had passed.
What remained was **heat without pain**.
Power without chaos.
Its closed eyes twitched once.
Then stilled.
The system remained silent.
No further prompts.
No warnings.
Only the quiet certainty that the process was completing.
Behind its closed lids, something shifted. Not clarity yet—but **depth**. The darkness felt… layered now. Structured. As if the world, even unseen, had gained definition.
The lizard did not move.
Did not rush.
It stayed curled, breathing steady, letting the last echoes of evolution settle into bone, scale, blood, and form.
The room remained silent.
Not the comfortable silence from earlier—but the **deep, weighted stillness** that came after exertion. After change.
---
The Qi-Gathering Array hummed faintly beneath the fox, runes still glowing, spirit stones now cracked and dulled in their sockets. Qi continued to flow… but not like before.
Slower.
Thinner.
The fox's ears twitched.
Its eyes opened.
At once, it sensed the difference. The once-dense currents of spiritual energy had weakened, no longer pouring in with the same eager pull. The formation was still functioning, still gathering—but the refinement rate had dropped noticeably.
The fox did not move.
It simply **observed**.
*…So the environment's been disturbed,* it thought calmly. *Or something nearby has finished absorbing.*
Its gaze shifted.
Across the room, the blood-soaked ground still told its story. Dark smears. Faint stains where bodies had been—where they were no longer. Not even bone remained. Only residue. Scent. Absence.
The fox's eyes narrowed slightly.
Then they moved again.
To the bed.
To the lizard.
It lay there, curled tightly, wings folded, tail wrapped close. Breathing steady. Body still. No wine jars now. No movement. Just… resting.
On the bed.
The fox stared.
Not openly. Not obviously.
But intently.
*…Guess it's finished eating,* the fox concluded. The floor confirmed it. The air confirmed it. The absence confirmed it.
But then—
*Why is it there?*
Its gaze sharpened.
*Where's my—*
*Where is my silk cocoon?*
The fox's ears angled forward, attention fully engaged now. It scanned the room quickly—floor, corners, shadows, formation flags, ceiling.
No silk.
No layered weave.
No shell.
The fox did not relax.
*Strange…* it thought. *It always uses one. Maybe not always—since I've only seen it a few times—but it did. Even when exhausted. Even when injured.*
A pause.
*Especially when injured.*
The fox's eyes lingered on the lizard's closed eyes. On the faint, residual heat still rolling off its body. On the way its scales seemed… slightly different. The texture. The subtle patterning. The way the light caught them.
Not wrong.
But not the same.
*Did it abandon the cocoon…* the fox mused, *…or did it not need one?*
That possibility drew a thin line of unease through its thoughts.
The fox remained seated in the array, tails still, posture composed. But its cultivation had fully slowed now, attention no longer on refinement.
It was watching.
Measuring.
*You're not sleeping like before,* the fox thought. *And you're not guarding yourself like before.*
Its gaze sharpened.
*So what changed?*
The fox did not speak.
Did not interrupt.
But the room, once merely quiet, now carried the faint pressure of **expectation**.
Something had finished.
---
*It can't be that it has no webbing left…* the fox thought. *No, that's not possible. It still owes me. So why didn't it create a cocoon?*
A beat.
*Maybe because it can't see properly… that's why—*
The thought froze.
The realization struck.
*…That might actually be the case.*
It made sense.
The fox watched the lizard for another heartbeat.
Then another.
Nothing changed.
No movement. No threat. No surge of hostile intent. Just steady breathing and residual warmth.
The fox exhaled softly.
*…Later,* it decided.
Its ears relaxed, just slightly.
Forget about it for now.
*The array is running. The stones are burning. I didn't pay this price to sit and stare.*
Its gaze dropped to the glowing runes beneath it, to the spirit stones already webbed with cracks, their light dimming by the second.
A faint irritation flickered through its thoughts.
*Wasteful.*
The fox's tail flicked once.
With a thought, it opened its pouch.
Two small pill bottles floated out, lacquered and sealed. With precise control, it uncorked both, letting **two identical Earth-grade Qi-Gathering Pills** roll into its paw.
It studied them briefly.
Then, without hesitation, swallowed both.
The effect was immediate.
The Qi-Gathering Array **surged**.
The runes flared, light deepening as the formation responded, its pull snapping tight like a drawn bowstring. Qi rushed in again—dense, refined, eager—flooding the space around the fox.
The air grew heavy.
Warm.
Alive.
The fox's fur lifted slightly under the pressure as currents wrapped around its body, threading into its meridians with renewed force. The stabilizing herb continued to work through its system, smoothing the flow, preventing overload.
"Better," the fox murmured faintly.
It adjusted its posture, settling more firmly at the array's center, tails drawing in closer.
Then it closed its eyes.
The world narrowed.
Breathing slowed.
In…
Out…
Qi poured in—refined, compressed, guided with expert precision. Fatigue peeled away layer by layer as reserves climbed, foundations tightening, structure reinforcing.
The fox did not think about the blood on the floor.
Did not think about the cocoon.
Did not think about the lizard.
*Later,* it told itself again.
For now—
Cultivation.
Nothing else mattered.
The runes hummed steadily. Spirit stones continued to dull. Power continued to gather.
And in the sealed quiet of the room, with one creature evolving and the other refining, both paths moved forward—
Separate.
Silent.
And steadily converging.