The silence that descended upon the frozen clearing after the Shadow Devourer's flight was deep and heavy, thick with residual power and unspoken questions. Lin Feng slowly pushed himself to his feet, every muscle in his body protesting with a sharp ache. His robe was in tatters, his skin bruised and cut, but he was alive. And somehow, that was all that mattered.
Xiao Lan watched him, her Purifying Flame already withdrawn, her face a mask of cold, impenetrable composure. With a wave of her hand, the cores of the Ice Crystal Foxes she had defeated before Lin Feng's arrival flew from the corpses and settled into a small silk pouch at her belt. Then, her jade-like gaze fell upon him.
"Gather any useful materials from the fox carcasses. Their pelts, despite the damage from my flames, can be used for warm linings. Their fangs, to craft low-grade arrows. Waste nothing," she ordered, her voice as calm and cutting as the wind sweeping down from the peaks. "From now on, you are my official porter. And my lookout. Keep your eyes and your… strange senses alert."
Lin Feng bowed, a mixture of relief at being alive and a profound humiliation at his new role. He moved toward the beasts' corpses, his trusty shovel now an improvised butcher's tool. As he worked, clumsily but with an efficiency born of necessity, his mind was a whirlwind.
His primary focus wasn't on the icy pelts or the sharp fangs, but on the small, warm presence hidden in the inner pocket of his robe. Glob. The creature that had sprung from his own agony. He felt the faint pulses it emitted, a mix of exhaustion and a strange, primordial satisfaction.
What are you, exactly, Little One? Lin Feng thought as he pried a fang from a fox's jaw. You sprang from my despair, from that dark energy I barely understand. I feel you as a part of me, as if a piece of my soul was torn out to give you life. Are you… are you a weapon? A familiar? My… son? The idea was so absurd, so ridiculous, that he almost let out a bitter laugh. Did I, Lin Feng, the trash of the sect, give birth to a slime? The annals of cultivation history surely don't have a chapter dedicated to the paternity of outer disciples via chaotic energy explosions. The shame would be enough for the elders to incinerate me for sheer offense to the laws of nature and good taste.
And yet, the connection was undeniable. He felt it in the depths of his being. Glob wasn't just a creature; it was an extension of himself, a part of his soul that now existed outside his body. The loyalty he felt emanating from it, its instinctive act of protection against the Shadow Devourer… it was more real than any "martial brotherhood" he had ever known in the sect. The terror of its existence was tempered by the wonder of not being, for the first time, completely alone in his strangeness.
Once he finished collecting the materials, he carefully packed them into a canvas sack that Xiao Lan tossed to him. She, meanwhile, had been sitting on a rock, meditating, restoring the Qi she had expended in the battle. The silence between them grew dense, uncomfortable. For Lin Feng, accustomed to the constant noise and interactions (albeit hostile ones) of the barracks, this charged stillness and the presence of a "goddess" from the sect was almost more stressful than the battle itself.
He knew that a useful servant wasn't just one who carried things in silence. A servant who contributed nothing more was an expendable servant. And being expendable, in the Umbral Ridge and in the company of someone as pragmatic as Xiao Lan, was a death sentence. He decided to take a risk.
"Senior Sister Xiao Lan," he said, his voice a bit hoarse, breaking the silence.
She opened her eyes, her jade pupils focusing on him with a neutrality that was itself intimidating. "Yes, Junior Disciple Lin?"
The use of "Junior Disciple" was formal, establishing the hierarchy, but it lacked the venom of "trash" or "scum." It was small progress. "If it's not impertinent… the way your Purifying Flame countered the Shadow Devourer's energy was… instructive. I could feel how your flames not only burned the beast's form but seemed to purify the shadow energy itself. Does all fire energy have that inherent property?" It was a safe question, one that showed intellectual curiosity and flattered her expertise.
Xiao Lan considered him for a moment. The question was smarter than she would expect from a mere outer disciple. "Not all fire is the same, Junior Disciple," she finally replied, her tone that of a master explaining a basic principle to a curious child. "The fire a common cultivator manifests is a simple release of Yang-attribute Qi. It's brute force. My Dao of Fire has focused from the beginning on the principle of purification. I seek to burn not just the form, but the essence, the impurity. Shadow energy is, at its core, a corruption, an absence of light and order. That is why my flame is its natural nemesis."
Lin Feng nodded, processing the information. "So your power lies not just in its strength, but in its conceptual purity."
An almost imperceptible spark of surprise flickered in Xiao Lan's eyes at Lin Feng's choice of words. "You understand quickly," was her only comment, before she closed her eyes again.
Emboldened by this small opening, Lin Feng continued after a while. "And the beast… the Shadow Devourer. I've never read about a creature that could dissolve and reform with such fluidity. It seemed a part of the shadows themselves."
"Because they are," she answered without opening her eyes. "They are born in places where Yin and dark energy are so dense they gain a rudimentary consciousness. They have no true physical body, only a shadow core that anchors their essence. That is why they are so difficult to kill. You must destroy the core, not just disperse their form."
Lin Feng absorbed this information, contrasting it with what he felt about his own power. His chaos was also dark, primordial… but different. More fundamental. More… complete.
They continued their journey in a now less tense silence. Xiao Lan set the pace, her figure moving with effortless grace across the uneven terrain. Lin Feng followed, his body protesting with every step, the heavy bag of materials a constant reminder of his position.
Suddenly, he stopped, a groan of pain escaping his lips before he could suppress it. A sharp pang, as if a white-hot ice needle had pierced his dantian, shot through him, making his legs buckle. He leaned heavily on his shovel, his face paling drastically, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
Xiao Lan turned instantly, her hawk-like gaze taking in every detail of his condition. "What is it?" Her tone was not one of sympathy, but of sharp, analytical curiosity.
"Nothing, Senior Sister… It's just…" Lin Feng gasped, trying to straighten up, to hide the severity of the spasm. "It's an… old condition with my dantian. It's unstable. Sometimes… it acts up."
Glob, from his pocket, emitted a wave of cool, comforting energy that flowed directly into Lin Feng's dantian, helping to soothe the raging chaotic energy. The relief was almost instantaneous, though it left him trembling and weak.
Xiao Lan narrowed her eyes. Her powerful senses at the peak of the Spirit Foundation detected the subtle fluctuation of energy that had surrounded Lin Feng—an energy that wasn't his, but seemed to be helping him. "Your internal energy is a disaster, Lin Feng," she stated with certainty. "It's chaotic, self-destructive. And I felt another energy, one that surged to calm it. That is not a simple 'condition.' It is the result of a forbidden technique or an anomalous bloodline."
Lin Feng gritted his teeth. He couldn't lie to her about the chaos, not after she had indirectly witnessed it. "It's something I was born with, Senior Sister, but it has only awakened recently," he admitted, clinging to a partial truth. "I don't understand it. Often, it's more of a curse than a blessing."
Xiao Lan observed him for a long, silent moment. She saw the genuine pain in his face, but also the tenacity in his eyes, the refusal to collapse. She saw the strange loyalty of the creature that had protected him. She saw the enigma of a first-stage cultivator who had survived what should have killed him ten times over. He was not simple. And simple was rarely valuable.
With an almost imperceptible sigh, she approached. From her exquisite storage pouch, she took out a small, white jade vial. She uncorked the vial and held out a single, pale green pill that emitted a soft, refreshing medicinal fragrance.
"Take it," she said, her tone practical. "It is a low-grade Jade Essence Pill. It won't cure the root of your problem, but it will soothe your meridians and restore your depleted vitality. You're no use to me if you collapse on the way and I'm left without a porter."
Lin Feng stared at her, then at the pill, stunned. A spirit pill. For him. The gesture, though framed in words of cold utility, was a generosity he had never experienced in the sect. "Senior Sister… I cannot accept…"
"It's an order, not a suggestion, Junior Disciple," she cut him off with an edge of impatience. "Consider it an investment to ensure you can keep carrying my loot. Now, take it. We don't have time to waste."
With trembling hands, Lin Feng accepted the pill and swallowed it. A wave of warm, gentle energy spread through his body, calming the fire in his dantian, easing the pain of his wounds, and replenishing his strength. The difference was like going from a frozen hell to a warm spring.
He looked at Xiao Lan, who had already turned to resume her pace, her face once again a mask of indifference. But Lin Feng knew something had changed. "Thank you… thank you, Senior Sister," he said softly.
She did not reply, but he noticed that her pace was slightly slower, accommodating his recovery. That simple act, that pill, that pragmatic order hiding a gesture of support… it was another small bridge built across the chasm that separated them. It wasn't friendship, not yet. It was the recognition that their fates, however strange the circumstances, were now intertwined. And for Lin Feng, who had never known anything but contempt, that feeling was as revitalizing as the pill itself.