—————
The training hall echoed with the sound of my footwork against stone.
Step. Pivot. Slide. The movements flowed in sequences I had drilled a thousand times, my body responding with the precision that came only from relentless repetition. The sword in my hand traced patterns through empty air, each cut building on the footwork that carried it, the two disciplines merging into something approaching a coherent combat style.
Master Shen observed from the hall's edge, his expression carrying the neutral assessment I had learned to read as approval.
"Your footwork has improved significantly," he acknowledged when I completed the form. "The integration with bladework is… unusual. Most students develop them separately, then struggle to combine. You're building them as a unified system."
"It seemed more efficient," I replied, lowering my sword. "Movement and attack serve the same purpose. Training them together saves time."
"Efficient." The word carried amusement I had not expected. "You approach swordsmanship like an accountant approaches ledgers. Everything measured, optimized, calculated for maximum return."
The observation struck closer to truth than he could know. "Is that criticism?"
"Observation. There's no wrong approach to cultivation—only approaches that work and approaches that don't. Yours works." He gestured toward the training dummies arranged along the far wall. "Show me the soul power integration you've been developing."
I moved through the attack sequence, channeling spiritual energy through the blade as I had learned to do. The strikes landed with force that exceeded their apparent power, the soul power enhancement multiplying the weapon's effectiveness. The final cut—a diagonal slash incorporating the vibration sensing I had disguised as innovative technique—split the practice dummy from shoulder to hip.
Master Shen examined the damage with professional interest. "Clean cut. Deeper than the blade should physically achieve." He turned to face me directly. "You're ready for the advanced curriculum. But I want to add something to your training."
"What?"
"Practical application. Your forms are excellent, your technique is developing well. But you've never used a sword against a living opponent. Theory and practice are different beasts entirely."
The suggestion aligned with plans I had already been developing. "What do you recommend?"
"There's a reason Spirit Masters hunt soul beasts," Master Shen said. "Beyond the obvious benefit of spirit rings, hunting develops instincts that training alone cannot provide. Combat against creatures that want to kill you teaches lessons that sparring partners never will."
"Solo hunting would be premature.", I noted.
"Which is why Spirit Masters hunt in groups. The Academy occasionally sponsors student expeditions for those approaching Spirit Elder rank. You qualify." He paused, considering. "Or you could organize your own group. More dangerous, but more rewarding—both in resources and experience."
The seed he planted fell on prepared soil.
I had been contemplating exactly such an arrangement for weeks.
—————
The logic supporting a hunting group was straightforward.
My cultivation required soul beast meat in quantities that exceeded what kitchen perks and market purchases could sustainably provide. As I advanced through Spirit Elder ranks, the spiritual density required for continued progress would increase proportionally. My current supply, while adequate, would become insufficient as my power grew.
Hunting would provide direct access to fresh soul beast materials—meat for cultivation, cores for sale, valuable organs and components that commanded premium prices in the right markets. A successful hunting operation could generate both the resources I needed and the income to supplement other activities.
But solo hunting at my apparent level would raise questions. A Spirit Elder with two visible yellow rings should not be capable of taking significant prey alone. My actual capabilities far exceeded my displayed power, but revealing that disparity would attract exactly the attention I needed to avoid.
A group solved multiple problems simultaneously.
The collective power of several Spirit Masters would explain successful hunts against challenging prey. My role could be calibrated to appear appropriate for my visible cultivation while actually contributing capabilities the others would never recognize. And the social dimension—friends hunting together, sharing risks and rewards—would reinforce the human connections I had developed.
The question was composition.
—————
Wang Tao was the obvious first choice.
His Earth Hammer spirit provided exactly the kind of direct combat power that hunting groups needed. At rank eighteen, approaching Spirit Grandmaster, he possessed cultivation sufficient for meaningful contribution against appropriate targets. And his personality—straightforward, loyal, eager for practical experience—made him ideal for a venture that prioritized genuine cooperation.
"A hunting group?" His eyes lit with interest when I presented the concept. "You're serious?"
"Completely. I've been researching possibilities for months. There's a region approximately two days' travel from the city where soul beasts appropriate for our level are documented. The Academy has maps and safety protocols for student expeditions."
"What kind of beasts?"
"Primarily herbivores and lower predators. The area is regularly culled by professional hunters, so nothing above a thousand years is likely to be encountered. Safe enough for a prepared group, challenging enough to provide genuine experience."
Wang Tao's enthusiasm was immediate and uncomplicated. "I'm in. When do we leave?"
"Not until I've assembled a proper team. Solo hunting is foolish; inadequate group composition is nearly as dangerous."
"Who else are you considering?"
"Xiao Mei, for her speed and scouting capability. Chen Wei, for support functions and technical knowledge." I paused, the next name carrying weight I could not entirely explain. "Huang Mei, for healing support if injuries occur."
"That's five of us. Good balance." Wang Tao grinned with anticipation. "This is going to be incredible. Real hunting, real combat, real experience."
His excitement was infectious in ways I had not anticipated. I found myself looking forward to the expedition beyond its practical benefits.
—————
Xiao Mei required more convincing than Wang Tao.
Her Silver Rabbit spirit granted exceptional speed and sensory acuity, making her ideal for the scouting role I had envisioned. But her history—the bullying she had endured, the self-doubt that still lingered beneath her growing confidence—made her hesitant about ventures that might expose her to failure.
"I don't know if I'm ready," she admitted when I proposed the expedition. "My combat training is limited. I'm fast, but I've never actually fought anything dangerous."
"Speed is precisely what makes you valuable," I explained. "Hunters need scouts who can detect threats before engagement becomes necessary. Your Silver Rabbit senses extend further than any of us. You'd be identifying dangers, not fighting them directly."
"What if I miss something? What if my failure gets someone hurt?"
"Then we adapt. No scout is perfect—the role is to improve awareness, not guarantee it. Your contribution would reduce overall risk, not eliminate it."
She remained uncertain, her expression carrying the conflict between desire and fear that I had learned to recognize. I tried a different approach.
"I'll be there," I said simply. "If something goes wrong, I'll handle it."
The words emerged before calculation could assess them, driven by something that felt less like strategy and more like genuine reassurance. I wanted her to feel safe. I wanted her to know that someone would protect her.
The serpent would have found such sentiment wasteful. But I was not entirely the serpent anymore.
Xiao Mei's expression shifted, uncertainty giving way to something resembling trust. "You really believe I can do this?"
"I know you can. I've watched you grow for three years. The scared girl who arrived at the Academy is becoming a capable Spirit Master. This expedition is a chance to prove that to yourself."
She nodded slowly, the decision crystallizing in her eyes. "Okay. I'll come."
"Thank you for trusting me."
"Thank you for believing in me."
—————
Chen Wei's recruitment was simplest.
His admiration for me had not diminished despite years of acquaintance, and his eagerness to participate in any activity I organized was practically automatic. When I explained the hunting expedition, his response was immediate acceptance followed by a flood of practical questions.
"What equipment do we need? Are there specific supplies for different beast types? Should I research the area's ecology beforehand? How do we handle preservation of materials for transport?"
His technical mindset, I realized, would prove valuable beyond the support role I had initially envisioned. Chen Wei's cultivation might be modest, but his preparation and logistics capabilities could make the difference between a successful expedition and a disorganized venture.
"Research everything you can about the target region," I instructed. "Climate, terrain, documented species, recommended equipment. Create a checklist of supplies we'll need and estimate costs. I'll review your work and finalize arrangements."
His expression brightened with purpose. "I won't let you down, Lin Xiao."
"I know you won't."
—————
Huang Mei was the final and most complicated recruitment.
Her Healing Lotus spirit made her invaluable for medical support—the ability to treat injuries during an expedition could prevent minor wounds from becoming serious complications. But her role in the kitchen, her generally non-combatant temperament, and the personal dimension of our relationship created hesitations that pure practicality could not address.
"You want me to come hunting?" She seemed genuinely surprised by the request. "I've never… I'm a support cultivator. My abilities are meant for healing, not fighting."
"Exactly why you're essential. Hunters get injured. Having someone who can treat wounds immediately rather than waiting for return to the city could save lives."
"But I've never been in a real combat situation. I don't know how I'd react."
"You'd react by doing what you do best—helping people who need help. The healing techniques you've practiced would work the same in the field as they do in controlled conditions."
She was not convinced. "There's more to it than that. The danger, the violence, watching people get hurt…"
"You wouldn't be on the front lines. Your position would be protected, away from direct combat. Your job would be preparing for the aftermath, not participating in the struggle."
"Lin Xiao…" She hesitated, searching for words. "Why do you want me specifically? There are other healers at the Academy."
The question demanded honesty I was not certain I could provide.
Why did I want her there? The practical answer—her familiar presence would be more reliable than a stranger's—was accurate but incomplete. There was something else, something that had nothing to do with combat effectiveness or medical capability.
I wanted her with me. I wanted to share this experience with her. The hunting expedition was my first genuine venture into the world beyond Academy walls, and I wanted Huang Mei to be part of it.
The recognition was disconcerting. The serpent did not form attachments that created such preferences. But I was no longer entirely the serpent.
"Because I trust you," I said finally. "And because facing something new is easier when the people who matter are beside you."
Her expression softened, understanding passing between us that exceeded the words exchanged. "You really mean that."
"I really do."
She nodded slowly, decision forming behind her eyes. "Okay. I'll come. But you have to promise you'll be careful."
"I promise."
The commitment felt significant in ways I could not entirely articulate.
—————
The expedition departed three weeks later, after thorough preparation that reflected both Chen Wei's research and my own methodical planning.
Our destination was a forested region called the Verdant Reaches, approximately forty miles northeast of Barak City. The area was maintained as a controlled hunting ground—powerful beasts were regularly culled by professional teams, leaving populations suitable for student-level expeditions. The Academy had detailed maps, species documentation, and safety protocols that I had studied extensively.
The journey took a day and a half on foot, our group moving at a pace that accommodated the varied fitness levels of our members. I took point, my enhanced senses—though diminished from their serpentine peak—still exceeding what my companions could provide. Xiao Mei ranged ahead as scout, her Silver Rabbit speed allowing rapid reconnaissance. Wang Tao and Chen Wei formed the main body, while Huang Mei traveled in the protected center position appropriate for a healer.
We established camp as evening approached, selecting a defensible clearing that Chen Wei's research had identified as a documented safe zone.
"No beast activity recorded within half a mile of this location in the past three years," he reported, consulting the notes he had compiled. "The terrain features—elevated ground, rocky outcroppings, limited approach vectors—make it naturally unappealing to most species."
"Good work," I acknowledged. His preparation was proving as valuable as I had anticipated.
The night fell with the particular darkness of wilderness far from civilization. Stars emerged in numbers that city lights had always obscured, and the sounds of the forest created a constant backdrop of rustling, calling, and movement.
For me, the sensory environment was simultaneously familiar and strange. The jungle I had known as a serpent had been far more dangerous, far more information-rich, than this managed hunting ground. But the fundamental characteristics—the weight of darkness, the pressure of unseen activity, the constant awareness of predator and prey relationships—triggered memories that my human existence had gradually suppressed.
I was home. In some strange way, this environment was more natural to me than the Academy had ever been.
"It's so quiet," Huang Mei whispered, her voice barely audible over the ambient noise. "But also so loud. Does that make sense?"
"Perfect sense. The silence of civilization is artificial—absence of noise that should be present. The noise of nature is organic—presence of life that fills every available space."
"You sound like you've been here before."
"Not here specifically. But… places like this. In my past." The admission skated close to truth I could not share. "Before the Academy. Before I understood what I was."
She accepted the explanation without pressing further. "It suits you somehow. You seem more relaxed here than in the dormitory."
"Perhaps I'm not entirely domesticated."
Her laugh was soft, genuine, warming something in my chest that I was learning to identify as affection. "Maybe none of us are, really. Maybe the Academy just teaches us to pretend otherwise."
The observation was wiser than she probably realized.
—————
The hunt began at dawn.
I gathered the group as first light filtered through the canopy, reviewing the plan we had developed during preparation.
"Our target today is a species documented in this region: the Bramble Boar. Herbivorous, approximately two hundred to four hundred years of age for the specimens in this area. They travel in small family groups of three to five individuals, feed primarily on root vegetables and fallen fruits, and are most active during early morning and late afternoon."
"Combat assessment?" Wang Tao asked, his Earth Hammer spirit already manifesting in anticipation.
"Bramble Boars are defensive rather than aggressive. Their primary protection is a layer of thorn-covered hide that can injure attackers who approach carelessly. They will not attack unless cornered or protecting young. Their weak points are the underbelly, which lacks thorns, and the joints where legs meet body."
"Speed?"
"Moderate. Faster than they appear due to their bulk, but not matching dedicated speed-type spirits. Xiao Mei can easily outpace them if withdrawal becomes necessary."
I continued with the tactical breakdown, feeling the familiar rhythms of prey analysis returning despite years of dormancy.
"Formation will be as follows: Xiao Mei scouts ahead, identifies a suitable group, and reports position. Wang Tao and I approach from different angles, driving the target toward a natural barrier that limits escape routes. Chen Wei maintains distance, ready to provide support or assist with retreat if needed. Huang Mei remains at maximum safe distance, prepared for healing if injuries occur."
"What about you specifically?" Xiao Mei asked. "What's your role in the actual attack?"
"Secondary assault. Wang Tao engages the target's attention with his Earth Hammer—the spirit's power should crack through the thorn protection. While the boar focuses on him, I strike from the flank, targeting the vulnerable joint areas."
The plan was deliberately modest, positioning me as a supporting combatant rather than the primary threat. My actual capabilities could have handled a Bramble Boar solo, but revealing that would raise questions my cover story could not answer.
"Questions?"
There were none. My companions had learned to trust my planning, a confidence I hoped today's results would justify.
"Then let's hunt."
—————
Xiao Mei located a suitable target within two hours of beginning our search.
Her report was delivered in the hushed tones appropriate for prey proximity: "Three adults, no young visible. Feeding in a clearing approximately two hundred yards northeast. The terrain features a ravine edge on the northern side—natural barrier as you specified."
"Size estimates?"
"The largest is maybe twice my height at the shoulder. The other two are smaller, probably juveniles approaching maturity."
I processed the information against my accumulated knowledge of soul beast behavior. A family group of three, with the largest individual likely the dominant adult. Targeting the dominant first would either scatter or demoralize the others, depending on species-specific responses.
"We focus on the largest initially. If the smaller two flee, we let them go. If they stay to fight, Wang Tao handles them while I finish the primary target."
"Understood."
We moved into position with the careful approach I had drilled during preparation. Sound discipline, scent awareness, visual concealment—the fundamentals of hunting that I had not practiced since my transformation but which returned now with the ease of deeply ingrained instinct.
The Bramble Boars came into view as we reached our designated positions.
Prey Analysis: Bramble Boar (Primary Target)
Species Identification: Bramble Boar, mature adult. Approximately seven feet at the shoulder, covered in the characteristic thorn-studded hide that gave the species its name. The thorns ranged from one to three inches in length, densest along the spine and flanks, thinner on the head and legs.
Estimated Soul Age: The specimen's size and the density of its thorn coverage suggested significant cultivation time. I estimated three hundred to three hundred fifty years—upper range for this maintained hunting ground, but within expected parameters.
Current Behavior: Feeding behavior, attention focused on ground-level food sources. Ears rotating periodically to monitor surroundings, but no indication of alarm. The two smaller individuals—likely offspring from recent breeding seasons—fed nearby with the casual confidence of youth.
Vulnerabilities: The underbelly lacked thorn protection, but accessing it required either toppling the creature or approaching from below—both difficult propositions. The leg joints offered more practical targets, the thorn coverage there being thinnest due to required mobility. A sufficiently powerful strike to a leg joint could cripple movement, allowing follow-up attacks to vital areas.
Hunting Strategy: Wang Tao's Earth Hammer possessed the raw force to crack through thorn protection with direct assault. His attack would focus attention and potentially drive the boar toward the ravine edge, limiting retreat options. My strike would target the right rear leg joint during the distraction, crippling mobility. Follow-up attacks would focus on exposed areas revealed by the creature's compromised movement.
I signaled Wang Tao with the hand gestures we had established during preparation. His acknowledgment came back immediately—he was ready.
The attack began.
—————
Wang Tao's assault was exactly what I had anticipated: direct, powerful, lacking subtlety.
His Earth Hammer materialized fully as he charged from concealment, the weapon's weight crushing the underbrush in his path. The largest Bramble Boar jerked upright from feeding, its small eyes tracking the approaching threat, its massive body orienting for confrontation.
The hammer struck the boar's flank with a sound like splitting stone. Thorns shattered under the impact, fragments scattering across the clearing. The boar squealed—a sound of rage rather than pain—and pivoted to face its attacker.
The two smaller boars fled immediately, crashing through undergrowth toward perceived safety. Good. We would not need to manage multiple opponents.
Wang Tao pressed his advantage, hammer sweeping in arcs that drove the boar backward, toward the ravine edge as planned. Each strike removed more thorns, exposed more hide, weakened the creature's defensive capability.
I moved during the distraction, circling to the boar's right flank, my footwork silent against the forest floor. Silent Passage ensured no sound betrayed my approach. Void Embrace blurred my outline against the shadowed undergrowth. To the boar's senses, focused entirely on the hammer-wielding threat before it, I did not exist.
The rear leg joint presented itself as I had anticipated—a gap in the thorn coverage where mobility required flexibility. I struck with the full force of my enhanced physique and soul power integration, blade driving toward the vulnerable connection.
The sword penetrated.
The boar's squeal shifted from rage to pain, its right rear leg collapsing as tendons severed and joint stability failed. It tried to turn toward this new threat, but the damaged leg would not support the motion. It stumbled, balance compromised, exposing the underbelly I had noted in my analysis.
Wang Tao did not hesitate. His hammer descended on the exposed area with crushing force, ending the hunt in a single decisive blow.
The Bramble Boar collapsed. The clearing fell silent.
"We did it," Wang Tao breathed, his voice carrying equal parts exhaustion and exhilaration. "We actually did it."
I cleaned my blade on nearby vegetation, cataloging the results with professional assessment. Clean kill. Minimal damage to valuable materials. Successful execution of planned tactics.
"Excellent work. The timing was perfect."
"Your coordination was incredible." Wang Tao was examining the fallen boar with wonder. "I never even saw you approach. One moment you weren't there, the next the thing was crippled."
"Practiced technique. Nothing more."
But his expression suggested he was not entirely convinced. I had perhaps revealed more capability than strictly necessary—the complete invisibility of my approach exceeded what my apparent cultivation should have provided.
A minor exposure. Manageable. But I would need to be more careful in future hunts.
—————
The processing of our kill occupied the remainder of the morning.
Chen Wei's research proved invaluable here, his documented procedures for field preservation ensuring that we recovered maximum value from the carcass. Meat sections were separated and treated with preservation salts he had packed. The beast core—a crystallized concentration of spiritual energy found in mature soul beasts—was carefully extracted. Valuable organs were identified and processed according to market specifications.
"This core alone is worth perhaps fifty silver coins," Chen Wei estimated, examining the gem-like object with evident satisfaction. "The meat, properly prepared, could add another gold coin. The hide, despite damage, might fetch thirty silver from the right buyer."
"Total haul?"
"Nearly two gold coins in value. Split five ways, that's forty silver each—almost a month's Academy stipend for a single hunt."
The economics were favorable, exactly as I had calculated. Regular hunting expeditions could provide both the soul beast meat my cultivation required and the income to fund continued resource acquisition. The investment in organizing this group was already proving worthwhile.
"We should hunt again tomorrow," Wang Tao suggested, his enthusiasm undiminished by hours of processing work. "Build on today's success."
"Agreed. But we'll target something different—variety prevents the local population from becoming depleted or overly wary." I had already identified several candidate species during our journey. "There's a colony of Stone-Shell Turtles documented in the southern wetland areas. Slower than the boar, heavier defensive capability, but more valuable cores."
"What's the approach for something with heavy armor?"
"Different tactics. I'll explain tonight, after we've rested."
—————
The second hunt proved equally successful, though the tactical requirements differed significantly.
The Stone-Shell Turtles were exactly as documented: slow-moving creatures with shells capable of deflecting most physical attacks. The approach required patience rather than power—identifying moments when the creatures extended vulnerable parts from their protective shells, timing strikes to exploit these brief windows.
My vibration sensing proved invaluable for detecting the subtle movements that preceded shell emergence. I found myself naturally assuming tactical leadership, coordinating strikes that maximized the team's collective effectiveness.
Xiao Mei's speed allowed her to harass targets, provoking defensive reactions that exposed vulnerabilities. Wang Tao's power delivered finishing blows when openings appeared. Chen Wei's preparation had included specialized tools for shell penetration that supplemented our spirit abilities. And Huang Mei, though not participating in combat directly, treated the minor injuries that accumulated during extended engagement.
By expedition's end, we had claimed three significant kills and numerous smaller prey. The total haul exceeded our most optimistic projections.
"This could be sustainable," Chen Wei reported during our final camp meeting. "Regular expeditions at this yield rate would generate substantial income while providing cultivation resources. The only constraint is our own development—as we grow stronger, we could target more valuable prey."
"A hunting enterprise," I said, the concept crystallizing into plan. "Regular expeditions, systematic approach, reinvestment of profits into equipment and resources."
"Would the Academy permit it?"
"Student groups are encouraged to pursue practical experience. We'd need to register our activities, share documentation with instructors, follow established safety protocols. But nothing about our approach would violate regulations."
The others exchanged glances that carried shared excitement. We had stumbled into something with genuine potential—a venture that served multiple purposes while building on the bonds we had already established.
"I'm in," Wang Tao declared. "Whatever it takes."
"Me too," Xiao Mei added. "This is the most capable I've ever felt."
"Count on me for logistics," Chen Wei confirmed.
Huang Mei's response was quieter but equally committed. "Where you go, I'll follow. All of you."
Her eyes met mine as she spoke, and I understood that the statement carried meaning beyond its surface.
—————
The fourth year of Academy enrollment proceeded with the rhythm our hunting venture established.
Monthly expeditions became standard, our group developing the efficiency that came from repeated cooperation. My role evolved naturally into tactical leadership—analyzing targets, planning approaches, coordinating execution. The others accepted this arrangement without question, my demonstrated competence earning authority that my apparent cultivation level should not have warranted.
The soul beast meat flowing from our hunts supplemented my kitchen access substantially. My cultivation accelerated even beyond previous projections, the combined resources pushing advancement faster than I had calculated possible.
Rank thirty-four. Thirty-five. Thirty-six.
Each level came faster than the last, my spiritual foundation expanding with power that exceeded what my visible rings suggested. The gap between my apparent cultivation and my actual capability widened with each month, the disguise I maintained concealing strength that grew ever more formidable.
My swordsmanship advanced in parallel. Master Shen's advanced curriculum challenged me in ways the earlier training had not, forcing refinement of techniques I had thought already polished. The combat experience from hunting expeditions provided practical testing for theoretical concepts, the two development paths reinforcing each other.
By the year's end, I had achieved rank thirty-eight—five full levels of advancement in a single academic term. The pace was extraordinary, exceeding even prodigious talent's expected limits. I was forced to carefully manage public demonstrations, deliberately underperforming in assessments to maintain the "exceptional but believable" impression my cover required.
Huang Mei's development had progressed as well, her cultivation reaching rank eighteen. Her Healing Lotus spirit had developed techniques that made her genuinely formidable as a support cultivator—her presence on hunting expeditions had prevented several injuries from becoming serious complications, her value to the group now exceeding the personal sentiment that had motivated her initial inclusion.
"You've grown so much," I observed during a quiet moment in the kitchen, watching her prepare a cultivation meal with expertise that rivaled professional cooks. "The nervous girl I met three years ago is barely visible anymore."
"She's still there," Huang Mei replied with a slight smile. "Just… better hidden. Like certain other things."
The statement carried weight that suggested understanding beyond its surface. I met her eyes, searching for what she might know.
"You've always seen more than you let on," I said carefully.
"I've learned that people reveal themselves gradually, if you're patient enough to watch." She continued her preparation, hands moving through practiced motions. "You're not what you appear to be, Lin Xiao. I don't know what you actually are, but I know the surface isn't the truth."
The observation should have triggered alarm. Instead, I felt something approaching relief—the exhaustion of constant performance finding release in the possibility of being known.
"Does that frighten you?"
"No." Her answer was immediate and certain. "Whatever you're hiding, I know who you choose to be. That's what matters."
"And who is that?"
"Someone who protects his friends. Someone who helps others grow. Someone who's learning to be human in ways that suggest he wasn't always." She looked up from her work, meeting my gaze directly. "Whatever came before, Lin Xiao is real. That's the person I care about."
The warmth her words generated threatened to overwhelm the composure I had spent years developing. She knew—not the specifics, but the essential truth that something unusual lay beneath my surface. And she had chosen to accept it, to value what I was becoming rather than fear what I had been.
"Thank you," I managed, the words inadequate for the emotion they carried.
"Thank you for letting me see." She returned to her cooking, but her smile remained. "Now stop distracting me. This dish requires concentration."
—————
Summer break arrived with its familiar heat, the Academy emptying as students departed for family visits and regional obligations.
I remained, as always—the orphan with nowhere to go, the student whose home was the Academy itself. But this summer felt different from those that had preceded it. The loneliness that had characterized previous breaks was absent, replaced by a sense of anticipation for continued development.
The hunting expeditions continued despite the break, our group maintaining operations through the summer months. The reduced Academy population actually simplified logistics—fewer scheduling conflicts, more flexibility in departure timing, less scrutiny of our activities.
My cultivation reached rank thirty-nine during the summer's final weeks, the advancement coming during a meditation session following a particularly successful hunt. The progress represented continued acceleration—my trajectory now pointing toward Spirit Ancestor well before my projected timeline.
The fourth ring approached. With it would come the reactivation of Essence Trace—the advanced olfactory ability that would add scent-based tracking to my rebuilt sensory suite. The capability would make hunting substantially easier, my ability to locate and analyze prey returning to something approaching its original sophistication.
But the ring condensation would need to wait for appropriate circumstances. Spiritual advancement to rank forty was required before integration could proceed, and I was still one level short of that threshold.
One more level. Perhaps another month of focused cultivation.
Then I would possess four rings, four active skills, capabilities that would make me genuinely formidable even by Spirit Master standards.
The serpent was rebuilding itself. Piece by piece, ring by ring, the power I had lost during transformation was returning.
And with each recovered capability, the gap between what I appeared to be and what I actually was continued to widen.
—————
The new academic year approached with changes I had not anticipated.
Huang Mei found me in the kitchen during the final days of summer break, her expression carrying a seriousness that immediately captured my attention.
"Father has been offered a position," she said without preamble. "Head chef at Spirit Hall's regional headquarters. It's a significant advancement—better resources, better pay, greater prestige."
"That's excellent news for him." But her expression suggested complications. "What does it mean for you?"
"The headquarters is in Heaven Dou City. If he accepts, we would relocate." She paused, the weight of implications settling between us. "I would need to transfer to a different academy."
Heaven Dou City. The imperial capital, center of the Heaven Dou Empire's power, location of the prestigious Heaven Dou Imperial Academy that served as the gold standard for Spirit Master education.
Also, a city where Title Douluo were not merely possible visitors but regular presences.
"When would this happen?"
"Within the month, if he accepts. The position is urgent—their current head chef is retiring for health reasons."
"Will he accept?"
"He hasn't decided. He's concerned about…" She hesitated, something vulnerable entering her expression. "About uprooting me. About separating me from my friends. From you."
The recognition that I factored into this family's major decisions struck me with unexpected force. I had become important enough to influence the course of their lives—a weight of responsibility I had not sought but could not deny.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"I want Father to have the opportunity he deserves. But I also…" She looked away, composure cracking slightly. "I don't want to leave. This is home now. You're here. Everyone is here."
The conflict in her voice mirrored something stirring in my own consciousness. The prospect of her departure triggered responses that had nothing to do with strategic calculation—a hollow sensation that I identified, after considerable internal examination, as anticipated grief.
I did not want her to leave either.
"I could transfer as well," I said, the words emerging before full analysis could evaluate them. "My cultivation has reached levels where the Imperial Academy would be appropriate. The Barak Branch has served its purpose for my development."
Her eyes widened. "You would do that? Leave everything here to follow me to the capital?"
"I would ensure that our friendship continues regardless of geography." The statement was carefully neutral, concealing depth of motivation that I was not ready to fully acknowledge. "If Heaven Dou City is where you need to be, then it becomes where I need to be as well."
"Lin Xiao…" Her voice caught on emotions that human social conditioning told me were significant. "That's not a small thing. The capital is different—more competitive, more dangerous, more…"
"More opportunities for someone seeking advancement. My development has plateaued here in some ways. The regional resources are sufficient, but the capital would offer access to things unavailable in a provincial city."
The rationalization was genuine, if incomplete. Heaven Dou City did represent advancement opportunities. But those opportunities came with substantially increased risk of detection by powerful cultivators whose spiritual senses might pierce my concealment.
I had planned to delay relocation until my stealth capabilities were more fully developed. The fourth ring, the fifth, perhaps even the sixth before exposing myself to environments where Title Douluo were common.
But Huang Mei would be there. And I was discovering that her presence mattered more than the strategic optimization I had previously prioritized.
"Let me speak with your father," I said. "Perhaps arrangements can be made that serve everyone's interests."
"You would really do this? For me?"
"For us." The word felt significant in ways I was still learning to understand. "Whatever we're becoming, it's worth protecting."
Her embrace was sudden and fierce, arms wrapping around me with strength that belied her gentle spirit. I returned the gesture with comfort that had become genuine through years of practice.
The future was shifting, paths diverging from the careful trajectory I had planned. The capital awaited, with its dangers and opportunities, its Title Douluo and its resources.
But it also held the possibility of continued connection with someone who had become essential to my existence.
The serpent calculated risks.
The human chose to accept them anyway.