Chapter 125

Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW

Chapter 125: Title

“Will it bleed to death if you carry it like that?” Mingyu whispered.

Yang Xingyu answered carelessly, “I’ve already used spiritual energy to stop the bleeding.”

Spiritual energy was nothing short of miraculous. When injured and bleeding, there was no need to fear, as long as one had even a trace of spiritual energy left—stopping the bleeding and accelerating healing was effortless.

Of course, Yang Xingyu still found it somewhat challenging. At the very least, he couldn’t speed up wound healing significantly, and ordinary creatures struggled to endure the strain of spiritual energy infusion.

Qiao Feiyu lost interest after sparing the squirrel two glances. Now nestled in Yang Xingyu’s grasp, the creature would likely be healed and released anyway.

The squirrel hung limp, its body slack and tail drooping lifelessly. Its wounded leg occasionally spasmed with involuntary tremors.

Yu Yue approached with a medical kit, brow furrowed. “I’m not certain if these medications are suitable for animals.”

“Human medicine should work. If not, we’ll just channel some spiritual energy. Slower healing beats doing nothing,” Yang Xingyu shrugged.

“We’ve no medical Practitioners here, nor any extraordinary individuals with healing expertise. Should I fetch the expedition’s physician?”

“I studied basic wound care before the exams,” Yu Yue offered tentatively. “If it’s a simple injury, I could attempt treatment.”

“Be my guest.” Yang Xingyu unceremoniously transferred the squirrel to her arms, examining his hand where only the faintest bite mark remained—a testament to Practitioners’ natural regenerative abilities.

“Seems docile enough now,” he remarked.

The Ghost in Red sat apart, her crimson robes shimmering beneath gossamer veils. A jade ring cinched her waist, from which jade-beaded tassels cascaded like frozen rivulets. Scarlet had always been her signature, yet these new garments differed subtly from the bridal-style robes she’d worn upon awakening. Every stitch now whispered of daily wear rather than ceremonial purpose.

Though bold by nature, Yang Xingyu tread carefully around the red-clad senior—his former mentor in ghost cultivation. Burning questions about her changed attire went unasked, stifled by ingrained reverence.

Beneath the star-strewn sky, the campfire’s glow illuminated scattered sleeping bags as travelers snatched brief respite. Around the flames, Yang Xingyu’s group maintained their vigil.

Neither the Ghost in Red nor Mingyu broke the silence, their ghostly gazes occasionally drifting toward the motionless squirrel. Qiao Feiyu kept his usual quiet, leaving Yu Yue to focus on bandaging with meticulous care.

Yang Xingyu—ever restless in stillness—flopped backward onto the earth, tactical clothing shielding him from the dirt. The heavens sprawled above, constellations glittering like shattered ice.

They called this the best and worst era—the Awakening of Spiritual Energy. Yang Xingyu’s thoughts turned to the Special Bureau’s elder Practitioners, octogenarians and nonagenarians who’d clung to life through the pre-Awakening darkness. Now they stood at dawn’s threshold, granted mere moments to bask in sunlight after lifetimes spent yearning for it.

He counted himself fortunate. Even without his peculiar fate, Zhongxia’s universal cultivation movement might have claimed him—though the path would’ve diverged wildly. The world had shifted irrevocably, leaving old certainties as fragile as autumn’s last leaf.

Under the nationwide promotion of cultivation by the state, training programs and tutoring centers have sprouted like a garden in full bloom. During the initial phase, cracking down on illegal cultivation institutions became the primary mission for regional branches of the Special Bureau.

Unlike ordinary courses in languages or arts that merely defraud money, cultivation mishaps could plant hidden dangers within one’s physique or even cause immediate qi deviation fatalities.

Then there were the part-time spirit cultivators in society.

While people generally detest flyer distributors, who could resist when a fluffy quadruped with jewel-like feline eyes approaches, purring "Come play with us~~Special event today~~"?

Resistance proves futile. Most would willingly enter the cat café to purchase affordable treats, feeding the diligent kittens stationed at entrance cat trees doubling as promotional posts.

The gradual integration of spirit cultivators into human society demonstrates habit’s formidable power – what began as fearful suspicion transformed into casual acceptance within months.

Non-transformed spirit cultivators each radiate unique charm: downy furballs invite endless snuggles, while even insectoid varieties find niche admirers among humans.

As for transformed spirit cultivators…rumors suggest their humanoid appearances directly reflect combat prowess, lineage purity, and latent potential. Superior bloodlines invariably manifest as breathtaking beauty.

—No documented cases exist of aesthetically challenged transformed spirits. Even their "average" specimens outshine most human beauties.

Truly, a race where every transformed member embodies visual perfection.

Yang Xingyu notes many transformed spirits have debuted as child stars or gained fame as D-site streamers, leveraging innate talents to amass followings.

Why children? Simply because adult spirits remain scarce. Their species’ prolonged maturation period means most arrivals from the Mountain and Sea Realm are still young ones.

*Ahem* For those curious about high-tier adult spirits’ mesmerizing allure beyond imagination, follow the verified Weibo accounts: @SpecialBureauOfficial, @SpiritClanOfficial, and @DragonPrinceAo_Lan.

These official channels guarantee real-time updates on adult spirit affairs plus regular beauty filter activated content.

Yang Xingyu’s thoughts drifted to recent invitations from film crews seeking his participation in fantasy dramas – either as guest star or lead.

Modern productions now demand actor cultivation levels sufficient for practical effect execution sans CGI. But how do novices achieve epic spectacle?

Cue gratitude for the Special Bureau’s hundreds of cultivation techniques, each containing practical spells paired with incantation guides – fertile ground for innovative combinations.

Though problematic when overenthusiastic practitioners attempt literal mountain-leveling stunts…prompting swift Special Bureau interventions.

With billions nationwide and endless cultivation methods circulating, unconventional geniuses inevitably emerge.

Yang Xingyu marveled at Division 6’s specially recruited researchers. Armed merely with primers like "Formation Fundamentals" or "Talisman Basics", they’d engineered functional marvels.

"Doesn’t everyone here excel at everything?" he mused. "Maybe I’m just background decoration…"

Pilot courses on spiritual systems reportedly commenced at Capital City universities. The upcoming academy will enroll students nationwide, staffed by ancient practitioners passionate about education.

Numerous sects recently fulfilled disciple-recruitment criteria. Though intake remains modest, progress continues smoothly.

Zhongxia’s decades-long traditional attire revival reached new heights post-Awakening of Spiritual Energy, evolving modernized variations.

Where flowing robes were once rare, streets now ripple with silken sleeves across all demographics.

Credit goes to ancient practitioners whose styles sparked mass adoption. Initially impulsive emulation became sustained preference as wearers discovered both aesthetic appeal and inexplicable ancestral resonance.

With 80% citizens now being Practitioners (conveniently temperature-resistant through cultivation), the fashion proves perfectly practical.

Yang Xingyu recalled his bewildered cohort during early Special Bureau days, perpetually questioning "Who am I? Where is this?"

Now dispersed across homeland branches, they choose familiar environments between missions.

Rumors say the ancient practitioners relocated mountainward. Perhaps next encounter with Young Master Leng might yield a cheeky invitation?

Videos pale against firsthand experience.

"Alright," Yu Yue’s voice rang out.

Yang Xingyu snapped to attention, fishing out his phone to check the time. Surprisingly little had passed.

He stretched with a yawn, levering himself up on one elbow to peer toward her. "Thanks, sis."

Yu Yue debated whether to protest the folksy address, then shrugged. "Brother Yang, where should we place it? We can’t abandon the creature here."

The charcoal-gray squirrel lay curled on her lap, utterly still.

"Toss it wherever," Yang Xingyu waved dismissively. "We’ve jungle trails to tread at dawn. Let the camp guards nurse it before releasing."

Beyond their fire’s glow, shadows shifted—latecomers sharing their ambition to hunt totem deities, greed outpacing caution.

Yu Yue blinked at his casual verdict. So typically male, she mused, already envisioning the delicate creature nestled in makeshift blankets rather than discarded like kindling.

"Yu Yue." Ghost in Red’s voice sliced the night.

"Present!" She stiffened automatically.

"Hand it over."

The command froze the gathering. Yang Xingyu masked a smirk—who knew the ice-veined senior harbored softness for fluffy things?

Qiao Feiyu’s brow arched skeptically. Unlike his companion, he doubted sentimentality motivated the crimson enigma.

Yu Yue fumbled the transfer, the squirrel’s downy warmth passing between them.

Their firelit circle held its breath: Yu Yue → Ghost in Red → Qiao Feiyu → Mingyu → Yang Xingyu → Yu Yue.

Alabaster fingers descended, talons masquerading as nails dimpling the creature’s glossy pelt. It hung suspended, scruff gripped with surgical precision.

Not a whisker twitched. Yang Xingyu glowered—since when did vermin play courteous? His bitten thumb throbbed in memory.

Yet observing its quivering nose and tail-tip patterns like brushed ink, even he grudged the creature’s lethal charm.

Ghost in Red tilted her captive eye-level. "This fear… unnatural."

Bafflement rippled through the group. Qiao Feiyu’s sidelong glance demanded answers: Demon?

Yang Xingyu’s responding glare denied culpability. True demons reeked of corruption, unless… His stomach dropped. What if its cultivation dwarfed theirs?

The squirrel’s glassy eyes offered nothing. Ghost in Red’s frown deepened. Her suppressed aura shouldn’t trigger such terror—yet the creature trembled as before executioners.

"Fascinating." Her free hand rose, casual as a falling leaf yet charged with ancient power.

"Let me see what you truly are."

This squirrel couldn’t be an ordinary creature – no common animal would fear her presence. Yet if it were a demon… she detected no trace of spectral energy. The Ghost in Red contemplated her theory, determined to verify it.

Her raised hand froze the air with tension. Yang Xingyu and his companions knew better than most – when this red-clad senior moved, consequences followed like thunder after lightning.

A mere sleeve-flick from her could condemn men to three months’ bedrest or worse. Those who’d witnessed her gestures before never forgot the aftermath.

Qiao Feiyu’s thoughts crystallized: The rodent’s doomed.

"Senior," Yu Yue ventured, "what purpose does this serve? Should we not spare the poor creature?"

"Perhaps it doesn’t comprehend Mandarin," Yang Xingyu mused aloud.

As the crimson-clad fingers descended toward furry brows, Yang Xingyu envisioned nightmare fuel – grey matter splattering across mossy stones. He blurted, "Senior! If it’s foreign vermin, maybe Old Qiao should interrogate it in English!"

Qiao Feiyu’s withering glance spoke volumes: Why me? And why English instead of local dialect?

The suspended hand hovered. "Plausible," the Ghost conceded. "Though soul-searching would’ve been quicker."

Soul-searching? The men exchanged uneasy looks, mutual dread reflected in their widened eyes.

"The creature’s spirit bears fractures," came the terse diagnosis.

Before Yang Xingyu could parse this revelation, the released squirrel plummeted earthward – only to twist mid-air, landing with feral grace. Dragging its maimed limb, it arrowed toward him.

Yang Xingyu stood paralyzed as the creature scaled his leg and vanished into his tactical jacket’s collar, squirming until satisfied with its nesting spot. The suspicious lump over his heart pulsed faintly.

A snort breached the silence. Then another. Soon, suppressed laughter rippled through the group, shoulders shaking with mirth.

Yang Xingyu’s temple throbbed. Since when had he become some fuzzy refugee’s sanctuary? Only a brain-damaged rodent would seek shelter in a mercenary’s gear.

Qiao Feiyu mastered his amusement first. "Senior Ghost in Red," he inquired, steering conversation, "this fractured spirit you mentioned?"

"The soul inhabiting this vessel is both incomplete and incompatible." Her words carried clinical precision, yet certainty weighted each syllable.

"Foreign demon?" Yang Xingyu absently stroked his chin, abandoning attempts to dislodge his stowaway. "Perhaps we should adopt it."

"Without spiritual integrity, it won’t survive long," the Ghost countered.

"But squirrels aren’t supernatural," Qiao Feiyu objected. "Why the damaged soul?"

Yu Yue’s brow furrowed. "Brother Yang retrieved it from the jungle depths. Could those cursed woods…"

Beside Qiao Feiyu, Mingyu worried his lip, trembling like aspen leaves in storm. Yang Xingyu marked the youth’s hesitation.

"Mingyu? Speak your mind."

All eyes swiveled to the quaking figure. Mingyu shrank behind Qiao Feiyu’s bulk, embodying timidity that would shame field mice.

"That… the soul seems to belong to a person," Mingyu said hesitantly.

"A person?" Yang Xingyu blurted out. "No way! You must be mistaken, Mingyu. This is clearly just a squirrel!"

Despite his words, Yang Xingyu felt a creeping discomfort. He extracted the trembling creature from his collar, observing how its tiny form quivered as if half its soul had fled. After brief hesitation, he cradled it in his palm.

"If it’s human… is it a beautiful woman?" Yang Xingyu inquired with poorly concealed anticipation.

Every citizen of Zhongxia knew the ancient tale – the shepherd boy who saved a snake, only to be wedded millennia later by a stunning snake demon repaying her debt. Who’s to say history wouldn’t repeat itself with a squirrel demon?

Mingyu, still innocent to the salacious thoughts dancing through Yang Xingyu’s mind, frowned slightly. "I can’t discern clearly. The silhouette appears humanoid, but gender remains uncertain."

Yang Xingyu’s shoulders slumped dramatically.

"It’s male," Yu Yue interjected, lips twitching with suppressed mirth. "I confirmed while dressing its wounds."

Yang Xingyu’s face froze as if shattered porcelain.

Qiao Feiyu abruptly turned away, jaw clenched against inappropriate laughter.

"Old Qiao… perhaps you should—" Yang Xingyu extended the squirrel with visible reluctance.

The creature’s origins being unknown made Yu Yue an unsuitable guardian. The red-clad senior? He’d sooner challenge a dragon. Only Qiao Feiyu remained.

"Fluffy things trigger my allergies," Qiao Feiyu deadpanned. His eyelid twitched as he added, "One walking complication suffices. I’ve no appetite for another."

"Red-clad Senior, about that soul search—" Yang Xingyu began, then stiffened as the ball of fur in his palm convulsed violently.

Deceptively plump in appearance, the creature felt bony and angular against his skin. Yang Xingyu snorted, "Relax, I’m not dissecting your memories. Truly, ‘timid as a mouse’ fits you perfectly."

The squirrel suddenly nuzzled his thumb with pathetic urgency. Yang Xingyu shot Mingyu an exasperated look. "You still claim this is human? Its fawning behavior mirrors my neighbor’s mangy cat."

"Soul extraction reveals retained memories," the red-clad senior stated dispassionately, ignoring their antics. "However, fragmented souls risk disintegration during the process."

Her clinical tone continued, "This remnant will lose its soul regardless. Should we glean jungle secrets from its demise, efficiency prevails."

"Sounds… harsh," Yang Xingyu mumbled.

Yu Yue nodded vehemently. This wasn’t merely harsh—it bordered on murder.

"Alternatives?" Yang Xingyu pressed. Though seasoned in slaying abyssal creatures and rogue extraordinary individuals, executing innocents crossed an unspoken line.

The squirrel’s terrified gaze mirrored his own turmoil.