A week of travel passed as Kai’s group pressed onward, their path cutting steadily northward toward the distant reaches of Northend. The journey had been quiet, marked by long days of relentless movement and brief respites beneath the open sky. Each morning, they set out at dawn, covering vast stretches of wilderness before making camp as dusk settled over the land. The rhythm was methodical, almost meditative—march, rest, repeat.

  To expedite their progress, Kai occasionally took matters into his own hands, quite literally. When the pace of the mortals threatened to slow them down, he would carry Chen Gong and Lu Bu, his enhanced speed allowing them to traverse in a single day what would have otherwise taken a week. Now, with Lulu among them, the burden was lessened—though not without complaint. Lulu was less than pleased at being relegated to a beast of burden, but she obeyed, if only to hasten their arrival in Northend.

  Gin, however, presented a unique challenge. His peculiar physiology meant he could only match their pace when intoxicated—a condition Kai had no interest in maintaining. Instead, he was unceremoniously tossed onto the back of a spirit beast, left to fend for himself as they surged forward. Without proper saddles, Gin’s ride was far from smooth. More than once, he tumbled off, hitting the ground with a grunt before dusting himself off and climbing back on. Kai barely spared him a glance—Gin was durable enough that a few falls wouldn’t do more than bruise his pride.

  The lack of proper riding equipment gnawed at Kai. If they were to maintain this pace, they needed stability. His mind turned to crafting saddles and harnesses—not just for Gin, but for the others as well. If the slower spirit beasts could be secured properly, they might easily be carried atop the swifter ones, further accelerating their journey. The sooner they reached Northend, the better. It would be Winter by the time they arrived at Northend if they kept going at a mortal pace, and Kai had no intention of arriving in the midst of snowfall. Establishing a home in those lands would be difficult enough without battling the elements from the outset.

  Despite the potential for speed, they had only pushed themselves to such extremes once that week. The strain of rapid travel took its toll, and Kai knew better than to exhaust his companions unnecessarily.

  Each evening, once camp was settled and fires crackled against the encroaching dark, Lu Bu and Chen Gong wasted no time. Their training was relentless—a nightly ritual of clashing fist, shouted commands, and the occasional frustrated growl when a maneuver failed to meet expectations. Lu Bu, ever hungry for strength, drilled himself to the brink of collapse, while Chen Gong refined his tactics, his mind as sharp as the movements he studied.

  Lulu sat at the small desk she had retrieved from her storage ring, her quill gliding across parchment as she meticulously transcribed another manual at Kai’s request. The task was tedious, but she worked with mechanical precision, pausing only occasionally to glance up at the two mortals training nearby.

  Lu Bu and Chen Gong moved through their drills with disciplined focus—Lu Bu with raw, aggressive strikes, Chen Gong with calculated precision. To Lulu, the entire spectacle was pointless.

  Zan is a wasteland for cultivation, she thought. Even with relentless training, it would take them decades just to reach Qi Gathering. They’ll waste most of their lives stuck in Body Refinement, never touching true power.

  Still, she held her tongue. Kai had his reasons—keeping the boy occupied, perhaps, or honoring his promise to Chen Gong in exchange for the former magistrate’s help with the locals. It wasn’t her concern. If Kai wanted to indulge in futile endeavors, so be it.

  As she dipped her quill back into the ink, she noticed Chen Gong breaking away from his training. He wiped sweat from his brow, then approached her with a respectful bow.

  "Madam Lulu," he said, his tone deferential.

  She suppressed a sigh. "You don’t have to be so formal with me."

  Chen Gong hesitated, then nodded. "Ah… understood. Still, I wanted to ask—what do you think of my form? Am I performing the movements correctly?"

  Lulu flicked her gaze toward him, assessing his stance with a bored glance. "Your form is fine. Just keep repeating it until you don’t have to think about it anymore."

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  "That’s a relief," Chen Gong said, but he lingered, shifting his weight. "There’s… something else. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but… I think I might be sensing qi."

  Lulu’s quill stilled. "What?" She turned fully toward him now, her eyes narrowing. "You’ve only been training for a week."

  "I know," Chen Gong admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "That’s why I’m not sure. I was going to ask Master Kai, but he’s busy with the saddles and dinner."

  "You’re probably just mistaking fatigue for qi sensation," Lulu dismissed, though a sliver of curiosity crept in.

  "Maybe," Chen Gong conceded, but his brow furrowed. "Is there any way you could check? Just to be certain?"

  Lulu exhaled sharply through her nose. Why am I humoring this? Still, she relented, extending her hand. "Give me your wrist."

  Chen Gong obeyed, and as soon as her fingers closed around his pulse point, a thin stream of her qi flowed into his meridians. She wasn’t expecting anything—this was just a cursory check to put his foolish hopes to rest.

  But as her energy traced through his pathways, her detached expression fractured.

  First, confusion. Then—surprise.

  "Is something wrong?" Chen Gong asked, watching her carefully.

  Lulu withdrew her hand as if burned. "No. Nothing you need to worry about," she said, her voice unnaturally even. "Return to your training. I need to speak with Kai."

  Before Chen Gong could respond, she was already on her feet, striding toward where Kai worked on the spirit beast saddles. Her mind raced.

  This shouldn’t be possible.

  ?????

  The evening air carried the scent of simmering herbs and leather oil as Kai worked by the fire, his calloused hands shaping a new harness for the beastkin. The pot of venison stew bubbled lazily nearby, its rich aroma mingling with the crisp northern wind. Gin sprawled nearby, picking at his teeth with a bone—utterly useless, as always.

  Kai leaned back against Snow’s massive flank, the great white wolf serving as both his backrest and silent companion. The wolf had finally regained enough strength to walk on his own, no longer needing to be carried atop Ning, the stoic quake buffalo. A small mercy—Snow had snarled at Igni the last time they’d forced him onto Ning’s back.

  Prideful creature, Kai mused, scratching behind the wolf’s ear. Snow exhaled through his nose.

  Still, the recovery was far from complete.

  Even after weeks since the ice dome incident, Kai estimated Snow had regained barely ten percent of his total qi reserves. The realization sat heavy in his chest. Zan truly is a spiritual wasteland. Without Kai’s nightly qi transfers, the wolf might have withered away entirely—spirit beasts weren’t meant to survive in lands so devoid of qi.

  Kai clenched his jaw. At this rate, it’ll take months before he’s back to full strength.

  The thought gnawed at him. Every night, once the others slept, he would press his palm to Snow’s side and let a small amount of his own qi flow into the wolf’s starved meridians. It wasn’t much—just enough to help speed up his recovery. But Kai had begun to notice… changes.

  Snow had always been affectionate in his own way—nudging Kai’s shoulder with his muzzle, curling around him on cold nights, licking his face. But since the qi transfusions began, the wolf had become different. More deliberate.

  When Kai channeled energy into him, Snow’s breathing deepened. His massive body would press closer, his fur bristling with something akin to recognition. Once, Kai could have sworn the wolf shivered under his touch—not from cold, but from something deeper. Something almost… reverent.

  Kai exhaled sharply, forcing his attention back to the harness. Foolish thoughts.

  Sharing qi was intimate by nature. Something no one does, not even other cultivators. But Snow wasn’t human. He couldn’t understand what it meant.

  …Could he?

  The wolf’s blue eyes flicked open, meeting Kai’s gaze with an intelligence that defied a normal beast.

  Then—

  "Kai!"

  Lulu’s voice cut through the quiet. She stood at the edge of the firelight, arms crossed, her usual indifference replaced by something sharper.

  Kai didn’t look up. "What?"

  "It’s Chen Gong. He has perfect spirit root. But, more so than that. He might be a heaven defying talent!"

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