Ciel had known that Elena spent five low-grade spirit stones on the wine.
She had not known what those five stones had been before they became wine.
“You still haven’t replaced that thing?” The speaker stood beside a narrow hunting vessel at Blue Port’s eastern pier.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Skin darkened by years beneath the sun.
Seven condensed layers of Qi rested around him.
Senior Kell Arden of Green Trail.
Elena had just finished securing a bow case across her back.
She stopped.
“Good morning to you too, Senior Kell.” Kell pointed.
“That bow.” Ciel followed his finger.
It looked good to her.
Dark wood.
Horn reinforcement.
A thick string.
Clean.
Well maintained.
The sort of weapon that would have made any hunter in Orione jealous.
Kell looked at it as if Elena had strapped a farming tool to her back.
“I thought you were replacing it.” “It still works.” “So does a kitchen knife.” “It also cuts people.” Kell ignored that.
“I thought you were buying the Stoneback Horn Bow.” Elena glanced sideways.
Toward Ciel.
Only once.
That was enough.
Ciel’s stomach sank.
“The five spirit stones.” Elena sighed.
“Ciel.” “You were saving them for a bow?” “For part of one.” “How much?” Elena hesitated.
“For something actually made for a cultivator?” “Yes.” “Twelve low-grade spirit stones if I found a good used one.
Fifteen or sixteen for something I’d want to keep.” Ciel looked at Elena’s current bow again.
Suddenly she understood what Kell had seen.
The problem was not that the weapon was bad.
The problem was Elena.
A mortal archer would have struggled to fully draw it.
Elena was already at Second Layer Qi Condensation.
Her body was no longer mortal.
If she truly pulled with all her strength— the bow would probably break before her arms tired.
“You spent almost half a bow on Spirit Wine.” “It wasn’t half a bow yet.” “That does not make me feel better.” “The wine worked.” “Also not helping.” “It got us Dorian’s core.” Elena touched the earring hanging from her left ear.
A slim plate of blue Orion.
A polished green half-core.
Fine gold chains ending in little droplets.
The morning sun struck the Orion and produced the faintest trace of color.
Elena smiled.
“And now I have this.” Ciel stared at it.
That did not make her feel better either.
She had treated those five stones almost like part of a joke.
Elena’s wine.
Dorian’s pride.
A ridiculous drinking contest.
But the stones had not been sitting uselessly in a pouch.
They had been progress.
A weapon.
A part of Elena’s future.
Elena immediately recognized Ciel’s expression.
“No.” Ciel blinked.
“No what?” “Whatever you’re planning.” “I’m not planning anything.” “You looked guilty for three breaths and then your eyes changed.” “My eyes did not change.” “Your eyes always change before you start planning something.” Kell laughed.
Before Ciel could defend herself, a voice came from the boat.
“If the financial tragedy is over, the tide isn’t waiting.” Captain Brann Gault was already aboard.
The White Minnow was not especially white.
Its hull had been repaired so many times that Ciel suspected pieces of several dead boats had been sacrificed to keep it alive.
Six mortal sailors worked aboard.
The actual hunting party consisted of only three cultivators.
Captain Brann Gault.
Qi Condensation, Fifth Layer.
Senior Kell Arden.
Seventh Layer.
Elena Ward.
Second Layer.
That was considered sufficient for a routine hunt.
Their target was a Shallow Water Python.
The name was misleading.
According to Elena, it resembled an enormous armored eel far more than any python Ciel had ever imagined.
Long body.
Hard overlapping scales.
Water attribute.
Two curved fangs.
Fast beneath the surface.
Dangerous enough that three Qi Condensation cultivators needed to treat it seriously.
Useful enough after death that they willingly did.
A good carcass might produce around twenty low-grade spirit stones in total.
Might.
Nothing in hunting had a fixed price.
The core could be damaged.
The blood could spoil.
The hide could tear.
The scales could crack.
Demand changed.
A material worth two stones today might sell for three next month.
Or one.
Everything depended on what survived the fight and who happened to be buying when they returned.
The normal division aboard Brann’s vessel was simple.
Forty percent to the captain.
Thirty percent to each of the other cultivators.
On a clean twenty-stone hunt: eight.
six.
six.
Brann’s larger share also supported the vessel, the mortal crew, provisions, repairs and harbor fees.
Still— six spirit stones for a single successful hunt sounded enormous to Ciel.
“Why doesn’t everyone do this?” Elena had looked at her strangely.
“Because sometimes you find two Pythons.” “So?” “Sometimes you kill the first one.” Elena had paused.
“Then an Iron Crab finds you.” Ciel had stopped asking.
The sea paid well.
The sea also apparently collected its own fees.
Ciel noticed something else as they prepared.
Neither Brann nor Kell carried a conventional weapon.
Brann had knives and ordinary tools aboard, but no spear or sword at his waist.
Kell wore reinforced bracers around both wrists.
Elena carried considerably more.
Her bow.
A quiver of ordinary arrows.
A dagger.
And a narrow hard case secured separately beside the bow case.
Ciel had seen it before.
Never opened.
“What’s in there?” Elena’s hand stopped.
Then she smiled faintly.
“My real arrow.” “Real?” Elena unclasped the case.
One arrow rested inside.
Only one.
Ciel immediately understood why it had its own container.
The shaft was dark and faintly glossy, threaded with lines too regular to be natural grain.
The arrowhead was not metal.
A pale-gray fang had been carved into a long, narrow point.
Tiny dark channels ran through its base.
At the rear were three green feathers.
Not dyed.
Green.
Spirit material.
Ciel leaned closer.
“Green Feather?” “Pigeon.” “Courier?” Elena stared.
“Do you have Green Feather Courier money?” “No.” “Then pigeon.” Kell looked over.
“You still have the Blackmarsh arrow.” Elena nodded.
Ciel looked from him to the fang.
“Blackmarsh?” “Needle Viper.” Ciel stopped leaning closer.
“Venomous?” “Very.” She withdrew one finger she had absolutely not been considering using.
Elena noticed.
“I saw that.” “I wasn’t touching it.” “You were thinking about touching it.” “How does the venom remain inside?” “The fang is part of the artifact.” Elena lifted the arrow carefully.
“The original channels were preserved during refinement.
I feed it diluted venom periodically.” “You feed your arrow.” “Yes.” “Of course.” Ciel looked toward the green feathers.
“And those?” “Wind-aspected.” “They make it faster?” “Mostly more stable at high speed.” Elena ran one finger along the shaft.
“The arrow is bound to me.” Ciel’s interest immediately sharpened.
“So you can control it.” “Somewhat.” “Like a flying sword?” Elena made a face.
“No.” “Similar mechanism?” “Similar enough that you’d make an artifact refiner angry if you called them the same thing.” Kell smiled.
Ciel waited.
Elena sighed.
“A flying sword is made to be sharp.” She raised the arrow.
“This is made to pierce.” That clicked immediately.
Elena continued.
“A sword wants control.” “It can brake.” “Turn.” “Return.” “Circle.” “Attack again.” “My arrow doesn’t.” “What does it want?” Elena smiled.
“Forward.” Ciel looked at the fang.
Appropriate.
“The bow gives it the initial force.” “The Green Feather fletching keeps it stable.” “My Qi lets me influence the path after release.” “How much?” “Enough to correct.” “Not enough to dance.” Elena demonstrated with her finger.
“A broad curve.” “A small change in elevation.” “If the target moves, I can follow somewhat.” “But a flying sword could turn around someone.” “My arrow would lose too much speed.” She tapped the fang.
“And speed is the point.” Piercing.
Not sharpness.
One violent line.
“But you’re Second Layer,” Ciel said.
Elena nodded.
There was the real limitation.
Qi outside a cultivator’s body dissipated quickly at Qi Condensation.
An artifact retained and organized it better than empty air.
It did not eliminate the problem.
“If I want enough Qi left in the arrow when it reaches something,” Elena said, “I have to put almost everything into it.” “Everything?” “Enough that I’m not doing it twice.” Ciel looked at the ordinary bow.
“And that limits you too.” Elena’s expression soured.
“More than the arrow does.” She drew the bow halfway.
“With a real cultivator bow, I could use my body’s actual strength.” “Spirit-beast bone?” “Bone or horn.” “Grade One tendon for the string.” “Something that doesn’t cry when I touch it.” Kell pointed.
“That bow cries.” “Nobody asked you.” Ciel looked again at the five-stone earring.
Then at the artifact arrow.
Then at the bow Elena had been saving to replace.
She said nothing.
For now.
Mara arrived with Nora shortly before departure.
She brought no display case.
No announcement.
No explanation of what Elena wore.
Brann knew only that Voss Appraisals had paid Green Trail enough to make Elena’s participation in the hunt convenient.
The hunt itself was real.
Mara looked at Elena.
“Instructions.” Elena groaned.
“We did this yesterday.” “Again.” “Don’t explain the earring.” “Good.” “Don’t discuss how it was made.” “Good.” “Don’t tell anyone what it may be worth.” “Good.” “If someone asks who handles business regarding it—” “Senior Mara Voss at Voss Appraisals.” “Excellent.” “If it becomes unusually hot?” “Stop using it.” “If the sound distorts badly?” “Stop.” “If a dead cultivator begins whispering through it—” Brann looked over.
Elena immediately said: “Stop.” Mara nodded.
“Good.” Brann frowned.
“Did that happen?” Ciel answered too quickly.
“No.” Mara looked at her.
Ciel corrected herself.
“Not successfully.” Brann stared.
Elena climbed aboard.
“Ignore them.” Mara waited until Brann had moved away.
Then spoke more quietly.
“Scheduled contact every two hours.” Elena nodded.
“Privately.” “Yes.” “Do not reveal it merely to impress someone.” “I know.” Mara studied her.
Then added: “Come back.” Elena’s expression changed slightly.
“Planning to.” The White Minnow left Blue Port with the morning tide.
Ciel remained at the pier until the ship became small.
Then the earring beside her face warmed.
The Orion lit.
A miniature aurora moved across the blue metal.
Ciel touched the activation point.
“Elena?” The voice arrived so clearly that she looked over her shoulder.
“…Can you hear me?” “Very clearly.” “…We’re barely outside the harbor.” “I know.” “Say something.” “…Something.” “Again.” “…Ciel.” “Again.” “…I regret agreeing to this.” Behind Elena’s voice, Ciel could hear the hull moving through water.
A rope sliding.
One of the sailors shouting.
Clearer than across several parts of Blue Port.
Mara stood beside her.
“Well?” “Better than the city.” “Significantly?” Ciel nodded.
Mara smiled faintly.
“Water nourishing Wood.” “Looks like it.” “Looks like.” Ciel sighed.
“Yes, Master.” “Record it.” Two hours later: still clear.
Four hours: still clear.
At one point static entered Elena’s voice.
Ciel immediately asked what had changed.
“…Nothing.” “Where are you standing?” “…Near the bow.” “What is beside you?” “…Anchor chain.” Ciel looked at Mara.
Metal.
“Move toward the stern.” Elena did.
The static faded.
Another mark on the page.
The pattern from West Reed Hills continued.
Water helped.
Metal suppressed.
Distance— at least so far— barely mattered.
Unfortunately, distance was not the problem aboard the White Minnow.
Finding something was.
Six hours after departure, the deck remained irritatingly empty.
No Python.
No shed scales.
No blood.
No carcass.
No sign worth following.
Brann had changed hunting grounds three times.
Kell had entered the water twice to inspect traces.
Nothing.
One mortal sailor shouted that he had seen a shadow.
The shadow turned out to be seaweed.
Nobody congratulated him.
Brann looked toward the sun.
“Another half hour.” Kell sat near the side.
“Then home?” “One more pass south.” “And then?” “Home.” Elena understood what that meant.
Zero.
Brann still paid his mortal sailors.
Provisions were still consumed.
The boat still needed maintenance.
Kell lost a day.
Elena lost a day.
Everyone returned with nothing.
Elena touched her earring.
Then stopped.
Mara had told her to remain discreet.
There was no emergency.
No one was dying.
They were simply unlucky.
Another quarter hour passed.
Nothing.
Elena touched the earring again.
Three spirit stones.
That was expensive.
Returning with no prey was more expensive.
“Captain.” Brann turned.
“I might have a way to narrow the search.” His attention sharpened immediately.
“You waited six hours to mention this?” “I wasn’t planning to use it.” “What is it?” Elena hesitated.
Then decided.
“I can contact a diviner in Blue Port.” Kell stood.
Brann stared toward the distant coast.
Then back at Elena.
“From here.” “Probably.” “Probably?” “It’s experimental.” That did not make him happier.
Elena touched the Orion.
Fed it a thread of Qi.
Aurora moved across the blue metal.
The green core glowed.
“Senior Voss?” For several breaths, only water answered.
Then: “…Elena?” Kell’s expression froze.
Brann looked at the earring as if it had suddenly grown teeth.
Mara continued.
“…What happened?” “Nothing.” A pause.
“…People rarely call me unexpectedly because nothing happened.” “We haven’t found a Python.” Another pause.
“…You revealed the artifact because you’re having a bad hunting trip?” Kell turned away to hide his face.
Elena reddened.
“We’re about to go home with nothing.” “…That is one of the possible outcomes of hunting.” “Senior Voss.” Mara sighed.
“…Fine.” Elena smiled.
“Can you help?” “…Possibly.” “Cost?” “…One low-grade spirit stone per ordinary question.” Brann stepped closer.
“Per question?” Mara had heard him.
“…Correct.” “Three questions is three spirit stones?” “…Your arithmetic appears excellent.” Brann looked at the empty sea.
“That’s expensive.” Mara answered: “…How much have six hours of searching earned you?” Brann looked around.
Nothing.
“Three questions.” Back at Voss Appraisals, Mara placed the turtle shell on the table.
Only one coin came out.
Yes / No.
The Danger / Safety coin remained in its pouch.
They were not asking whether to fight.
They were looking.
Ciel unfolded a coastal map.
“We need their current position.” Elena asked Brann.
He answered: “About twelve li northeast of Split Fin Rock.” “How large an area are you still willing to search?” Brann thought.
“Twenty-four li from here.” Ciel marked it.
A circle.
Far too much ocean.
Brann asked: “Can Senior Voss ask where the nearest Python is?” “No,” Ciel said.
Silence from the other side.
“Then what exactly am I paying for?” Ciel looked at the circle.
Mara looked at Ciel.
The technique could not answer: Where?
But Yes/No did not need to.
Ciel drew a line through the circle.
“We don’t need Heaven to tell us where it is.” Brann sounded unconvinced.
“That would be useful.” “We need to eliminate enough places where it isn’t.” Mara smiled faintly.
“Three questions,” Ciel said.
“Three cuts.” The wording mattered.
Mara rejected the first version.
Too vague.
The second too.
Eventually they settled on: Is the nearest Shallow Water Python within Captain Gault’s twenty-four-li search area primarily west of the White Minnow’s current position?
Mara placed her fingers against the shell.
Qi flowed.
Silver-white lines appeared through the old trigrams.
The coin trembled.
Lifted.
Spun.
Fell.
Ciel felt Mara’s aura diminish slightly.
The coin settled.
Yes.
Mara spoke.
“…West.” On the White Minnow, Brann turned toward half the horizon.
Half the search area had just become irrelevant.
Assuming the reading was right.
Ciel reminded herself of that immediately.
Low-level Divination was not certainty.
It was information with uncertainty attached.
Second question.
Divide the western half.
Within that western portion, is the target primarily south of the White Minnow’s current east-west line?
Qi.
Spin.
Fall.
Yes.
Southwest.
One quarter.
Kell’s voice came through.
“…That’s actually clever.” Ciel smiled.
“Thank you.” Mara glanced at her.
“Do not become proud because Heaven understands binary questions.” Ciel stopped smiling.
Third.
Distance.
Half of twenty-four.
Is the target within twelve li of the White Minnow’s current position?
Mara activated the shell again.
The third reading cost more effort now.
Not because the question itself was deeper.
Because her reserve was lower.
The coin rose.
Spun.
Struck the shell.
Fell.
No.
Ciel traced the result.
Southwest.
More than twelve li away.
Probably less than twenty-four, because that was the search area defined in the original question.
Probably.
Nothing more.
No coordinates.
No exact depth.
No guarantee the beast remained still.
Mara leaned back.
“…Search southwest, likely somewhere beyond twelve li and within the radius you gave me.” Brann frowned.
“Likely?” “…Yes.” “Three stones bought me likely?” Mara replied: “…If you find someone selling certainty for three low-grade spirit stones, please give me their address.” Kell laughed.
Brann sighed.
Then shouted toward the helm.
“Southwest.” Five li.
Nothing.
Seven.
Nothing.
Brann became quiet.
At nine li, one of the sailors spotted dead fish.
Three floated near the surface.
Kell pulled one aboard.
Two punctures.
Widely spaced.
He examined them.
“Maybe.” They continued.
At thirteen li they found a dark green scale caught among floating reeds.
Hard.
Long.
Water Qi still lingering faintly within.
Brann turned it in his hand.
“Python.” Elena smiled.
“Three stones.” “Don’t start.” At sixteen li, Kell saw a wake moving against the local water.
He stood immediately.
“There.” Now Divination stopped mattering.
The hunters took over.
The White Minnow remained back.
That was Brann’s first order.
“Keep the boat clear.” One mortal sailor grabbed the tiller.
Elena reached for her bow.
Brann stepped onto the railing.
“You stay aboard.” “I’m part of the hunt.” “Exactly.” He pointed at the bow.
“You have range.” Then he jumped.
Kell followed without hesitation.
Both struck the water.
The sailors immediately began backing the boat away.
Elena moved to the side where she had the clearest line of sight.
The Python surfaced.
Seven meters, perhaps.
Dark green overlapping scales.
Pale underside.
Broad wedge-shaped head.
Two long fangs.
An eel in armor.
Elena finally understood why people paid twenty spirit stones for the corpse.
She also understood why they sometimes died obtaining it.
Brann surfaced first.
He filled his lungs.
Turned toward the beast.
Then submerged both hands.
Cold Qi flooded through his arms.
His fingers became pale.
The water immediately surrounding his hands whitened.
He did not summon it.
Did not raise the sea.
His hands remained inside the water.
Working.
Pressing.
Turning.
Drawing the shape longer.
The motions reminded Elena strangely of a potter shaping wet clay.
Except Brann’s clay froze beneath his fingers.
A point formed.
Then a shaft.
A rough harpoon of seawater hardened between his palms.
Brann seized it.
Pulled it free.
Twisted his Fifth Layer body.
And threw.
WHAM!
The ice harpoon crossed the distance.
Struck the Python’s back.
Shattered.
White fragments flew.
One scale showed a pale mark.
Nothing more.
Brann was already submerging his hands again.
The first throw had never been meant to kill it.
The second harpoon struck near the head.
This time the Python turned.
Brann smiled.
“Good.” Attention acquired.
Kell began swimming.
At first Elena thought he was simply using crawl.
Then she saw his hands.
Water Qi expanded around them.
Not enormous.
But clearly broader than flesh.
Translucent extensions followed his palms and fingers, making each hand effectively several times wider.
Left arm entered the water.
The Qi-covered palm caught an enormous amount of it.
Pulled.
Kell surged forward.
Right.
Pull.
Again.
His Layer Seven strength already made every stroke superhuman.
Flowing River Water Palm multiplied what each hand could push against.
He did not control the sea.
He swam through it.
Extremely well.
The Python moved.
Kell followed.
Stroke.
Stroke.
Stroke.
The distance vanished.
As he approached, the Water Qi around his right hand changed.
The broad paddle-like shape contracted.
Compressed.
Tight around the palm.
Kell twisted in the water.
Struck.
BOOM.
The Python’s head jerked.
Elena’s eyes widened.
Same technique.
Different use.
Wide Qi surface for swimming.
Concentrated Qi surface for killing.
The Python snapped toward Kell.
He pushed away with two broad strokes.
The jaws closed behind him.
Brann’s next ice harpoon struck the side of its neck.
Shattered.
The beast turned toward him.
Kell came back from the other side.
Palm.
BOOM.
Three hunters.
Three different jobs.
Elena raised her bow.
Her first arrows were ordinary.
One bounced from a scale.
Another wedged shallowly between two plates before the Python’s movement shook it free.
Elena stopped wasting them.
She watched.
Brann was not Kell.
He could swim quickly because he was Fifth Layer.
That was already beyond anything a mortal body could match.
But he did not possess Flowing River Water Palm.
He could not chase the beast efficiently.
Instead he made it come to him.
Hands beneath water.
Cold Qi.
Shape.
Freeze.
Throw.
Again.
Every harpoon cost little material.
The sea provided that.
It cost Qi.
And time.
Two or three breaths of working water between his hands.
That meant Kell often had to occupy the Python while Brann made the next one.
When the Python came too close, Brann changed the shape.
Shorter.
Thicker.
He froze seawater around his forearms and hands into crude protective masses.
The Python struck.
Ice exploded.
Brann was thrown backward.
But his arms remained attached.
Better shattered ice than shattered bones.
Elena understood his style.
Nothing he created needed to survive.
It needed to break first.
The Python submerged.
For several breaths the surface showed nothing.
Brann turned.
Kell immediately started swimming.
Left.
Right.
Left.
The broad Water-Qi palms drove him forward.
A dark shape appeared beneath him.
Elena saw it first.
“Kell!” He twisted.
One enormous stroke.
The Qi-paddle around his hand bit into the water.
His body shot sideways.
The Python erupted where he had been.
Its teeth missed.
Its tail did not.
Kell flew across the surface.
Hit hard.
Brann’s hands plunged underwater.
Too slow to make a full harpoon.
He shaped something shorter.
A thick ice spear.
The Python charged.
Brann drove it forward.
The beast bit.
The spear exploded.
Brann released it instantly and dove sideways.
Ice instead of flesh.
A good trade.
Kell surfaced.
Blood at his lip.
Still alive.
Elena opened the narrow case.
The artifact arrow recognized her hand.
The bond was faint.
Familiar.
Hers.
The Green Feather Pigeon fletching trembled.
The Blackmarsh Needle Viper fang waited at the front.
Elena placed it against the string.
Drew.
The bow bent.
More.
Creaked.
Her arms could continue.
The weapon could not.
She stopped.
Every time, that irritated her.
Then she breathed.
And fed Qi into the arrow.
Earth Qi traveled down the shaft.
Gathered around the fang.
Gray-black mineral material formed.
Rough.
Sharp.
Flint-like.
Crrrk.
More.
The stone layer thickened.
Jagged.
Designed not only to pierce— but to break after it did.
Her reserve fell rapidly.
The artifact retained her Qi much better than an ordinary arrow.
But retained did not mean preserved forever.
Once released, the Qi would begin dissipating.
She needed an opening.
Now.
Brann formed another harpoon.
Threw.
Wrong angle.
Kell struck.
The Python turned.
Wrong.
Elena held.
The bow trembled slightly.
Not from her strength.
From time.
Her Qi was already outside her body.
Waiting inside the artifact.
Bleeding away.
“Elena!” Brann shouted.
“Not yet.” The Python lunged.
Kell used two enormous crawl-like strokes to move across its front.
His left palm remained broad with Water Qi.
His right compressed.
He struck the side of the beast’s head.
BOOM.
The Python turned sharply.
Brann’s harpoon shattered against its upper neck.
The beast opened its mouth.
Kell saw the line.
He dove.
One powerful stroke downward.
Then came up beneath it.
His palm struck under the jaw.
BOOM.
The Python’s head lifted.
Soft tissue appeared between the jaw and the first line of heavy scales.
A heartbeat.
Less.
Elena released.
THRUM— The arrow disappeared from the bow.
Mechanical force first.
Her supernatural draw limited by a mortal-grade weapon—but still tremendous.
The artifact shaft held.
The Wind-aspected feathers stabilized the flight.
Qi burned through it.
The Python moved.
Its head began dropping.
Elena’s fingers formed a seal.
The bound arrow responded.
It curved.
Broadly.
Not elegantly.
A flying sword could have stopped.
Turned.
Approached from behind.
Elena’s arrow did none of those things.
It refused to surrender its forward fury.
The correction changed only enough.
A few degrees.
A little lower.
A little left.
Pierce.
The fang entered beneath the jaw.
The Earth coating shattered inside the wound.
Stone fragments spread through flesh.
The artifact arrow buried almost to the fletching.
Then Elena’s knees weakened.
Her Qi reserve collapsed.
Not completely.
Enough that the difference no longer felt important.
She lowered the bow.
Brann shouted from the water: “Again!” Elena drew her dagger.
“That was the one!” At first— nothing.
The Python thrashed.
Dove.
Attacked again.
Elena’s stomach tightened.
Had the venom failed?
Too much seawater?
Too large a beast?
Kell pursued.
Broad Water-Qi palms.
Powerful strokes.
He gained on it.
The Python suddenly changed direction.
Kell reacted— and smiled.
“It’s slowing.” The next turn came later.
Barely.
But later.
The Blackmarsh Needle Viper’s venom had entered.
Not enough to instantly kill something that large.
Enough to interfere.
Muscles.
Nerves.
Qi circulation.
The wound beneath the jaw continued bleeding.
Worse— the flint-like Earth Qi had shattered inside.
Every violent movement drove fragments deeper.
Earth did not automatically defeat Water.
Cultivation was not a children’s game of elements.
But Earth Qi embedded in a Water-attributed beast’s wound certainly did not make its circulation easier.
Kell reached it again.
His broad swimming palm compressed.
Strike.
BOOM.
The Python twisted.
Slower.
Brann swam close enough to submerge both hands beside himself.
Cold Qi.
Shape.
Freeze.
This time he made a short heavy spear.
The Python snapped toward him.
Brann jammed the ice between its jaws.
It shattered immediately.
But for that one instant— its mouth stayed open.
Kell arrived.
Right palm compressed.
All the Water Qi that moments earlier had been spread across an oversized swimming surface gathered into one point.
He struck directly beneath the poisoned wound.
BOOM.
The Python convulsed.
Its tail churned the water.
Then again.
Weaker.
Again.
Weaker still.
Brann backed away.
Kell did too.
No one approached.
One of the mortal sailors whispered from the White Minnow: “Dead?” Brann shouted without looking back: “That’s how people become lunch.” They waited.
Eventually Kell swam closer.
Touched the body.
Checked the mouth.
The Qi.
The eyes.
Then finally raised one arm.
“Dead.” Only then did the sailors bring the boat closer.
Elena sat down.
Immediately.
Her dagger remained in one hand.
Brann climbed aboard later, dripping water.
He looked at the arrow still embedded beneath the Python’s jaw.
“That thing is unpleasant.” Elena smiled weakly.
“Thank you.” “I meant the poison.” “I’ll tell the arrow.” Kell hauled himself onto the deck.
“Almost all your Qi?” “Yes.” “One shot.” “One good shot.” He looked back at the corpse.
Then nodded.
“Good enough.” That pleased Elena more than she wanted to admit.
Recovering the beast was almost another profession.
The sailors threw lines.
Kell and Brann used their cultivator strength to help secure the carcass without dragging it against the hull.
Blood was collected.
The core remained untouched until the vessel reached calmer water.
Nobody wanted to turn several spirit stones into broken crystal because someone slipped while cutting.
Then Brann placed both palms against the Python.
Cold Qi entered from direct contact.
Frost slowly formed between the scales.
Not deep enough to freeze the corpse solid.
Controlled.
Measured.
The body cooled.
Elena watched him.
“Preservation?” Brann nodded.
“More valuable than my harpoons.” She looked surprised.
He noticed.
“A dead beast starts becoming cheaper immediately.” “Blood changes.” “Meat spoils.” “Organs lose spiritual activity.” “Some alchemical buyers can tell if you were lazy.” He continued moving his hands along the carcass.
His Cold Qi entered only where he touched.
Patiently.
Professionally.
“The boat gets me to the beast.” “The cold gets the beast home worth nearly what it was when we killed it.” Elena understood why his share was larger.
Not just because he owned the vessel.
He preserved the money.
Kell was extracting Elena’s arrow when something hit the hull.
THUNK.
Everyone stopped.
Another impact.
Lower.
Scraping.
Brann turned instantly.
“Cut the aft line.” One sailor stared.
“Captain, the carcass—” “Cut it.” The line fell.
Kell moved toward the side.
A broad dark shape appeared beneath the surface.
Then a claw rose.
Iron-gray.
Larger than Elena’s chest.
Iron Crab.
Fresh.
Uninjured.
Very interested in the blood filling the water.
Elena stood.
Her body remained that of a Second Layer cultivator.
Stronger than any mortal aboard.
Faster.
Harder to kill.
But her Qi reserve was nearly gone.
Her artifact arrow had just been recovered.
Kell had spent heavily.
Brann had fought, swum and begun preserving the carcass.
The Crab struck the hull again.
THUNK.
Wood cracked.
Brann did not order them to fight.
“Move!” The sailors obeyed.
Sail.
Rudder.
Lines.
Kell grabbed the Python’s recovery rope with both hands and hauled.
The boat turned.
The Crab surfaced.
Brann looked at the water.
No time to shape something elegant.
He plunged both hands beside the hull.
Cold Qi spread through what he touched.
His fingers moved fast.
Press.
Turn.
Freeze.
A rough harpoon formed.
He tore it free.
Threw.
CRACK!
It exploded against the Crab’s claw.
Barely a mark.
The Crab paused.
That was enough.
The White Minnow gained distance.
Brann made another.
And another.
Not attacks meant to win.
Frozen seconds.
Each shattered harpoon purchased another little piece of ocean between them and the Crab.
Eventually the creature slowed.
Perhaps it preferred the Python blood.
Perhaps they had left its territory.
Perhaps they were simply lucky.
Nobody suggested returning to find out.
For several minutes the only sounds were the sail, the hull and people breathing.
Then Brann looked at Elena.
“Six stones.” Elena nodded.
“Not easy money.” “No.” They contacted Voss Appraisals after the boat was safely moving toward Blue Port.
This time Brann asked first.
“Can you speak to Senior Voss?” Elena touched the earring.
“Senior Voss?” Mara answered quickly.
“…Elena?” “Alive.” Silence.
Then: “…Good.” Ciel’s voice came faintly behind hers.
“…Did you find it?” “Yes.” “…Did the Divination work?” “We found signs around thirteen li and the Python around sixteen.” Mara answered: “…Then it narrowed the area.
Good.” Ciel immediately asked: “…Did you use the arrow?” Elena smiled.
“Yes.” “…The artifact one?” “I only own one artifact arrow.” “…Did you recover it?” Elena looked at the narrow case.
The fang was stained.
One Green Feather plume was bent.
The shaft remained intact.
“Yes.” Ciel exhaled loudly.
Brann stepped closer.
“Senior Voss.” “…Captain Gault.” “Those three questions were worth three stones.” “…I am pleased to hear my pricing has received field validation.” Brann looked at the earring.
“How much is this artifact?” Elena’s posture changed.
Mara paused.
“…Voss Appraisals does not currently have a retail price for it.” “Who made it?” “…If you have business concerning the artifact, Captain, visit my shop.” “How far does it reach?” “…Apparently farther than your vessel traveled today.” “How many—” Mara interrupted politely.
“…Was there anything else regarding the Divination?” Message received.
Brann smiled.
“No.” The connection ended.
He looked at Elena.
“How many exist?” Elena smiled back.
“Ask Senior Voss.” “How does it work?” “Ask Senior Voss.” “Can I rent one?” “Ask Senior Voss.” Kell laughed.
Brann shook his head.
“You’re all irritating.” “Training requirement.” The Python eventually sold for slightly under twenty low-grade spirit stones in total value.
Not to one buyer.
To several.
The core went one place.
The blood another.
An alchemist bought organs.
An artifact apprentice bought bones.
Scales were separated by quality.
The two good fangs attracted their own buyer.
The hide went elsewhere.
The neck meat around Elena’s venom wound had to be discarded.
Several scales damaged during combat sold cheaply.
Brann complained.
The buyers were unmoved.
From the total proceeds came ordinary expedition expenses.
Then Mara’s fee.
Three low-grade spirit stones.
One for each question.
Brann paid it without complaint now.
Had they not spent three— they might have earned nothing.
The remaining value was divided according to the agreed shares.
Elena ended with a little over five low-grade spirit stones in money and materials.
She stared at the pouch.
Almost exactly what she had spent on the Spirit Wine.
One day.
One Python.
One arrow.
One Iron Crab that could have transformed all their careful arithmetic into funerals.
Brann noticed.
“Saving for something?” “A bow.” He looked at her current weapon.
“Good.” Elena glared.
“Everyone hates my bow.” “It knows what it did.” Ciel met her outside Green Trail.
Her eyes checked Elena first.
Face.
Arms.
Legs.
No missing pieces.
Then the earring.
Then the bow.
Then the artifact case.
Elena noticed.
“My feelings are hurt that the earring came second.” “You came first.” “Acceptable.” Ciel looked at the pouch.
“How much?” “A little over five.” Ciel stopped.
Elena grinned.
“My bow savings have recovered from your alcohol problem.” “It was not my alcohol problem.” “You needed Dorian.” “You volunteered.” “I know.” Ciel’s expression remained guilty.
Elena sighed.
“Still?” “I didn’t know.” “About the bow.” Ciel nodded.
“You should have told me.” “What would you have done?” Ciel opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Elena smiled.
“Exactly.” “You delayed something important.” “I chose to.” “For us.” “For me too.” Elena touched the Whisper Earring.
“I wanted this.” Ciel looked at the little green core.
That helped.
A little.
“We’ll make it back.” Elena raised an eyebrow.
“We?” “You know what I mean.” “Fine.” She started walking.
“When your miraculous earring empire makes you rich, you can buy me a Foundation-grade bow.” Ciel almost tripped.
“Foundation?” “You said you’d make it back.” “Five stones!” “Inflation.” “That is not how inflation works!” Elena continued walking.
“Ask Mara.” Three visitors were already waiting inside Voss Appraisals.
Captain Brann was one.
Another wore Green Trail colors.
The third looked like a harbor merchant.
Mara sat behind the counter drinking tea.
The merchant’s attention immediately found Elena’s earring.
“That’s it?” Elena covered it instinctively.
“That’s what?” “The artifact Captain Gault used to speak with Senior Voss.” Brann frowned.
“Elena used it.” “And Senior Voss found a spirit beast from Blue Port.” “I said she narrowed the search area.” The Green Trail cultivator leaned forward.
“From Blue Port.” Brann sighed.
“Yes.” The merchant turned to Mara.
“How far does it work?” Mara drank tea.
“How far does what work?” The man pointed.
“That.” “I have not advertised an artifact.” “But she spoke with you.” “Apparently.” The merchant stared.
“Can I buy one?” “Voss Appraisals is not currently selling them.” Currently.
Ciel noticed the word.
So did the merchant.
His eyes sharpened.
“Who made it?” Elena answered: “If you have business regarding the artifact, speak with Senior Voss.” “How much is it worth?” “Senior Voss.” “How many are there?” “Senior Voss.” “Can it contact Whitebank?” Elena smiled.
“I am a Green Trail cultivator carrying it for a mission.
I do not handle Voss Appraisals’ artifact business.” Every question moved toward Mara.
Exactly where Mara wanted it.
The Green Trail cultivator asked: “I heard Senior Voss can find spirit beasts anywhere along the coast.” Mara finally lowered her cup.
“No.” The man blinked.
“But Captain Gault—” “Captain Gault provided an approximate location.” “A target species.” “A maximum search radius.” “And purchased three separate ordinary Divinations.” Brann nodded.
“That’s what happened.” The man frowned.
“So you can’t simply tell me where a beast is.” “No.” “Could you narrow a search area?” Mara considered him.
“Sometimes.” One word.
That was enough.
The merchant leaned forward again.
“And the communication method?” “If you require a service,” Mara said, “we can discuss the service.” No construction.
No range.
No price.
No rarity.
Nothing useful to thieves.
The visitors left knowing less than they wanted.
Which meant the rumors became better.
By evening: Senior Voss could speak with hunters at sea.
At another tavern: Senior Voss could direct hunting ships toward spirit beasts from her shop.
At Green Trail: Voss Appraisals possessed an ancient long-distance communication treasure.
Near the docks: Mara Voss could divine sea beasts hundreds of li away.
And according to a fisherman who had never met Mara and had not been aboard the White Minnow— Senior Voss could apparently see through the eyes of anyone wearing her earrings.
Ciel stared at Nora.
“No.” Nora nodded.
“Obviously.” “How did they get from three Yes-or-No questions to that?” “Effort.” “We should correct them.” Mara looked up from an appraisal.
“Which rumor?” “All of them.” “Did I claim I can see through Elena’s eyes?” “No.” “Then my conscience is clear.” Ciel frowned.
“This could become dangerous.” Mara stopped.
The humor disappeared.
“Yes.” She put down the object she had been examining.
“Which is why no one learns that the pair is unique.” Ciel nodded.
“No one learns what core it contains.” Another nod.
“No one learns how difficult replacing it would be.” Ciel understood.
“And no one learns we’re not sure we can make another.” “Good.” Mara looked toward Elena.
“Let strangers believe Senior Mara Voss possesses mysterious methods.” Her gaze shifted back to Ciel.
“That is considerably safer than letting them believe two Second Layer girls are walking around with an irreplaceable treasure.” Elena touched the earring.
“Mysterious methods.” Mara smiled.
“I rather like that.” “Of course you do,” Ciel said.
Mystery, apparently, was not only good business.
Sometimes it was armor.
That night, Ciel sat in the observatory with a circle drawn on paper.
Then a line.
Then another.
Then a smaller band.
Three questions.
Three spirit stones.
Mara had never asked Heaven: Where is the Shallow Water Python?
She could not.
The technique was too primitive.
Instead: West?
Yes.
Half gone.
South?
Yes.
Three quarters gone.
Within twelve li?
No.
Another section removed.
Then professional hunters had done the rest.
Dead fish.
A discarded scale.
A wake against the water.
The actual beast.
Ciel stared at the diagram.
Mara climbed the stairs behind her.
“You should sleep.” “Three questions.” “I remember all three.” “We didn’t need to know where it was.” “No.” “We only needed to stop looking where it wasn’t.” Mara looked at her.
Ciel’s eyes brightened.
“If a question is too expensive…” “Ask a smaller one.” “If Heaven won’t give you the whole answer…” “Ask for pieces.” “If the technique is weak…” Mara interrupted.
“Do not become arrogant.” Ciel stopped.
Mara sat opposite her.
“Three shallow answers helped because skilled hunters knew what to do with them.” “The same answers given to fools would have produced three poorer fools.” Ciel smiled.
“Still.” “Still.” Ciel looked down again.
Observation.
Knowledge.
Calculation.
Divination.
Perhaps the strength of a diviner was not merely how deeply she could look into Heaven.
Perhaps it was also knowing how little she actually needed to ask.
Outside the tower, the sea was black beneath the stars.
Ships crossed it.
Hunters searched it.
Spirit beasts killed beneath it.
And somewhere in Blue Port, a rumor was already spreading that Senior Mara Voss could find monsters without leaving her chair.
That rumor was wrong.
Mostly.
Ciel traced the three divisions once more.
Heaven had never told them where the Python was.
It had only helped them stop searching in the wrong places.
Sometimes— that was enough.