Zhong Wuxi paused, pretending he did not see the little creature that had suddenly appeared. He was no longer the child he once was; he could now mask his expressions perfectly.
With the scent of fresh flora mixing with the snow of Jimo Peak, Zhong Wuxi pressed his face into his snow-white sleeve and inhaled deeply. “Master, you smell wonderful, even more fragrant than the pear blossoms.”
“If I ever go into qigong deviation during my cultivation, the scent of you will surely bring me back to my senses.”
The Snow Cloud Ribbon cowered behind Zhong Wuxi, forcing him to let go of the white sleeve to comfort the frightened little creature. When he turned back, the white-robed, ink-haired Immortal had already drifted away, leaving behind only a figure as cold and frigid as frost.
Zhong Wuxi was puzzled. “Master seems to be in a bad mood, but why?”
“Because you told the Immortal Venerable that you had grown much taller.” The Snow Cloud Ribbon, shedding its previous timid demeanor, puffed out its chest and flicked its tail. “But compared to the handsome, ethereal, and peerless Immortal Venerable, you are still not tall, Master!”
Zhong Wuxi glared at it. “Master is not here; flattery will get you nowhere.”
The Snow Cloud Ribbon grew anxious. “We ancient auspicious beasts never speak falsehoods!”
Zhong Wuxi turned his head and glared fiercely at the white fur ball. Although the little creature was cheeky, he had to admit that every word it said was true. Zhong Wuxi had been short since he was young. He had expected to shoot up in height after reaching Foundation Establishment, but even now, at the great perfection of Foundation Establishment, he was still shorter than the fifteen-year-old Zongzheng Lan. Compared to his Master, he was even shorter.
Zhong Wuxi ignited a tiny green flame in his palm, only for it to extinguish quickly. If his lack of height was not bad enough, he could not even master the Growth technique of the mutated Light Spirit Root. Could this be some sort of terrifying curse?
Seeing his master frowning, the Snow Cloud Ribbon began to comfort him. “Master, you are only seventeen. Perhaps in a few years, you will surpass the Immortal Venerable!”
“Ah, ancient auspicious beasts must not speak falsehoods.” The little fur ball covered its mouth. “Forgive me, Master. I lied to you just now; you will never surpass the Immortal Venerable.”
Zhong Wuxi cast a spell to turn himself back into his six-year-old form, picked up the fur ball, and rubbed it vigorously. “I am still taller than you, and my legs are longer than yours!”
The fur ball struggled free from its unprincipled master’s grasp and ran off to sulk in a corner.
Zhong Wuxi set up a barrier and beckoned to the little creature he had not seen in a long time. “Little Ball, come here.”
The Snow Cloud Ribbon wagged its tail and pounced into its master’s arms. “We ancient auspicious beasts cannot be coaxed just by a hug.”
“I was not talking to you.” Zhong Wuxi caught the Snow Cloud Ribbon, turned it into a white silk ribbon, and tucked it into his qiankun bag. “One Little Ball, one Little Fur Ball; it is easy to get them mixed up.”
Ever since Zhong Wuxi had gone into seclusion, he had not seen the Little Ball. Now, even though he had grown much taller, the Little Ball remained exactly as it had been. It floated before Zhong Wuxi, pointing its short arms at his eyes and hands.
Zhong Wuxi interpreted the creature-speak once again. “You want me to close my eyes and reach out my hands?”
The Little Ball nodded. Although confused, Zhong Wuxi complied. His perception sharpened when his eyes were closed, and he felt something land in his palm. When he opened his eyes, he found a tiny, beautiful red flower lying there. The petals were crystal clear, as if carved from glazed jade, yet they possessed a delicate, velvet texture to the touch.
He cradled the small flower carefully and looked up at the Little Ball. “Is this a gift for me?”
The Little Ball nodded, cupping its chubby cheeks as it stared at him with a grin.
“The flower is beautiful.” Zhong Wuxi lowered his head and sniffed it. “But for such a pretty flower, why is there no fragrance at all?”
The Little Ball pursed its lips, looking dejected as it drifted closer, seemingly wanting to take the gift back.
“Though it has no fragrance, I love this bouquet. Wait, you can understand what I am saying?!”
The Little Ball nodded.
Zhong Wuxi felt his entire world shift. Before, while the Little Ball had shown emotions like anger or joy, it had never understood his words or engaged in communication. Now, it could not only understand him but also give him a gift. Had it broken through its restriction of only being able to touch inanimate objects?
Zhong Wuxi channeled his spiritual energy to inspect it. Thankfully, the red flower, while vibrant, was inanimate. However, the fact that the Little Ball could suddenly understand him meant it had definitely crossed some kind of barrier.
Zhong Wuxi paced around the Little Ball, restless and anxious. In this book with a predetermined ending, only two people were inextricably linked to his fate: his Master, Yin Jiuli, and the protagonist, Zongzheng Lan. The Little Ball looked exactly like his Master; there had to be a connection. Would the changes in the Little Ball lead the plot toward a different ending?
The Little Ball seemed to enjoy Zhong Wuxi circling it; it did a happy somersault and sprinkled red petals from its sleeves onto Zhong Wuxi’s head.
With his mind in chaos, Zhong Wuxi waved at the Little Ball. “Be good, go play elsewhere.”
After spinning a dozen times, Zhong Wuxi felt dizzy and stopped to catch his breath. The Little Ball floated over to the pear tree, picked up petals blown down by the wind, and hugged them as if they were precious treasures.
Zhong Wuxi kept his eyes fixed on the Little Ball. It seemed slightly more transparent than before. Since awakening his mutated Light Spirit Root, he had been sensitive to all light and shadow; although the difference was minuscule, the Little Ball was indeed becoming more transparent.
While Zhong Wuxi was lost in thought, the Little Ball gathered some withered grass and, braiding it with the pear petals, created a tiny floral string.
Zhong Wuxi reached out, looking down at the red flower in his hand. “Thank you. This floral string will be perfect to tie around the bouquet.”
However, he waited in vain for the Little Ball to hand the string over. He looked up in confusion. The chubby Little Ball was holding the tiny braid made from a strand of Zhong Wuxi’s hair, solemnly tying the floral string around it.