The Clam Spirit was so frightened it trembled, hurriedly snapping its shell shut.
Nezha reached his hand into the bowl, stirring the water into a frenzy. The Clam Spirit tumbled and rolled in the water, unable to speak, its intelligence no match for the insects of Qianyuan Mountain, let alone one with cunning.
Nezha withdrew his wet hand and paid it no more attention. The clam shell rolled a few times in the current before gradually steadying itself. Seeing Nezha asleep, Shuanglian closed its eyes too.
It had been four or five years since it had taken this form, spending its days playing dead at the bottom of the sea. No human hands or feet, no one to chat with. It had regressed, adapted to being a Clam Spirit, and forgotten most of its human habits.
The morning mist over Qianyuan Mountain was hazy. Nezha went to the peach orchard to practice with his spear. His lotus-made body knew neither cold nor heat. When he walked back into the cave dwelling, Shuanglian surfaced in the water, catching a faint scent of lotus fragrance. Though subtle, it was stronger than yesterday's.
Nezha fished out the Clam Spirit, tossed a Spirit Fruit onto the table before it, then sat on the couch, arms crossed, observing.
The clam shell opened a crack. Small black eyes darted around, covertly sizing up the Spirit Fruit. A wispy, smoke-like tentacle extended out, rolled the Spirit Fruit into the shell, and immediately snapped shut.
After a few breaths, the shell opened, and the Clam Spirit spat the Spirit Fruit back out. The fruit had shrunk a little, but for the Clam Spirit, it was still too big.
The smoke-like tentacle waved in the air. Seeing that Nezha had no intention of helping, the Clam Spirit, drawn by the fruit's sweet fragrance, wrapped its tentacle around it again and slowly nibbled away.
Nezha propped his chin on his hand, watching: "Hey, can you talk or not?"
The Clam Spirit paused, then continued eating the Spirit Fruit, pretending not to hear.
Nezha bent a finger and tapped the clam shell: "Can't understand what I'm saying?"
The shell snapped shut with a smack, looking for all the world like it was saying "I really can't understand you."
Nezha took out a small bottle and poured a bit of powder ground from Spiritual Power into his palm: "Here."
Shuanglian caught the scent. The clam shell rustled as it shuffled closer, opening up as its tentacle darted out to sweep up the powder from his palm.
Nezha suddenly closed his fingers together, catching the pinkish-white Clam Spirit in his hand. He squinted: "So you do understand human speech?"
The shell snapped shut violently, nearly pinching its own smoke-like tentacle.
The room fell silent. After a long while, the shell opened a thin crack, and the tentacle cautiously poked out to survey the situation.
It touched Nezha's fingertip. Shuanglian's small black eyes widened in fright, and it tried to snap its shell shut—but was blocked by his fingers.
Nezha repeated his trick, pinching the shell's edge with his thumb and forefinger, forcing the gap open wider. The small black eyes darted around frantically, and the translucent tentacle pushed desperately against his fingers, but its strength was far too weak.
Nezha pressed harder, and the shell opened halfway, revealing a slit. His finger wedged itself between the shell halves and slipped inside.
The Clam Spirit shrank back, thoroughly startled. Its black eyes stared up at Nezha in panic through the gap, its tentacle unable to push him out.
Nezha practiced breath cultivation with Samadhi True Fire year-round, and many of his treasures were fire-related. As a result, his body temperature ran higher than most.
The Clam Spirit dwelled deep in the sea—cool, clean, and pleasant to the touch. Nezha simply found it amusing, brushing his fingertip across its eyes. The little clam blinked, startled into a silent cry, too afraid to make a sound, only shrinking further back.
Shuanglian struggled to close its shell, but feared pinching the Third Prince's fingers—and besides, his fingers were wedged in so deep it couldn't shut them anyway.
The Clam Spirit lived deep underwater, rarely seeing light—how could it withstand such torment? In just a moment, the water it had locked inside itself for survival came gushing out, soaking Nezha's hand.
Nezha paused, pulled his finger out, pried the shell open to look at the tearful little black eyes, and burst out laughing so hard his shoulders shook: "Little Clam Spirit, what's wrong with you? That scared? You actually peed all over my hand!"
It did not! That was the water it had locked away to survive! Shuanglian was mortified beyond words. Seizing the moment he loosened his grip, it snapped its shell shut in an instant, refusing to open again no matter what.
Gloomy and heartbroken, it turned its back to Nezha and shed two tiny tears.
It wasn't until he tossed over some pastries that Shuanglian slowly shuffled its shell over, extended its tentacle to test, then sucked in all the pastry crumbs.
Shuanglian could only eat shrimp and algae at the bottom of the sea—its sense of taste had atrophied. When the sweetness hit, its small black eyes squinted in satisfaction, and its tentacle reached out again, waving over the now-empty table to check for any leftovers.
Nezha: "It's all gone."
The tentacle retracted. Nezha wiped his hand on his Universe-Overturning Silk, finding the whole thing utterly delightful. He crushed the Spirit Fruit the Clam Spirit hadn't finished, smearing the purple juice on his fingertips.
Nezha stuck his juice-stained fingers back inside and stirred: "Eat up—aren't I feeding you?"
Seawater mixed with purple juice seeped onto the table. Shuanglian sobbed, resisting weakly, not daring to close its shell with too much force, terrified of displeasing the Third Prince and getting its shell ripped off and its flesh torn out.
After all, it was just a demon with low intelligence—this young lord could easily toy with it to death.
Nezha showed no restraint, curling his knuckles as the Clam Spirit became like a little spring, his palm growing damp and cool: "Ungrateful little demon, wasting all my Spirit Fruit. You owe me for that?"
Too bad the Clam Spirit couldn't talk. He played with it for a while longer before reluctantly pulling his hand back.
The Clam Spirit's shell had turned completely pink. Shuanglian closed up, mortified and questioning its very existence.
Qianyuan Mountain had a Five Lotus Pond—the lotus and leaves used to reshape Nezha's mortal body came from there. He held the Clam Spirit in his hand, its shell clamped tightly shut, refusing to open.
Nezha tossed it into the Five Lotus Pond. The Clam Spirit's nature loved water, and once in the pond, Shuanglian completely relaxed. The clam shell opened, drifting with the water's movement, swimming here and there.
Nezha paid it no more attention, stepping onto the Wind and Fire Wheels and descending the mountain, off to find some trouble or another, to complete some Killing Tribulation.
The Five Lotus Pond was rich in Spiritual Power. Shuanglian slept contentedly on the sandy mud, the clam shell opening and closing, the soft flesh inside trembling as it attempted to spit out pearls.
Nezha was a great immortal—the bit of Spiritual Power fed to it was worth a hundred years of cultivation for a Clam Spirit. Shuanglian's belly was swollen, its tentacles feeling the faint bulge—its Life-Bond Pearl was forming.
Shuanglian tried hard to breathe and expel, but only managed to spit out a little pearl sand.
When Nezha returned, a hand reached into the lotus pond and scooped out the clam shell. The Clam Spirit had closed itself up. Shuanglian was secretly hiding the newly-formed pearl deep inside the shell, not daring to let the god of slaughter discover it.
Nezha poked it: "Are you sulking?"
The clam shell remained silent.
Strange. After eating so much Spiritual Power, it should be able to speak by now.
"Come back to the Heavenly Court with me."
Nezha lived in Cloud Tower Palace in the Heavenly Court. Over a dozen tall towers, solemn and immortal, resplendent in gold and splendor.
A man with a woman's face, dressed in brocade robes, wearing a lotus cloud-shawl, red robe and long skirt, the Universe Ring around the neck, the Universe-Overturning Silk wrapped around the narrow waist.
Though he had ascended to heaven barefoot, at least he was dressed neatly. Shuanglian was wrapped in the Universe-Overturning Silk, its dark black eyes gazing at the red tassels and earrings hanging from both sides of his hair.
Some celestial maidens were drawn by his appearance, but seeing the fierce brows and eyes, they all detoured far away: "Third Prince."
Nezha returned to Cloud Tower Palace. He lived in the same official residence as his father Li Jing and others.
Nezha's palace was cold and empty. He was restless by nature but disliked socializing—there were no servants in the hall, not much decoration, just empty.
He took a pearl seized after subduing the ninety-six cave demons with a spell, and ground it into powder. The Clam Spirit rustled as it moved into his palm, tentacles reaching out to roll up the powder, eating it slowly and carefully.
Nezha propped his chin on his hand, poking it. The clam shell trembled, not speaking, not making any sound.
"What a mute."
The clam waited a few breaths, then secretly extended its tentacles and continued eating. In truth, Shuanglian could make sounds, but it hadn't spoken in a long time, and was deeply afraid—afraid that saying the wrong thing would displease him.
The next day, some trouble arose in the Heavenly Court. First came word that a stone had burst open on Mortal Realm's Flower-Fruit Mountain. The Jade Emperor said "no need to bother," and none of the immortals took the stone monkey seriously.
Nezha's daily routine was very simple: receive orders, go to battle, win, report back. He didn't bother with the stone monkey—no need to get involved.
Then came word of demons appearing in the west, having cut down quite a few heavenly soldiers and generals. The Jade Emperor summoned Nezha the Third Prince. He accepted the order, and with a flick of the Universe-Overturning Silk, he was out through the South Heavenly Gate.
That demon was cunning, and the monsters shared evil in common. Nezha chased for a day, drew his Demon-Slaying Sword, and beheaded it.
Blood splattered all over Nezha—the red robes redder, the skin paler, the vertical line between his brows shockingly vivid. When he returned to the Heavenly Court, the killing aura had not yet dispersed. The generals guarding the South Heavenly Gate dared not look directly at him, and his colleagues all took detours around him.
Back at Cloud Tower Palace, the palace was silent. Pushing open the door, the pearl powder Nezha had left on the jade table was already finished. The clam shell opened a crack, and a faint voice drifted out from within:
"Hungry…"
Shuanglian was truly starving to the point of dizziness. With the pearl it was nurturing, its appetite was larger than usual. The past few days Nezha had fed it well, but today there was no sign of him, and it was starving to the point of seeing stars.
Nezha approached silently, walking to the jade table. The Clam Spirit called out again, its shell open wide enough to see the pinkish-white soft flesh.
Nezha: "Mute Clam Spirit, you only know to cry out when you're starving to death?"
The clam shell snapped shut in an instant.