"That was only a minor test."
Morax's calm words struck Xuekui even harder. A minor test?
Meaning even in a shallow exchange… he couldn't withstand the aftershock?
"You've seen it. This is what battles between gods look like. Forget resisting such enemies—how confident are you that you'd even survive within such a battle?"
Xuekui fell silent.
He was very confident of one thing:
He would die.
"And if one day, a god like that attacked your territory… are you confident you could protect the people and lead them safely away?"
Xuekui lowered his eyes.
Morax knew his goal was halfway achieved.
"In the end, belief without strength cannot protect what you wish to protect. After what you've seen, you should understand—your strength is nothing before the crises on this land."
Morax studied Xuekui's face and knew it was time to finish.
"So? Come learn talismans and arts from me. With your talent, reaching the realm of gods one day is not impossible."
"Oh. No thanks." Morax: ?
A giant question mark practically hung in his eyes.
Was he unclear? Or was the child not as sharp as he'd assumed? "I want to learn your 'principle.'"
Morax's mouth twitched.
"A god's innate talent—how do you plan to learn it? Keep your feet on the ground and proceed step by step!"
Morax's anger didn't sway Xuekui.
The massive creature he'd seen in that cave flashed through his mind. Principle wasn't exclusive to gods.
At least… he'd seen something similar once before. "So you can't teach me?"
Xuekui tilted his head, gazing up at Morax with innocent curiosity. Morax's breath caught.
How did Guizhong put up with this little demon?
"A god's instincts—how am I supposed to teach a yaksha?" Xuekui looked at him with blatant disdain.
Instincts. Big deal. Like he'd never tried. "Then I'll find my own way."
Morax laughed in fury.
"Fine. Fine. If you can't learn it, then what?" Xuekui laced his arms behind his head. "What do you want?"
"I don't need you to master 'principle.' In three months—if you've made progress that satisfies me, I won't interfere with you again. But if you haven't…"
Morax's eyes narrowed.
"Then you will obediently learn the arts I teach." Xuekui blinked.
"Deal."
"Then the contract is made."
As Morax's words fell, Xuekui felt a faint thread form between them—so subtle it could only be sensed at such close distance.
"You know how I value contracts," Morax said coolly. "Break your word, and you will suffer the punishment of eating rock."
Xuekui exploded.
"Bullshit! You're a Geo god—what's the difference between eating rock and chewing steamed buns?!"
Morax nearly tumbled out of the air.
He steadied himself, then—choosing not to dignify it—turned and flew away. If he stayed any longer, he feared the child wouldn't need three months.
He'd simply be bedridden for three months. As he flew, Morax sighed and felt a faint guilt.
Within the contract, he'd effectively taken advantage of a child's lack of worldly experience. Three months—how could anyone achieve a leap like that?
Any growth required time, especially for long-lived beings like them.
An instant awakening was only a beautiful wish—not something to rely upon.
For a contract to form, cost and benefit had to be balanced. His demand was harsh, but he asked only that the child learn more, without restricting him.
That fairness was what allowed the contract to bind. Xuekui needed to grow quickly.
Even if not for himself—his naïve friend truly needed a reliable blade at her side. Meanwhile, Xuekui wandered in the direction Morax had flown, wearing a lost expression. Not from the spectacle of godly conflict.
Not from fear of strengthening himself. Just…
Where was he?
Xuekui turned in place, staring at the unfamiliar scenery. Alone, he could drift anywhere. But now he had somewhere to return.
He needed to find the way.
After looking around for a long time, the small yaksha threw back his head and roared. "Damn you, long worm!"
...
In a lush forest, a crystalline ice spear tangled with a plain, unadorned spear. Their tips wound around one another, drawing small circles in the air—proof of both wielders' control.
Xuekui gripped his ice spear, his usual carefree cheer absent. His brows were knotted tight, as if facing a mortal enemy.
Opposite him stood a young-looking woman with delicate features. A loose teal robe covered her upper body, practical for movement. The back hem trailed to her feet, while the front left her legs bare—long, slender, and strong.
Her dark blue hair was tied high into a bun, ready for combat. Unlike Xuekui's tension, the woman wore a composed smile.
The force running down the ice spear began slipping out of Xuekui's control. His face darkened.
The next instant, he sprang back—having lost the contest at the tip, he could only retreat to avoid the spear that shot straight for his chest.
But that retreat threw him into complete disadvantage. Her spearwork was… how to describe it?
It carried the forward-driving vigor of youth—bright and lively. And yet it was also brutally unreasonable, relentless, pressing in with a ferocity that clashed with her gentle appearance.
Thrust. Lift. Flick.
Tiny changes, high-speed offense—then punctuated by heavy sweeping strikes. Xuekui could only block, dodge, and retreat again and again.
Under continuous pressure, a gap was inevitable. The instant his back brushed against a tree, the dread in his heart synchronized with the glint in her eyes.
Her spear slipped past his ice spear, aimed straight for his chest—
And a sudden ice wall formed between them. Her spear jammed into it, her eyes widening. Xuekui—no longer the frantic prey—calmly leveled his spear at her forehead.
That was enough.
The girl gripped her spear and snapped it side to side, shattering the ice wall. She puffed her cheeks and glared at him, eyes shining.
"Xuekui, you're cheating again! Aren't you supposed to show enough progress to Rex Lapis? This won't help you."
Xuekui didn't blush or flinch. He wagged a finger, shamelessly twisting logic.
"In the end, what he tests is my overall strength, not just my spear technique. So using Cryo in a spar is totally normal."
Her eyelids drooped into a thin line—equal parts exasperation and disdain. "Then I'll use my element too. Want to try?"
She raised her spear slightly.
Xuekui immediately stopped her with an awkward laugh. He had no desire to get beaten into the ground.
"No! Ping-jie. Sparring should be to a point—just to a point!"
This adeptus known simply as "Ping" was someone Xuekui had met when he was lost—she'd kindly guided him.
In truth, Ping had wanted to catch a glimpse of Rex Lapis's might. Bringing the little yaksha along was convenient.
But halfway through, after hearing about Xuekui's contract with Morax, she grew fascinated. Rex Lapis offering to teach was something countless people dreamed of.
And this little monster had refused it outright?
So Ping acted as his sparring partner along the way—and was repeatedly stunned.
At first, he barely knew how to handle a spear. He treated it more like something to throw. Now, he'd already absorbed her teachings to a frightening degree.
This wasn't merely "talent."
It was unnatural.
And yet Ping enjoyed it.
Those who chose the path of martial arts were few.
Having someone like Xuekui as a fellow traveler—growing together, even pushing her to keep up—was its own kind of joy.
"You," Ping said, tapping his forehead, "with talent that makes others envy you—treasure it." Xuekui answered with a foolish grin.
"By the way, Ping-jie… I'm curious about something." Ping's eyes lit up.
Oh? The idiot finally wants to ask why she wanted to see Rex Lapis? "Go on."
Xuekui hesitated, then voiced his question. "What… is your true form?"
Ping: "..."
This kid's focus was truly bizarre.