Eight eight

As the first lights of evening began to flicker, the shops in the outer city of the Cloud Rain Sect were closing one by one.

At the puppet shop, the heavy wooden shutters had just been lowered, leaving only a small wicket door for nighttime access. A young shop assistant, carrying three pounds of stir-fried Li-li beast meat wrapped in spirit leaves and tied with straw rope, hurried to the entrance. Just as he was about to recite the unlocking incantation, he suddenly noticed a tall, slender figure standing in the shadows at the street corner.

A sense of foreboding washed over the assistant. His heart hammered against his ribs, and the unlocking incantation vanished from his mind. He pounded on the door frantically, "Open up! Quickly, open the door!"

Then, a chilling sensation crept up his spine. His hair stood on end, and the sound died in his throat. He slowly turned his stiff neck; the figure that had been so far away just a moment ago was now standing silently right behind him.

The assistant instantly recognized that hauntingly beautiful face. He began to tremble uncontrollably, and the package of meat slipped from his hands, hitting the ground with a soft thud. His knees gave way, and he collapsed to the floor. "Grandmaster Puppet, Grandmaster Puppet! I’m just a lowly errand boy, I know nothing! You are a great and powerful being—please, go after those who wronged you, don't take it out on a small fry like me..."

The puppet took a step forward, reached down, and expressionlessly picked up the leaf-wrapped package. His long, pale, and bony fingers hooked the straw rope, and from his thin, pale lips came a single word: "Pot."

The assistant’s mind went blank. After a long moment, he managed a single, "Huh?"

"Pot." The puppet lifted the Li-li pork, his gaze so freezing that it seemed he would tear the boy limb from limb if another word was spoken.

Fu Tingyun’s patience was indeed wearing thin. Anyone would be in a foul mood if colorful characters had been flashing in their spiritual residence for the entire journey. He had never eaten meat before, but he knew the geography of the Three Realms like the back of his hand; he knew the habitat of the Li-li beast was thousands of miles away, and he knew that butcher shops existed in this world. Although he could not currently tap into much of his spiritual power, his movement techniques remained. With a few swift leaps, he had reached the outer city.

When he found the butcher shop, the owner was closing up, and the last portion of Li-li meat had just been bought. The buyer was the assistant from the puppet shop. Thus, he had come here naturally.

At that moment, the wooden door behind the assistant creaked open, and a fat face poked out. "How did it take so long to buy some meat—"

Before he could finish, the lantern light flickered on, and he found himself staring directly into a pair of stunning, beautiful eyes. The blade-like, icy gaze seemed to sever his vocal cords. The shopkeeper let out a terrified "Eep," his plump frame wobbling unsteadily.

"M-master..." the assistant whispered, "He wants a pot..."

Before he could finish, the puppet kicked the shopkeeper, along with the door behind him, into the shop. He walked into the brightly lit room, meat in hand, scanned the area, and looked down at the shivering shopkeeper on the floor: "Kitchen."

The shopkeeper finally snapped back to reality. He scrambled to his feet, bowing and scraping, "The kitchen is in the back... please, young master, this way..."

The puppet entered the kitchen, his long brows knitting together at the sight of the grease-stained stove and the filthy iron pot. The shopkeeper followed his gaze and hurriedly said, "There’s a new pot, there’s a new pot! I’ll get it for you, sir!"

Seeing that his life was no longer in immediate danger, the assistant plucked up the courage to whisper, "Master, what is he doing? He isn't planning to cook, is he?"

The shopkeeper shot him a vicious glare. This fool was courting death! Did he want to end up as a dish himself? "I told you to keep the kitchen clean! All you ever do is slack off! Hurry up and clean the stove!"

Soon, a new pot was brought out, and the shopkeeper, showing some initiative, even brought a brand-new cutting board. The assistant dared not skimp on his spiritual power, casting over a dozen cleansing spells until the entire kitchen gleamed as if brand new.

The Grandmaster Puppet spoke again: "Recipe."

The shopkeeper asked fawningly, "I wonder what dish you desire? Perhaps I could do it for you..." He reached out to take the leaf-wrapped meat.

The puppet glanced at the greasy, short, fat fingers and pulled the meat away. "Stir-fried meat. Recipe."

The shopkeeper: "..." That was highly insulting!

Half an hour later, the rich, savory aroma of stir-fried meat filled the air.

The shopkeeper was about to offer a large, insulated porcelain basin, but the puppet didn't even glance at him. He picked up the piping hot iron pot and walked out.

As soon as he left the shop, the shopkeeper's legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest and moaning weakly. The assistant, having survived the ordeal, was drenched in a cold sweat. "M-master... what was that all about? Why did the Grandmaster Puppet come all the way here just to stir-fry a pot of meat?"

The shopkeeper, having weathered many storms, slowly regained his composure. As his terror subsided, he finally began to think. He cast a sidelong glance at the assistant. "You are still too green to see the underlying meaning."

"Huh?" the assistant asked. What deep meaning could a pot of stir-fried meat have?

"You think he just stir-fried a pot of meat," the shopkeeper said, his gaze darkening. "In reality, every move was a hint." He squinted, the image of the puppet slicing the meat flashing before his eyes—those long, pale fingers, that chilling, intimidating blade, the uniform, meticulous knife work...

The shopkeeper shivered. "You thought he was just slicing meat, but he was actually threatening to slice us into a thousand pieces. You thought he was just putting the meat into the pot, but he was actually threatening to make us suffer in deep waters and scorching fire. You thought he was just taking the pot, but that was a threat, too..." He grabbed the assistant's shoulders and shook him violently, his voice trembling along with the fat on his face. "He’s threatening to swallow us whole, pot and all!"

The assistant felt a chill run down his spine. He hadn't been paid his monthly wages yet; should he run away? "But... aren't puppets supposed to be mindless?"

"Correct," the shopkeeper said with a grave expression and a profound look. "You’ve finally hit the point. Puppets have no mind of their own. Everything he did was clearly being manipulated by a living person behind the scenes."

"Huh?" The assistant scratched his head. "Those two girls from the Cloud Rain Sect earlier today? They didn't look like it..." Their eyes had been so clear. "And I saw they had outer sect badges on their belts; they even asked if they could get a discount!"

The shopkeeper scoffed. "Girls from the Cloud Rain Sect? That’s just a facade! They’re playing the pig to eat the tiger! Why else would they pick that specific puppet, and why else would they form a contract so easily..." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I never expected that I, who spent my life hunting geese, would be pecked in the eye by one."

"Master, what do we do now?"

"What do we do? What do we do? You ask me what to do..." The shopkeeper paced the room with his hands behind his back, muttering, "Disaster is upon us, disaster is upon us..."

Just then, the door opened, and another assistant walked in carrying a jar of wine. "Master, the wine is here—my, it smells good! The stir-fried meat is especially fragrant today. Who cooked it..."

The shopkeeper shushed him, dragged him into the room, and locked the door. Upon hearing the story from his companion, the new arrival also lost his composure. "Master, if they want our lives, why don't they just say so? Why cook a dish?"

The shopkeeper could no longer tolerate the stupidity of his staff. "High-level experts who hide their true strength always have deep meanings behind their actions! Unlike you dull-witted fools, who think everything is just what it seems!"

The assistant panicked. "What if they come at daybreak to finish us off?"

The shopkeeper's gaze sharpened. He gritted his teeth. "The only plan now is to run!" Then, he shook his head. "Running won't work. We've been targeted; we won't get away without paying a price. Consider it a loss of wealth to avoid disaster!"

He turned to the assistant. "How much liquid cash is left in the account this month?"

The assistant went to the counter and clicked the abacus. "Master, there are about eight thousand high-grade spirit stones. Is that enough?"

The shopkeeper scoffed. "Eight thousand? Do you think you're dismissing a beggar? They went to such lengths to orchestrate this trap; their appetite must be huge! Eight thousand won't cut it!" He calculated for a moment. "It won't be settled for less than two hundred thousand, I'm afraid. Forget it, let's play it safe. Tomorrow morning, go exchange for three one-hundred-thousand spirit jade slips and have them sealed and sent to the Cloud Rain Sect."

...

Deep in the night, Fu Tingyun returned to his room and placed the still-steaming pot of stir-fried meat on the small table by the bed. The colorful characters in his spiritual residence had been flickering for over an hour, each flash challenging the limits of his patience.

The young girl was sound asleep, lying flat on her back, completely oblivious. Her brows were relaxed, though her eyelids were still slightly swollen. Moonlight filtered through the gauze curtains, casting a hazy, ethereal glow on her narcissus-like face.

"Wake up," Fu Tingyun said coldly.

Su Xiaoyuan didn't react.

Fu Tingyun pinched the arm she had left outside the quilt. "Get up and eat."

This time, there was a reaction. She frowned, her full, supple lips pouting, and she muttered a string of meaningless sounds.

Fu Tingyun completely lost his patience. He looked down at the slender neck exposed outside the quilt, still marked with the fingerprints of his grip. He rolled up his sleeves, reached out, and his long fingers slowly covered those marks, tightening. This time, he knew how to control his strength; he would wake her up, but he wouldn't bruise her again.

The girl showed signs of pain in her sleep, struggling to breathe. Fu Tingyun felt her warm, moist breath against his bare forearm.

A moment later, she finally opened her eyes. Her gaze was unfocused and dazed, and it took a while for it to land on his face. She yawned. "Fu Tingyun... what... are you doing?"

Fu Tingyun released his hand. "Awake?"

Su Xiaoyuan was awake, but not entirely. Just a moment ago, she had been sleeping soundly when she vaguely smelled the aroma of stir-fried meat. It was her father's signature dish—was he cooking in the kitchen? As she thought about it, her breathing became increasingly difficult. She opened her eyes, and before her was darkness. There was no father, and this wasn't her familiar home. A strange figure stood before her.

"Get up. Eat the meat," the person commanded in a cold, icy tone.

Su Xiaoyuan didn't want to eat anything; she just wanted to sleep. "Thanks, I'm not hungry..." she mumbled, closed her eyes, and rolled over to continue sleeping.

Fu Tingyun stared at the lump under the quilt. Not only had she turned her back on him, but she had also pulled the quilt over her head, clearly determined to ignore him. He had never seen such a brazen person. She was the one who said she was hungry, and now that he had finally finished cooking, she was backing out. Even without the colorful characters in his spiritual residence, he wasn't going to let this go today.

He yanked the quilt away and tossed it aside, grabbing her small, rounded shoulders to turn her around. "You must eat."

Su Xiaoyuan was too sleepy to open her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm really not hungry. I want to sleep..."

"That is not for you to decide."

Fu Tingyun said coldly. He used his left thumb and index finger to pinch her jaw, forcing her to open her mouth. He cast a cleansing spell on his right hand, picked up a piece of meat from the pot, and placed it between her slightly parted lips.

Su Xiaoyuan originally had no appetite, but the moment the stir-fried meat touched her tongue, her dormant taste buds awoke before she did. It was delicious—so delicious it made her want to cry...

The texture of the Li-li meat was fresher and sweeter than pork, melting in her mouth, but the cafeteria chef's skills were average and couldn't replicate the taste of home. Yet, the flavor of this piece was familiar, as if... her father had made it himself.

She couldn't help but take a small suck, then licked her lips, still wanting more.

The moment Fu Tingyun fed the meat into Su Xiaoyuan's mouth, the colorful characters in his spiritual residence finally dissipated. As he was about to withdraw his finger from her mouth, the girl’s warm, moist lips and tongue suddenly latched onto his fingertip.

He clearly felt her tongue curl around his finger, slowly sweeping across his pad.