Once spoken, the arrow leaves the bow—let’s begin.

Lingcai set to work, revising the Alchemy recipe, calm as moonlight on ink. The demon blade’s soul was wind without a vessel; it needed a body first.

While Lingcai researched, Xueyu led the watch, ice-eyed and steady, shadowing the Crimson Cherry Blossom Blade so it couldn’t slip away or lash out again.

“First, we prepare the materials.”

Lingcai laid out a long list. She pointed for Scarlet Leaf to buy what would shape the body. Scarlet Leaf accepted it, brows knitting as she read:

“Honey, flour, white sugar… eggs, milk, vegetable oil… Are we baking a cake?!”

“Leaf,” Lingcai said with solemn mischief, “girls and cream cakes share a truth.”

“Like what?”

“Fragrant and sweet, soft and cloud-light, sometimes clingy enough to melt on you—makes you want to eat them… I’m joking.”

“…Lingcai, I want to eat you. Right now.”

“No.”

Her refusal was a blade’s clean edge. If she said yes, the next scene would turn blush-red and not fit for children.

Meanwhile, with Kelor’s help, the proprietress lent them a big iron pot, night-dark and sturdy. It wasn’t an alchemical cauldron, but it would do.

Everything was ready; only the east wind remained.

Following her plan, Lingcai mixed flour and water into gluten, let it rest in honey like spring roots drinking dew, then poured it into the heated cauldron and stirred. A heavy-sweet fragrance spread, thick as dusk.

“Mhm… it does feel girlish,” Xueyu murmured, chin in hand, eyes soft as rain.

“But,” she cut in, cool as a sudden breeze, “how does this lump become human?”

Lingcai kept stirring, wrist steady as a metronome. “Simple. The body’s basic unit is the cell. For cells to proliferate, they need energy, protein, and lipids. The rest—leave to Alchemy.”

Xueyu looked half convinced, half clouded. “And bones? They’re calcium salts, right? But you didn’t add any calcium…”

Lingcai’s face fell, thunder behind her eyes. “That’s Alchemy. You don’t need it that clear.”

“But—”

“You don’t need it that clear. Just watch. Alchemy is that wondrous.”

Under her firm tone, Xueyu quieted, folding her doubts like paper cranes.

When the cauldron’s reaction grew strong, Lingcai handed Scarlet Leaf a pair of scissors, steel glinting like frost.

“?”

Scarlet Leaf blinked.

“This technique isn’t standard Alchemy,” Lingcai explained, voice calm as a temple bell. “It needs a human medium. Cut a small lock of hair. Once added, it’s like a contract. It should obey your commands.”

“That sounds like we’re enslaving it. Doesn’t that make us the bad guys?”

Scarlet Leaf’s worry trembled like a leaf in wind.

“I can’t guarantee it won’t hold malice after becoming human,” Lingcai sighed, honest as clear water. “But through bloodline link, it won’t attack you. If we confirm it’s harmless, we’ll let it go.”

Scarlet Leaf still hesitated, cheeks pink as dawn. “Then… use your hair too…”

“Mine’s already in.” Lingcai lifted her golden hair, showing the fresh, clean cut like a sunlit edge. “Your turn. For safety, just a little.”

Words pressed gently yet firm, and Scarlet Leaf relented. She brushed back the short hair behind her ear, frowned, and snipped a small lock—hair is a girl’s life-thread; even a strand matters.

Lingcai dropped Scarlet Leaf’s lock into the cauldron. Honeyed steam curled, and the brew thrummed like a heartbeat.

In that instant, Scarlet Leaf realized something, shock blooming like fire. Her face burned crimson.

“Li—Lingcai. You said adding hair creates a bloodline link?”

“Yeah. A faint one. Why?”

Lingcai hadn’t caught the storm; her mind was a ledger of recipes.

“So… so if you add your hair too—then that means it’s also… with you…!”

“Yeah. What’s the problem?” Lingcai blinked, clear as a lake.

She thought she’d been plenty clear—no need for this many confirmations.

Scarlet Leaf cupped her flaming cheeks, knees folding to the floor, and whispered like a moth in the dark:

“Unwed… first pregnancy… or something…”

“Huh?”

Lingcai heard the murmur, but the words slipped like fish.

“Leaf, what’s wrong? What did you say?”

Facing Lingcai’s dense innocence, Scarlet Leaf finally burst, voice sharp as a snapped string:

“Idiot! Moron! I’m not talking to you anymore!!”

…Huh?

Lingcai stared as Scarlet Leaf bolted through the door, mind blank as fresh paper. She couldn’t find the reason for the scolding.

What did she do?

She didn’t chase. The reaction was at its most critical, a moment like standing on thin ice. A mistake now wasn’t just wasted materials; it could be a roaring explosion.

Soon, Scarlet Leaf ran back on her own, face tinted with shy spring. She hovered, then smacked her cheeks lightly, gathering courage.

“Li… Lingcai. I thought of a name. How about we call this child Ling Sakura…”

“Huh?”

Lingcai blinked. The Alchemy wasn’t finished, yet she was naming the demon blade?

Scarlet Leaf’s blush surged, red as maple. “…No! I don’t mean anything else! I mean, since it’s separated from the Crimson Cherry Blossom Blade, a name with ‘Sakura’ would be better… right?”

True enough.

If the demon blade’s soul becomes human, you can’t keep the old name. A new form needs a new call.

Scarlet Leaf had thought a step deeper; it felt right.

Since she’d already picked a name, Lingcai wouldn’t waste breath. “Ling Sakura” carried her maker’s mark like a fine stitch.

So she decided cleanly, like a seal set on paper.

“Good! Then it’s settled! Her name is Ling Sakura!”

As Lingcai’s words fell, the cauldron’s center lit with a whirlpool glow, spiraling like a galaxy in a bowl.

From that shining vortex, a wet, long-haired girl’s shape rose, a black silhouette against the light, delicate as a newborn moon.

The demon blade’s soul was about to be reborn.