Cerqin crawled out of the slime’s corpse, now hardened and powder-pink, like chalk after rain.

Time had chewed at her; her clothes were gone, corroded to nothing, only her storage bracelet clung like a stubborn ring.

After the fight, Qianli walked over, palm half-covering her eyes like a curtain, peeking at Cerqin slick with gelatinous sheen.

Then she turned, gaze settling on the completely still slime, like a pond gone dead in winter.

“First time I’ve seen a slime corpse this intact.”

“You mixed spirit into mana, forced it to find its core?”

“How does Fifth Rank mana even do that?”

“Heh-heh, I’m amazing, right?” Cerqin’s grin sat sunny as a cat on a windowsill.

Cerqin planted her hands on her hips, shameless as noon light on a wall.

She cast a cleansing spell; water-light peeled the slime film like dew on leaves.

She drew a fresh outfit from her bracelet and slipped it on, crisp as dawn cloth.

“…Uh… yeah, it’s fine,” Qianli said, voice skipping like a flat stone on water.

She’d never seen that kill method, wild as breaking fate across a river.

She masked her brief surprise fast, jaw stiff as iron under a cold breeze.

After all, during the wolf hunt, Cerqin hadn’t praised her either, silence neat as folded paper.

“Once a slime’s core breaks, its corrosion dies like a spent ember.”

“If it’s an ambush type without venom, it’s edible,” Cerqin added, hope bright as a campfire.

Giant slimes are rare; keeping a corpse is tricky; time turns it tough as cured leather.

So only seasoned adventurers eat it, those who roam the wilds like hawks.

As a Sanctuary knight, Qianli had tasted it once, memory sweet as smoke curling.

Her expectation was a shade higher than Cerqin’s, hunger purring under her calm like a cat.

Even with poison, the truly lethal strains don’t grow big, like seeds that won’t sprout.

Plain slimes rarely show serious toxin in records, rain-clear more than grave-dark.

With a Sixth Rank body, even a lick of venom could be stomached, iron under silk.

Thinking that, Qianli reached out, brushed the tear Cerqin had crawled through, gap raw as bark.

She smeared a bit of oozing tissue fluid on her fingertip, light as glass and quick.

Touch met skin; pain pricked first, then seeped inward like hot sand in a tide.

Her body stirred at once, a rush of heat; her mind flashed empty like a blown fuse.

Good thing a Sixth Rank spirit is steel; she snapped clear in a blink, ice on fire.

Cerqin had just finished dressing, words on her tongue, when Qianli hopped back three yards, face blanched like winter.

“Mm? What’s wrong? Is it edible? If yes, breakfast’s settled. It hardens in a day, right?”

“You… I…” Qianli’s voice snagged like a torn thread.

Most ambush slimes sharpen corrosion; even with venom, it’s often the numbing kind, fog over fields.

But Qianli was certain this slime’s poison still bound prey, yet its path had veered like a crooked vine.

She looked again at Cerqin, excited since the fight began, joy fixed like dawn frost on grass.

A thin fear pooled in Qianli’s chest, cool as a shadow under stone.

This pink-haired girl was terrifying, like sugar hiding a knife.

“It’s poisonous. We can’t eat it…”

Cerqin ignored that the slime’s toxin hit like a fierce aphrodisiac; disappointment clouded her face like rain.

“Poisonous, huh. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered with that trick.”

“Wait, no—why am I fine?”

“How should I know!”

Cerqin eyed Qianli’s speechless face, replayed the feeling, thoughts fluttering like sparrows.

When the slime swallowed her, she’d felt only the sting of skin being eaten, needle rain.

No other waves, no dizzy bloom, calm as a pond.

Maybe she’d been too excited about getting a good meal, and missed it, joy blinding like sun.

Then the toxin should be mild, a pale drizzle over stones.

With a Fifth Rank body, eat less, and it should be fine, like sipping bitter tea.

“Mm… if you want to eat, eat it yourself.”

Qianli didn’t explain; she saw through Cerqin’s idea and spoke straight, voice dry as bone.

Inside, she thought this toxin rattled even a Sixth Rank, thunder under skin.

Feed it to Fifth Rank Sanctuary knights, and it’d be trouble, wolves in the sheepfold.

Cerqin did want to eat, appetite bright as a lantern.

She stopped overthinking, swept the pink corpse into her space bracelet like a rosy cloud.

“Do we head back now?”

“No… I’m not satisfied yet!”

“Heh, then we keep going. Let’s add some wild flavor to breakfast.”

“Mm… but check the area first. A slime turning that stark blue must have a cause.”

They searched the rubble field around the slime’s lair, stones like broken teeth.

They found a broad shallow pit, a basin of pale blue blossoms shining like sky shards.

Standing at its rim, a faint fragrance threaded the air like silk over water.

A little flowerfield, pure beauty, yet it clashed with the barren land like a jewel in ash.

Each palm-sized bloom breathed thin wisps of mana, like fireflies over dusk grass.

Neither of them stepped into the pit; caution held their ankles like vines.

With the field found, they understood why the giant slime had turned blue, dye from a hidden well.

Qianli picked up a stone, wrapped it in her mana like a shell of light.

She tossed it toward the pit’s center, arc clean as a swallow above a stream.

The stone thumped into the flowers; its mana peeled away like smoke in wind.

Seconds later, tendrils shot from beneath the blooms, each vying for the stone, serpents in a knot.

“Second Tier magic beast: Blue Lure Vine. A communal ambush plant-beast,” Qianli said, tone steady as rope.

“I recall its blossoms lure prey, and the honey’s a top natural aphrodisiac,” Cerqin murmured, eyes shining like lacquer.

“Shame we didn’t bring extraction tools.” Her sigh drifted like mist.

Among Second Tier beasts, it’s one of the weaker types, and it’s plant, soft blade.

Know it and prepare, and the danger stays low, like walking with lanterns at dusk.

Cerqin had taken honey tasks before; to draw it clean and safe needs special tools, precision as needles.

Even with this little flowerfield, bare hands mean a swarm and a few drops, sweat for crumbs.

They wouldn’t wreck the field; mercy stood like a fence.

They marked the spot, memory folded like a map in the mind.

They left the pit of whipping vines behind, not watching the dance, backs to blue.

They traded a look, turned, and moved on, steps light as leaves.

Back to hunting new prey, eyes sharp as knives.

Cerqin wanted fresh beasts for side dishes, and a sturdy foe for her fists, stone to stone.

Qianli wanted to enjoy the thrill of the hunt, wild wind in her chest, drums in bone.

She also needed to vent the gloom from a raised middle finger, now fading under poison-scare, smoke thinned.

Soon the two fell deep into the hunt, time slipping like sand through fingers.

At dawn the next day, Baili pinched Qianli’s ear, gaze cold as snow on steel.

He stared at her beaming face, smile bright as a blade’s glint.

“Investigate the White Cang Wolf cubs, and you go crazy till now?”

“…”

Qianli didn’t dare speak; when she realized they’d gone too deep, it was too late, roots set.

On the way back, a Sixth Rank ape lord of this region latched onto them, storm in fur.

Cerqin rushed in to help, and the giant ape’s punch sent her vomiting blood, red on stone.

It scared Qianli; her heart dropped like a stone into a well.

After the fight, Cerqin bounced back, lively as a spring bubbling.

That let Qianli breathe again, a sigh like rain after dust.

Right now, she didn’t dare report that to Baili, silence tight as a knot.

“Later. I’ll teach you a lesson,” Baili said, voice like frost.

“Mm…”

Qianli instinctively covered her rear, a flinch like a cat under thunder.

Baili’s tone told her he was truly angry, fire banked under ice.

She cupped her released ear, a thread of regret tugging like a fishline.

Hoping Baili would cool down later, Qianli mounted her horse, saddle creaking like bark.

After half a morning of waiting, the convoy finally rolled out, wheels humming.

Cerqin returned with them, steps light as tassels.

She greeted Baili, who waited with a gentle smile, like warm tea in winter.

They chatted a bit, then she slipped into the carriage, nerves tight as strings on a zither.

According to Baili, not long after they went hunting that night, Spring Tide got up to eat, bowls clinking like bells.