“So you still remember to come back,” the voice cracked like a bamboo switch snapping in spring rain.

Spring Tide, Silver Luan, and Aileaf sat upright on the mattress, three faces like painted masks under carriage lanterns, staring at Cerqin entering through the carriage door.

Spring Tide, seated in the middle, spoke first; then her palm slapped her thigh like a judge’s gavel on cold wood.

Smack!

“Sneaking out to play is a heinous sin,” she declared, voice steady as a temple bell in fog. “As Holy Maiden, I pronounce the ultimate sentence.”

“Yeah, ultimate sentence,” Silver Luan chimed in, her tone drifting like a loose kite, while the dragon tail behind her—silver scales glinting like fish under moonlight—swayed up and down in good cheer.

Aileaf, on the other side, sat stiff as a doll set on a table, her face reddening like dawn clouds while she tried to wear a mask of sternness.

“Mmm~ this humble girl has sinned gravely,” Cerqin said, her expression wilting like a rain-soaked blossom. “I accept the punishment~”

She turned and threw herself to the floor, moving like a breeze folding into soft grass.

The carriage rug was cloud-soft, a high-grade weave like moss underfoot, nearly as cozy as the bed, and entirely too comfortable for a “penalty.”

Smack~

This time, Spring Tide slapped Silver Luan’s thigh, the sound bright as a flicked reed; she eyed Cerqin sprawled on the carpet and wore a crescent-moon smile of satisfaction.

“She admits her guilt and still dares keep wearing it?” Spring Tide’s tone gleamed like drawn steel. “Heavy punishment, absolutely heavy.”

“Absolutely heavy!” Silver Luan echoed, her voice popping like sparks.

“Heavy… punishment,” Aileaf murmured, a timid wave-hiss of grass in the wind.

Cerqin trembled on cue, her pleas spilling like a stream over smooth stones, yet her body arched back, honest as a compass pointing north, all expectancy.

Seeing that, the three at the bedside rose, shadows lengthening like reeds at dusk, and commenced Cerqin’s “execution.”

They only tasted and stopped, a sip of thunder rather than a storm; the next city lay just days away, like a beacon across fields.

Besides, they couldn’t drown daily in teasing Cerqin; real tasks waited like inked lines on a map.

So the play named “execution” ended that very night, its embers fading like lanterns at curfew.

When the four dressed again and filed out of the carriage, knights preparing dinner and staking camp turned in unison, gazes like a flock wheeling toward sun.

Aileaf, pricked by those looks, hid behind Cerqin like a fawn slipping into shadow.

Silver Luan didn’t care; she stroked her belly, a hungry ghost reborn under starlight, nose lifting to the aroma like a hound on a trail. Spring Tide scanned the camp, her brow a moving line of brush, then asked a nearby knight:

“Where are Baili and Qianli?”

“Captain Baili and Captain Qianli said they had something to discuss,” the female knight replied, scratching her head like a sparrow ruffling feathers. “They went to that tent and told us not to disturb them until they come out.”

As a subordinate, she knew what her captains were doing, unspoken as mist over water; and Spring Tide being the Holy Maiden—she didn’t need to join in, but watching wouldn’t break any rule, like a priestess at a festival.

“Mm.” Spring Tide nodded softly, the gesture falling like a leaf. She let the thought drift and didn’t trouble the knight lost in her own tides.

“Oh, right,” Cerqin piped up, voice bubbling like a kettle. “I bagged a giant slime yesterday; if we don’t eat it soon, it’ll spoil~”

The word snagged Silver Luan’s attention like a hook flashing in river-light.

“Qianli said it’s toxic,” Cerqin added, tapping her lip like a drumstick. “But a few bites to taste should be fine, right?”

“A giant slime!” Silver Luan’s eyes lit, silver scales answering like moon on water.

Cerqin replayed Qianli’s earlier warning; she hadn’t heard the details, only the line about “if you insist, you eat it,” so she figured the poison wasn’t brutal—taste a little, and you’re fine, like licking a chili.

If the toxin didn’t feel strong, you just don’t eat much; treat it as a side, most left over—such a pity, like a banquet seen through a window.

It was a top-tier ingredient, a jewel in the pantry like frost-kissed fruit.

“Heh-heh, it was hard work catching this~” Cerqin said, pride shining like a lantern.

She drew from her storage bracelet the intact pink slime corpse, the color rare as sunset pearls, and along with it, a dagger glinting cold as moonlight.

“You kept it this pristine… and it’s that rare pink?” Spring Tide leaned in, studying the gelatinous sheen like glass on a tidepool; beneath it, a familiar magic pulse rippled like a known current.

“You didn’t overfill it to death, did you?” she asked, voice level as a measuring rod.

“Mm… kind of?” Cerqin waved off a knight about to help, her focus narrowing like a needle. She cut while thinking, words ticking like drops.

“Took me a while. A Fourth Rank slime can hold that much magic? Any other beast with that capacity would be at least Sixth Rank.”

“Makes sense,” Spring Tide said, calm as a mountain. “Beast ranks get gauged against cultivators’ combat power.”

“Oh, right,” Cerqin added, flipping a cutlet like a glimmering petal. “It started out blue.”

“Quit babbling,” Silver Luan snapped, impatience bright as flint. “This is top-shelf. Cut faster.”

“So weak against delicious things, huh?” Cerqin teased, a smile curling like steam. “Those shops you took me to were all great.”

She lifted a big chunk of slime, and stowed the rest like stacking winter ice in a cellar.

You only taste, but you don’t waste; stored slime makes fine soft armor, tough as riverleaf, and sells to the Adventurers’ Guild or an armorer for a hefty commission, weighty as a coin-sack.

The fresh-cut surface wept clear juice, beads glimmering like dew; Silver Luan’s expression shone eager as a fox before grapes, and Spring Tide looked intrigued, eyes narrowing like crescents.

Aileaf, nearest and shadowing Cerqin like a willow, saw the drip hit the ground; under moonlight, a flash of blue flitted and died like a fish in dark water.

“Mm?” Cerqin glanced, curiosity fluttering like a moth.

“What is it, Aileaf~?” Her voice softened, a silk ribbon over wind.

“The poison shouldn’t be that strong,” Cerqin said, offering the chunk, confidence rising like sun. “No one here is under Fifth Rank. Should be fine~”

Aileaf reached by reflex, then flinched back like a bird from a snare.

“Wait! Don’t touch!!” A shout knifed out from a pitched tent, voice snapping like a bowstring.

Qianli limped in, one hand guarding her rear like a wounded soldier, face pale as old paper.

All eyes swung to her, a flock turning in a single wave.

Cerqin chuckled, bright as bells. “Baili-sis is amazing~”

“Eh?” the reaction hit in triple, three notes like stones plopping in a pond.

“Why’re you all glaring at me?” Cerqin blinked, pulling the slime away like a cat with a fish; then to Qianli, who hobbled closer: “What’s up? I thought you weren’t coming out tonight~”

“Good thing I did,” Qianli said, chill crawling like frost up her spine. “If I missed the warning and wasn’t present… I’d be doomed.”

She pictured the consequence, a shadow of iron bars falling like dusk—hauled off by the Law Enforcement Hall, turned into something public; the thought was a razor.

“Qianli, what’s going on?” Spring Tide asked, glancing toward Baili emerging from the tent with satisfaction still soft on her face, then back at Qianli, her brow tightening like a knot.

“It’s poisonous, that slime,” Qianli said, words hard as pebbles. “Don’t touch it unless you’re Sixth Rank.”

“I’m only Fifth Rank,” Cerqin muttered, baffled as mist. She’d killed it and lingered inside a long while, with no real trouble; the toxin should be mild, a prickle rather than a bite.

“Honestly, your reaction was a bit much last time,” she added, remembering Qianli jerking back three zhang like a spring-stung deer. “Maybe you’re hyper-sensitive to poison?”

“…” Qianli’s face flushed like sunset; under her pale-blue hair, her brow twitched like a taut line.

“That slime was blue before,” Qianli said, voice settling like sand. “It must’ve eaten a lot of Blue Lure Vine.”

“Ah! That explains it,” Aileaf replied at once, a pharmacist’s spark flaring like tinder.

“Blue Lure Vine? Then we definitely can’t eat it,” Silver Luan said, certainty firm as stone.

“Why?!” Cerqin’s protest leapt like a flare into night.