“I should be asking you—why are you perfectly fine?” Qianli snapped, voice fraying like a rope in the wind.

“Even if you ask me that…” Cerqin held torn slime bits like glassy jelly, her gaze drifting like a lost cloud.

This slime was venomous; its seeping sap made even Sixth Rank Qianli wary, like frost on steel, yet it did nothing to her.

“So what do you feel right now?” The question landed like a pebble on still water.

“Well… rare ingredients this good. I kinda want to eat it,” she said, appetite rising like a flame on dry tinder.

Spring Tide’s face dimmed like a cloud crossing the moon; a seed of suspicion sprouted in her chest.

Aileaf, having found the key a moment ago, heard that and fell silent, like a leaf pinned by dew.

“Body sensations, not what you’re thinking…” Her tone hardened like a scalpel as she slipped into her field. “With my potion, a short immunity’s normal; you should feel slightly excited. Physically.”

“Mm… a little.” Her answer trembled like a taut string.

“That’s this slime’s toxin at work,” Aileaf said, flat as a still lake.

“Huh?” Cerqin finally blinked, a lantern flaring in dusk.

“I thought it was just the afterglow from… playing,” she muttered, heat flicking like embers.

The toxin wasn’t failing; its maximum effect matched Cerqin’s everyday state, like rain falling into a river, so the boost barely showed.

Once the mix-up cleared, Cerqin could only regretfully hand the cold, thin-sliced slime salad to Silver Luan alone, like passing a cool moon to another.

Silver Luan’s gift boosted perception and excitement; she shrugged off the effect like a swan shedding rain.

Try turned to eat; she hugged a big bowl and dug in, content as a cat in sun.

“Good,” she said, no more words needed, taste blooming like spring.

Spring Tide and Aileaf had work; they didn’t try a bite, their focus sharp as drawn bows.

After the meal, the four sat around the fire, sparks rising like fireflies, and planned the road ahead.

Supplies were running low; the wagon for food and water was emptying like a drained well. A quick tidy, and it could be a lab.

Spring Tide and Aileaf had settled that from the start, laying stones before the bridge.

With their analysis of Silver Luan and Cerqin, Aileaf felt sure she could brew fierce potions, like thunder trapped in a vial.

Silver Luan had little to do; she’d assist Aileaf, steady as a right hand.

Cerqin would finally learn the magic she should’ve started long ago, like catching a missed tide.

“Cerqin, you need to hurry. We’re close to the Northern Wilds. Beasts get stronger, and criminals show up more,” Spring Tide said, words like a warning bell.

“Uh… it’s not like I don’t want to learn fast,” Cerqin muttered, speech tripping like pebbles down a slope.

“Mm-hmm. Anyway, take these.” Spring Tide handed her a ring, calm as frost.

“Huh? That many?” Cerqin probed it with her mind; dozens of manuals sat inside like stacked bricks.

“That’s a lot. Dozens… at Fifth Rank, my mental power can only imprint so many sigils,” she frowned, counting like beads.

Depending on complexity, three to five at most; no need to dive into a monster array at Fifth Rank, like hauling a boulder uphill.

“I’m not asking you to learn them all. I picked what suits you. Choose a few. Up to Seventh Rank, pick from these,” Spring Tide said, sure as a compass.

“Okay, okay—no problem. Heh.” Her grin popped like a kite catching wind.

“Enough giggling. Try to master two new spells before we reach Northfort. Use your sleep hours.”

“Sleep hours?” The words hit like cold water.

“Your ability restores vigor. Sleeping every four or five days isn’t a problem,” Spring Tide said, natural as rain.

Her logic made Cerqin’s mouth twitch; she groaned like a squeezed bellows. “But when it’s on, I don’t want to sleep. Sleeping’s so comfy. I want to sleep…”

“Look at you. Can you even sleep like this?” Spring Tide snapped, like a fan cutting air.

“…” Her protest wilted like a damp wick.

If protests failed, at least help me learn, Cerqin thought, heart thumping like a caught fish.

With guidance, understanding and building sigils is easier—especially with a powerhouse helping, like sailing with a steady wind.

Spring Tide agreed at once; they set a schedule, beads on a string.

“Oh, give me your dagger. I’ll reinforce the seal,” Spring Tide said, hand open like a safe harbor.

“Ah… oh, okay.” Cerqin took out the dagger that had sliced slime—pure black, cold light like winter water, plain otherwise.

That unremarkable blade was a failed semi-finished product from Eastwind City, forged by a cult’s array, like a net torn mid-cast.

Cerqin’s power had twisted the formation; it failed. A would-be artifact that used living bodies as shells became a flawed blade, congealed from fear’s dregs like soot into ice.

Spring Tide took the dagger. Its chill bit like night dew; faint emotional ripples bled out, and distant screams brushed her ear like a draft.

She frowned, then drew out a sealing talisman left by Archbishop Mingxi and slapped it on, clean as a stamp.

The wrongness faded by half, like fog thinning at dawn.

“Archbishop said it could stay with you, so why do I have to reseal it every while?” She thought of her master’s prankster smile and felt heat rise like steam.

She handed the dagger back. Cerqin pouted, lips like a petal. “It’s worse again. Doesn’t feel as nice to hold…”

“…,” Spring Tide exhaled, understanding dawning like light on water. Now she knew why Ming Xi left the dagger with Cerqin but forbade her from sealing it herself.

“No wonder. Power that twists emotion,” she murmured, the thought coiling like smoke.

“Hm?” Cerqin blinked, eyes bright as wet ink.

“It’s nothing. Don’t slack on your ability. To reach Seventh Rank, deepen your grasp. Keep developing; power grows like roots.”

“I just hit Fifth Rank…” Cerqin scratched her head, staring at Spring Tide turning mom-like, awkward as a duck on land.

“At least break the limit where, when you use it actively, you can only restore one target. Aim to match your excited state—passive restoration on yourself and everyone. Or I’ll tan your butt,” Spring Tide said, palm cracking the air like a switch.

Now that’s the flavor. Cerqin straightened, spirit snapping taut like a bowstring; the firm tone fit better than sudden gentleness.

Still, Spring Tide had a point, and Cerqin chewed on it like bone.

Normally, the Love God’s power had an on-off switch. But once she became aware and used it actively, she could only pick herself or others, not both, like a door that opened one way.

She couldn’t match the raw, uncontrolled force of the excited state, when the passive burst turned like a floodgate.

The inherited memory had given a hint, a lantern behind paper.

The Love God is a god who rules emotion.

Whatever effects carried that name, their root was emotion itself, like a river under ice.

What she couldn’t grasp was the line in the inheritance: Understand love. Become love.

What did that even mean? The words drifted like mist she couldn’t hold.

In the following days, all four buried themselves in work, like ants before rain.

Aileaf started a new study; Spring Tide probed a path to Seventh Rank, each note like chiseling stone.

Cerqin learned magic. Only the Half Dragonkin girl, Silver Luan, had more free time; while assisting Aileaf, she also helped Cerqin pick spells and explain, steady as a lantern-bearer.

The other two were busy too, yet they still carved time each day to help Cerqin train, their guidance like warm rain.

They’d teach, then play a short while, like birds after rain; daily touch mended stamina like sunlight on frost.

Under that relentless, back-to-back grind, Northfort’s fortress rose on the horizon, its silhouette like a mountain’s spine.

Unlike Eastwind City, the border city of Northfort had towering walls; even from afar, on a clear day, its blurred majesty loomed like a cliff.

Like chasing a far ridge, you could see the wall, yet it still took half a day to reach the gate, distance stretching like taffy.

While they closed the gap, two groups burst from a gully behind them, dust flying like torn banners.

The ones being chased spotted the Holy Maiden’s convoy and veered straight toward it like arrows finding a mark.