"I'm not going..." like a stone dropping into a deep well.

"Don't be like that—down that depth, hauling ore by the ton, only you can do it, Silver Luan," like calling a diver to the abyss.

Cerqin meant to blast the vein open with magic, like thunder cracking a cliff.

At that depth, only Silver Luan at Seventh Rank could do it and surface unscathed, like a shark cutting through black water.

Knock the ore loose, stash it in spatial gear, bring it up in waves; a few runs would feed the Black Dragon Battleship's refit, like coal into a furnace.

"I'm not going!" she snapped, like a door slammed in a gale.

Silver Luan rolled her eyes, like a crescent moon tilting behind cloud.

"I want to sleep," she murmured, like a cat curling under a warm lamp.

"Mmh..." like a kettle just beginning to sing.

"Then sleep one night, and tomorrow in daylight help me fetch a few loads," like silk drawing over steel.

"Two nights..." she bargained, like sand slipping slow through an hourglass.

"Baili will be back by then!" like footsteps chasing across a bridge.

Cerqin hugged Silver Luan and shook her arm, while Aileaf tilted her head away, like a willow hiding from springtime teasing.

"Even if we haul raw ore up, we don't have the tools to smelt it onboard; you won't grind a mountain with bare hands, will you?"

"The ore down there is pure; give it a kiss of flame and it should be ready to use," like frost touched by sunrise.

Cerqin barely finished when Silver Luan scooped her up, annoyance shading her face like stormcloud.

"Anyway, we rest first; Aileaf, you too," like a general calling the troop to a warm campfire.

"Okay!" she chimed, like a bell struck crisp.

"Wait—hey!" like a tether yanked tight.

On the far deck, Baili readied a skiff for a night-run; at the shout, he glanced their way like a hawk flicking a wing.

Qianli's face flashed through his mind; he shook his head and sighed, like wind letting go of a sail.

"Finish fast, finish early, and get back..." he muttered, like pacing a steady drumbeat.

Knights and crew were used to the trio's horseplay; seeing them beeline for the game room, just briefed by Baili, no one stepped up, like a river slipping quiet into a cove.

They only watched with amused smiles, like spectators waiting for a firework to bloom.

"Heh-heh~" like a cat purring in the dark.

Inside, Silver Luan shut the door and lit the soundproofing array, like drawing thick curtains against rain.

"Do you have to be this eager..." Cerqin teased, like sparks leaping off dry tinder.

Cerqin sank into the plush seat, feigning fear like a rabbit peeking from the brush.

"Mm-hm, I'll give you a choice," Silver Luan said, like a fox laying two paths in fresh snow.

Silver Luan glanced at sleek Aileaf and didn't pounce yet, like a panther circling prey.

She wore a wicked grin, like moonlight with fangs.

"Why are you sounding more and more like Spring Tide?" Cerqin sighed, like tides echoing each other.

Cerqin snarked, and Aileaf, crawling up the sofa, nodded like a sprout in wind.

"Cut the chatter. Pick: do you want Aileaf to bully you first, or me?" like two waves racing the same shore.

"Is there even a difference..." Cerqin murmured, like rain falling from either eave.

Cerqin blinked; a prickle of dread ran up as Aileaf paused mid-climb and stared, eyes like fishhooks catching light.

"Of course it matters. Who do you want first?" like a dealer fanning two cards.

"..." like snow holding its breath.

Cold sweat sprang from Cerqin like dew on stone at dawn.

"How about... both at once?" she ventured, like trying to stand with a foot in two boats.

She swallowed and stammered, words slipping like fish.

"Heh-heh, of course not~" like a door closing with a velvet click.

"Then Aileaf first!" she blurted, like a flag snapping to wind.

Cerqin bit down and declared, voice like a thrown spear.

"Aileaf's hands are gentler than yours, Silver Luan—I want Aileaf first! Ah—" like silk before steel.

The night ran quick, and Cerqin took a harsher tag-team than usual; that soul-floating-from-body feeling kept repeating like waves wearing stone.

"I think if we keep Love God on all the time, it gets dull," Silver Luan said, like sweetness cloying on the tongue.

"Huh?" like a pebble skipping a pond.

Cerqin, drifting back from haze, heard that and frowned, like mist snagged on a branch.

"What do you think, Aileaf?" Silver Luan asked, like passing a lantern along a dark path.

Silver Luan ignored Cerqin sprawled upside down—head on the floor, body on the sofa—and looked to Aileaf, like a captain seeking a second opinion.

Aileaf glanced at Cerqin, thought a few beats, then nodded, voice steady like a calm tide.

"True..." like a stone settling in a riverbed.

"Spring Tide mentioned this: the Lord of Leaf City has a treasure that seals most abilities, useful even on higher ranks; should we borrow it if we can?" like a key that hushes bells.

"Good idea..." like finding a spring in drought.

"What are you two even rambling about!" Cerqin snapped, like a drumbeat cutting through chatter.

Cerqin jerked up from almost tumbling off, sat, and before she finished, they pinned her again like nets closing on a fish.

Silver Luan's hand flashed up like a whip of light.

Smack... like a clap that snaps the air.

"Ow— that hurts!" like fire licking skin.

A red handprint bloomed vivid, then faded in seconds, like a sunset swallowed by dusk.

"Love God's effect is too good—stamina and spirit don't drain, simple marks vanish fast; if it's always like this, it's boring, right, Cerqin?" like fighting with silk gloves.

"Silver Luan, what are you even getting at..." Cerqin whimpered, like fog circling a lantern.

Cerqin's eyes brimmed, like rain on glass.

"Love God's effect is too strong!" like a river overflowing its banks.

"..." like a held breath in a temple.

Cerqin wanted to say: sure, marks fade, handprints melt in seconds, like frost under sun.

But the sting doesn't vanish; it still burns hot, like chili on the tongue.

That sensation isn't erased by Love God; same with other things—stamina refills, but your soul still feels like it's slipping its leash, like a kite tugging free.

"You aren't trying to watch me pass out on the spot, are you..." like a candle guttering in a draft.

Without Love God, if I fainted, I wouldn't wake easy; the drain on body and mind would be heavy, like sand pouring from a broken hourglass.

In Cerqin's mind, cases from the Law Enforcement Hall rang back, and the inmates' states flickered, like lantern slides on a wall.

"Here we go!" someone cried, like a drummer calling the beat.

Smack! like a banner cracking in wind.

"Wuu... you bullies~" she mewled, like a kitten nudged by paw.

"Heh-heh, don't you want to try it..." like a devil whispering behind a fan.

"..." like night holding its tongue.

She wanted to say no, wanted to say yes; truth was, Cerqin was curious—if they did it where Love God didn't auto-trigger, what would it be like? That long-missed fatigue tugged like sleep's tide.

But she couldn't admit it; she stiffened her mouth like a drawn bow.

"Spring Tide won't sign off on your plan!"

Even as she said it, her voice lacked ballast; at first blush, Spring Tide might back borrowing a trinket that limits Love God, like a boat tempted by a shining buoy.

But key point: if stamina's limited, Cerqin can't fend off three attackers at once, like one umbrella in a spear-storm.

Clear math: a Fifth Rank against two Seventh, or even one Sixth—physically, one-on-one she'd be pinned and taught a lesson, like a leaf under a boot.

After that, no strength left for the rest; forget handling many at once like now—no more juggling torches, only smoke.

So after a breath of thought, Cerqin decided Spring Tide probably wouldn't agree, like a coin dropping heads—probably.

"Quit wriggling; things are dead, people are alive—no one carries that kind of artifact all the time," Silver Luan said, like water finding a gap in stone.

"Alright..." like a sail sagging as wind fades.

"What time is it now?" like checking the sun behind cloud.

Aileaf lifted her head from the freshly reddened spot, asked the important question, and silence fell, like ash settling over coals.

"Silver Luan—the materials are yours," Cerqin tossed, like handing a spear to a sure hand.

"..." like a pause between waves on a dark shore.

Remembering real work, Cerqin wriggled free and stood, wearing a face begging for a smack like a mischievous fox.

"Forget sealing trinkets; we've got piles to do—I'll prep a makeshift furnace and start the schematics. Aileaf, got any gold-melt reagent? Come help in a bit," like a foreman rattling off tasks.

Talking as she went, Cerqin dressed fast and pushed the door without looking back, like a deer bolting lest the game drag her back.

The two left in the game room traded a look and smiled wryly, like comrades after a skirmish.

Then they dressed and followed, like shadows trailing a torch along the corridor.

You don't prep refit materials on open deck; the Black Dragon Battleship, warship or not, still has roomy compartments, like caves in a cliff.

They tidied one into a makeshift lab; with what she had, Cerqin hammered out a hollow furnace about two meters wide, like a metal drum in a shrine.

She had Aileaf lay the arrays, then checked the vents, like a smith testing bellows before the heat.

"How're you planning to refit it—going to pack in some new guts?" Aileaf asked, like stuffing a dragon with thunder.

"Yeah. The full overhaul can't happen now; engines, main cannon—those need careful study back home," Cerqin said, like charting stars before a voyage.

With the Black Dragon Battleship blueprints in hand, Cerqin dropped into research mode, like a diver slipping under a still surface.

"First, tweak the secondary gun loading and functions, and add a few quality-of-life bits," like oiling a hinge before a march.

Aileaf stepped onto a chair to peer at the spread blueprints, like a sparrow eyeing a map.

"Hm? What's this?" she asked, like finding a strange shell on the beach.

She'd spotted an odd schematic among Cerqin's stack, like a thorn hiding in a bouquet.

"Oh, that—custom order from the Law Enforcement Hall: a fully automatic chastisement machine. This is Mark II, the all-auto version," Cerqin said, like a mill that grinds by itself.

Cerqin glanced, realized she'd grabbed it by mistake from the blanks, explained, then her eyes lit like sparks catching tinder.

"Right—automatic!" she breathed, like a gear snapping into place.