Chapter 72

Chapter 72: Dad Said the Cub’s Mother Was Sick—Seriously Sick

Explode from the inside out?

Did she look like she cared?

What she feared wasn’t death. What she feared was her magic power draining away until she was forced back into the form of a conscious tea tree—rooted in place, unable to move, while humans studied her, plucked her leaves, and treated her like a specimen.

Jiang Tea Tea wrenched herself free from Sui Xuan Chu’s grip.

“Stop worrying about whether I can digest his blood,” she snapped. “And don’t waste time worrying about whether I’ll explode. Just call him down. That’s all.”

If she’d known karma would slap her this fast, she wouldn’t have deleted his contact and scrubbed it clean.

But she couldn’t just shout up at the sky either. People would think she’d lost her mind, and that would bring trouble she couldn’t afford.

So she had to take the indirect route and use her roommate.

Sui Xuan Chu still tried to talk her down.

“Our Gold Dragon Clan only has the two of us left, but my uncle’s ability rank is the highest the dragon clan has seen in nearly two thousand years.”

“The energy in his blood isn’t like other dragons’ blood. If you’re craving it, one cup is already pushing it. Any more and you really will die—”

“I’m not afraid,” Jiang Tea Tea cut in.

Sui Xuan Chu looked like he wanted to bang his head against the wall.

He hesitated, then tried a compromise. “Then… how about I give you a little of my blood to taste—”

Then he immediately backtracked, conflicted. “No, that’s probably not safe either. You’ve already drunk my uncle’s blood. If you drink mine afterward, the two energies could clash. If something happens…”

He muttered under his breath, like he was talking himself into courage.

He and his uncle were both Gold Dragon Clan. His uncle was Old Loach—an absolute monster. He was… a small mud eel by comparison. Not terrible, but nowhere near that level.

If his blood worked, then other dragons’ blood should work too. There were three hundred million dragons in the galaxy. Later, she could find a colorful one, kill a few quietly, and use them as fertilizer—

Jiang Tea Tea yanked an empty cup out of her storage button and shoved it toward his chest.

“Come on,” she said briskly. “Put some blood in. Let me see.”

Sui Xuan Chu stared at her in horror.

“…I was just being polite.”

“I’m not,” Jiang Tea Tea said, stepping forward.

Sui Xuan Chu retreated a step and crossed his arms over his chest like she was about to mug him.

“Roommate, I just talked for that long and none of it got into your ears? I told you my uncle’s blood carries huge energy, and mine doesn’t. The two are easy to clash. It’ll cause problems.”

“You’re the one scared,” Jiang Tea Tea said, impatient. “I’m not.”

She closed the distance in one stride. “Hurry up. Just a little. I’m only tasting.”

Sui Xuan Chu gave up. He couldn’t win, so he stopped trying.

“Fine. If you end up dead, don’t blame me.”

“Got it,” Jiang Tea Tea said. “Hurry.”

When Chong Ming gave Jiang Tea Tea dragon blood, he didn’t blink. He sliced his wrist clean and let it flow—smooth, ruthless, effortless.

When Sui Xuan Chu gave blood, he cut his finger and slowly squeezed it into the cup, drop by stubborn drop. Awkward. Unsteady.

The scent of blood spread in the cold air.

It hit Jiang Tea Tea’s nose—and her stomach rolled like she’d inhaled something rotten. She gagged hard.

Sui Xuan Chu pulled his hand back, eyes round.

“See?” he blurted. “What did I say? My blood and my uncle’s blood clash! You didn’t believe me.”

“You haven’t even drunk it. You just smelled it and you’re already dry-heaving. That means my uncle’s blood inside you hasn’t been digested at all. It’s been hiding, waiting.”

Jiang Tea Tea gagged several more times, clamped a hand over her mouth and nose, and shoved the cup—now holding Sui Xuan Chu’s blood—into his arms.

Then she stumbled backward, putting distance between them like distance could save her.

Thank god she hadn’t eaten anything recently. She was only gagging, not vomiting.

Otherwise she really would have thrown up on his face.

Sui Xuan Chu stuffed the cup back into his storage button and waved his hands hard through the air, trying to disperse the lingering scent.

“Better?”

Slowly, the blood smell thinned and vanished into the cold.

Jiang Tea Tea stopped gagging. She stared at Sui Xuan Chu with a measuring, suspicious gaze.

Was she unable to drink his blood because he was too weak—too mediocre to satisfy a great demon’s taste?

Or was it exactly as he said: Chong Ming’s blood was still inside her, undigested, and any other dragon blood—even family—would clash?

Sui Xuan Chu met her stare and immediately snapped, defensive. “What are you looking at? I told you my blood can’t be drunk. You insisted. Now you can’t drink it and you blame me?”

Jiang Tea Tea’s gaze went blank. She brushed past him, voice crisp.

“Tell your uncle I’m waiting at the usual place. Thanks.”

Sui Xuan Chu froze.

“Usual place?”

What usual place?

Did the two of them meet behind his back? Did they have a secret base?

Who was the real nephew here?

Jiang Tea Tea drove a land flyer to the deep-sea entrance—the spot where she’d first “fished” and first met Chong Ming.

She dropped onto her little stool, leaned back against the flyer, crossed one leg over the other, and swung her foot lazily.

She couldn’t understand herself anymore.

She was a tea tree demon—dropped into the interstellar era with less than twenty percent magic power left—and now she’d somehow become picky and delicate.

She sighed long and hard, arms folded across her chest, eyes closed.

Less than twenty percent magic power. Miserable.

After who knew how long, she heard movement.

She opened her eyes, turned her head slowly, and saw Chong Ming sitting beside her.

He’d arrived without making a sound.

He’d already taken out his fishing box, opened it, and was calmly assembling his rod.

With less than twenty percent magic power, someone that strong could approach her without her noticing at all—if he didn’t want to be noticed.

“What are you staring at?” Chong Ming asked without looking up. “Where’s your rod?”

“The fish already came to me,” Jiang Tea Tea said. “No rod needed.”

His hands kept moving as he assembled the rod segment by segment. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“Tomorrow is Round Two. You called me out here—what is it?”

Jiang Tea Tea raised an eyebrow. “Your big nephew didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Chong Ming said. “He just said you were waiting for me at the usual place.”

Jiang Tea Tea exhaled hard, like she was carrying the weight of the universe.

“Life is hard,” she sighed. “Eating enough is even harder.”

Chong Ming’s brow creased. He looked her over again—slowly, from head to toe—until his gaze settled on her flat stomach.

His voice dropped, heavy with suspicion. “Jiang Tea Tea. Classmate. As far as I know, whether beastfolk male or beastfolk female, none of them can eat as much as you.”

“Pure human females and males even less.”

“You eat tens of pounds, even a hundred pounds, in one meal. You still claim you’re hungry.”

He held her gaze. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”