Chapter 7
Chapter 7: Birds Have No Humanity
Outside, Juan Bu suddenly bellowed, “Careful—!”
Hu Qing didn’t have time to pull her focus back. A thunderous boom filled both ears, and her body went weightless, as if something had flung her into the air.
The strangest part was that the scorching sensation was gone.
Instead, her body felt unnaturally cool.
The veil around her loosened, then tightened again, twisting back into place around Juan Bu’s wrist. He spoke fast, strained. “Scorching Sun Blaze has acknowledged you. The solar essence that birthed it isn’t willing to accept that and is venting its rage.”
Hu Qing felt a flash of guilt. If someone stole a child she’d spent that long nurturing, she’d pick up a blade and start killing.
Her body rolled out of control. In the dizzy spin, she heard sharp cracking sounds—like space itself was breaking.
“It isn’t trying to kill me, is it?” she asked.
“It shouldn’t,” Juan Bu said. “You’ve been acknowledged by Scorching Sun Blaze. It’s just throwing a tantrum.”
Hu Qing blinked. “That makes sense. I don’t feel burned at all.”
“Watch your attitude,” Juan Bu muttered. “Let it vent. Once it’s satisfied, it will disperse on its own.”
Disperse?
Hu Qing’s heart pinched. What a waste. This was pure solar energy. If she used it to refine artifacts—
Juan Bu cut in at once, as if he could hear the greed lighting up behind her eyes. “Don’t drop a watermelon to chase a sesame. If you try to force-absorb it, you’ll both get hurt.”
After a beat, he added, “And if this solar essence lands somewhere else, it might nurture another Spiritfire.”
Hu Qing got the point. Don’t be greedy. Leave fortune for whatever came after.
“You know this stuff,” she said, surprised.
“I learned it before,” Juan Bu replied flatly. “If you don’t like it, don’t listen.”
“I like it,” Hu Qing said. “I’ve always done the same. Even when I harvested spirit plants, I never pulled up the roots.”
She laughed. “I thought you learned it from me.”
Juan Bu fell silent in a way that practically said: your face is thick enough to build a wall.
Behind them, unseen, a massive golden flame ripped through the small space and shot into the sky, disappearing in a few savage bursts.
The space collapsed.
The sound and shockwaves traveled far enough to draw several groups. Figures streaked in from multiple directions, only to watch a minor world crumble in front of them.
In the time it took to breathe a few times, the small space was swallowed clean by the main world.
No one even got a proper look inside. No one knew what treasure had been there.
They stared into empty sky, grief written all over their faces.
Only lazy white clouds drifted above. Not a trace remained.
Too late by one step.
One by one, they left in silence.
The golden flame, however, wasn’t done. It rampaged through layer after layer of sky, desperate to incinerate the thief who had stolen its treasure.
But Scorching Sun Blaze protected Hu Qing by instinct. The golden flame could tear at her meridians, wreck her flesh—but it couldn’t take her life.
In the end, after crashing through several layers of heaven, it gave up.
It hurled her down.
Hu Qing plunged into a deep, endless blue.
She swallowed water before she could react, then clamped down on her breath. Her spiritual sense swept through her body, and her heart sank.
The damage was severe.
Meridians snapped. Acupoints along her dantian burst open. Spiritual energy congealed, refusing to move—she couldn’t even circulate it to heal.
Her outer robes were gone. The treasure robe, the merfolk-gauze underrobe, even the protective underwear made from golden-toad hide—everything had been burned and washed away.
The burns across her skin, ironically, were the least of it. Those would heal.
She pulled medicine from the space with her spiritual sense, swallowed some, smeared the rest, then grabbed a spare set of clothes and threw them on.
The current was too strong. Even with pills restoring a thin thread of energy, she couldn’t fight it. So she surrendered to the flow and focused on recovering, while Juan Bu kept watch for movement in the depths.
Her luck held.
She drifted for days without ever breaking the surface, but nothing attacked. The largest living things they encountered were harmless schools of fish.
Finally, one day, her shattered meridians knit back together and reconnected to her dantian.
She didn’t even have time to run a single great circulation.
Something cinched around her waist.
A tremendous force yanked her upward so fast she couldn’t resist.
She burst out of the water with a splash and stared blankly at mountains, sea, and open sky.
A thin fishing line snapped high, spun, then whistled down again. Hu Qing was dragged in circles like a toy, wind slapping her face until her eyes watered.
When she finally forced them open, a handsome man’s face filled her vision.
“Huh,” the man said, amused. “It’s a human?”
Hu Qing’s heart jolted. [That’s not human.]
Juan Bu’s heart jolted too. [Don’t let him discover Scorching Sun Blaze.]
The man studied his catch, letting the line spin Hu Qing around for an uncomfortably long time. “Only Nascent Soul Stage, and badly injured. Strange. How did a human end up here?”
Hu Qing prayed he wouldn’t ask her anything. At her level, she couldn’t fool an immortal—even if she tried.
Luckily, the man didn’t seem curious.
“At least you’re young,” he said, almost cheerfully. “Tender meat. Not as nourishing as dragonfish, but it will have its own flavor, so—”
Hu Qing saw hard scales creeping along his wrist and went cold.
Eat her.
Panic punched her lungs. She blurted, “My lord, I’m useful! I—I—I’m an artifact refiner!”
The man blinked, as if surprised his meal could speak, then threw his head back and laughed. “Artifact refiner? You? You’re a mortal immortal that isn’t even Spirit Immortal-level, and you want to talk to me about refining artifacts?”
His laughter turned sharp. “Little thing, we demons don’t need your human scrap metal.”
The line drew her closer.
Hu Qing’s mind flashed to a blade opening her belly—and then another thought slammed in.
Wait.
“I can cook!” she shouted. “I’m a cook! A master chef!”
The line stopped.
The man tilted his head, considering. “A cook… that might actually be useful.”
“Yes!” Hu Qing nodded so hard her neck hurt. “Yes, I’m very useful.”
He narrowed his eyes. A heavy aura pressed down, crushing. “You’re not lying to save your life, are you?”
Pain flared through her body. The meridians she’d just repaired threatened to tear again.
She didn’t dare curse. She nodded like a pecking bird. “No, no, absolutely not. If you want, I can show you right now, my lord.”
The pressure lifted. The man’s expression turned lazy again. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m taking you with me.”
With me… where?
She didn’t get to ask.
The man shifted.
In the blink of an eye, he transformed into a colossal, vicious bird. It screamed, a piercing cry that shook the clouds, and shot straight upward, shredding blue sky with its wings. The fishing line stretched tight from its talons.
Hu Qing, tied to the other end, was whipped through the air like a rag. Her waist bent so hard her heels nearly hit the back of her head.
In her mind, an unbearable chorus blared: The wind blows, the wind blows, it keeps blowing—this bird has no humanity at all!
Juan Bu whispered urgently, “Keep Scorching Sun Blaze hidden. Keep our secret. He’s a Tongbei Divine Eagle. At least earth-grade.”
Divine eagle?
Juan Bu’s tone turned grim. “The kind that kills dragons and eats dragons.”
Hu Qing clenched her teeth. “Why don’t you just say he’s the Great Golden Roc King?”
“Some golden rocs eat dragons,” Juan Bu said. “Some eat dirt. It depends on the bloodline.”
Hu Qing swallowed. “If I talk to you by intent… he won’t notice, right?”
“He won’t,” Juan Bu said. “Unless he can sense your random thoughts.”
What he didn’t add was his growing suspicion: either the Gold-Devouring Divine Beast or that egg had placed a higher-level protection on Hu Qing long ago. Otherwise, with her tiny Nascent Soul Stage cultivation, there was no way her secrets would survive in front of an earth-grade Tongbei Divine Eagle.