Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Golden Silk Little Monkey

That night in the Wondrous Dharma Tower, Shao Heng had read a brief mention of a path pioneered by Human Clan cultivators: the Puppet Dao.

Paper-folding spirit imbuement. Puppet automatons. Little tricks and grand crafts alike—tools built to take over mindless, repetitive work.

The Left Path Discourse even claimed that the finest puppets, refined by true masters, could be indistinguishable from living people: able to think, able to move freely, able to absorb spiritual qi and cultivate on their own.

Shao Heng didn’t need anything like that.

For now, she just needed a pair of hands to replace her—something that could tend her spirit field, do the dull work, and let her focus on cultivation.

“Where do they sell puppets?” she muttered. “And how much do they cost?”

She had only just arrived at the One Yuan Sect. She hadn’t even walked through the entire outer sect yet. She’d have to ask around later. Spirit stones were precious, and she only had 119 to her name. She couldn’t afford to get swindled.

She didn’t hurry to leave the spirit field. The thin layer of white mist around it was like a veil, blocking prying eyes. Safe in that quiet, she reached into her storage ring and took out the Gold Page.

She turned it over. Once. Twice. Three times.

Wordless Heavenly Book was still Wordless Heavenly Book. Gold Page was still Gold Page. Nothing changed.

She rubbed it between her fingers. The texture was like gold foil—except tougher, denser. She crumpled it hard. When she let go, it didn’t hold a crease. It lay smooth and flawless, as if it had never been touched.

“What exactly are you?”

Shao Heng’s patience thinned. Even if it really was some priceless treasure, what good was it in her hands if she couldn’t unlock it? A mystery that stayed a mystery was, to her, no different from scrap.

“All right,” she said softly. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

She formed hand seals and chanted, circulating spiritual power to her fingertips.

“By decree, fire—come.”

A small orange-red flame sprang up at the edge of her right hand. She held the Gold Page over it and roasted it until the heat pricked at her skin.

Nothing.

She tried again. Longer. Hotter. She soaked it, froze it, pressed it between her palms and forced spiritual power into it until her meridians ached.

Nothing.

With a grimace, she did the one thing the storybooks always swore would work. She focused spiritual power into her fingertip, pierced the skin, and squeezed out a few drops of blood. She smeared them across the page.

Still nothing.

At last, she exhaled through her nose, half amused, half annoyed, and tucked the Gold Page back into her storage ring.

Enough. If it wanted to stay dead, it could stay dead.

She took one last look at the lush green rice field—quiet, orderly, alive—then stepped out through the white mist and headed back toward the disciples’ compound.

She was walking with her thoughts elsewhere when an odd chant drifted toward her.

“Heave-ho, heave-ho, heave-ho…”

Golden thorns rustled apart. The gate of the Beast Garden came into view, and four yellow-robed disciples trudged out together, hauling a huge iron cage.

A thick stench hit Shao Heng like a slap—musk and blood and dirty fur. Her stomach turned. She lifted her sleeve at once and covered her nose. Keen senses had their drawbacks.

From inside the cage came frantic, mismatched cries.

“Ying-ying…”

“Roar!”

“Awo! Awo!”

Seven different beasts were crammed together, each from a different species, all shoved into the same space as if the Beast Garden didn’t care whether they tore one another apart on the spot.

One of the men hauling the cage spat and complained, “This is such a pain. Demon beasts are a nightmare. In my opinion, they’re not going to live much longer anyway. We should just kill them and bury them.”

A mild-looking female cultivator—around thirty, calm-eyed, steady—answered without looking at him, “Enough. We took a task from the Law Enforcement Pavilion. This is the work.”

She added, dry as dust, “Second-Class Tasks are the easiest kind. If you don’t want to do it, go take tasks hunting devil cultivators.”

The man’s face changed instantly. He grinned as if she’d told a joke. “Senior Sister Song, I’d rather do this. One round trip for five contribution points.”

He lowered his voice anyway, as though afraid the words themselves might summon trouble. “Hunting devil cultivators is too dangerous. At the same realm, devil cultivators are usually stronger in battle. I still remember Senior Sister Tang—late First Realm, only went to deal with a mid First Realm devil cultivator, and when she came back… she was half gone.”

He looked genuinely shaken by the memory, like the wound had opened on his own body.

Senior Sister Song’s gaze flicked toward him. “Then do this properly—”

She stopped mid-sentence.

A yellow-robed girl was approaching them from the path.

Shao Heng slowed, putting on the meek expression she’d long since learned could smooth over trouble. “Senior Sister. Senior Brother.”

The woman’s expression softened. “Junior Sister, do you need something?”

Among the four, it was clear who led. Shao Heng kept her smile gentle. “I’m newly admitted. I was curious—are these demon beasts? Why do they all look so… bloody?”

One of the men—Li Yu Tang—frowned like she’d stepped in filth. “If you just joined, go listen to the elders’ lectures. Don’t stand here blocking us.”

Shao Heng’s face didn’t change.

Her fingers did. They tightened slowly into a fist inside her sleeve.

Before the irritation could sharpen into anything worse, Senior Sister Song cut in. “That’s enough. How much time could this possibly waste?”

She turned back to Shao Heng and explained patiently, “These demon beasts were badly injured in fights and can’t recover. Low realms, weak bloodlines. Not worth the resources to keep alive. We’re delivering them to the inner sect.”

Her voice stayed even, matter-of-fact. “They’ll likely be used for spirit cuisine—nourishing qi and blood for inner sect disciples. Severely wounded beasts can lash out, so disciples escort them to prevent accidents.”

Shao Heng’s gaze swept across the cage.

She didn’t recognize most of the species. They didn’t resemble ordinary animals. One had small wings folded tight against its back. Another had two heads that snapped at each other between snarls. One—half fox, half something stranger—had deep purple flame flickering at the tip of its furry tail, the heat dimmed only by its weakness.

Then she saw it.

A small monkey, wedged between larger bodies, whining weakly as it tried to pull itself into a corner.

Compared to the others it was tiny, clearly still a cub. Its golden fur should have been bright, but blood had matted it down, crusted into dark red scabs. Both shoulders were torn open. Its amber eyes were wet, its whimpers thin with pain.

Something in Shao Heng’s chest tightened.

She pointed, careful not to let too much show. “Senior Sister… was that one injured in the fight too?”

Senior Sister Song shook her head. “That monkey’s clan is unclear. The Beast Garden elders suspect mixed bloodline—part golden-furred monkey, part something else. Its potential is limited, but its temperament is gentle.”

Her eyes shifted briefly, taking in the cub’s condition. “It got caught up in the chaos when the vicious ones were fighting.”

Shao Heng hesitated, as if she were struggling with herself. Then she lifted her eyes again, soft and pleading. “Senior Sister… it’s so pitiful. Can I buy it?”

The sect’s jade token information had mentioned demon beast cubs could be exchanged for spirit stones or contribution points. Injured ones, she remembered, sold cheaper.

Senior Sister Song nodded. “In principle, yes. Injured demon beasts sell at half price. That monkey should have been 40 spirit stones. Now it’s 20.”

She didn’t sugarcoat the rest. “But if you want to heal it, you’ll need to buy additional spirit medicine. In the end, you’ll spend more than you would buying a healthy cub.”

“It’s fine,” Shao Heng said at once. “I want it.”

Li Yu Tang made a small sound in his throat—half snicker, half scoff—but he didn’t say anything else.

Senior Sister Song gestured, and the four of them set the cage down with a heavy clang.

As someone with a position in the Beast Garden, she could handle transactions. She took out a sheet of white paper from her storage ring, poured in spiritual power, and began forming a Demon-Contract Spell in neat, shining lines.

Shao Heng watched her hands—but her mind was already counting.

Half price was a blessing.

She’d already tasted the Azure Emperor droplets. They were rich with life aura. Healing medicine, in essence. She wouldn’t need to buy extra herbs.

And monkey demons—bodies closer to Human Clan, intelligence higher than many Demon Clan beasts—were easier to command. She didn’t care if its bloodline was strong. Gentle and obedient was enough.

The Left Path Discourse said puppets were expensive, and most were stiff and dead. Compared to that, this little monkey demon was practically a bargain.

As if it sensed the future closing in, the cub shivered faintly where it lay.

If it could speak, Shao Heng thought with a flicker of dark humor, it would be crying, My fate is mine, not heaven’s!

And if it could speak a little later, after it learned what “tending the spirit field” meant, it might add, I’m not sure I even want to live.