237 Drink

237 Drink

The Megatron didn’t so much land as it violently surrendered to gravity. We crashed into the peak of a jagged mountain, shearing off entire slabs of rock before tumbling down its slope like a drunken beast. The wreck tore through the forest below, carving a deep trench into the earth and leveling a path of destruction at least a hundred meters long. Trees cracked like dry bones, soil fountained upward, and the once-mighty ship finally skidded to a smoldering halt. Smoke billowed from the splintered hull. Sparks snapped across broken runes. The Megatron was done.

I groaned, peeled myself off a snapped mast, and shouted, “Anyone dead?”

A pained voice called back, “I’m alive, Master!” It was Lu Gao.

I turned just in time to see him stagger into view, soot-covered, bloody, and missing his entire left arm. The poor sap was trying to wave with the wrong side. I winced and raised my hand, weaving divine light through the air. With a flicker of gold, I cast Great Cure, followed by Blessed Regeneration. Bone and sinew bloomed anew like an ancient tree reversing time, and his arm reformed in a soft glow.

He flexed the fingers, looking faintly impressed. “Much better,” he said, swaying on his feet.

Alice had already pulled Gu Jie out from a collapsed section of the deck, carefully brushing debris off her shoulders. “There’s something different about this place,” she murmured, glancing around the ruined clearing. “I can feel it. Something subtle… but off.”

Jia Yun stumbled out next, visibly shaken. She looked down at her own hands and tried to summon her qi. Nothing came. Her face paled. “I feel weaker,” she said, eyes wide. “Where did my cultivation go?”

I stepped forward, brushing the ash from my sleeves and grimacing at the weight pressing on my shoulders. It was heavier than spiritual gravity. It was the kind of pressure that gnawed at the soul, dulling reflexes and draining energy with every breath.

“This world… It’s not like the Hollowed World,” I explained slowly. “There’s a powerful restriction over it. A natural law or maybe something artificial… whatever it is, it suppresses high-level cultivation. Our connection to our qi realms is thinning out, like threads unraveling.”

As expected, the ones least affected by the False Earth's restriction were Gu Jie and Lu Gao. The invisible suppression in this realm capped our strength at the Fifth Realm, which happened to be Gu Jie's current cultivation level. She stood calmly, composed despite the strain, her aura rippling only slightly from the transition. Lu Gao was just below the ceiling, at the peak of the Fourth Realm, and didn’t seem too rattled either, aside from the scorch marks and newly grown arm, of course.

I reached inward and reclaimed the souls I had embedded from Gu Jie and the Megatron.

When I probed deeper, seeking my True Perfect Immortal Realm, I felt... nothing. That vast, star-filled sea where my full cultivation should’ve dwelled was sealed shut, as if locked behind glass. I was stuck at the Soul Recognition Realm. Jia Yun, too, it seemed, as she gave me a look.

Turning to Alice, I asked, “How are you feeling?”

She tilted her head, blinking slowly as if testing her own pulse. “I don’t know… I think I feel weaker,” she admitted. “It’s not like losing cultivation. It’s more like something’s eating away at my foundation. My Legacy feels… muffled.”

Warlocks didn’t rely on conventional cultivation. Alice had carved her path in blood and pacts, so it made sense that the restriction would affect her differently. Still, even her magic wasn’t untouched.

I took a long breath and glanced back at what remained of the Megatron. The once-majestic ship was a twisted carcass, its sails shredded, and its hull cracked in half like an egg. One of the ballistae had impaled itself into a tree trunk, and several runic engravings glowed faintly, sputtering in cycles as if on life support. Ash and black smoke still wafted from the back engine, where Gu Jie’s reinforcement enchantments had failed mid-flight.

She ran her hand along the battered hull, her voice oddly tender. “Master, it looks like we won’t be able to return to the Hollowed World the same way we got here.”

“No shit,” I muttered, walking a few paces away. My attempt to access my pocket dimension failed. The link sparked and died like a severed nerve.

“I can’t access my Item Box either,” I grumbled. “I should’ve taken out more items before we landed. What’s the point of peeking into the future if I can’t even foresee something this basic?”

Gu Jie didn’t answer, but the way she folded her arms said she agreed… Or maybe, she just thought I was being dramatic.

We walked farther from the wreck, scoping the edge of the forest. The earth was scorched where we’d skidded, torn into a long trench. Leaves fluttered like ash. Somewhere in the distance, a brook trickled, mocking us with its serenity.

Then a chill swept over us.

Figures emerged from the misted edge of the trees. They were silent, masked, and... wearing fishnet stockings. A dozen at least, maybe more, each clad in a mix of ceremonial robes and distinctly impractical legwear. Some carried curved blades, others polearms, but all of them moved with trained precision.

Instinctively, my group bristled.

Lu Gao unsheathed his sword with a flourish, purple flames licking along the blade’s edge. Gu Jie summoned her whip, its tip sparking with silver arcs. Jia Yun twirled her fan with deadly grace, wind gathering at her heels. Alice summoned her scythe in slow and ominous circles as she flared her dark energy boiling in her shadow.

I raised my hand. “Wait. Don’t attack.” I extended my Divine Sense, threading through the group of strangers. And that’s when I felt… faith. Raw, visceral, and directed toward me. It wasn't overwhelming like the faith I used to feel during my earlier exploits in this world, but it was unmistakable. These people… revered me.

“They’re friendlies,” I said, lowering my hand. “Stand down.”

At that moment, as if on cue, the masked strangers fell to their knees in synchronized motion. One by one, they prostrated themselves in the dirt, foreheads touching the ground.

“Uuuh…” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck as the crowd of masked people kept their heads bowed. “Guys, meet the Night Blades.” I gestured vaguely to the folks still kneeling in reverence. “Night Blades, meet my… er… family.”

Most of the masked figures were women, clad in tight black robes that emphasized speed over modesty, their arms and legs exposed through artful cuts in their uniforms. Their masks were uncanny, white porcelain interwoven with strips of carved dark wood, shaped in serene, impassive expressions that didn’t quite match the dangerous aura they radiated. This was the Night Blades, a subcomponent of the Guardians I had established years ago, back when I still had the leisure to dream up factions like some overeager young lord in a martial arts drama.

From among them, a woman raised her head and unceremoniously ripped off her wooden mask. “Lord Wei, you got married?” she asked, her voice sharp, eyes narrowed, and tone almost betrayed.

It was Ye Yong, still the same as I remembered.

“Married?” I blinked. That was the first question she had for me? “Ye Yong, seriously?”

She looked genuinely offended. That stung more than I cared to admit. Alice crossed her arms beside me and raised a brow, clearly amused.

Lu Gao leaned over and whispered, “Master, who are they? Your version of the Phoenix Guard?”

“Shut it, Lu Gao,” I snapped, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “These fellows were once members of the 112th Bronze Squadron, an assembly of so-called undesirables the military didn’t know what to do with, so they were dumped into the weakest unit. The Night Blades began as a small group of women and men, but over the years, they grew in number and purpose.” I looked around. “But this… something’s off.”

They shouldn’t have known we’d land here.

I scanned the treeline again, and that’s when I saw a figure emerging from the darker boughs. Her presence was muted, no grand entrance, no oppressive pressure. Just… there. She moved with a quiet grace that made even the shadows curl away.

She no longer wore shrine maiden silks or regalia fit for a demigoddess. Her clothes were black, plain, utilitarian, and blended her perfectly into the Night Blades. But even in her anonymity, there was no mistaking her. I whispered her name as the chill ran up my spine.

“Wen Yuhan…”

The woman whose body I stole.

Her appearance confirmed my suspicion. This was not some convenient reunion. The Night Blades hadn’t stumbled on us by accident. They had been waiting. She had been waiting.

She approached without hurry, a sliver of a smirk tugging at her lips, eyes glimmering with mischief and something else I couldn’t quite place. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet and clear, slicing through the silence like a knife.

“It’s been five years already, Da Wei,” she said, pausing just a few steps from me. “A deal’s a deal.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

“You have to kill the Heavenly Demon for me… or else.”

She smiled, not warmly, not cruelly, but cryptically.

It hit me like a falling mountain. A sudden click of memory, instinct, and foresight merging into one terrible realization.

“Motherfucker,” I cursed under my breath.

Wen Yuhan tilted her head, almost fondly. “Such a crass mouth… like always.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You knew Jue Bu was going to ‘expel’ me from the False Earth. That’s why you risked trying to steal my body. You knew I’d be tossed into the Greater Universe. You planned it. Even if you lost that tug of war, you are confident you will be able to regain agency.”

She offered no denial, only a smile that barely reached her eyes. It wasn’t warmth she offered… It was inevitability.

“What if I don’t kill the Heavenly Demon?” I asked. “Say it. Or else… what?”

Wen Yuhan’s expression didn’t change. “We made a binding vow, Da Wei. You don’t want your karma to suffer.”

I scoffed, folding my arms. “You’ll have to do better than that. Karma? You think that’s enough to make me move?”

She studied me for a second, then nodded as if accepting a truth she already suspected. “I’ve always thought your reckless foolishness was your greatest flaw. But no—” she paused, “—it’s your greatest strength. You’re right. You don’t care about karma. The same way you don’t believe in God.”

I blinked at that. Of course she knew. She’d seen my memories when I possessed her. She knew all my contradictions. A Paladin who didn’t believe in divinity. A preacher of faith who trusted only in grit, fists, and cleverness. I didn’t even pretend to be offended. It just made me wary.

And then it hit me. There was another play she had in mind when she tried to take my body. This wasn’t about just karma or duty. There was something else…something far more dangerous.

She smiled again with a glint of mischief in her eye. “Since the threat of bad karma doesn’t scare you, let me show you another stick.”

I tried to laugh it off and deflect with my usual wit. “Just don’t put it inside me, I won’t like that.”

But Wen Yuhan didn’t laugh. “If you refuse to uphold your end of the bargain, I’ll release knowledge of [34Pi+h] to the Supreme Beings.”

My head throbbed. That damn word… whatever she’d just said… was censored in my mind, like the universe itself refused to let me hear it without consequences. But I knew what it referred to. A secret I promised to forget with Meng Po’s soup. A truth not meant for mortals and immortals alike, and certainly not meant to be bartered for favor or power.

“You’re not the only one who knows how to be self-destructive,” she said. “Yes, if I surrender my soul to a Supreme Being, that’s the end of me… but what about you? What about your home? What about Earth?”

“Damn,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “You really know how to tug at my heartstrings.”

Her expression didn’t change. “So? What’s it going to be, Da Wei?”

I raised my head slowly, watching her carefully. “Ever heard the phrase ‘fight fire with fire’?”

Her brow furrowed. The flicker of confusion bloomed across her face like a slow, dawning storm.

But I wasn’t speaking to her anymore. My eyes didn’t leave hers, but the question was for someone else entirely. “Gu Jie,” I said, “what are the chances I slaughter Wen Yuhan here before she tattles to a Supreme Being?”

Gu Jie answered without hesitation. “She will definitely die. Some of the Night Blades will perish with her. Lu Gao, too. I will lose an arm. You will cripple her. And then Lady Alice will scatter her soul into oblivion.”

And Wen Yuhan heard it all. Her smile began to falter. What had been confidence turned to hesitation, then fear, and finally… recognition. She knew now: she’d misplayed her final card.

As if on cue, Lu Gao stepped forward, sword drawn, defiance etched into every line of his body. “I’m ready to die for you, Master. Just say the word.”

Wen Yuhan took a breath. Her shoulders rose and fell. “Alright,” she said softly, voice stripped of artifice, “I give up.”

She raised her hands, not in surrender but in compromise. “Let’s… renew the deal.”

I stared at her for a moment longer. Then I nodded.

Of course, I agreed to renew the deal. I had some use for her, after all, maybe more than one. Wen Yuhan was clever, manipulative, and not entirely trustworthy, but I’d rather have that kind of talent pointed at my enemies than lurking at my back. Still, terms needed to be reestablished. She needed to remember who was at the head of the table.

From my Storage Ring, I drew a small wooden table and two stools. With a wave of my hand, I summoned a wooden bowl filled with tea. I sat first and gestured to the seat across from me. “First,” I said, “let’s have tea.”

Alice appeared silently behind Wen Yuhan, her presence enough to make the air tense. She didn’t speak. She simply placed both hands on Wen Yuhan’s shoulders and guided her to the stool with gentle, iron-firm insistence. Wen Yuhan sat, clearly not by choice.

“Night Blades, leave us,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Secure the perimeter… or something.”

Ye Yong raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. “Or something,” she echoed, as if she were long resigned to my whims. She stood up and waved her arm in a circle. “Night Blades, with me. Lord Wei has returned… We’ll watch the perimeter.”

Their exit was immediate and clean, silent feet in fishnet stockings, blades sheathed and senses sharpened. They vanished into the mist and trees without another word.

Wen Yuhan didn’t speak at first. Her eyes went to the bowl of tea, then to me. Her fingers hovered near the rim, not yet touching.

“That’s called a Meng Po soup,” I said plainly.

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I’m insane?”

“Drink,” I replied.

She slammed her palm on the table. The bowl trembled. Liquid sloshed close to the edge.

“If I drink this, I could lose everything,” she hissed. “My identity, my memories—”

“Drink,” I repeated, voice calm and unwavering.

“You cross this line, Da Wei, and I swear—”

“Drink,” I said again, not loud, but with finality.

She stared at me for a long moment. The fire in her eyes didn’t waver, but her fingers moved. They curled around the bowl. With a trembling hand, she raised it to her lips.

And drank.