She, well-versed in herbal remedies, was all too familiar with healing the scars of others.
Luoshuichan's hands moved ceaselessly as she kneaded a lump of clay, shaping it into simple humanoid figures one after another. After molding about seven or eight, she poured out a large chunk of a monster's soul from her spirit pouch.
The soul was wreathed in malice, writhing and leaping furiously on the ground. With a snap of her left hand, the soul collapsed weakly to the earth. Pressing her palms together, she conjured a purification spell. "Behave," she murmured, tapping the soul with two fingers, scattering the malevolent aura.
The soul transformed into a pure, silently burning flame. She scooped it up, pinched off small pieces, and infused them into the clay figures. The clay beings instantly came to life. As she was about to imbue the second figure with a soul, the first animated clay creature examined itself, then glanced at Shuichan, its lips moving soundlessly as it stretched its arms like wings.
"I see—you want wings?" Shuichan smiled, lightly brushing the clay figure with her left hand. In an instant, it sprouted translucent, cicada-like wings, shimmering with flecks of light. The clay creature buzzed excitedly around her in gratitude before pointing at its still-lifeless brethren, gesturing for each to receive a pair of wings.
Shuichan nodded in understanding, and in no time, seven or eight clay insects were fluttering around her. The creatures huddled together as if conspiring, then half of them immediately took off and vanished.
The method of creating these clay insects was, in fact, a simplified version of the technique that had once revived her from death. The monster that had awakened her, of course, had long since passed away. Shuichan sat down to rest against a large rock, her dark hair cascading loosely. Just as drowsiness began to overtake her, the buzzing of wings sounded in her ears.
Several clay insects hovered around her, carrying medicinal herbs in their mouths.
"Fangshu, platycodon, silvergrass—all for detoxification and purification. Thank you for your efforts. Just put them in the pouch; they'll come in handy later," she said with a smile.
The clay insects shook their heads and continued circling her.
"You gathered these… for me?" They nodded in unison.
For a moment, Shuichan was speechless. She rose and carefully stored each herb, then lifted her palm, gathering the clay insects into her hand.
"Your souls came from the venomous scorpion monster I captured. See? Even among monsters, there are kind ones." She lost herself in thought. *Kind monsters…* she mused silently.
*Monster from afar, after all these years… how have you been?*
She instructed the clay insects to rest in the grass, then ground a portion of the herbs into a wooden bowl with a few quick spells.
Slowly, she loosened her robes, revealing a ghastly scar on her snow-white skin, stretching from her left shoulder. Toxic energy seeped from it, barely contained by tightly wound bandages. The wound was deep, with the threat of spreading.
This was why the clay insects had sought out the herbs—they had sensed their master's concealed injury.
*I am but a dead thing walking, a withered skeleton—how could I dare to seek an everlasting bond?*
Under the moonlight, she applied the herbs to the wound, knowing full well it was a futile effort.
If nothing unexpected happened, her fate would be to fight to the death in Ailuo Mountain, the so-called capital of demonic beasts. So be it. Every life had its destined end. *Monster from afar, I hope there's a clever, lively girl by your side, so you won't be lonely—not a doomed wanderer like me.*
The pain from the wound had long since numbed her. Her consciousness grew hazy as she drifted into sleep.
In her dream, she recalled something her father had once told her about purifying monsters. It wasn't about tediously cleansing them one by one, but mastering a purer, more powerful energy—one that could inspire entire mountains of monsters to repent and turn toward the light without force.
*"There's an old saying: 'The highest form of battle is to win without fighting,'"* her father had said. But if monsters were truly vile, why bother redeeming them? Shuichan had never understood.
The scene shifted. She was bathed in a warm, radiant white light. Reaching out, she found herself gently holding Mingxuan's hand—his jade-like smile so beautiful it nearly brought her to tears.
Those hands morphed before her eyes, transforming into the legs of a spider monster, the sharp claws of a rat demon, the writhing tentacles of an insect fiend, the flickering tongue of a serpent… a myriad forms in a single thought.
*"Whoosh."* An arrow pierced through the clouds, striking down an insect monster beneath an oak tree.
Sensing demonic energy and firing an arrow had become second nature to Shuichan, a reflex honed through relentless training—even in her dreams.
She stood, dusted herself off, and slung her bow. "Little clay insects, keep up. Let's go."