"What—what are you doing?!" The squirrel dangled from Shui Qian's grip, its fluffy tail clenched in her hand.
"Did you truly think I couldn't go?" Shui Qian pressed her face close, eyes locked onto the creature.
The squirrel froze, round black eyes blinking rapidly. Its thoughts spilled out plainly: *She'll never actually go…*
This woman could read minds!
"Not always," Shui Qian said, cradling the squirrel in her palms. "You've cultivated for decades but haven't taken human form. Your thoughts are… simple. I merely tested a new spell on a whim."
*This woman is terrifying! Who else can she read?* Before the squirrel finished the thought, Shui Qian flicked its forehead. "For now, only weaker yokai with uncomplicated minds. Humans might work too. I devised this art myself. In meditation, I sense many things."
A memory surfaced: a dream bathed in light, where yokai ceased to be foes, and radiant peace reigned. She had reached for a furry paw…
Now, her hand clasped the squirrel's tiny limb.
"…" *Slap!* The squirrel wrenched free, leaped to the ground, and hissed before vanishing.
Shui Qian reinforced her cabin's wards and sat to meditate. The festering wound oozing dark energy hindered her magic, trapping her power. Frustrated, she sank deeper into trance, soon syncing with life forces within ten meters.
Vitality flooded her senses, diluting the deathly aura clinging to her. A serpent plotting eight meters away slithered off at her mental command.
Emboldened, she envisioned her consciousness soaring among stars, threads of thought weaving through the world. Countless human figures materialized below. She swooped, light as a swallow, eager to connect—
Pain struck. She plummeted, eyes snapping open to the stench of grave soil mingling with dark mist from her wound.
In her mind's final glimpse: a stunning woman draped in jewels, smirking mysteriously. Her finger curled in invitation.
The injury had worsened. Shui Qian applied herbs, grimacing at the grotesque shoulder.
*Jewels. That woman.*
She'd appeared in dreams before, poised in a shop, balancing allure and elegance. Logic warned against detours, but intuition tugged.
"Clay insects, divine the hexagram!" Petals scattered, forming the *Jin* hexagram—fire above earth, signaling advancement.
Pain throbbed, yet Shui Qian smiled. The omen was clear: fate demanded she go.
But how to find the woman? She couldn't rely on haphazard visions.
Two nights later, the woman materialized in a dream, jade pipe in hand. Her fingers brushed Shui Qian's shoulder. "You carry something I desire. Seek snakeweed trails to Qiannian Pavilion in Liuzhou. I'll guide you." Her voice faded like mist.
Reluctant to abandon her cabin, Shui Qian delayed. But on the third day, she returned to find it collapsed—her wards intact, no signs of intrusion.
One explanation: the woman's催促.
Shui Qian slung her bow, crushed grass beneath her boots, and strode into the distance without looking back.