227 - Mistress, I Was Wrong

**Chapter 227: Destiny (1)** The flames grew wildly, with small fireballs continually descending from above, cluster by cluster. Qian Ziyan's footsteps moved ceaselessly, while his hand never stopped strumming the strings. Threads of pale cyan spiritual power relentlessly attacked overhead, each time the flames threatened to fall upon Qian Ziyan's head, he easily sidestepped them. "Big brother, I'll help you." Qian Yiling pulled out a short flute from her space, about the size of an adult man's palm. The black flute, against the fiery glow, seemed to exude some sort of aura. Its clear and high-pitched melody wrapped around the falling flames, intentionally or unintentionally piling them together. Mu Sheng and Zhi Lan both sighed in relief, but even so, the flames above seemed unrelenting like an endless rain. The tension between the two sides was palpable. Xiao Miao deftly dodged the flames, though the fire he suppressed seemed to be regaining its momentum. Mu Sheng watched with bated breath, encouraging, "Xiao Miao, make sure you keep it down." Xiao Miao nodded vigorously. "Ugh—" Dongfang Minghui felt the sharp light continuously piercing, so she simply closed her eyes. Her whole body felt light, as if she were ceaselessly falling. She even suspected someone was pulling her down, hence she squeezed Little Fatty's hand tightly, "I must be dreaming." Little Color hesitated, then said, "Little Fatty doesn’t look too good." Ignoring the risk of blindness, Dongfang Minghui suddenly lifted her head into the glaring light, her eyelids shrinking from the intensity. In a position she couldn't see, Little Fatty's height had stretched to adult human levels, and the hands holding the Tianyin helmet had turned blood red. Inside Tianyin helmet, Little Beansprout bent again into an inverted U-shape, its stem's resilience unyielding. A bud trembled within the obsidian soil, and in Little Beansprout's blurred consciousness, this disaster was the greatest it had faced. The approaching flames carried an earth-shattering power, and as they neared, it felt as though its hard-fought soul was being torn apart, intolerably painful. "This can’t go on; we’ll all die here." "Yes." Dongfang Minghui instinctively kicked Lian twice, hoping to surprise him as she would a stubborn log. But, she underestimated Lian's stubbornness, as he remained unfazed after several kicks, as if holding an honorable resolve to die with her. "Lian, let go." "No." Young Lian's forehead was drenched in sweat, his eyes red with an inherent stubbornness, guarding his sole pure sanctuary, "Shaman, hold on a little longer." Dongfang Minghui also hoped to hold on a little longer, until her Seventh Sister woke up, until they found a flaw in this cauldron, hopefully until they could all escape. Yet, she sensed Little Fatty was nearing the end of her strength. "Lian, let go." "No way!" In her plea, Little Color's vine attempted to bypass Little Fatty, but was singed by her intense heat, screaming in agony. It quickly reached the Tianyin helmet, giving Little Beansprout a tug. Little Beansprout seemed to react, lifting its tiny head. Upon seeing Little Color, it shook uncontrollably, either from being frightened or purely from being extremely agitated. Little Color attempted to invert the Tianyin helmet with its vine, only to be burned harshly by the helmet, stripping a layer of vine skincare, "Help—ah!" At its peak, she might stand a chance. But against this nemesis, especially with true dragonfire, Little Color felt her end was near, realizing she’d spent too much time with her enemy unwittingly. Emerging from peril, perishing in comfort — what a painful realization! Little Fatty watched the vine circle around the Tianyin helmet, understanding its action after a brief moment. She used all her strength to invert the helmet, "Ah—" The Tianyin helmet creaked as it gradually turned under their combined efforts. The obsidian soil that would stick inside on normal days easily slipped out when the helmet was flipped. Everyone saw the black substance falling and assumed it was remnants of the flames. Qian Wanyu was forcibly awakened from her meditation due to the combined disturbance of the zither and flute sounds. Earlier, Qing Mo's light touch nearly turned her into raw material for this cauldron, swallowed by the flames. Ordinary flames wouldn't harm his spirit, but the true dragonfire up there could almost scorch anything to dust. Qing Mo’s spirit suffered greatly, slipping into slumber without even leaving a word behind. When she opened her eyes, she saw clearly what the black object was and flew up to securely catch Little Beansprout. It had turned into a near-death sprout, listlessly resting in Qian Wanyu’s hand. Qian Wanyu's expression grew complex, the promise she made to Little Fatty seeming to shatter as she saw Little Beansprout barely alive. But before she could grasp what happened, she looked up to see three of them pulling one another, being drawn toward the flames. "Mother, look after Little Beansprout." Qian Wanyu enveloped Little Beansprout in a gentle wave of spiritual power, transferring it to Qian Yiling's hands from afar. Mission complete, Little Color swiftly returned to the soul sea, only able to say, "We're done for." Dongfang Minghui exhaled in silent relief, satisfied having saved one before her end, and glad to see Seventh Sister awake. If only she had more time, she would have exchanged places with Little Fatty and tossed the stubborn Lian aside, willing to face death alone rather than with the three entangled together. Alas, there wasn't time. "Get down here!" Qian Wanyu grabbed Lian’s leg, pulling sharply downwards with her fingers curling with immense spiritual power. All were swept aside by her force. She stood like a war goddess, unyielding, and her spiritual strike against the bronze wall induced a slight response, signifying the sheer strength she employed. Lian winced from pain, his veins throbbing. That grip nearly shattered his ankle, yet he earnestly hoped the Qian Wanyu below might support them longer, even haul the shaman down. "Seventh Sister." "Come down!" Qian Wanyu struck again forcefully, each spiritual impact viciously assaulting the copper wall until it finally emitted a prolonged "buzz" sound. Dongfang Minghui sensed something wet and sticky sliding from above, sniffing to detect the scent of blood. Little Fatty, seemingly sensing her gaze, looked down at her. Blood oozed from eyes, ears, nostrils, and even the mouth, turning her into a veritable bloodied figure seemingly oblivious to the pain. She mouthed, "Ah." "Little Fatty, let go," Dongfang Minghui urged with a tremor, engraving the sight of her seven-orifice bleeding deeply into her mind, "Please, release." Little Fatty let out a sound, her entire body radiating intense heat akin to molten lava. Dongfang Minghui witnessed her hands gripping Little Fatty's ankles turn a blood-red hue. "If you don't release, your hands will be ruined," Little Color—now a mere sapling—raged within the soul sea despite its diminutive form. "Can you guarantee once I let go, it won’t seize me?" Dongfang Minghui murmured. Her weight was already levitating upward, held back by Lian’s grip on her legs. Without him below, she would be the first to be consumed by these flames. She struggled to understand why Little Fatty clung to the Tianyin helmet with such fervor. Initially, she thought it was due to Little Beansprout, but now realized she had misunderstood all along. Little Fatty's true concern was the Tianyin helmet containing Little Beansprout. Little Color was speechless, incapable of assuring her as this peculiar cauldron seemed to be after the Tianyin helmet rather than the sprout. Otherwise, the fire would have already swallowed Little Beansprout when it escaped the helmet earlier. "It appears we’re fated to die together." Dongfang Minghui laughed aloud; having company on death’s path, however grim, was reassuring. "Little Sister, release!" Dongfang Minghui glanced blankly at them, recalling her Seventh Sister's water thunder whip strapped to her waist. She freed one hand from Little Fatty, noticing their rise towards death accelerated. Her hand, akin to a roasted pig's trotter, clumsily unfastened the whip, showing no sign of pain at this moment. She smiled, "Seventh Sister, catch." Qian Wanyu caught it barehanded. But even in that split second, her feet were pulled off the ground. "Lian, forgive me." "Witch!" Dongfang Minghui's fingers went numb, but while freeing the water thunder whip, she suddenly remembered the hidden weapons in her concealed compartment. Whether plum blossom darts or flying needles, they could be used to strike Lian's wrists. As long as he loosened his grip a little, she could free both him and Seventh Sister from peril. She fished out several silver needles; they flashed briefly before Lian sensed something was wrong. Before he could react, a numbing sensation spread through his wrists, robbing him of his grip, and he plummeted, while only able to watch them being drawn closer to the blinding light. "Ninth Sister, you mustn't!" Qian Wanyu, enraged, burst forth with spiritual power, her whip lashing towards the bond at Dongfang Minghui's waist. "Seventh Sister." Dongfang Minghui's eyes glimpsed with amusement, a single tear shimmering and gone in an instant. Just as the whip lashed out, Lian felt a brief thrill, but only briefly. The water thunder whip's speed didn't match theirs, and their figures misaligned. The whip's end failed to grab anyone; all they saw were two figures quickly swallowed by the flames. Sizzle— At the last moment, Lü Xing's vine released decisively, while Mu Sheng covered his mouth, eyes wide with disbelief. Stupefied, Qian Wanyu could only watch the top, unmoved even as the water thunder whip fell from mid-air. After consuming Little Fatty and Dongfang Minghui, the flame at the top seemed somewhat satisfied, gradually shrinking, the golden flames subdued. The falling fire vanished into thin air, as if the downpour of fireballs had been a mere illusion. Lian collapsed to the ground, surrounded by scattered bows and arrows, struggling to find the will to rise. Both Qian Yiling and Qian Ziyan stopped, the temperature around them dropping significantly. The flames lost their aggressiveness, easing them somewhat. But, considering the colossal price to still the flames—a price too steep for anyone to bear. Qian Wanyu stood rooted to her spot, eyes turning dark red, a majestic and fierce aura surrounding her, cloaked in a chilling deadliness. A black vortex formed behind her, initially just a fist-sized black dot, subtly enlarging into a black hole as her spiritual power overflowed. "Yu'er." Qian Yiling wanted to approach, but the closer she got, the faster her spiritual power drained away. The deathly aura around her sister was alarming, leaving her in disbelief at the invasion of her power. "Yu'er, stop." Qian Wanyu slowly raised her head, her fiery-red pupils exuding an indifference akin to lifelessness, as though she were gazing at something insignificant. "Heart demon." Qian Ziyan plucked his zither strings continuously, but not aggressively as before; instead, the tune was gentle, like a spring breeze, soothing to the spirit. Despite her heartache, Qian Yiling understood that once a heart demon took root, it would relentlessly torment her aside from hindering cultivation. She took out her flute, joining her brother in a harmonious performance. Mu Sheng's eyes reddened slightly, "Sister Wanyu is just too grieved." Zhi Lan was still processing, kneeling on the side, oblivious to how the witch who had saved her life would be the first to leave. Wave after wave of spiritual energy brushed past Qian Wanyu, all consumed as attacks, making the black hole behind her expand to nearly half a human's height. Moreover, as she no longer hid her spiritual power, a fiery red mark was slowly surfacing at her forehead. Qian Ziyan furrowed his brow deeply, "Blood oath." Qian Yiling suddenly recalled something long forgotten. She had once heard the term from Little Nine, but the little rascals had later diverted her attention. Her body trembled, an instinctual fear seizing her heart. "Bro, what happens if the blood oath isn’t removed?" "Don't panic." Qian Ziyan suddenly thought of a method, "Lingling, do you have anything of Little Nine’s?" Initially puzzled, Qian Yiling recalled the sketchbook Little Nine had given her, "I do. What's your plan, big brother?" Qian Ziyan drew on his empathy, knowing from Wanyu that what haunted her most after his death was not having anything of his nearby. Thus, in desperation, he sought to etch his image before forgetting. "She's heartbroken, leading to the heart demon." "Little Nine," Qian Yiling lamented, unclear why the cauldron had chosen him. Regardless, now wasn’t the time to discuss the issue, "Big brother, will it truly work?" "Let's try it first." As Qian Yiling retrieved the sketchbook, she also brought out Little Beansprout, whose previously propped stem had drooped even further, looking worse than before. Qian Yiling gently caressed the bud, whispering to it. The once lively spirit medicine, now quietly pressing against the obsidian soil, seemed to weep silently, "Little Nine said you're understanding. Little Beansprout, if you can understand my words, please help bring Yu'er back. Perhaps seeing you, she can regain control." "Consider it a mother's plea." Little Beansprout lifted its tiny head, nudging her fingers softly. Qian Ziyan pointed at the layer of pale cyan wind element enveloping Little Beansprout, "Wanyu wouldn't attack it." Even so, when Qian Yiling handed it over to Qian Wanyu, she was prepared to snatch it back at any moment. This spirit medicine was extraordinary, Little Nine had snatched it from the jaws of death, practically his very life. The spiritual barrier encasing Little Beansprout was set by Qian Wanyu herself, naturally leaving it unguarded. Qian Wanyu's fiery eyes fixed on it, Little Beansprout valiantly stood straight, foolishly gazing back. One unable to speak, the other wouldn't speak, leaving them in a silent standoff. "Yu'er, this is the Little Beansprout that Little Nine protected with his life, do you remember?" Had Qian Yiling remained silent, it might have been better. Speaking reminded Qian Wanyu of how he discarded her for this sprout, reigniting the flames in her eyes, amplifying the killing intent around her. Her deathly aura surpassed the previous, her chilling smile, hand poised to snap the stem. "No, Yu'er." Qian Ziyan frowned, "Throw her the sketchbook, whether she chooses to destroy or keep it, it's her decision." Reluctantly, Qian Yiling touched the sketchbook. Over time, she knew it by heart. It was more than a book of sketches; it was their sole connection. Qian Wanyu imagined countless ways to end Little Beansprout. Contrary to its reaction to the fire, it didn’t shiver anymore, instead lying there, long neck seemingly waiting for her blow. The whole spirit medicine radiated an aura of despair. She lifted her hand, gathering gray spiritual power to strike Little Beansprout, but paused at the last moment and withdrew her dark spiritual power, "You don't want to live?" Also? Qian Yiling's heart skipped at those words and hurriedly wrapped the sketchbook in wind element, presenting it to her. Right then, Lian intervened, snatching the sketchbook, "The shaman’s last thing, if you don’t cherish it, you won’t get it." Lian wanted to seize Little Beansprout, but his sprained ankle, courtesy of Qian Wanyu, made him hobble. He clung to the sketchbook as if it were a world treasure. "Heh." Qian Yiling sneered, "Do you want to die?" "I don't want to die." Lian clutched the sketchbook; unwilling to even open it, he stroked the slightly crumpled cover, seeming plain yet special. It depicted a small figure carrying a beautiful silk umbrella while another's whip danced, beside a tiny beast resembling Little Nine. Lian disliked admitting the two fit so well; he'd long understood their bond, hoping to protect her. The cover matched how she looked when he first met her—a small person carrying a weapon almost larger than herself. "Give it to me." Qian Wanyu's eyes flared with malevolence, the black hole widening as its pull seized everyone. Qian Yiling and Qian Ziyan stood firm, but Mu Sheng and Zhi Lan couldn't withstand the force. "Sister Wanyu, wake up. Minghui wouldn't want to see you consumed by the heart demon." "Shut up!" With a flick of her fingers, Qian Wanyu sent Mu Sheng flying. If not for Qian Ziyan's quick grasp, he would’ve been severely hurt despite surviving. Unyielding, Qian Wanyu trapped Lian in a web of spiritual strands, hoisting him and slamming him harshly, again and again. Lian spat several mouths of blood, and after struggling to his feet, he drew his bow and launched five arrows. In the past, Lian's arrows had never failed him, but against Qian Wanyu, they were insignificant. Being an archer herself, she spread her fingers wide, summoning a dark, devouring force that reduced his arrows to dust. "If you like arrows so much, let me show you the power of my Samsara Bow." "Yu'er, what are you planning?" "To send him to his death!" If Qing Mo were awake, he would have prevented her madness with his last breath. Unfortunately, in his slumber, he didn’t anticipate that she would go insane enough to consider killing Lian, who might be the son of Qian Ying, right in front of them. Qian Wanyu produced the Samsara Bow; its appearance tempered the overwhelming aura surrounding her. Both Qian Ziyan and Qian Yiling gasped. The Samsara Bow rested in the Qian family’s armory, a coveted weapon they’d admired since childhood, yet never could lift. Now Wanyu wielded it effortlessly. They exchanged a knowing glance, acknowledging they stood no chance against her. What should have been a jubilant occasion was marred by her heart demon. Seeing her blinded by rage, ready to kill indiscriminately, left Qian Yiling both heartbroken and helpless. Qian Yiling handed the Eye of Truth to Qian Ziyan, "Big brother, keep this for me. If you ever find Lance—" If only they could find him with Yu’er. Qian Ziyan wouldn’t agree, "If you want to find the man, do it yourself. Do you expect your elder brother to find him for you?" Qian Yiling shook her head, half-crying, half-laughing, "Fine." Searching seemed futile. "Big brother, we must find a way to calm Yu’er." Qian Yiling felt powerless; neither's music soothed Yu'er. They’d hoped Little Nine might, yet it only made matters worse. Qian Wanyu glanced at them, blatant disdain in her eyes, before focusing on creating an arrow from spiritual energy. "It's a Spiritual Arrow." "She intends to kill Lian." Lian stood fearless, his smile wide, "Kill me, then I can follow the shaman sooner. If only I had met the shaman before you—" The heart-demon-driven Qian Wanyu was amplifying her pent-up dissatisfaction. Lian's words struck repeatedly at her sore spots; in her eyes, his death was an unpardonable necessity. "Yu’er, don't." "She's consumed by her heart demon. Words are futile." She drew the Samsara Bow taut; the spiritual arrow sent Qian Ziyan and Qian Yiling flying before it shot toward Lian. Lian released his own arrow, yet it never touched even the hem of Wanyu's clothes before being obliterated into dust. The spiritual arrow pierced his heart. Lian furrowed his brow slightly, a serene smile on his face as he fell backward. The sketchbook slipped from his clothes as he landed, and he tried to reel back the last relic of the shaman’s presence. Before the spiritual arrow could retract, Qian Wanyu suddenly coughed up blood and collapsed alongside him. "Sister Wanyu!" "Yu’er, what's happened?" Qian Ziyan checked Lian's pulse, then his injury. The red spot on his chest confirmed it as a result of that spiritual arrow. He had redirected it with wind spiritual energy, yet still, it hit. "It was fated." "Big brother, there's something wrong with Yu’er’s forehead." As Qian Ziyan reached out to touch it, Qian Wanyu’s unbridled spiritual energy surged, a ghostly presence wreaking havoc in the cauldron. Mu Sheng and Zhi Lan were the initial victims, one losing consciousness and the other collapsing, "It's the blood oath." "Blood oath?" Qian Yiling looked frantic, "If it’s the blood oath, it only triggers when the vow is broken. Why did it go berserk now?" Qian Ziyan’s gaze flit between Qian Wanyu and Lian. He racked his brain but couldn’t solve the mystery, pulling a distraught Qian Yiling aside, "Defend." Together they conjured a wind barrier, repelling Wanyu’s rampant energy, granting Mu Sheng, Zhi Lan, Toothless, and Xiao Miao a slim chance of survival. Their wind barrier might have been small, but it provided a rare moment of peace. Qian Ziyan evaluated Mu Sheng, whose internal energy was chaotic, likely affected by the cauldron's flames. He tried to extract the intrusive fire spiritual energy. "I can help." Xiao Miao, observing Little Fatty’s valiant efforts, felt compelled to contribute in the chaotic scene. Without delay, Qian Ziyan yielded space to Xiao Miao, who decisively absorbed the residual fire energy from Mu Sheng, then turned to cautiously siphon it from Zhi Lan and the rest. Once satisfied with his work, Xiao Miao nestled beside Toothless, returning to a state of quiet observance. The string of events left everyone too emotionally drained to speak. Zhi Lan watched over Mu Sheng, keeping an eye on Qian Yiling and Qian Ziyan, saying nothing. Qian Yiling stared at the unconscious, thinking how as Yu’er’s mother, she was unable to even approach her without unwanted consequences. It felt like failure. She caressed the Eye of Truth gently with a touch of melancholy. Qian Ziyan gazed upward at the flame, noting its calm demeanor after Little Nine and Little Fatty’s sacrificial tribute. He absently rubbed a wooden carving, wondering aloud, "Lü Xing, what would you have me do?" Would sacrificing his cultivation break open the cauldron? "Big brother, the barrier's breaking." "Yes, reinforce it." In less than an hour, they fortified the barrier three times. Both knew, at most, it could hold for two hours. If Qian Wanyu remained unconscious, they risked not being incinerated by the cauldron but devoured as fuel by her spiritual energy. Unexpectedly, an hour later, Qian Wanyu awakened abruptly, sitting up. Her eyes were blank until she saw Lian’s body, clarity returning as she touched her fiery blood oath, realizing the absurdity of her actions. "Big brother, she seems clear-headed." Qian Ziyan observed her expression return to an earlier coldness, releasing the barrier smoothly. Qian Wanyu retracted her rampaging spirit, restoring normalcy. But the ever-present overhead bulb reminded all the end was not nigh. "Did I kill Lian?" "You did." Resting her head in her hands, she was silent for a long moment before bursting into manic laughter, "Destiny." "Yu’er, don’t let the heart demon consume you entirely." "It won’t happen again." Without future chances, Qian Wanyu smiled with relief, lightly brushing Qian Yiling's cool cheek, "Mother, whatever happens, I will get you and Uncle out safely." Gripping the Samsara Bow, Qian Wanyu gathered a massive spiritual arrow, "Keep the barrier up, I'm going to pierce this cauldron." Since no one claimed it, she'd destroy the cauldron herself, believing even fortresses eventually fall. "Yu’er." "Let her vent." They braced another barrier, observing as Qian Wanyu repeatedly condensed spiritual arrows. Her arrows grew shorter; initially, they vanished into cotton-like nothingness as they hit the top. But she persisted, formidable and unstoppable until the blazing flame above extinguished. An hour passed, two hours, until ten hours elapsed. "Yu’er, that's enough." Qian Yiling couldn’t bear to watch her struggle, arm too weak to lift and fingers bleeding from overuse, seeming oblivious to pain. "It isn’t enough, far from it." As she readied again, Qian Ziyan placed a firm hand on her shoulder, "You aim for speed but will achieve nothing." Qian Wanyu knew the logic but felt pressed for time. Sensing her unease, Qian Ziyan empathized, "These flames won't erupt soon, take the time to refine your power. Even if they do, I know how to pacify them and will grant you ample time." Convinced, Qian Wanyu resumed meditative cultivation promptly. Only then did Qian Yiling relax, yet she asked, "Big brother, you mentioned calming the flames—what is your method?" Qian Ziyan gave a secretive smile, "You'll find out." Qian Yiling’s eased brow furrowed anew as they pondered individually... Xiao Miao kept his wide, curious eyes roaming around. He first observed the fluctuating flames at the top, then glanced at Toothless, who was nestled in a corner with only her tail visible. After looking at Zhi Lan and Mu Sheng, his gaze finally settled on Lian. After a thorough look, he quietly resumed his role as a background observer, finding himself missing the days when Little Fatty was around. Little Fatty was the first truly to interact with him, unafraid and occasionally playfully teasing him while keeping him company. Raising his head, Xiao Miao thought about how Little Fatty had gone to that unknown place. While everyone was meditating and not paying him any attention, he took the opportunity to climb up along the wall. The dark red wall, which others feared, did not bother Xiao Miao. To him, the flames were gentle, and the patterns on the wall helped prevent him from slipping. Closer, closer. Xiao Miao neared the flames, which appeared as shimmering gold from afar. In the center was a fiery core, resembling a golden lotus in full bloom. Mesmerized by its beauty, Xiao Miao gazed intently at the flames. "Little Fatty." His soft call was barely audible, yet Qian Ziyan and Qian Yiling, ever vigilant about their surroundings, especially the flames above, heard it. Seeing Xiao Miao reaching unafraid toward the fire, seemingly entranced, they quickly acted. "Xiao Miao, what are you doing!" Qian Ziyan plucked a string of his harp, sending a soft, pale cyan spiritual wind across the space between Xiao Miao and the fire. Startled, Xiao Miao flinched and fell from above. "Ah—" Qian Yiling quickly cushioned his fall with her spiritual power, catching him securely. "Xiao Miao, do you know how dangerous it was to get that close?" Xiao Miao lowered his head, feeling apologetic. He had only wanted a glimpse of Little Fatty. Qian Ziyan spoke frankly, "Despite everything, Wanyu always kept you close. Xiao Miao, tell us honestly, was it the fire that lured you up there alone?" From his perspective, Xiao Miao's behavior—cautious yet daring—seemed out of character. Xiao Miao shook his head vehemently, stealing glances at Qian Ziyan and Qian Yiling to ensure they weren’t angry. Softly, he confessed, "I just wanted to see Little Fatty." Mentioning this brought a rare silence among them. Qian Yiling felt a sharp, inexplicable pain in her heart, turning away without questioning further. The incident had been risky, and had they not intervened in time, their temporary peace might have been shattered. Unlike her, Qian Ziyan pressed on, seeing Xiao Miao's innocence, "You reached out to touch the flames just now, did you see something? Or were you hoping to have us all consumed by this cauldron?" Xiao Miao shook his head again, "No, no." "Then why?" "It was Little Fatty," Xiao Miao murmured, his eyes fixed on his shoes. Qian Ziyan found it exhausting to speak with a child, trying to comprehend, "Did Little Fatty ask you to touch the flames?" Initially, Xiao Miao nodded, then shook his head, further confusing them. Whispering, he clarified, "Little Fatty is inside. I wanted to say hello." Little Fatty seemed different, though, so much so that he barely recognized her. Listening to his childlike confession, the pair felt even more burdened, fearing Wanyu’s reaction should she hear. So Qian Ziyan chose not to probe further, sternly advising, "Xiao Miao, remember this: stay away from the flames, both for your safety and everyone else's." Despite his sadness, Xiao Miao agreed. His initial inability to control himself had led to the flames' eruption, and now, even the image of Little Fatty was lost to him. Overcome by loneliness, Xiao Miao obediently returned to his place in the background. He caught a glimpse of Toothless lying nearby, unmoving in the same position. He longed to approach but was too afraid, ultimately resigning. Muttering to himself afterward, Qian Ziyan remarked, "With the fire child present, logically, he should have been chosen by this cauldron. Why did it select Little Nine for sacrifice?" Qian Yiling, still baffled by past events, refused to dwell on it, "Brother, let’s not reopen wounds in front of Yu’er. She couldn't handle it." "Alright." Ignored by everyone else, Toothless lay with eyes shut, a curious aura surrounding her flickering gemstone forehead unseen by all. Even Xiao Miao, seated near, only sensed an inexplicable warmth radiating from Toothless’s vicinity.