Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Gift

According to Fourth Senior Brother, both Yu Zhong and Tang Dao, his subordinates, were utterly consumed by bloodlust during this incident. Even now, after Zhang Ning had been unconscious for nearly seven days, Yu Zhong had still not returned, continuing to hunt down the last few survivors and searching for clues about the Golden-maned Lion Saint along with other powerful members of their sect.

One had to understand that this was a Martial Saint, a figure more than capable of leading a first-class faction. Now that his forces had utterly collapsed, his subordinates were nearly all executed, and his kin had been captured, yet he had vanished without a trace, as if he had fled in disgrace. It was obvious that the affair had escalated far beyond what anyone had anticipated.

Zhang Ning inquired further about the Golden-maned Lion Saint and learned that he was an old and established powerful member of the demon race, steadfast in his position but never particularly radical. His attack on Zhang Ning, apart from the sudden and inexplicable surge of courage, seemed to have roots in a previous grudge.

Listening to Fourth Senior Brother’s explanation, Zhang Ning finally realized that this was no unprovoked calamity. His mind drifted back to that night of demonic revelry on the Great-bellied Boat, which he had experienced alongside Third Senior Brother Zhuge Yi.

There had been no Martial Saints present on the boat at the time, yet they had still managed to retreat unscathed from the chaos of battle, which had left a deep impression on Zhang Ning and opened his eyes to the values of this world, prompting him to embark on his live-broadcasting venture immediately thereafter. In retrospect, that night must have left a profound—though less than favorable—impression on others as well.

In hindsight, after those two demon Martial Saints had voluntarily withdrawn, Zhang Ning had distinctly felt a gaze fixed upon him. He had believed that they would continue to “endure rationally,” never imagining that the other party would be unable to swallow their resentment. It was probably a matter of pride or something similar. But what could be done? The Great Freedom Heavenly Demon Sect was simply too powerful. Since the enemy could not let go of their grudge, the sect would simply have to help them let go of their very breath.

Zhang Ning blinked and pondered for a moment, then said, “Continue hunting down those who must be hunted. As for the Martial Saint who has vanished—what of it? He’s just a cur with its tail between its legs! As for those we captured… let them handle it as they see fit. If action is required, take it! Since our people went to such lengths to seize them, how could I simply let them go? Hasn’t Tang Dao returned? I’ll speak with him in a while.”

Upon hearing this, Han Zhifei, for once, allowed a faint smile to curl his lips, his eyes filled with approval.

Zhang Ning continued, “As for that Yin Hongling, I seem to remember her. No matter what melodrama about running away from home she’s enacting, so long as she remains my subordinate, she must follow my orders—unless, of course, she herself wishes to leave. After all, isn’t Master here?”

At this, Han Zhifei’s eyes shone with even greater approval, and he nodded.

Senior Brother, you…

Seeing this, Zhang Ning also smiled and rubbed his temples.

The two brothers sat together in comfortable silence for a while, before Han Zhifei began recounting his recent whereabouts.

It turned out that he had spent this time hunting down the remnants of the Joyous Buddha Sect, arch-enemies of the Great Freedom Heavenly Demon Sect—a feud that could never be resolved.

Han Zhifei was by no means one to procrastinate, but the task had taken so long because some remnants of the Joyous Buddha Sect, realizing their cause was lost, had hidden themselves in a minor world—entering such a world consumed both time and resources.

Zhang Ning asked curiously, “A minor world?”

He had heard vague rumors about such places before, but not having studied systemically, his memory was hazy. Han Zhifei, never adept at reading between the lines, thought Zhang Ning was hinting, “Did you bring me any souvenirs from the minor world?” Luckily, Han Zhifei really had brought something. He nodded at Zhang Ning and produced a tiny blue bead, no bigger than a thumb.

For me?

Zhang Ning was startled, quickly composed himself, sat up, and accepted the item from Han Zhifei.

Examining it, he saw it was a blue, spherical crystal about the size of a thumb. Though its surface looked crystalline, within it flowed a gentle blue liquid. Just gazing at that pale blue hue filled him with a sense of ease and comfort.

Zhang Ning asked excitedly, “Thank you, Fourth Senior Brother! What is this marvelous thing?” Several guesses flitted through his mind.

But none of his guesses were remotely close.

Han Zhifei replied calmly, “This is the bloodline crystal of a Blue Sprite.”

Zhang Ning let out a cry of shock, “Blue Sprite? Senior Brother, just which minor world did you visit?!”

Heavens, what was going on?

Hearing the familiar name, a dreadful suspicion crept into Zhang Ning’s mind—had his senior brother perhaps wiped out all those adorable Blue Sprites…?

But Han Zhifei was not as cruel as Zhang Ning feared. His explanation was concise, but Zhang Ning, after piecing it together, understood: Han Zhifei had chased the Joyous Demon Sect into a minor world inhabited by a race called Blue Sprites. They had light blue hair and blood, and more importantly, their natural affinity allowed them to traverse wild thickets unimpeded—branches and vines would part for them, letting them walk as if on level ground.

This gift was thus different from the bloodline talents of the elves native to the Azure Heaven Realm. Knowing that Zhang Ning was engaged in livestreaming, and preferred wilderness broadcasts, Han Zhifei had specially acquired this to aid him, even going so far as to research its crafting method.

Due to the limited time allowed in a minor world, Han Zhifei had resorted to trade—purchasing the blood of over a thousand Blue Sprites from their royal family. The effect might be modest, but if Zhang Ning needed more, Han Zhifei could always return for another trip.

Zhang Ning immediately shook his head in refusal. “No, no, this is already wonderful.”

He cradled the bead in his palm, growing fonder of it with every glance. He resolved to set it into his belt. Yet, he couldn’t help but think whimsically: Fourth Senior Brother really lacks experience. Shouldn’t such things be made into a bracelet or necklace? Clearly, he’s never had a girlfriend.

Amused by his own thoughts, Zhang Ning grinned and said aloud, “Thank you, Senior Brother! This is my favorite welcome gift! I like you too, Senior Brother!” A warm feeling welled up in his heart. From Han Zhifei’s words, he sensed that his senior brother had especially researched the method of making such a thing, rather than simply practicing some ‘blood arts’ naturally—this kind of painstaking effort was precisely what moved Zhang Ning most.

Han Zhifei was clearly unable to accept such teasing with equanimity. He shifted his shoulders awkwardly and replied, “Mmm… this isn’t your proper welcome gift. Your actual present is parked outside.”

Parked?

Zhang Ning let out a soft “Hm?”—wasn’t this just a welcome gift? Parked? His curiosity was piqued.

A stick of incense later—

“Senior Brother, what do you call this? A flying artifact? This, this, this… the Yin Divider is a tent-tent-tent-tent…”

“Tentacle.”

Han Zhifei replied with certainty.

Zhang Ning stared incredulously at his Fourth Senior Brother, whose slightly handsome face still bore that same frank and honest gaze as he met Zhang Ning’s eyes.

Looking into his senior brother’s sincere eyes, then up at the tentacled creature hovering in the sky, Zhang Ning nearly believed he was dreaming.