“How are you talking? Beast squirrels are barely even minor Beasts, hardly more than a slightly stronger mundane animal. You shouldn’t be able to even understand language.” Though curious and bewildered, Terra’s relaxed pose suggested a total lack of fear for Master Nutcase. I, on the other hand, could sense directly what this ‘minor Beast’ truly was. At least, more than Terra could with her physical senses.

It’s a high realm Cultivator, at least in the Core Harmonization realm, if not Fused Core, before their Soul inhabited this Beast.

the deep, rich masculine tone which resonated through my mind so poorly matched the squirrel, meticulously grooming itself on a rotting log opposite from the side of the fire that Terra sat.

The care with which the already spectacularly fluffy tail was combed by the tiny little claws, licked by the tiny little tongue, and picked through to find any parasites or bits of material that would dare to try and home themselves within the magnificent floof was mesmerizing.

Something seemed to catch the attention of the squirrel, for he started digging through his fur with greater intensity. The miniscule popping sound of a flea being crushed between two nails as it was held aloft, as if it was the discovery of some great evidence proving the inspector’s case, was followed by the rustling of even more animated grooming.

Initially, revealing my concern about the squirrel being a powerful Cultivator had sent tension shooting through Terra’s body. As a minute turned into two, then ten, then half an hour of watching the furious grooming, cackling of victory with each discovered flea or tick, then the curling up near the fire and falling asleep…

Needless to say the anxiety had reduced back to the constant simmer it had been. No, actually, if anything Terra was even more relaxed. When she started creeping around the fire, horror rose inside me. She… she thought it was cute!

Terra! Don’t do anything stupid! That thing is still a psychotic high realm Cultivator!

“Tch! A crippled one. Look at it! He’s more squirrel than Cultivator,” her hand raised as she approached her unsuspecting, softly snoring prey, “plus he looks so incredibly soft…”

Dear god, she was right. I didn’t remember barely didly squat from my prior life, but damn, I didn’t think that past me could possibly have resisted this temptation. Yet the danger! The repercussions! The- wait, didn’t he get smashed by that Sect boy’s boot? There wasn’t even any Qi involved in that sickening beat down.

Huh… impressive that the broken roadkill leftovers had recovered into this luxuriant looking little floofykins… not even… a hint… of… blood…

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Th-there’s some kind of Technique! I… I can’t resist…

“Sooooo soft!” The squeal was barely a whisper, but either from Terra’s fingers running ever so gently through the grey fur in fluffy abundance, or the high pitched sound of her delight, the squirrel… just kept sleeping? “He must be so tired!” She- SHE SCOOPED HIM UP! The fool! Of all the things to- damn that squirrel was soft. Feeling her running her fingers through his fur was just divine. Terra’s rabbit fur was reasonably abundant but even I could tell as a passenger that it was wiry, rough, even sporting little matts here and there due to her poor grooming practices.

This was next level soft. Like, Sevenfold Heavenly Softness Technique level soft.

Then he rolled over, exposing his cream colored belly with the hint of red. A black eye opened and stared at Terra, who froze, her fingers still buried in the floof. The second eye opened and both traced the extended arm down to the hand to where its digits disappeared amidst a sea of gray and cream. Shifting slightly, the belly was further exposed and a little clawed paw pointed in an amusingly human manner at a particular portion.

The audible swallow as Terra pushed back her rising panic was unnoticed or ignored by the diminutive Beast-Cultivator. Slowly, Terra slid her fingers to the directed location and started petting tentatively.

a second location was indicated and Terra complied, employing her other hand.

Then the squirrel closed its eyes again. Within minutes it was snoring softly once more. Terra didn’t dare move for hours, long after her butt grew numb and she grew tired. During that time, we cultivated together. Stretching her Dantian further and processing out the increasingly small amounts of physical waste.

Neither of us spoke of the ultimate soft floof. Nor did we speak of the concern that if the squirrel could find us, with its obvious body limitations (regardless of high realm cultivation), that others could find us.

How long did we actually have?

--

“Hmmm? Oh, Oxblood, back so soon?”

True Ascendant Immortal Oxblood snorted at his slovenly friend. It never ceased to amaze that someone who could and did regularly scoop every Soul out of entire Realms, craft advanced Formation Arrays, perform high ranking Alchemy, and generally was one of the greatest experts Oxblood knew in regards to the Soul, could always look like shit.

Truly, it was a talent. The once resplendent robes did not look the slightest bit more worn, nor the slightest bit repaired, or cleaned for that matter, since not just their last encounter, but their first, nearly a million years ago. Though Nightjar insisted it was only out of his unwillingness to ‘waste the time on mere clothing’, Oxblood suspected it was a carefully crafted appearance. Taking the fat, old, and frankly poor looking Cultivator anything less than with the utmost of seriousness had cost many a ‘righteous’ Immortal’s life.

Oxblood’s cultivation revolved entirely around slaughter and yet, in a fight with Nightjar?

He wasn’t sure he could prevail. Not even with their cultivation levels almost in lockstep. If anything that quiet fear of someone who looked so weak drew Oxblood in. Even Cultivators nearly a full realm above him had fallen to his axe. Fear was something Oxblood had rarely experienced since his first Ascension.

“Indeed. I’m curious as to how that failed experiment turned out.”

“Ah,” a knowing glint flickered in Nightjar’s eye before any hint of the amusement… or was it mutual excitement? …was quickly erased. “Why don’t we check on it! To be honest, I’d nearly forgotten about it my-“ The flash of annoyance in Nightjar’s aura caused Oxblood’s hand to twitch, his instinct telling him to reach for his axe. Only millions of years of experience let him suppress the powerful instinct. It was directed at him.

“Problem?”

“Perhaps. It seems that particular experiment managed to weaken the Formations sealing it away and there was a breach. How fortuitous, it was recent. Days, perhaps. Someone has come to investigate… hmmm…”

A fat finger poked through the fabric of this pseudo-Realm.

Oxblood smirked. Some poor mortal Cultivator was likely about to regret their life choices.