I truly thought terrible things were going to happen to me upon being captured by the White-furred Tyrant. In the first place, the relationship between squirrels and vermillion birds is quite strained. If it weren’t for the humans and demons acting as external threats, forcing the beasts to unite, then we would be tearing at each other’s throats. Luckily for me, it seems like the internal relationship between squirrels is even worse than their external ones. If the brown-haired squirrel named Lucia didn’t address the White-furred Tyrant as Teacher, then I’d truly believe she was a prisoner of war being tortured by the White-furred Tyrant for fun.
“You’re absolutely sure you know what you’re doing right, Teacher?”
“Yes, yes,” the White-furred Tyrant said in response to Lucia’s perfectly reasonable question. Two poles had been taken out of the White-furred Tyrant’s interspatial ring and placed beside me. The distance between the two poles happened to be just a little larger than Lucia’s wingspan, but that wasn’t a coincidence. Lucia was suspended between the two poles by filaments of light that came out of the runes carved on the poles’ surfaces. Her arms were extended as far to the sides as possible, and her legs were slightly parted, leaving enough space for her tail to point straight towards the ground. As for why Lucia’s voice sounded extremely concerned, anyone would be concerned when their body was being carved open by a knife.
“Can you explain the process to me again?” Lucia asked and gulped when a red line appeared on her arm after the White-furred Tyrant’s knife flashed by. It didn’t take long for blood to stream out of the wound. If I didn’t know Lucia had eaten a drug that desensitized her to pain, I would’ve thought her resolve was made of diamonds. No, it’s still pretty impressive how she’s so calm despite the situation she’s stuck in. “I think it’ll help make me less nervous.”
“Of course,” the White-furred Tyrant said and beamed. “There’s nothing that makes me happier than when you take the initiative to learn from me.” She took a step back and gestured with her hands while speaking, her knife flashing and dripping blood onto the floor. “Basically, your body is imperfect. It’s not your fault, and in fact, everyone’s body is imperfect. Some animals are better at climbing trees; other animals are better at swimming. Why is that? Well, their bodies’ forms and compositions are better suited for one thing. Birds have hollow bones to help them fly. Fish have fins instead of legs to help them swim. From those two examples, we can see that different forms are better suited for different activities. In that case, there should be ideal forms for cultivation.”
From what I’ve heard, the White-furred Tyrant isn’t an intellectual. After all, someone called the Crazy Lunatic doesn’t seem like a rational individual with a solid foundation in logic. However, after seeing the White-furred Tyrant in person, it’s quite clear she’s a clear-headed individual.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“So, we can change some parts of your body to make it ideal for channeling and absorbing spiritual energy,” the White-furred Tyrant said. She opened her mouth, but no words came out came out. She raised up one finger on the hand she was holding the knife with and cleared her throat as her head turned to the side. A book appeared in her free hand, and she quickly skimmed through it, turning the pages with the bloody knife. After reading for a bit, the White-furred Tyrant put the book away and nodded at Lucia. “Right, and to do that, we have to cut your meridians and, while they’re healing, mold them into the ideal shape.”
Maybe the White-furred Tyrant isn’t as capable as I thought. I’ve never seen an adult vermillion bird reference a source before. Perhaps they do it out of my sight to maintain the view that they’re all-knowing. At the very least, before they teach something they don’t know about, they review and memorize the contents beforehand.
Lucia frowned. “So, trimming my meridians is like trimming a tree’s branches to make it grow the way you want?”
“Yes. Exactly,” the White-furred Tyrant said and took a fruit out of her interspatial ring. With one blurred motion, the knife in her hand flashed, and the fruit was sliced into bite-sized pieces with traces of squirrel blood on them. One of the fingers on her left hand flickered, and a piece of fruit flew into Lucia’s mouth, moving so fast that I nearly missed it. “Speaking of which, eat some of this. It’ll help your meridians regrow faster and sturdier.”
Only the White-furred Tyrant would be able to take out heavenly treasures and treat them as common fruits. Anyone else would have to find an alchemist to convert the fruit into a medicinal pill to get the most out of the heavenly treasure. Eating them without processing them first is a wasteful process. And I suppose only the disciple of the White-furred Tyrant would experience a treatment like this.
“Ooh, this tastes pretty good,” Lucia said and swallowed. “Just wondering, but how much longer is this going to take?”
“It’s a very long process,” the White-furred Tyrant said. “You’ve been growing the wrong way for almost half a century. It’ll take more than a few minutes to undo the process.”
“Almost half a century? I’m not that old! A quarter of a century is more like it.”
“You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me,” the White-furred Tyrant said. “I know everything about you and more.” She took a step forward and slashed a few times with her knife. Lucia didn’t even flinch as cuts split her skin apart. “Huh. That’s weird.” The White-furred Tyrant’s eyes narrowed, and her brow furrowed. “Give me a minute. I need to pay a visit to the inventor of this technique and ask her a few questions.”
Lucia fell silent. “Can you, uh, have the inventor of the technique do this for me instead?” she asked. Unfortunately for her, the White-furred Tyrant had already teleported away, and her question was only heard by me. I think it’s best if I keep my mouth shut.