Afternoon sunlight bathed the Soaring Heaven Sword Peaks in golden warmth, yet within one particular celestial dwelling, darkness reigned supreme. Most immortal cultivators would have their chambers flooded with light at this hour, but Sage Mortius Crane preferred the embrace of shadows. Only the scattered crystals embedded in the walls offered any illumination, their faint glow barely enough to outline the luxurious furnishings within.

A three-tailed Greyhound slipped through the entrance, its midnight-black coat seeming to absorb what little light touched it. As the beast crossed into the artificially maintained darkness, the eclipse-like mark upon its forehead caught the light, its dark center framed by a ring of ethereal white luminescence, casting ethereal patterns on the human’s dark robe.

"Master," the beast spoke, its voice carrying the cultured tones of human speech, "Samuel has successfully employed the Soul Leech technique on the mortal souls. However—"

A sharp tapping sound cut through the air - a finger adorned with a blood-red ring striking against jade. In the manufactured gloom, Sage Mortius Crane's features remained shadowed, but the slight furrow of his brow spoke volumes.

"Which Samuel?" he interrupted, each word precisely carved from the silence.

Nightbane's ears flattened slightly as he hastened to clarify, "Samuel Thorne, Master."

Sage Mortius Crane's eyes drifted closed, his head inclining in a bare nod. "Continue."

The beast shifted its weight, causing the ghostly light from its crescent mark to dance across the walls. "He attempted to harvest the soul of a female cultivator from the Celestial Sword Sect, but..." A pause, heavy with reluctance. "He experienced a natural aura absorption. His body... exploded."

In the darkness, only the steady tap-tap-tap of that ringed finger against jade gave any indication of the Sage's response to this news.

The sage's deep voice cut through the darkness: "And the female cultivator?"

Nightbane's amber eyes flickered in the gloom as he responded, his three tails swaying gently behind him. "Still alive. The Celestial Sword Sect members took her away."

A sardonic chuckle escaped Sage Mortius Crane's lips, the sound like ice cracking in winter. "Samuel, that fool. How amusing that he would dare to turn against his own sect members." His long fingers traced invisible patterns in the air as he spoke, leaving trails of cold energy that dissipated like morning mist.

The Greyhound's eclipse mark pulsed faintly as he continued, "His mental state was... deteriorating. Initially, Samuel only killed a few mortals, using Soul Leech to absorb their souls." Nightbane's ears flattened against his skull as he recalled the events. "But the resentment force from the mortals' deaths began to cloud his mind. When two female cultivators passed by, he... he became frenzied, desperate to devour their souls."

Hesitation crept into Nightbane's cultured voice, his three tails twisting anxiously. "One of them managed to escape, but Samuel had already drawn the runes to absorb the other's soul. However, she..." The beast's amber eyes darkened with the memory. "She grabbed onto Samuel's left arm with incredible force, and then... the explosion occurred."

"Oh?" Interest flickered across Sage Mortius Crane's pale features, his eyes gleaming like cold stars in the darkness. The crystals in the walls seemed to dim further, responding to their master's shifting mood. "How peculiar indeed. And this female cultivator's name?"

Nightbane shook his head, his three tails swaying in unconscious harmony with the movement. The motion caused the shadows in the room to dance eerily against the walls. "Unknown, Master."

Sage Mortius Crane's voice sliced through the darkness like silk over steel, each word dripping with a hypnotic quality that seemed as natural to him as breathing. "It's quite simple, really. A female cultivator returning to the Celestial Sword Sect after such an... incident. Word will spread quickly. All you need to do is listen."

The soft luminescence from Nightbane's eclipse mark rippled as he bowed his head, three tails swaying in perfect synchronization. "Yes, Master."

A crystalline chime pierced the manufactured gloom - the jade tablet at Sage Mortius Crane's waist coming alive with an urgent message. His long, pale fingers, tipped with those distinctive blue-black nails, drew out the tablet with practiced grace. A disciple's voice spilled into the darkness: "Elder Mortius Crane, there are reports of soul absorption within the sect. The perpetrator's identity remains unknown..."

"I see." The words fell from his lips like frost, heavy with barely concealed irritation. With a subtle gesture, he severed the connection, letting silence reclaim its domain in his shadowed chambers. The crystals in the walls seemed to dim further, as if sensing their master's darkening mood.

The way Sage Mortius Crane dismissed the message carried all the weight of his station - a perfect blend of aristocratic dismissal and calculated disinterest. Yet beneath that carefully crafted facade, a cold smile played at the corners of his thin lips, invisible in the darkness but evident in the sudden chill that permeated the air.

In the oppressive darkness, Sage Mortius Crane remained motionless in his seat, his thoughts churning beneath his carefully composed exterior. Nightbane stood silently, his amber eyes occasionally catching what little light existed in the chamber, while his eclipse mark cast ethereal patterns that danced across the shadowed walls.

Soul Leech is incapable of absorbing the souls of Initiative-Level cultivators. So why did Samuel's body explode? The question coiled through Mortius Crane's mind like a serpent, each possibility more unsettling than the last. The crystals embedded in the walls seemed to pulse darker, responding to their master's deepening contemplation.

The crystalline chime of the jade tablet shattered the weighted silence once again.

"Elder Mortius Crane, we've recovered the perpetrator's sword. Through it, we've confirmed his identity as an Initiative-Level disciple from the Outer Sect, named—"

"I understand." Mortius Crane's voice cut through the report like a blade of ice, each word heavy with carefully controlled fury. "The man is dead. Such information is irrelevant now."

Somewhere in the Inner Sect, the jade tablet in the young disciple's hand grew cold as Elder Mortius Crane's chilling response echoed in his ears. He blinked at the tablet, mouth half-open with the rest of his unfinished report. How had Elder Mortius Crane known?

The pale fingers of Sage Mortius Crane’s other hand stroked the blood-red ring absently, its gem seeming to pulse with an inner darkness that matched the shadows of the room. "Nightbane," he spoke at last, his voice carrying that hypnotic quality that made even the shadows seem to lean closer, "it appears wise to allow these foolish beings to absorb souls within our controllable range."

The eclipse-like mark on Nightbane's forehead dimmed momentarily as he contemplated, then brightened as understanding dawned. His amber eyes held a mix of concern and devotion as he spoke, his cultured voice carrying a hint of hesitation.

"But... these disciples using Soul Leech need to absorb souls while the victims are still alive," he reasoned carefully, his three tails swaying with subtle anxiety. "We can't possibly have them bringing living victims near your dwelling, Master..."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Sage Mortius Crane shook his head, a cold smile playing across his thin lips. "Foolish hound," he said, his voice carrying that signature mix of elegant disdain and dark amusement. The crystals in the walls seemed to pulse dimmer in response to his words. "Find a cave. Tell them to take their victims there for the soul absorption. Then, when they begin drawing their runes..." He paused, letting the implications hang in the manufactured darkness, "...seal the cave."

Nightbane's amber eyes sparkled with excitement, his eclipse mark glowing brighter as he recalled past events. His tails moved in perfect synchronization as he eagerly responded, "Indeed, Master! Samuel conducted his killings in a cave as well..."

Sage Mortius Crane closed his eyes, a subtle smile gracing his pale features. The blue-black nails of his raised hand caught what little light existed in the chamber as he dismissed Nightbane with an elegant gesture. "Go now. Return to the Celestial Sword Sect, and while you're there..." His voice dropped to a silken whisper, "...do inquire about our mysterious female cultivator."

The darkness seemed to part slightly as his loyal hound bowed and prepared to depart, the eclipse mark's glow creating ethereal patterns that danced across the shadowed walls one final time.

———

In a first-floor guest room, where she had been temporarily relocated due to her inability to climb the dormitory stairs, Flint lay with her splinted and bandaged leg propped up. She was idly flipping through a book on Secret Arts, focusing on a common technique for manipulating objects using natural aura - essentially, telekinesis.

Her eyes skimmed the pages while her mind drifted back to the sensation of natural aura flowing around her when she had clung to Seedling's arm during their flight. Attempting to recreate that feeling, she concentrated, and for the first time, something different happened. The blanket covering her leg began to respond to her will, lifting slightly into the air.

Her initial excitement quickly turned to frustration as the blanket seemed to develop a mind of its own. Sometimes it followed her intended movements, other times it moved in the opposite direction, and occasionally it simply hung motionless in the air, completely ignoring her efforts. With a resigned sigh, she released her hold on the natural aura, letting the blanket flop back down onto her leg.

A knock at the door interrupted her practice. "It's unlocked," Flint called out, her voice carrying a hint of the lazy drawl that characterized her speech. The door swung open to reveal Seedling's familiar figure.

Seedling bounced into the room with her characteristic grin, her white fox tail swaying playfully behind her. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing much," Flint replied distractedly, her mind still dwelling on her failed attempt at aura manipulation. "Shouldn't you be at the Aura Meditation Ground right now? What brings you here?"

"Oh, that boring stuff?" Seedling's purple eyes sparkled with mischief as she spoke, her fox ears twitching. "I even tried to get the wolf prince to come visit you, but he wouldn't budge. Can you believe it?" She deliberately emphasized the words, trying to provoke a reaction.

"He brings me food at mealtimes," Flint responded flatly, her thoughts still elsewhere. She didn't bother mentioning that she didn't actually need food - that mysterious intangible force was all the sustenance she required. But that fact seemed to perplex Spark, and she found it too troublesome to explain. It wasn't that she couldn't eat; she just didn't need to. For her, meals had become merely a social obligation.

"Ohooo~" Seedling drew out the sound playfully, her tail swishing with delight. "How sweet you two are!"

Flint finally caught the teasing undertone in Seedling's voice, her cheeks flushing slightly. "It's not like that... we're friends..." she mumbled, then paused, feeling somehow that this description didn't do justice to Spark. "Close friends," she added hastily.

Seedling's grin widened, her fox ears perking up with interest. "Oh, so you're friends~" she drawled out the word meaningfully.

Flint cleared her throat, eager to change the subject. "I think I can use natural aura now. When you were pulling me through the sky, I could feel the Flux element's natural aura..."

"That's amazing!" Seedling bounced excitedly on the edge of the bed, her tail swishing with enthusiasm. "See? The Wind-Charm Fox ancient saying is true! 'If you can catch the wind, you'll gain its power!'"

Flint privately doubted the connection to the proverb, but since it was Seedling's sky-flying adventure that had helped her sense the Flux Element's natural aura, she nodded along companionably. "Though," she added, "I can't really control it yet."

To demonstrate, she attempted to manipulate the blanket again. The fabric lifted uncertainly into the air, wobbling and moving erratically, completely ignoring her attempted gestures. After a few moments of the blanket's rebellious dance, she released the natural aura with a slight shrug.

Seedling patted Flint's shoulder encouragingly, her fox tail swaying in a gentle rhythm. "Hey, at least you can use natural aura now!" Then her purple eyes drifted away, recalling that day in the sky. "You know, after you slipped from my grip and fell, I noticed my natural aura had suddenly decreased quite a bit."

"What?" Flint's expression shifted to one of puzzlement. Then, unbidden, the memory of the crazed cultivator whose arm she had gripped surfaced in her mind. She remembered his final words before the explosion - "Too much natural aura..."

A thoughtful look crossed her face as she connected the dots. Could it be that her presence had somehow amplified both their natural aura? She recalled how the cultivator's body had exploded, presumably from an overload of power, while Seedling had experienced a sudden decrease in her aura after their separation. The parallel was striking, even if the outcomes had been drastically different.

The implications made her brow furrow slightly. If she did have this effect on others' natural aura, what exactly did that mean? But true to her nature, she didn't voice these concerns aloud, preferring to turn them over quietly in her mind.

Seedling nodded vigorously, her fox ears twitching with the memory. "Yeah, I actually thought I might not make it back to the sect! I ended up flying to the mountainside and running the rest of the way up to get help." Her purple eyes sparkled with curiosity as she tilted her head. "Did you somehow transfer your natural aura to me back then?"

Flint's brow furrowed deeper as she considered the question. "Maybe..." she replied slowly, her characteristic lazy drawl tinged with uncertainty. "But I honestly don't know what happened."

She fell into quiet contemplation, finding the whole situation increasingly peculiar. Should she tell Sage South Rain about this?

Seedling's fox tail swayed unconsciously, brushing through the air in gentle motions that made Flint's fingers itch with the desire to touch it. As Seedling sat sideways on her bed, Flint carefully extended her hand toward her own legs, feeling the soft, fine fur of the fox tail whisper against her palm.

"Your tail is beautiful," Flint commented, her words serving both to mask and acknowledge her actions in a characteristically ambiguous way.

Seedling's face lit up with pride, her fox ears perking up at the compliment. "Isn't it? Everyone except Pierce and his stuck-up followers loves my fox ears and tail. They think they're adorable!" She preened slightly, continuing with unabashed confidence, "And they find my purple eyes enchanting too. See how my pupils are vertical?"

She leaned closer to Flint, allowing her to see the striking crystalline purple of her eyes with their distinctive fox-like pupils. The proximity made Flint suddenly think of Spark - his eyes weren't vertical like this, were they? She made a mental note to ask him about it when he brought dinner later, though she wondered if she'd remember by then, given her tendency to let such thoughts drift away.

"The wolf prince and you don't really show your spiritual beast features much," Seedling mused, her own tail still swaying under Flint's gentle touch. "I've seen other spiritual beasts with their ears out, but nobody seems to want to show their tails. Probably because they'd have to specially tailor their Celestial Sword Sect robes..." She shrugged, her fox ears twitching slightly. "The one I had tailored got torn up by that crazy cultivator's branches..."

"Mm..." Flint hummed absently, more focused on the silky sensation of Seedling's tail fur beneath her fingers. She instinctively glossed over Seedling's assumption that she was a spiritual beast - a misconception she found too troublesome to correct.

After Seedling left, Flint sent a message to Sage South Rain by her jade tablet, requesting a visit when she had time. She needed to tell her about these strange occurrences. After all, Sage South Rain had been researching the peculiar phenomenon of Flint's six Deficient element spirit roots. Now, with this newfound ability to use natural aura, things had become even more puzzling.

"That Wind-Charm Fox girl seems to avoid Pierce entirely now..." Spark commented between bites, sharing his observations of the day's events. His golden eyes held a hint of amusement despite his dignified posture in the chair.

Flint found her gaze drawn to his perfectly human-looking ears. At Seedling's earlier visit, she had been reminded of how different spiritual beasts chose to present themselves. Without her usual filter between thoughts and speech, she asked directly: "Why don't you show your wolf ears?"

The question hung in the air, making even the elegant third prince of Inferno Wolf pause mid-bite at the unexpected inquiry. Setting down his chopsticks with the precise, elegant movements that characterized his noble upbringing, he met Flint's curious gaze, his golden eyes reflecting a momentary surprise at her sudden interest.

"Ah... well... I suppose I don't want them to know I'm a spiritual beast..." Spark answered hesitantly, his usual princely composure wavering slightly. The words came out awkwardly, a stark contrast to his typically elegant manner.

"But they already know, little wolf prince," Flint said with a hint of amusement in her lazy drawl. Her casual use of Seedling's nickname for him made the tips of his ears redden slightly.

The endearing nickname flustered Spark visibly, causing him to adjust his perfectly arranged sleeves - a nervous habit that betrayed his noble upbringing even in moments of embarrassment.

"I think they're cute," Flint continued thoughtfully, "like Seedling's fox ears are cute."

"Oh." Spark's response came out more curtly than he intended, and he quickly stuffed a mouthful of rice into his mouth to hide the strange flutter in his chest at hearing the word 'cute.' His golden eyes fixed firmly on his bowl, carefully avoiding Flint's gaze as he struggled to maintain his dignified demeanor while his heart did inexplicable somersaults.

Watching Spark eat, Flint mechanically followed suit, though she had little natural inclination for eating. Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, she asked, "Are your pupils vertical? Are you deliberately making them round like humans now?"

"Oh, that's not it - wolves naturally have round pupils. You must be thinking of Seedling's..." Spark lifted his gaze to answer, but his words trailed off as he found Flint's face unexpectedly close to his, her eyes intently studying his.

Like black obsidian set in gold, Flint thought to herself, examining his distinctive eyes.

The sudden proximity sent Spark's heart racing, and he turned his head away abruptly, swallowing hard. "Stop staring," he managed to say, his usual princely composure cracking slightly under her direct gaze.

"Okay," Flint agreed readily, completely oblivious to his flustered state. Her characteristic straightforwardness meant she saw nothing unusual about their close encounter, while missing entirely the effect it had on her companion.

Spark took another bite of his food, trying to steady his racing heart and restore his dignified demeanor, though the tips of his ears remained tellingly pink. Meanwhile, Flint had already moved on mentally, her attention drifting back to her earlier thoughts about natural aura, demonstrating her typical ability to shift focus without dwelling on potentially awkward moments.