Tian Hao made his way to his own quarters, a sense of exhaustion settling over him like a heavy cloak.

The journey back had been arduous. The encounter with Baihu had been unsettling, and the confrontation with his father and the elders, though less severe than he’d anticipated, had left him more drained than he cared to admit.

He had endured spirit beast attacks, treacherous mountain paths, and nights spent on the unforgiving ground. The challenges of his self-described 'exile' were relentless, but they had pushed him forward. He increased his cultivation to Body Refining Stage 5 and learned a new, albeit mysterious, technique from Jiuwei involving a shapeshifting seed. He even secured his first victories against spirit beasts—the thought of that warped rabbit still gave him chills.

Perhaps most unexpectedly, he had gained an unusual, feisty companion in Jiuwei, despite her initially awe inspiring and intimidating demeanor. The journey had tested his limits, but the results spoke for themselves: growth, resilience, and a greater sense of capability.

Despite these triumphs, the memory of Zhao Fei’s morning-after shame, the weight of Elder Yun’s barely concealed threats of future reprisals, Elder Hua's seemingly endless judgments, and his father’s lingering disapproval weighed heavily on him. He felt like a stranger in his own home, a visitor walking through the courtyards and corridors of the sect that he’d once taken for granted without a second thought.

He pushed open the door. The familiar scent of incense and fine wine was a welcome contrast to the damp earth and woodsmoke that had clung to him for weeks. He let out a sigh of relief as he stepped inside.

His chambers, a testament to his former life of luxury and indulgence, now seemed almost excessive. The silken drapes, the plush carpets, the ornate furniture—it all felt unnecessary.

Despite this, he sure was glad to be back.

Jiuwei leapt off his shoulder, landing gracefully on the table in the center of the room. She shook herself, sending a small cloud of dust motes dancing in the air. Her tiny form was a stark contrast to the opulence around her, but she carried herself as if she belonged nowhere else.

Her golden eyes narrowed as she scanned the room before settling on Tian Hao. Her tiny nose twitched in obvious displeasure as she padded across the surface towards him, each step deliberate and confident, as if the very act of walking was a statement of her importance.

“You call this a room, mortal?” she said, her voice dripping with disdain, as though the comfort she desired was her due. She looked around with a sneer. "I deserve much better accommodations than this, and I require sustenance. Where is the fine food you promised?"

Though small, her voice carried the weight of command, her earlier plea and gratitude now replaced by an almost arrogant expectation. There was no mistaking her demeanor—Jiuwei demanded deference, her sense of entitlement unmistakable.

Tian Hao watched her, fatigue and amusement flickering across his features. It was hard not to find her confidence absurd given her current form, but at the same time, he couldn't deny the power she once held, still evident in her every movement.

Tian Hao sighed, rubbing his temple, the exhaustion of his journey compounded by the pressure of his current situation, his path forward still unclear. His father’s expectations, the sect’s precarious position, his uncertain future—it all pressed upon him, each thought as heavy as any spirit beast ambush. “I’m exhausted, Jiuwei,” he replied, his voice weary. “Can’t you just… bear with it for a while?”

Jiuwei narrowed her eyes, as if considering his offer.

"Ancient and mighty spirits require luxuries befitting their status," she declared, her voice dripping with scorn. "Core Disciples receive offerings worthy of their rank—potent spirit beast hearts, qi-infused elixirs, delicacies prepared by the finest chefs. Yet here I am, and you offer me nothing but dust and exhaustion."

She hopped closer, her golden eyes blazing as she continued, "I deserve at least a roasted phoenix feather pheasant, marinated with moonlit dew and served with a side of glazed spirit lotus petals. And I demand wine—aged for a century, infused with the essence of heaven-splitting herbs."

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She flicked her tail irritably, her gaze an unspoken challenge. "Do not think, mortal, that my current form diminishes my expectations. If you wish to keep my favor, you would do well to respect the hierarchy."

Tian Hao couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking his head at her demands despite his exhaustion. “You might be ancient, but right now, you seem like a spoiled pet,” he teased, though the warmth in his voice belied the slight edge of his words.

Jiuwei shot him a glare, her tail twitching in irritation.

"A spoiled pet? You dare underestimate me? Even in this form, I could decimate you with a single thought," she declared, her voice dripping with exaggerated grandeur. "My breath alone contains more power than your mortal mind can fathom. When I regain my true form—!"

She paused, a mischievous glint entering her eyes, her tone shifting slightly. "You should consider yourself lucky that my current state is... well, not conducive to releasing my full celestial wrath. Otherwise, I assure you, it wouldn't be a tale with a pleasant ending."

She flicked her tail, and for a brief moment, her fierce expression softened into something more playful. "But then, where would be the fun in that? Who else would I torment with my high expectations?"

Tian Hao shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. "High expectations, indeed. Sometimes I think you ask for these impossible delicacies just to see me squirm."

Jiuwei’s eyes sparkled, and she stepped to the edge of the table, her small form radiating both arrogance and humor. "Oh, I am well aware of my demands, mortal. It's all part of keeping the hierarchy intact. I need to remind you, from time to time, of what true power and refinement look like. Besides," she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I find it amusing to see you try."

Tian Hao chuckled, rubbing his temples. "One day, Jiuwei, one day I'll meet your demands, and then we'll see if you're truly satisfied."

Jiuwei gave a sly smile, her eyes narrowing as if savoring the challenge. "Oh, we shall see, Tian Hao. But remember, satisfaction is a fleeting thing—especially for an ancient master like me. Now, about that roasted phoenix feather pheasant..."

Suddenly, BSS's voice echoed in his mind, her amusement evident in her every word. "You've certainly taken an circuitous path this time, Little Hao. But you have to admit, you've gained valuable experience. Perhaps, even a few unexpected allies."

Tian Hao paused, considering her words. He had certainly learned a lot—from fighting off spirit beasts to grappling with Lin Mei’s secrets and Jiuwei’s unique personality.

Still, he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the indulgence—the wine, the food, the carefree moments—more than the rigid discipline that seemed to define everyone else around him. The core disciples he’d travelled with, their mastery of spiritual and physical abilities, and their seeming lack of effort with spirit beast ambushes—now those were powers he’d never considered before this trek, before his 'exile' and his strange journey into Jiuwei’s hidden realm.

He shrugged, smiling to himself. “Yeah, I guess I did alright, didn’t I?” This too was part of his path—one far more colorful, more dangerous, and more _alive_ than his old, boring life at Heaven's Bargain Mart.

A soft knock on the door drew Tian Hao’s attention. He opened it to find Lin Mei standing there, her expression carefully neutral, though he was growing accustomed to seeing the shadows behind her smiles, the almost unnoticeable tightening in her posture, and even how she tilted her head as if hiding something behind it.

Her eyes, however, betrayed a hint of unease.

“Mind if I come in?” she asked, her voice soft but strained.

Tian Hao stepped aside, letting her enter. She glanced around his quarters, her eyes briefly landing on Jiuwei, who glared back suspiciously, her tiny form radiating disapproval.

Lin Mei's gaze shifted from Jiuwei to Tian Hao and back, before finally turning away. She wrapped her arms around her waist as though cold or anxious before finally speaking. “I wanted to talk about the Celestial Conclave,” she began, her voice steady despite the underlying tension.

Tian Hao’s smile faltered at the seriousness in her tone. “Ah, yes,” he said, leaning against the wall, trying to regain his casual, confident demeanor. “The big event where I have to pretend to be someone I’m not.” He paused before adding, with a sardonic twist to his smile, "Should be fun."

Lin Mei couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her. “If by fun, you mean trying not to embarrass yourself and the sect, then yes,” she said, her usual sarcasm slipping through her guard. “It will be… interesting,” she muttered, her thoughts far away, wandering into what she feared might come next.

She swallowed, took a deep breath. "I’ll help you prepare. You’ll need it if you want to make a decent impression.” She paused, the words catching in her throat.

Tian Hao raised an eyebrow, surprised by her offer. “Really? I thought you’d just let me flounder.”

He looked at her quizzically.

Lin Mei’s lips curved slightly. “Well,” she replied, giving Jiuwei a pointed look, “someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself thrown out—again—because the next time, you might end up in worse than an uncaring hidden realm.”

Tian Hao could sense tension, unspoken words and hidden agendas that seemed to cling to Lin Mei more than the lingering dust and grime of his recent travels. He decided to table his questions about what had happened in the courtyard earlier, trusting her judgment. “I do appreciate you saying this, Lin Mei.” He let out a small sigh, suddenly weary despite the anticipation of a feast he’d been craving almost since he left the sect. “Really.”

“Just… don’t make me regret it, Young Master,” she said, bowing slightly and turning towards the door. She hesitated for a moment before continuing, her words, though lightly spoken, a plea rather than a command.