Chapter Three: Someone Is Coming!

Long Xiaoqing, who had just swallowed a beast core, stared wide-eyed as Yang Ye skinned the black hawk and sliced off thick slabs of meat. After rinsing the meat, Yang Ye kindled a fire and brushed one piece with seasoning, placing it over the flames to roast.

Before long, the aroma of roasting meat wafted from the hawk flesh. As he tended the spit, Yang Ye grinned cheerfully at Long Xiaoqing. The meat was not yet done, but the enticing scent already had Long Xiaoqing drooling.

“My dear, you’re amazing! The roasted meat smells incredible!” Long Xiaoqing praised Yang Ye, gazing at the golden, fragrant hawk meat.

Was roasting meat really such an impressive feat? Yang Ye chuckled, feeling a delightful warmth in his heart.

Seeing Long Xiaoqing’s obvious hunger, Yang Ye picked up his short knife, sliced the roasted meat into bite-sized pieces, and placed them before her. The hawk meat was still steaming hot, but Long Xiaoqing could not wait—she seized the meat with both claws and began to eat eagerly. The heat did not bother her in the least; even burning coals would be nothing to her.

“It’s delicious! Absolutely delicious! My dear, I give you ten thumbs up!” Long Xiaoqing mumbled, her mouth stuffed with hawk meat.

Yang Ye laughed with satisfaction. “Your husband has been roasting meat here for ten years. In all the world, when it comes to barbecue, few can compare with me!”

“Mhm!” Long Xiaoqing nodded earnestly, agreeing wholeheartedly, her eyes shining as she looked at Yang Ye’s proud expression.

Seeing her sincerity, Yang Ye nodded in satisfaction and worked the spit with renewed energy. Though the black hawk was large, once plucked and gutted, there was not as much meat as one might expect, and most of it ended up in Long Xiaoqing’s belly.

Yang Ye couldn’t help but marvel at the sight—Long Xiaoqing, scarcely a foot long, had devoured a quantity of meat far greater than her own size. How could her little belly possibly contain it all?

The meat finished, the pair lounged lazily in the sun.

“Xiaoqing!” Yang Ye suddenly called.

“My dear!” Long Xiaoqing answered.

Yang Ye rubbed his stomach and asked, “Xiaoqing, how is it that you know so much as soon as you hatched? Human children can’t even speak at birth!”

It was a question that had long puzzled Yang Ye. Long Xiaoqing seemed nothing like a newborn—rather, she gave the impression of having lived in the world for ages already.

“My dear, I was conscious even inside the egg! I could hear the sounds of the outside world, and my spirit could travel beyond the shell,” Long Xiaoqing replied with pride.

Yang Ye was momentarily taken aback, but then he understood what she meant.

“Then why didn’t you hatch sooner?” Yang Ye asked, furrowing his brow in curiosity. The past two years had been hard on him—so young, yet living alone in the mountains, mired in loneliness and boredom, it was almost like being imprisoned, something most people could never endure.

Long Xiaoqing replied, “Don’t be upset, my dear. Actually, my body was flawed, so, so…” She hesitated, struggling to put her previous condition into words.

Seeing her distress, Yang Ye waved his hand dismissively. “It’s all right! I’m not angry. I was just asking. Now that you’re finally out, tomorrow we’ll leave the mountains and see the wide world together!”

As he spoke, a deep anticipation flickered in Yang Ye’s eyes, mixed with a hint of hatred.

“Yes, let’s!” Long Xiaoqing clapped her claws in delight.

After that, Yang Ye fell silent, gazing quietly at the drifting clouds. Long Xiaoqing imitated him, hugging her now-round belly with her claws, staring up at the sky as she drifted into a trance-like state, irresistibly adorable.

“My dear! Someone is coming!”

No one knew how much time had passed when suddenly Long Xiaoqing rolled upright and warned Yang Ye. In that instant, her eyes brimmed with a murderous gleam.

Hmm?

Yang Ye, on the verge of dozing off, snapped wide awake at her warning, sensing several distant fluctuations in star force.

“Xiaoqing, hide! No one must see you!” Yang Ye ordered at once.

With a swish, Long Xiaoqing flew beneath the eaves of the nearby wooden hut. Dragons were legendary divine beasts—if one appeared before the world, the shock it would cause could rival the day extraterrestrial martial artists first set foot on Earth. Even in battle, Long Xiaoqing’s body would not emit star force fluctuations; as long as she concealed herself, it would be nearly impossible for others to detect her presence.

Yang Ye stood up, twirling his short knife with practiced ease, summoning his inner star force, readying himself for combat.

He was now in a remote southwestern region of Hua Xia, sparsely populated. Yet such places were often occupied by practitioners, for unlike the bustling cities, remote areas made it easier to absorb star force and had less competition for resources.

Cultivation, in essence, was a contest for resources. In densely populated areas, the “Star Martial Bureau” nominally maintained order, and cultivators dared not fight or kill at will; but in these remote regions, things were different.

When his master was still present, Yang Ye had never feared other cultivators; to him, his master was the strongest practitioner in the world.

As a boy, Yang Ye had once seen his master casually send a late-stage Planetary cultivator flying over a mountain with a single slap. After that, no one dared trouble them again.

But now, things were different. His master, who had sheltered him, was long gone—Yang Ye had to face the world’s dangers on his own.

A flurry of wind rushed by.

Five cultivators in fitted clothing appeared, surrounding Yang Ye.

A wretched scream rang out—a half-browed old man, about sixty, cried out as he darted to a pile of black feathers.

“This… this…” The old man, his hand trembling, picked up the largest feather from the hawk’s wing, so agitated he could barely speak.

Yang Ye smiled. “If you like them, sir, you’re welcome to the feathers.”

“Did you kill my hawk?” the old man demanded, turning to Yang Ye with a fierce glare, teeth clenched.

Yang Ye, of course, would never betray Long Xiaoqing. He waved a hand. “It was just a Meteor-class star beast. Hardly a challenge to take it down.”

After he spoke, the old man’s eyes narrowed slightly as he sized Yang Ye up. “You’re only late Nebula stage, while my Blackwing was late Meteor stage—an entire level higher. Even if you could fly, you wouldn’t be its match.”

“Your Blackwing?” Yang Ye feigned surprise.

A young man in black stepped forward, pointing at Yang Ye. “Blackwing was my master’s pet. Kid, you killed my master’s beast—you have to answer for it!”

Yang Ye sneered. “You say the black hawk is yours, so it’s yours? I could just as well say I raised it to eat the meat!”

“Courting death!” At Yang Ye’s words, the young man barked a harsh threat, drew his katana, and was about to strike.

“Stop!” The half-browed old man raised a hand to halt him.

“Master?” the young man asked in confusion.

The old man looked at Yang Ye, smiled, and said, “Boy, hand over your storage ring, and we’ll let this matter go. How about it?”