Radeon turned his attention back to the boar. It lay on its side in the churned earth, eyes half lidded, breathing shallow on purpose.

Smart enough to know Radeon could see through the act. Smart enough to know he was watching.

When Radeon stepped closer, the boar pulled what men would call a fawning expression, a grotesque curl of lip that showed fierce yellow teeth.

It was meant to flatter. It only amused him.

In his last life he had read beast ecologies the way other men read prayer books, from common rabbits to void behemoths that rivaled gods.

It was how he had pushed the Paradoxical Devouring Art to the extreme, learning languages of beasts along the way.

He sent a low grunt through soundless qi, straight into the boar's ear.

"Look at me. Quit playing dead," he said.

The boar stiffened, then snorted, too loud, and heads in the camp jerked up again.

"Lower your tone," Radeon said, qi still riding his voice. "I've got a proposal. You won't feel hunger. You can still eat when you want."

The boar did not believe it. It started to swell with outrage, ready to bellow, until Campion shoved its snout close, a breath of bison heat and contempt in its face.

The boar reconsidered and squeaked instead, small and cautious.

Radeon crouched and set two fingers against the beast's flank. Qi threaded in, not violent, precise.

He reformed what was twisted inside, eased organs back toward proper function, then stretched its meridians into cleaner pathways.

The change took hold fast. The boar's constant belly growl, that lifelong ache that never quieted, faded into something still and cool.

Its hunger shifted. From now on it would crave spiritual food, not any trash it could cram into its mouth.

The boar blinked, confused at first, then softer. It felt lighter. Not just in body, but in spirit.

The calm that settled over it brought an emotion it had never named before. Joy.

It lay there and for the first time in its life, it felt it could sleep without guarding its next meal.

"If Campion's hers, you're mine," Radeon said. "You're Humphrey now."

The boar trembled, some half formed reverence stirring in it. Steam began to rise from its hide as the qi settled. Its eyes slid shut for real this time.

It trusted Radeon as if he were an ancestor who had dragged it a step higher out of the mud.

Radeon let it be and turned to the frogs.

Two of them. One clay green and massive. One thin and grey, bone spikes along its hide, eyes still bright with stubborn ferocity.

When they saw him look their way, they shivered like cold meat on a hook. To them he was a monster that could eat them alive in a breath.

He did not. He simply pressed his qi into their skulls, probed the simple shapes of thought, then laid false memories in place, threads stolen from his own.

Fear turned into recognition. Resistance turned into obedience. Cold blooded beasts rarely grew spiritual intelligence quickly, but these would live long enough to try.

When he stood, the frogs followed him like they belonged there.

Back at the planks, he worked. He glued wood to wood with a craftsman's patience and a cultivator's speed.

His sword, stripped of its wind stones and much of its killing intent, became a tool. It hammered nails more than it cut flesh.

The miners watched him build a massive carriage in moments. They were craftsmen and laborers. They could not help but admire the tools and the ingenuity.

Then shame came back over them, heavy and sobering. They had hurled words at his disciple.

They had demanded and accused. Now they could not step forward and ask favors as if nothing had happened.

So they watched in silence, trying to find a way to cool the air before speaking again.

The next day Radeon still took the lead. He did not fly off ahead or sprint and leave the miners choking on dust.

He rode at the same pace they had kept for days, steady and unhurried, as if yesterday's chaos had been nothing more than bad weather.

The miners followed. No one mentioned the boar that hauled the giant cart he had created, with what more the huge toads that rode it.

Fay kept on Campion's back, studying people from afar. In Radeon's papers there was a manual for her, not cultivation or martial arts, but a set of practical skills.

Espionage. How to behave while collecting information. What to do and what not to do. What mortals accepted.

What cultivators noticed. Where the line lay between curiosity and provocation.

Fay read it carefully, page by page, lips moving without sound. Radeon had not set a time limit, but she understood the rule anyway.

The task had to be done quickly, yet it could not be sloppy. Sloppy work got you caught. Sloppy work got people killed. It said so in the very manual.

She also tended the two wolves whose fur she had singed bald, smoothing salves into scorched skin and feeding them scraps.

During breaks she watched Radeon with the boar. Humphrey had noticeably thinned. Its belly no longer dragged.

Its breathing sounded cleaner. Yet Fay could feel its aura turning sharper, more dangerous, like a blade being honed under a cloth.

While Fay observed everything around her, Radeon's focus stayed on Fay.

He watched the way her eyes moved as she read. He watched every small reaction, every twitch of brow or tightening of lip.

No gasps. No flinching surprise. Just learning, steady and quiet, like every other academic subject she took on.

If Fay had not changed after the incident earlier, she would have started questioning every grey choice the espionage manual asked her to consider.

With this progress, Radeon was pleased. He was sure they would go on doing things deemed wrong, even downright evil.

That was why he could only prepare her beforehand. He turned over what to do next when Fay approached, her face confused by technicalities and unburdened by moral righteousness.

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