From the side of the white pouch—one that looked oddly like an elementary school kid’s shoe bag—sticky liquid was dripping down in slow globs.
It wasn’t because there was a hole in the pouch Yo-hwa had made.
That hole was the entrance the children used to get in and out.
The reason for the dripping was that two Ho-ye, Seom and Byeok, had poked their heads out and were peering down at the world below.
At first, they were so ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) scared they didn’t even want to go inside the pouch. But judging from their wide, twinkling eyes, they didn’t seem to hate flying all that much now.
In fact, they were already so accustomed to it that they’d forgotten their fear and were completely absorbed in sightseeing.
Smiling warmly, I asked the kids:
“How is it, guys? Not so bad, right?”
—Waaae.
—Wae.
Was it just leftover emotion from earlier?
I’d been expecting a positive reaction, but what I got instead were slightly resentful cries.
Still, since neither of them stopped looking outside, it seemed they were only whining out of habit.
“You little brats.”
We’d stopped twice after leaving the Tang Clan to warm the kids back up, but we’d managed to push through the cold zone in just one day.
Now the cold wasn't severe enough to warrant stopping again, so after getting through tonight, we could travel even faster starting tomorrow.
“The sun’s setting. Let’s rest over there.”
As twilight began to spread from the west, I decided we’d camp near the water tonight.
I needed to let the Ho-ye, Seom and Byeok, soak in clean water and also change out the water in their pouches.
Their sticky bodily fluids had already mixed into the water, so it was hard to even call what was inside those pouches “water” anymore.
Cho and Yeondu also needed a break.
They might be spirit beasts, and they could go a few days without sleeping, but dragging along water-filled pouches and two Ho-ye would wear them out if we didn’t rest properly.
—Tsrururu. 『Got it, Daddy. Sis, let’s go there.』
—Shaaa. 『Alright.』
At my request, Cho and Yeondu coordinated and began descending slowly.
Carefully, I dunked the pouches into the water with the Ho-ye still inside.
The moment they touched the water, Seom and Byeok darted out and stretched their bodies like they were finally free.
It must’ve been exhausting for the two of them to be cramped in those tight pouches together.
“Don’t go too far, okay?”
—Waaae.
—Wae.
“Alright, let’s build a fire.”
After warning them not to stray too far, I gathered as much dry wood as I could and stacked it high to make a large blaze.
The temperature was above freezing now, but it was still Sichuan—definitely not warm enough to call mild.
—Whoosh. Crackle. Pop.
Once the fire was going strong, I sat down beside it, and the kids came to settle in as well.
Cho snuggled against my right side and Yeondu to my left, both pressing close to soak in the warmth.
“Well then, time for dinner.”
I pulled a pouch out of the bundle strapped to my back.
Inside: jerky.
That was going to be my dinner. I was just about to bite into a piece when—
The cries of Seom and Byeok, who had wandered close at some point, reached my ears.
—Waaae.
—Waaaeaaae.
—Tsrut. 『Daddy, they say to wait a bit.』
“Wait?”
Did they mean I shouldn’t eat the jerky yet?
I tilted my head, puzzled by their request.
Then the two of them disappeared into the water.
A moment later, they resurfaced with something in their mouths and tossed it my way.
—Plop.
It had a mottled body and sharp dorsal fins.
The undisputed king of freshwater fish: Korean perch.
“Oh ho! Korean perch! Thanks, guys!”
Three of them, each probably around four ja long.
More than enough for one person—just one of them could easily fill me up.
“Wow, I can’t eat all this by myself.”
Grinning, I hurriedly grabbed a flat, wide rock from nearby and washed it clean in the stream.
If they were small fish, I would’ve skewered them on sticks and roasted them, but these were far too big for that.
So instead, I’d use the rock as a griddle.
Grilling Korean perch on a hot stone sounded delicious.
I didn’t even bother gutting them—I just slapped one straight onto the rock and waited.
Soon, fat began to seep out.
—Sssssss.
The oil gushed from the fish’s flesh, coating the rock and releasing a savory, rich aroma.
“Mmm. Smells amazing.”
Just the smell was enough to make my mouth water.
After a bit, I flipped the Korean perch once—and there it was. Its skin had crisped up to a golden-brown, like scorched rice.
The other side wasn’t cooked yet, but... this side looked perfectly edible.
I wasn’t some chef—why wait for it to cook all the way through?
I fashioned chopsticks out of twigs and quickly popped a piece of that golden skin into my mouth.
And then came that beautiful sound—
—Crunch.
The crisped skin crackled as it broke, and the hot oil ran down my tongue.
“God, this is insane.”
In my past life, people called Korean perch the king of freshwater fish—and today, I finally understood why.
The taste was absolutely phenomenal.
And as I savored that flavor, a thought struck me.
Up to now, whenever I searched for spirit beasts, I usually left the Ho-ye at the Tang Clan, since they could only live in water and had trouble adapting to people.
Traveling with them was difficult unless water was nearby.
But thinking back on our journey... most of it had been along rivers anyway.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to bring them along from now on.
If I added them to our regular group, then friends like Heukjeom and Geumdo wouldn’t feel as lonely.
And with Seom and Byeok around, we could catch fish like this any time.
Murim warriors might know how to catch fish, sure—but not like this. Not fish of this size and quality.
“These two... I think I’m going to keep them with me from now on. Ah, right—I need to check in with Yo-hwa too.”
As I enjoyed the rich, sizzling Korean perch meat, I suddenly thought of Yo-hwa.
She was in charge of monitoring the glue bug every morning and evening.
I usually checked in with her regularly, but I’d lost track of time while cooking.
So I quickly called out to her in my mind.
‘Yo-hwa, how are things over there?’
***
Yo-hwa was gazing forward, but in her eight eyes, eight different images were reflected.
In the four front eyes, Tang Hwa-eun, Gun Hye-rin, and Sister Seol were drinking tea together.
In the other four eyes, she watched the spiders hanging from the ceiling of the cave, each relaying their own perspective.
Beneath the dark surface of the water, everything seemed quiet.
There didn’t appear to be any problems.
As she kept herself focused, Yo-hwa casually shifted her legs, mimicking Hwa-eun’s crossed posture in reverse—just to loosen up a bit.
That was when she noticed it—a red thread brushing past her ankle.
Yo-hwa had been focused on the spiders’ viewpoints, but now her mind wandered elsewhere.
The red thread’s owner.
Her Brother usually spoke to her around this time, but today he was running a little late.
‘Brother... you're a bit late today...’
She was just about to consider reaching out to him first—
And as if their hearts were truly connected, she heard the voice she had been longing for deep within her mind.
‘Yo-hwa, how are things over there?’
With a bright smile, Yo-hwa immediately replied.
He had remembered to speak directly to her, just as she’d asked the day before.
‘Yes, Dear Brother. Everything here is fine.’
Normally, her Brother only contacted everyone through the group communication channel.
But every time he spoke, the others would flood the chat with questions, and they couldn’t hold a proper conversation. So Yo-hwa had asked him to talk one-on-one with her like this.
Truthfully, the whole “noise” excuse was just a pretext—she had only wanted to speak with him alone.
After giving a short answer to his question, Yo-hwa quickly asked the one she was dying to know:
‘Brother, how far have you come?’
But then came the disappointing news—he still had three days left.
‘I’m just approaching the Yunnan border now. Should be there in about three days.’
‘Still? Brother, please hurry. I miss you...’
‘Y-Yeah. I’ll hurry.’
‘Don’t you miss me too, Dear Brother?’
‘Uh... y-yeah. I do.’
His awkward reply, full of embarrassment, only made him more adorable to Yo-hwa.
He always told her she was beautiful—not the stolen, borrowed form she wore, but her true form—and yet he still got like this whenever emotions were involved.
—Growl.
Yo-hwa rubbed her rumbling stomach.
But she told herself she could endure it—as long as she got to hear his voice.
It had already been six days since she last fed on yang energy.
She’d eaten on the day he left, and hadn’t touched a drop since.
Normally, Yo-hwa consumed yang energy once every three days. That meant she’d missed two feedings already.
Her Brother had prepared a few of his close friends to provide her with substitute yang energy while he was away.
But Yo-hwa didn’t want it.
She had tried it a few times when she’d first settled in at the Tang Clan, but it neither tasted good nor carried the warmth of her Brother's energy.
To her, only the yang energy soaked in his presence was worthy of being her sustenance.
As she thought this, her thoughts drifted even further: when he returned, she had to make sure she fed on his energy before Hwa-eun did.
‘Yo-hwa, if anything happens, let me know right away.’
‘Yes, Dear Brother. I remember.’
Just as she replied and swept her remaining four eyes across the cave—
She spotted it.
The dark water surface rippled.
She widened her eyes and focused.
Below the surface, in the murky depths of the cave’s central pool, she caught sight of a massive mother parasite writhing along the rock walls.
Two mothers, circling the pond like giant black shadows.
At first, Yo-hwa thought they were preparing to hunt.
But no—they didn’t act like this before a hunt.
They had never done anything other than catch prey and feed it to their young. This... this was different.
Then suddenly, the two mothers—still spinning in circles—stirred the waters into a violent current. The parasite young, buoyed by the rush, began bobbing and drifting.
And the mothers started forcing them out—shoving their own offspring out of the nest.
The current slammed the young against the walls and swept them toward the cave entrance, then out into the open.
Yo-hwa leapt to her feet, screaming inwardly to her Brother.
‘Dear Brother! They’re moving! The mothers are forcing the young out of the cave!’
‘What!?’
It had to be it.
The “independence” her Brother had warned about.
The moment when the fully grown young would be released into the wild.
“What’s wrong, Yo-hwa?”
“Yo-hwa, is something happening?”
Hwa-eun and Sister Seol were already rising to their feet, noticing the urgency in Yo-hwa’s sudden movement.
Without hesitation, Yo-hwa switched over to the group channel and reported what she saw.
『—Kishishi! (Sister Hwa-eun! The mother parasites are forcing the young out of the nest!)』
“What!?”
Hwa-eun shouted in alarm.
“They’re moving—the parasites are starting to move!”
“Really!?”
“Yes!”
“I’ll inform Father and the warriors!”
Sister Seol dashed outside—and soon, the sound of a massive bell began ringing.
The great bell of the Beast Palace echoed furiously.
—DONG. DONG. DONG.
The whole palace exploded into motion, with warriors shouting and sprinting in every direction.
“Head straight for the water routes!”
“Move, now! We’ve got confirmation the parasites are on the move!”
Her Brother’s voice also came through the group channel, hurried and tense.
『“Follow Hwa-eun’s lead. Do exactly as I instructed. I’ll get there as fast as I can!”』
“Got it, So-ryong!”
“So-ryong, how long until you arrive?”
“I’ll try to make it in two days, but at most three.”
He’d told Yo-hwa three earlier—but now he was trying to cut that down to two.
Yo-hwa worried whether he could manage such a feat safely.
Just then, Gun Hye-rin cracked her neck with a sound like snapping tendons and said:
『“Then we just need to hold out for at most three days, right?”』
“Be careful not to reveal your demonic energy, Gun Hye-rin.”
“Of course. Don’t worry and take your time. It’s just lowly beasts. A good chance to stretch my limbs.”
With that, Hwa-eun and Gun Hye-rin launched into motion.
Yo-hwa followed close behind, sending a final burst of emotion toward her Brother.
‘Dear Brother, please... be careful on your way.’
‘I will, Yo-hwa. Keep the web from breaking!’
‘Yes, Dear Brother!’
And just as he asked, Yo-hwa swore to herself: she would never let the web snap.
