Chapter 270: Minimalist
She looked up at him, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"You don’t require a share? Of this money? Are you sure you know what you are talking about?" Ji’an repeated, blinking. "Blue, this is a king’s ransom. This is ’buy your own sect and retire to an island’ money! What do you mean you don’t require a share?"
Wangchen’s mind raced, frantically searching for a plausible excuse that fit his rogue persona without revealing his true identity as an insanely wealthy immortal.
"I... am a minimalist," Blue lied smoothly, though his left eye twitched slightly.
"A minimalist," Ji’an echoed, her tone flat.
"Yes," Blue nodded solemnly, leaning into the lie. "Wealth breeds complacency. A true rogue cultivator must remain unburdened by material possessions to maintain his edge. Gold weighs down the soul. I hunt for the thrill of the battle, not for the coin."
Ji’an stared at him.
She looked him up and down.
She looked at his boots.
"Blue," Ji’an said slowly, pointing a finger at his feet. "You are wearing boots crafted from the hide of a Rank 7 Abyssal Drake. Those boots alone cost more than the entire gross domestic product of a minor province. Don’t just stand there and tell me you took a vow of poverty."
Wangchen mentally cursed the tailors who had crafted his wardrobe.
He had told them to make him look rugged, not poor.
"They were... a gift," Blue stammered, the terrifying, unflappable Ice Demon completely failing to navigate basic social deceit. "From... my mother. Before she passed. It is my only indulgence."
Ji’an narrowed her eyes.
Her transmigrator instincts, honed by hundreds of hours of reading Xianxia web novels, began to scream at her.
’This makes absolutely no sense,’ Ji’an analysed, her eyes darting across his handsome, slightly panicked face. ’Rogue cultivators are greedy. They backstab others for no reason. If this were a normal novel, he would have poisoned my rations the second we saw this cave. He refused millions of spirit stones, even gold. He has top-tier equipment but claims to be a minimalist?’
She took a step closer to him, her silver-flecked eyes searching his dark ones.
’He’s not a normal rogue,’ Ji’an concluded, a chilling realisation settling in her gut. ’He’s either a runaway noble hiding from an assassination plot, an immortal master experiencing a mortal trial, or... he is the single worst and most incompetent mercenary in the history of the Azure Empire.’
Blue held his breath, bracing for her to uncover his identity, readying a dozen different memory-altering spells just in case.
But Ji’an was a capitalist first, and a detective second.
She looked at the bag of gold in her hands.
She looked at Blue, who was actively refusing it.
’You know what?’ Ji’an’s inner goblin whispered. ’Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If the weird, red-haired guy doesn’t want the money, that means there would be a larger share of the money left for me. I’m not going to pry into his tragic, minimalist backstory if it means I get to keep the loot! If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it when Hu Yanlie had me pinned to a tree.’
"Alright, Blue," Ji’an shrugged, seamlessly tying the pouch shut and tossing it back into her own spatial ring with zero hesitation. "I won’t force you to compromise your minimalist Dao. But if you change your mind and want to buy a small nation later, don’t come crying to me."
Blue exhaled a slow, invisible breath of profound relief. "Your understanding is greatly appreciated, Young Master Ji’an."
«Humans are so bizarre,» the Nekomata projected, having watched the entire exchange from the throne. «One hoards shiny rocks like a starving magpie, and the other lies through his teeth to avoid touching them. I demand my sashimi now!»
"You will get your sashimi, Your Highness," Ji’an laughed, her mood completely restored by the sheer volume of her newfound wealth. "Come on. Let’s head back to the surface. It’s time for a proper feast!"
***
They navigated back out of the illusions and set up camp on a wide, elevated plateau of dry moss, safely above the waterline of the swamp.
The night was deep, but neither of them was ready for sleep.
The adrenaline of the fights and the excitement of the crowd had left them entirely wired.
Furthermore, despite avoiding serious injury, their Qi reserves were significantly depleted from the constant vigilance required in the Wastes.
"Sit," Ji’an commanded Blue, pointing to a smooth, flat rock near the center of the camp. "You did heavy lifting today. You get to rest. I cook."
Blue obediently sat, crossing his long legs, watching her with that quiet, intense, unwavering focus.
The Nekomata curled up on a nearby branch, its twin tails hanging down, watching with great expectation.
Ji’an went to work.
She wasn’t just throwing meat on a fire tonight.
She was utilising the premium, high-grade ingredients she had harvested specifically for recovery.
She pulled out her massive, heavy-bottomed iron wok and set it over a roaring spirit-coal fire.
She retrieved the venom sacs she had taken from the Shadow-Mantes, carefully extracting the non-toxic, highly energised spinal fluid that surrounded the glands.
"Most cultivators throw this part away," Ji’an narrated, falling into her natural, educational chef rhythm, entirely comfortable with her audience. "They think it’s tainted by the venom. But if you flash-boil it with a pinch of Sun-Flare Ginger and a dash of Abyssal Star-Anise, it completely neutralises the toxins and acts as a massive catalyst for Qi recovery."
She tossed the ingredients into the wok.
The oil hissed and popped, sending a plume of fragrant, spicy steam into the humid air.
Next came the meat.
She took the thinly sliced cuts of the Iron-Bristle Boar’s underbelly and tossed them into the searing wok.
The Maillard reaction was instantaneous.
The edges of the pork crisped up, turning a beautiful, golden brown, while the fat rendered down, creating a rich, savory glaze that coated the pan.
