Chapter 334: Head Pat
The distant, howling screeches of nocturnal beasts echoed through the petrified trunks of the Whispering Woods, serving as a cheerful, atmospheric reminder that everything in this biome viewed them as a late-night snack.
But nestled securely within the hollowed-out root system of an ancient spirit-banyan tree, a different, domestic atmosphere had been established.
Lin Ji’an sat cross-legged on a thick, waterproof tarp she had pulled from her spatial ring, stirring a bubbling pot of Five-Spice Demonic Serpent Stew.
Across the small, contained, smokeless spirit-coal fire sat Shen Zechuan.
The Sect Leader’s supposedly corrupted, terrifyingly lethal Senior Apprentice was currently using a small, jagged rock to happily carve a smiley face into the side of a glowing blue mushroom.
He was entirely covered in dried mud and serpent blood.
His pristine white silk robes were effectively ruined, looking like a discarded painter’s drop-cloth.
And he looked radiantly delighted.
"Dinner is ready," Ji’an announced, rapping her wooden spoon against the edge of the iron pot. "Pass your bowl."
Zechuan dropped the rock, his dark eyes lighting up with the pure joy of a starving puppy.
He practically shoved his ceramic bowl across the fire.
Ji’an ladled a generous, steaming portion of the rich, spiced stew into his bowl, making sure to give him the tenderest cuts of the serpent meat.
She handed it back, watching as he immediately dug his chopsticks in, blowing on the hot broth before taking a big bite.
"Uncle Ji’an," Zechuan mumbled around a mouthful of meat, a single, highly dramatic tear of culinary bliss pricking the corner of his eye. "If the abyss had possessed food like this, I would not have tried to leave. This is transcendental level food!"
"Chew with your mouth closed, you barbarian," Ji’an scolded automatically, ladling her own portion.
She leaned back against the curved, wooden wall of the root-cave, taking a sip of the savory broth.
The warmth spread through her chest, chasing away the bone-deep chill of the realm.
She looked at the man sitting across from her.
By all logical metrics, she should have been sleeping with one eye open, gripping her cast-iron spatula.
She was sharing a cramped, ten-by-ten-foot dirt cave with a man who could manipulate the very fabric of space-time and completely erase biological matter from existence with a flick of his wrist.
He wore the face of her older brother, yet possessed none of his memories.
He was a walking, talking, highly lethal anomaly.
But for some absolutely inexplicable reason... Ji’an felt completely safe around him.
It was bizarre.
With Wangchen, she felt a thrilling, breathless, fiercely protective sense of safety, but the heavy weight of his obsession always accompanied it.
With Zhiwei, she felt safe because the Golden Retriever was aggressively righteous.
But with Zechuan?
It just felt normal.
It felt like sitting in the living room on Earth after a double shift, eating takeout with a sibling who annoyed you but who you inherently trusted with your life.
The complete lack of romantic tension, combined with his total, submissive compliance with her culinary authority, disarmed her paranoid defenses.
"You have a leaf in your hair," Zechuan noted softly, pausing his eating.
He leaned across the fire pit.
He didn’t ask for permission, reaching out with his large, pale hand.
Ji’an instinctively braced herself, expecting him to pluck the leaf away.
But he didn’t just grab the leaf.
Zechuan’s large palm landed gently on the crown of her head.
He brushed the petrified leaf from her dark hair, and then, with a natural, familiar motion, he patted her head.
Twice.
A firm, heavy, incredibly comforting, older-brother head pat.
Ji’an froze.
Her breath caught in her throat.
The physical sensation was a nostalgic critical hit to her soul.
It was the precise cadence of the head-pats Lin Feng used to give her when she successfully memorized a martial stance, or when she managed to cook a dish without burning the kitchen down.
It was a gesture of pure, unconditional, familial pride.
"There," Zechuan smiled warmly, retracting his hand and picking his chopsticks back up. "Clean once more."
Ji’an stared at her stew, her heart doing a strange, painful flutter.
She bristled outwardly, fixing her messy hair to maintain her arrogant young-master facade. "I am not a dog, ShenZechuan. Keep your paws to yourself."
But internally?
’I... liked that,’ Ji’an’s inner child whispered, a wave of homesickness washing over her. ’I really, really liked that. Why does he feel so much like family? Why does the universe have to make the endgame villain so incredibly domestic?’
"We sleep in shifts," Ji’an commanded, clearing her throat to banish the emotional vulnerability. She pulled a thick, insulated sleeping roll from her spatial ring and tossed it at his chest. "You take the first watch. If an illusory beast breaches the warding perimeter, wake me up. Do not try to go and pet it."
"I will not pet the beasts, Uncle Ji’an," Zechuan promised solemnly, unrolling the sleeping mat with the eager diligence of a boy scout. "I shall guard our perimeter with absolute vigilance."
Ji’an rolled her eyes, crawling into her own sleeping bag on the opposite side of the small fire.
She turned her back to him, closing her eyes.
She expected to toss and turn.
She expected the anxiety of the tournament and her separation from Wangchen to keep her awake.
But the rhythmic, quiet sound of Zechuan breathing, combined with the certainty that the airhead behind her would literally erase the universe before letting a mosquito bite her, lulled her into a deep, dreamless, incredibly peaceful sleep.
***
Dawn in the Illusory Shattered Realm was heralded by the sky shifting from violet to a sickly, pale, glowing gray.
And, more importantly, by the mechanical GRIND of the realm’s borders physically constricting.
Ji’an kicked her sleeping roll off, scrambling to her feet as the earth beneath the banyan root trembled violently.
"The Shrinking Void Array finally started to work, huh," Ji’an announced, her brain immediately booting up.
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