The lizard watched the ice snake for a moment longer.
Blank.
Still.
*…If earth works. If ice works…*
A pause.
*Then the others should too.*
The thought was simple.
Direct.
Not excitement.
Not ambition.
Just **process**.
*This needs more study.*
Its focus eased.
The ice snake trembled once, then **dissipated**, its body breaking apart into fine frost that turned to pale mist and vanished into the air. The temperature around the lizard normalized. The frost clinging to its scales thinned, then faded completely.
The lizard turned.
And began to walk.
Slow.
Quiet.
Its nostrils flared gently as it moved, tasting the air. Layers of scent passed through its senses—stone, steam, herbs, faint blood, refined qi. Familiar. Catalogued.
It crossed the room.
Past the cultivation array.
Past scattered jade boxes and empty pill bottles.
Toward warmth.
Toward moisture.
The steam thickened.
The stone beneath its claws grew faintly damp.
And soon, the lizard reached the **bath basin** again.
The recessed stone pool steamed softly, runes along its rim glowing faintly as they regulated the heat. Wisps of vapor curled upward, brushing against the lizard's snout.
It stopped at the edge.
Stared.
Blankly.
Its tail curled in.
Its head tilted a fraction as it looked down at the water, steam reflecting in its unfocused eyes.
*…If earth. If ice…*
A pause.
*…then water too.*
The lizard remained still, warm vapor rolling over its scales as its mind aligned around the next experiment.
*Water is different,* it thought. *But it is already here.*
A pause.
*So I do not need to create it.*
Another pause.
*Only shape it.*
Its tiny paw lifted.
Then slowly dipped into the basin.
The moment its claw touched the surface—
The runes along the rim **flared**.
The water **glowed**.
A low hum filled the chamber as the surface began to **bubble**, ripples spreading outward in tight, rapid rings. Steam thickened, rolling upward in dense waves.
The lizard did not move.
Did not pull back.
Its paw remained submerged.
Its mind focused.
Its gaze empty.
The water **heaved**.
Then—
It **snapped upward**.
The entire basin surged as water was torn free, lifting, twisting, coiling through the air. The liquid mass condensed, shaping itself into a colossal **serpent of water**, its body thick and heavy, scales defined by flowing currents, head forming with hollow, swirling eyes.
The water snake **hovered**.
Looming.
Its massive form blocked the light, steam wrapping around it as it coiled above the tiny lizard like a living storm.
Droplets rained down.
The air vibrated with pressure.
The fox remained cultivating, unaware.
The lizard stood beneath the towering construct.
Small.
Still.
Blank-eyed.
It looked up at the water serpent without flinching.
*…Big,* it thought.
No fear.
No shock.
Just observation.
The serpent's head lowered slightly, currents shifting as it responded to the lizard's intent. Its body rippled like muscle, coiling tighter.
Obedient.
The lizard's tail flicked once.
*…Control is possible.*
The massive construct remained suspended, silent and waiting, its existence bound entirely to the quiet focus of the creature below.
In the steam-filled chamber, with runes glowing and water defying gravity, the lizard had just proven something quietly terrifying:
It was no longer limited by element.
Only by imagination.
The lizard stared up at the hovering serpent.
Blank.
Still.
Its tiny paw remained in the basin, claws submerged, steam curling around its wrist.
*…Control.*
Its focus sharpened.
The massive water snake **twitched**.
Then its body **split**.
Cleanly.
Two serpents formed where there had been one, identical streams of water coiling in mirrored arcs. The lizard did not react.
Its mind pressed once more.
The two became **four**.
Then **eight**.
Each division was smooth, precise—the water separating without resistance, the new forms growing smaller with every split. They hovered in the air, circling, weaving around one another like living currents.
The lizard watched.
*…It is easy,* it realized.
No strain.
No resistance.
*Easier than earth. Easier than ice.*
The eight water snakes spiraled inward. Their bodies touched—
—and **fused**.
Streams rejoining, currents merging, the constructs collapsing back into a single unified form. The serpent thickened, growing whole again, hovering obediently before the lizard.
It remained still.
Paw in the water.
Gaze empty.
*…Water listens.*
The thought settled.
Then the lizard slowly **withdrew its paw** from the basin.
The moment contact broke—
The water serpent **collapsed**.
Its form lost cohesion, the hovering mass falling apart in a heavy splash as it crashed back into the basin. Water surged over the edges, splashing against the stone and over the lizard's legs and chest.
Droplets scattered.
Steam burst upward.
The lizard flinched—not in fear, but reflex.
Then it **shook**.
Once.
Hard.
Water flew from its scales in a fine spray, wings flicking, tail snapping as it shed the moisture.
It stilled.
Turned.
And walked away from the bath.
Slow.
Quiet.
As if nothing unusual had occurred.
As if it had not just shaped and divided a massive water construct with casual ease.
The steam continued to rise behind it.
The fox continued cultivating.
The lizard returned to the center of the room, blank gaze forward, mind already cataloging results.
*Earth — resistant.*
*Ice — precise.*
*Water — compliant.*
Its tail flicked once.
*…Fire next.*
The thought was calm.
Almost idle.
And far more dangerous than it should have been.
The lizard took a few steps… then **paused**.
Its body stilled.
Its tail slowly stopped moving.
*…Fire.*
A pause.
*No.*
The image surfaced—flames bursting from its mouth, uncontrolled and violent. The wolves. The instinctive imitation. The way the fire had **exploded** outward instead of obeying.
Its claws flexed slightly.
*This room will burn.*
Not fear.
Fact.
The fox was cultivating.
The formation flags.
The talismans.
The wood.
The pills.
The air itself.
*…No.*
Another pause.
*I cannot control fire.*
The thought was precise.
*I only release it.*
The memory replayed.
The heat in its chest.
The pressure.
The instinct.
The flames pouring out.
No shaping.
No restraint.
No direction.
Just expulsion.
*That is not control.*
Its head tilted slightly.
*To control… I must first be able to create without mouth.*
A pause.
*Like earth. Like ice. Like water.*
But no path formed.
No image.
No instinct.
Nothing to copy.
Its tail flicked once.
*…I cannot do it now.*
The conclusion was calm.
Clean.
Final.
It did not test.
Did not risk.
Did not experiment.
The lizard simply stood there for a moment longer, blank gaze forward, then turned back toward the fox and the formation.
*Fire and lightning later.*
*When I leave this place.*
It walked back and crouched beside the fox once more, folding its wings neatly, tail curling in close.
The room returned to stillness.
Steam drifted.
Qi hummed.
The fox cultivated.
And beside it, a small, blank-eyed creature sat quietly—
having just demonstrated more restraint and foresight than most human cultivators hundred its age.