The slime farm thrived.
Tasha had the molefolk excavate a chamber near the main hall, specifically for housing the summoned slimes. Crushed stone was evenly spread around the slimes, ensuring every grain of gravel could be fully transformed. These alchemic slimes did not disappoint Tasha's high expectations. After determining the optimal "cultivation" method, two moles could manage the farm, continuously supplying the stone pool with transformed blue ore.
These miners, working tirelessly around the clock and thriving on soil alone, were utterly adorable.
Speaking of working on soil alone, Tashan noticed something curious during these days of observation. Four out of the five moles were quite well-behaved, but the first one created was different. It drooled over every piece of blue ore, filling its cheek pouches to the brim with each transport, as if holding it longer could satisfy its craving. After Tashan let it devour the blue ore last time, it constantly took unnecessary detours past the slime farm, even slowing down near the farm.
This reminded Tashan of the dog at home. Ever since discovering that letting the kid downstairs pet it earned dog biscuits as a reward, it steered toward that kid's door during every walk.
Let's call this clever little fellow Number One for now.
Tasha had lifted restrictions on Numbers Two through Five. Without orders, these mole-like creatures would stay put, moving aimlessly. But release Number One, and it would dash straight to the mine shaft, dig up fresh blue ore, and shove it into its mouth. Tasha gave it a mental nudge. Panicked, it shoved the half-exposed ore deep into its throat, instantly curling into a ball. Its utterly defensive posture screamed, "I'd rather die than give it up."
Tasha couldn't help but chuckle, patting it gently.
She surmised this anomaly stemmed either from Number One being the first mole or from the energy that created it originating from her red core—the garnet still suspended above the stone pool, bearing that crack. Mole Number One possessed no special abilities (unless "exceptional eating capacity" counted), but since ore was plentiful now, Tasha didn't mind having an extra mouth to feed. She went ahead and created a sixth mole, releasing it from Number One's constraints and raising it as a pet.
After devouring three chunks of ore, Number One finally slowed down when it realized Tashan truly wouldn't reprimand it. This mole, trembling with the nervous energy typical of rodents, sniffed the air. Tashan gently touched its core within her consciousness, and as if granted permission, it burrowed into a nearby ore pit and fell into a deep, snoring sleep.
They weren't truly moles; their bodies weren't covered in fur but hardened earth and stone. Tasha couldn't truly touch them either, lacking a physical form. Still, mentally touching Number One relaxed her, like she'd just finished petting a cat or dog.
With the slime farm, activating the airflow rune took far less time than anticipated. Soon, Tasha was ready and activated the third rune.
A pale blue hue swept across the hall, faint enough to remind her of the subtle greenish tint on salted duck eggshells. In her mind, air currents formed—various winds, flowing gases capable of squeezing through the narrowest crevices and stirring the most astonishing waves.
Tasha listened half-heartedly to the information flooding her mind. The previous two examples had already proven that the descriptions appearing in her head were exaggerated to the point of absurdity. The summoned creatures (or non-creatures?) were all quite useful, though their functions required further study. The free information offered in her mind was nothing more than advertising slogans—best to hear it and forget it.
The Wind Rune summoned a specter.
She wasn't sure if "specter" was the correct term for this thing, nor could she think of another name. The blue shadow suspended in the air resembled a translucent cloud of mist, roughly humanoid in shape. Strands of light mist trailing from the back of its head seemed like long hair, yet Tasha couldn't locate its face or even determine which side was front or back. Her gaze circled the specter 360 degrees, finding neither face nor limbs. It hung silently in midair like a faceless figure cloaked in robes.
This thing was the very embodiment of a ghost from tales, far more terrifying than the mole or slime she'd encountered earlier. Had Tasha stumbled upon it on some past night, she'd likely have bolted in terror. But now that she was dead, there was no need to fear a ghost she'd summoned herself.
The ruins stared at the specter, gazing thoroughly and deeply. Before long, she felt the world spinning. Tasha blinked, suddenly aware her field of vision had narrowed.
She found herself compressed into a confined space, realizing the ceiling was far higher than she'd imagined. It felt somewhat like entering the red gemstone before, though now she could still see the outside world—albeit only one side. Tasha suddenly had up, down, left, right, front, and back. To see the rear, she'd have to turn around... Seconds later, she realized: wasn't this simply the normal human field of vision?
As this realization dawned, a peculiar dizziness washed over her, like putting on extremely strong glasses over one eye. It was as if Tasha had gained a second pair of eyes—her vision split into two halves. One half observed the ghost through an omniscient perspective, while the other half, as the ghost itself, surveyed the entire building.
Part of her soul seemed to have attached itself to the ghost.
How peculiar. While others were possessed by ghosts, she could possess a ghost—making her a far more formidable monster than any specter. Tashia kicked her leg in exasperated amusement... or rather, kicked the mass of air beneath her. The ghost's body was lighter than a cloud, and Tashia, like a rookie suddenly aboard a spaceship, shot out like a cannonball. Frantically trying to stop herself, her reaction was too slow. She slammed headfirst into the ceiling.
Ghosts really could pass through walls.
She carefully lowered herself, pulling her head out of the pitch-black wall. Now she was pressed against the ceiling. Tasha gazed in awe at the underground space below. The subterranean structure was dim, its only light emanating from her own form. The ghostly body glowed with a pearly white radiance within the room, its movements leaving faint cyan trails. From the building's perspective, everything appeared miniature, like toys. Only through the ghost's viewpoint could one grasp the true grandeur of this structure.
It was practically a castle.
This buried city was breathtaking. Even stripped of its former glory, even reduced to a single hall, Tasha could imagine its past splendor. Dozens of people stacked on top of each other would barely reach the ceiling. A single hall could hold several small houses—you could probably race cars inside. Tasha wondered what had reduced this structure to its current state. What had buried a city beneath the earth? Natural disaster or human catastrophe? In her original world, she'd have attributed it solely to nature's fury, but in this place—clearly different from the past—she wasn't so sure.
It took Tasha a while to adjust to her weightless body. After a week, she could finally move again. And who didn't love flying? She felt as light as a breeze, as nimble as a lark. During her dives, she could feel the air currents passing through her entire body—it would have been perfect if she hadn't risked leaving half her body behind when flying too fast.
Tasha tried jumping into a stone pool. The pool, covered with a thin layer of blue liquid, proved impenetrable. Rather than solid matter, it seemed closer to an energy form, existing on the same plane as the substance that made up ghosts. She passed through spiderweb-like tunnels, peering at the working mole-like creatures. If ghosts were truly human-sized, these mole-beings must be enormous—as big as sheep. Tasha's body passed right through them. The other miners ignored her completely, while Number One sniffed her palm in greeting. This mole paused in confusion, seemingly unable to comprehend why its nose had passed right through her palm.
She played with Number One for a while. Well-fed and content, it happily chased after her shadow. It seemed to know who she was and quite liked her. Tasha suspected this was some sort of fledgling instinct, otherwise this little creature—clearly remembering being struck—wouldn't be so affectionate toward her. The ghostly hand could grasp blue ore. Tasha tossed it out, letting Number One fetch it back, much like training a dog in the past. She tried separating her requests from commands; core directives would inevitably be obeyed, but what was the point of manipulating a machine? When a master plays fetch with a dog, it's not about collecting sticks.
For two beings who never tire, they had all the time in the world to practice.
After several days, they mastered the game. Number One would now spontaneously retrieve the tossed ore and place it in Tasha's palm, where she'd break off a piece to feed it. The mole shook its whiskers contentedly, gnawing the crumbs clean before licking its nose.
"You've passed," Tasha said. "I'll give you a proper name—Number One sounds ridiculous. How about... Ah Huang?"
The mole blinked its round eyes, unsure if it understood.
"Look," Tashan spread his hands helplessly, "there's no dictionary to consult here, no internet to search. This is the best I can do for naming. How about Little Yellow? Big Yellow?"
The mole nudged Tashan's hand impatiently, clearly wanting to play again.
"Ah Huang it is," Tashan nodded.
And so it was decided.