—————
The restaurant opened on a crisp autumn morning, three months after our arrival in Heaven Dou City.
The establishment occupied a modest space in the commercial district's middle tier—neither prestigious enough to attract noble attention nor humble enough to suggest inferior quality. The location had been selected through careful analysis of traffic patterns, competitor positioning, and the demographic composition of nearby residential areas.
We called it the Serpent's Garden.
The name had been Huang Mei's suggestion, offered with a slight smile that acknowledged the private joke. A garden tended by a serpent—the combination of her cooking expertise and my hidden nature, merged into something that served both truth and concealment.
The opening day exceeded cautious projections.
Word had spread through the networks we had cultivated during our establishment period—Chef Huang's connections in Spirit Hall's kitchen community, the merchant contacts maintained from our hunting operation days, the Academy students who remembered Lin Xiao's reputation for quality and reliability.
By midday, every table was occupied. By evening, we were turning away customers who had arrived without reservations.
"This is actually working," Wang Tao observed during a rare quiet moment, his expression mixing disbelief with satisfaction. "I thought you were crazy when you outlined this plan. A restaurant run by Academy graduates? But it's actually working."
"The plan was never crazy. The execution determined success or failure." I surveyed the dining room with the analytical eye I applied to all my ventures. "But we've achieved only initial momentum. Sustaining and building on this start requires continued excellence."
"Always thinking ahead." He shook his head with familiar amusement. "Can't you just enjoy the moment?"
"Enjoyment is inefficient. Assessment and planning are productive."
The words were automatic, a reflection of my nature that even years of human development had not fundamentally altered. But I found, somewhat to my surprise, that I was experiencing something approaching satisfaction. The restaurant represented years of planning transformed into tangible reality. The team I had built was functioning as intended. The foundation for continued development was taking shape.
Perhaps there was room for a moment of appreciation after all.
—————
The team's integration into capital life proceeded along planned trajectories.
Wang Tao, Xiao Mei, and Chen Wei had enrolled in Heaven Dou Academy—the imperial institution that represented the pinnacle of Spirit Master education in the empire. Their cultivation levels, all approaching rank twenty-eight through our years of hunting cooperation, qualified them for intermediate admission.
"The training here is intense," Xiao Mei reported during one of our regular coordination meetings. "Nothing like Barak's Academy. The instructors push harder, the resources are better, the competition is fierce."
"And your progress?"
"Improving." Her expression carried a confidence that had developed substantially over the years I had known her. "My speed techniques are advancing faster than they did in provincial training. The Academy's specialized facilities make a real difference."
Wang Tao's assessment was characteristically direct: "The combat training is excellent. I've learned more in three months here than in two years at Barak. If we'd had these resources earlier…"
"You'd have developed faster but faced more competition," I completed. "Provincial training provided foundation without pressure that might have broken less developed spirits. The sequence was appropriate."
Chen Wei's focus had shifted toward logistics and support specialization—a track the capital Academy offered that provincial branches lacked. His natural inclinations toward organization and planning found formal structure through the curriculum.
"The supply chain management classes are fascinating," he reported with the enthusiasm he reserved for systematic topics. "There's actual theory behind what I've been doing instinctively. By the time I complete the program, I'll be able to optimize our hunting operations far beyond current capability."
The team's Academy enrollment served multiple purposes beyond their individual development. It provided social cover for young Spirit Masters in the capital, explaining their presence and activities. It created connections with peers who might prove valuable in future operations. And it maintained the group's cohesion through shared experience, even as our daily lives diverged.
The restaurant became our gathering point, the hub around which our individual trajectories orbited.
—————
Huang Mei had become the establishment's primary chef, her training under her father combined with innate Healing Lotus perception creating dishes that exceeded what technique alone could produce.
Her cultivation cooking had developed to levels that approached her father's legendary reputation. The meals she prepared delivered cultivation benefits that customers could feel—enhanced meditation efficiency, marginally accelerated soul power accumulation, improved physical recovery. Word spread through the cultivation community that the Serpent's Garden offered food worth the modest premium we charged.
But more than her professional capability, I noticed changes in Huang Mei herself.
The shy, nervous girl I had met years ago had transformed into a confident young woman whose presence commanded attention she once would have fled. Her movements carried assurance. Her voice, when directing kitchen staff or addressing customers, held authority that required no raising to be obeyed.
She had grown into herself.
"You're staring," she observed during one evening's post-closing cleanup, her tone carrying amusement rather than discomfort.
"Observing. There's a difference."
"Is there?" She moved closer, the familiar warmth of her presence triggering responses I had learned to identify but not entirely control. "And what are your observations telling you?"
"That you've changed substantially since we first met. Confidence replacing uncertainty. Competence replacing self-doubt." I paused, considering whether to voice the next observation. "Beauty that was always present becoming… more visible."
The words emerged before complete evaluation of their appropriateness. Huang Mei's expression shifted through surprise to something warmer, her cheeks coloring slightly in the manner I had come to associate with emotional significance.
"Lin Xiao, are you actually complimenting me?"
"Stating observation. Compliments imply intent to flatter. I merely report what perception reveals."
"Hmm." Her smile suggested she did not entirely believe the distinction. "Well, your perception is appreciated. Even if your delivery could use work."
The exchange represented dynamics that had been developing throughout our years of acquaintance. Something beyond friendship, not yet explicitly defined, but increasingly present in our interactions. I was uncertain how to process these developments, uncertain what they meant for my long-term planning.
The serpent had not evolved for romance. But the human I was becoming seemed increasingly inclined toward it.
—————
The soul beast meat that supplied our restaurant came primarily through market acquisition rather than direct hunting.
This represented a strategic shift from our Academy days. The capital's established hunting guilds controlled most accessible beast territories, their operations generating supply chains that fed the city's cultivation resource markets. Competing directly with these guilds would have required resources and connections we did not possess.
Instead, we purchased through legitimate channels, using the price advantages Chef Huang's contacts provided to maintain margins that permitted both quality and profit.
"The Verdant Reaches are harvested monthly by the Golden Lion Guild," Chen Wei reported during one of his supply briefings. "The Stone Ridge territory we used during Academy is now controlled by a consortium of three smaller guilds. Our old hunting grounds are essentially inaccessible without guild affiliation."
"Expected. Provincial territories become absorbed as capital operations expand." I had anticipated this development when planning our transition. "Market acquisition serves our current needs adequately. Direct hunting can resume when our capabilities justify confronting guild opposition."
"What level of capability would that require?"
"Spirit King at minimum for the key operators. Preferably Spirit Emperor for the leadership. Guild territorial disputes are resolved through force more often than negotiation."
The assessment was pragmatic rather than defeatist. My own cultivation had already reached Spirit King level, though none beyond myself knew this. In time, the team would develop similarly. When that day arrived, our hunting operations could expand to scales that market acquisition could never match.
For now, purchased meat was sufficient. The business thrived.
—————
Two years passed with the steady accumulation that characterized my existence.
The restaurant's reputation grew from promising newcomer to established presence. Regular customers included Spirit Masters of varying ranks, minor noble households seeking quality without pretension, and cultivation enthusiasts who appreciated our focus on genuine benefit over mere flavor.
The income generated exceeded our operational needs, permitting reinvestment in equipment, facilities, and the resource acquisition that fed my continued development. The capital reserves accumulated toward future expansion plans.
My cultivation advanced at the pace my enhanced absorption permitted.
Rank fifty-one. Fifty-three. Fifty-five. Fifty-eight.
Each level came faster than the last, the soul beast meat from our restaurant operations combining with occasional kitchen access through Chef Huang's maintained connections. The gap between my true cultivation and my displayed facade widened with each month.
By the second year's end, I had reached rank fifty-nine—Spirit King of the ninth level, one advancement from the threshold of Spirit Emperor.
The sixth ring approached.
—————
The timeline awareness I maintained had crystallized during these two years.
Tang San, based on my calculations of elapsed time since Tang Hao's clash with Spirit Hall, would be approaching his sixth birthday. In the story I remembered, this was the age of spirit awakening—the moment when his extraordinary destiny would begin to manifest.
Somewhere in a village called Holy Spirit, a boy was about to discover that he possessed twin spirits of legendary potential. The Blue Silver Grass that everyone dismissed, and the hidden Clear Sky Hammer that would eventually shake the continent.
The main plot was beginning.
I had approximately seven to eight years before the events I remembered would bring Tang San to Spirit Hall's attention, before the conflicts that would reshape the cultivation world began their escalation toward divine confrontation.
Seven years to continue accumulating power. Seven years to prepare for forces that could destroy Title Douluo. Seven years to determine whether my careful hiding would prove sufficient when gods themselves began taking interest in mortal affairs.
The timeline created urgency that my patient nature struggled to process. I had always planned for the long term, accepting slow accumulation in exchange for security. But the approaching storm demanded acceleration.
I needed to be stronger. Much stronger.
—————
The decision regarding my sixth ring crystallized during a meditation session as my cultivation reached rank fifty-nine.
Previous rings had been condensed at ages appropriate for their sequence—five hundred for the first, twelve hundred for the second, four thousand for the third, ten thousand for the fourth, nineteen thousand for the fifth. The progression had followed patterns that, while exceptional, remained within bounds of theoretical possibility.
But the sixth ring offered opportunity for something more ambitious.
My physical body had been enhanced dramatically through years of soul beast meat absorption. The thirty percent efficiency of my innate ability had not merely accelerated cultivation—it had integrated physical attributes from consumed beasts, building strength, speed, and durability that far exceeded what my apparent age suggested.
My current physical parameters matched Spirit Masters in their sixties or higher. The enhancement provided a foundation that might support ring integration beyond normal limits.
I contemplated the options across several days of analysis.
A standard sixth ring would fall in the twenty-thousand to thirty-thousand-year range—black grade, formidable, appropriate for my developing power. Such a ring would reactivate my Venom Mastery skill at respectable levels, providing offensive capability that my current skillset lacked.
But a higher-age ring would provide proportionally greater power. My Venom Mastery, enhanced by a truly exceptional ring, could become something beyond mere offensive capability—a weapon that might threaten beings far above my apparent level.
The risk was physical strain. High-age rings stressed the body during integration, the power they carried requiring a vessel capable of containing it. Rings that exceeded physical tolerance could cause permanent damage or death.
But my physical tolerance exceeded normal human parameters by significant margins.
I decided to push.
Thirty-five thousand years.
The number represented the upper limit of what I calculated my enhanced body could safely absorb. A ring of that age would be among the most powerful ever condensed by a Spirit Master below the seventy-rank threshold—approaching the hundred-thousand-year boundary that marked the absolute pinnacle of normal soul beast existence.
The condensation would be demanding. The integration would be painful. But the results would be worth the cost.
I began preparations for the breakthrough.
—————
The process required isolation and time that restaurant operations complicated.
I arranged a week's absence, citing "personal cultivation retreat" as explanation. Huang Mei accepted this with the understanding she had developed for my occasional need for privacy. The others assumed I was pursuing advanced training that my displayed cultivation did not explain.
The rented house on the city's eastern edge provided adequate seclusion. I sealed the doors, activated my full concealment suite, and turned my attention inward.
Rank sixty came first—the threshold crossing from Spirit King to Spirit Emperor. The advancement completed with the familiar sensation of barrier rupture, power flooding expanded spiritual channels. The transition was smoother than my previous major threshold crossing, my cultivated foundation having developed stability that reduced integration stress.
Then the ring condensation began.
I reached into the reservoir of accumulated soul age that remained from my hundred thousand years of beast cultivation. The power there had diminished through five previous condensations but remained substantial—more than sufficient for what I planned.
I drew forth thirty-five thousand years.
The energy resisted. Unlike previous condensations, this extraction fought against separation, the sheer magnitude of power creating spiritual pressure that my consciousness struggled to contain. I persisted through the resistance, will forcing compliance from essence that had been part of me for longer than human civilizations had existed.
The power spiraled around my soul. The crystallization began.
Pain arrived with intensity that exceeded anything I had experienced since transformation. The ring forming around my spiritual core carried weight that stressed physical structure, that demanded more from my enhanced body than it had ever been asked to give.
I felt systems protesting—muscles straining, bones creaking, organs struggling to function under pressure that approached their limits. The integration was testing my calculated tolerance, pushing against margins I had thought adequate.
For a moment—perhaps several moments—I was uncertain whether survival was assured.
Then equilibrium established. The ring completed its formation. The pain subsided to manageable levels.
Thirty-five thousand years of condensed power orbited my spiritual core, black as absolute night, carrying weight that my consciousness required adjustment to bear.
And Venom Mastery awakened.
—————
The skill's restoration exceeded anything I had anticipated.
My venom glands—vestigial in human form, barely functional through previous ring development—erupted into full capability. I could feel them restructuring, expanding, developing production capacity that my serpentine form had taken decades to achieve.
The dual-component toxin I had possessed as a beast was restored: neurotoxin for paralysis, hemotoxin for tissue destruction, the ratio adjustable according to conscious selection. But the thirty-five-thousand-year ring had enhanced the capability beyond original parameters.
The neurotoxin now carried potency that could paralyze Spirit Ancestors through skin contact alone. The hemotoxin could destroy tissue with speed that approached acid dissolution. The delivery mechanism had expanded from fang injection to full-body contact, any portion of my skin capable of transmitting toxin through touch.
And there was something new—a tertiary component that the ring's power had apparently generated.
A spirit-affecting toxin.
I tested the capability carefully, analyzing the new venom component through internal perception. The substance could interfere with soul power circulation, disrupting an opponent's ability to use spiritual techniques. A cultivator exposed to this toxin would find their spirit abilities compromised, their ring skills failing, their cultivation temporarily suppressed.
The tactical implications were significant.
An opponent relying on spirit abilities to counter my attacks would find those abilities failing. A Spirit King who engaged me expecting to overwhelm through superior soul skills would discover their techniques degrading mid-combat. The poison nullified advantages that cultivation level alone should have provided.
Combined with my concealment suite, the enhanced venom transformed me from assassin into something approaching inevitable death.
I could approach undetected, strike without warning, and deliver toxins that would defeat opponents multiple tiers above my apparent level.
The serpent had recovered its fangs. And those fangs had grown sharper than ever before.
—————
Recovery from the condensation required three days of rest that I had not anticipated.
The physical strain of integrating a thirty-five-thousand-year ring left lingering effects that even my enhanced physiology needed time to address. Muscles that had nearly torn during the process required rebuilding. Meridians that had been pushed to capacity needed settling. The spiritual structure that now contained six rings of exceptional power demanded adjustment before normal function could resume.
I used the time for assessment and planning.
Current Status: Post-Sixth Ring
Cultivation: Rank 60 (Spirit Emperor, First Level) Displayed Rank: 28 (Spirit Grandmaster) Disparity: 32 ranks concealed
Soul Rings: - 1st: 504 years (Yellow/Yellow) - Void Embrace - 2nd: 1,200 years (Purple/Yellow) - Silent Passage - 3rd: 4,000 years (Purple/Suppressed) - Thermal Sovereignty - 4th: 10,000 years (Black/Suppressed) - Essence Trace - 5th: 19,000 years (Black/Suppressed) - Absolute Perception - 6th: 35,000 years (Black/Suppressed) - Venom Mastery
Total Ring Age: 69,704 years Remaining Soul Age Reservoir: Approximately 30,000 years
Active Skills: All six original soul beast abilities now restored and enhanced beyond original parameters.
Combat Assessment: - Concealment defeats Spirit Saint casual detection - Venom threatens cultivators significantly above apparent level - Physical capability matches Spirit King tier - Overall threat level: Spirit Douluo equivalent in assassination scenarios
The numbers confirmed what my internal assessment had suggested. I had become genuinely formidable—not merely skilled at hiding but capable of eliminating threats that should have overwhelmed my actual cultivation level.
The serpent's reconstruction was approaching completion.
—————
I returned to the restaurant to find changes that the passage of time had accumulated during my absence.
The first surprise was Xiao Mei.
She arrived for our coordination meeting with a bearing that I barely recognized. The shy, nervous girl I had protected from bullies years ago—the student who had required encouragement to believe in her own capabilities—had transformed into someone who moved with absolute confidence.
Her cultivation had reached rank thirty-six, advancement that exceeded her previous trajectory by substantial margins. Her Silver Rabbit spirit, enhanced by the capital Academy's superior training resources, had developed speed capabilities that approached her species' theoretical maximum.
But the personality shift exceeded what cultivation advancement alone could explain.
"Lin Xiao." Her greeting carried none of the warm deference I had grown accustomed to. Instead, there was something closer to challenge—an edge that suggested she no longer viewed me as the mentor figure our early relationship had established. "Back from your mysterious retreat?"
"Training completed. The restaurant required attention."
"The restaurant runs fine without you. Huang Mei manages everything that matters." Her eyes held assessment that felt unexpectedly penetrating. "You've been hiding in that eastern house more and more lately. People are starting to wonder what you do there."
The observation carried accusation I had not anticipated. "Personal cultivation requires privacy. Nothing unusual for a dedicated Spirit Master."
"Nothing unusual." She repeated my words with an inflection that suggested doubt. "Except that you've been at Spirit Grandmaster level for years, showing no visible advancement, while spending more time in 'private cultivation' than in actual operations. It's suspicious, Lin Xiao. Even to those of us who trust you."
The challenge was direct in a way that Xiao Mei's previous personality would never have permitted. Something had changed in her beyond mere cultivation advancement—a confidence that bordered on arrogance, a willingness to confront that replaced her former caution.
"You've grown bold," I observed.
"I've grown strong." Her response carried pride that verged on dismissive. "Strong enough that I don't need to defer to everyone around me anymore. Strong enough to ask questions that matter."
The exchange revealed dynamics that would require attention. Xiao Mei's development was positive in many respects—her increased capability benefited the team's overall power. But her personality shift created complications I had not anticipated.
She was becoming someone who might question my concealment rather than simply accepting it.
—————
Huang Mei's development had followed a different trajectory.
Her cultivation had reached rank thirty-five through the two years of capital residence, progress that her Healing Lotus spirit's support orientation made impressive. Her cooking expertise had continued advancing, approaching the mastery that her father had spent decades achieving.
But more significant was how she carried herself around me.
Where Xiao Mei had developed challenge and confrontation, Huang Mei had developed… warmth. Intimacy. An ease of interaction that exceeded friendship while not quite reaching the definitions I understood for deeper relationships.
"You push yourself too hard," she observed during a quiet evening after the restaurant had closed. "This retreat you just returned from—you look exhausted. Whatever training you're doing, it's taking a toll."
"Necessary effort for necessary development."
"Necessary." She moved closer, the familiar action carrying significance that years of acquaintance had built. "Everything with you is necessary. Strategic. Calculated. Do you ever do anything simply because you want to?"
The question touched something that I had avoided examining too closely. "Want is inefficient. Need determines action."
"That's not an answer. That's a deflection." Her hand touched my arm with the casual contact we had developed, but her eyes held something more intent. "Lin Xiao, I've known you for years now. Watched you grow, change, become more human than whatever you were when we first met. I know you're hiding things—probably things I can't even imagine. And I've accepted that."
"But?"
"But I want to know if what's between us is one of those things you calculate, or if it's something you actually feel." Her voice was soft but steady, the question emerging from months or years of accumulated wondering. "Am I part of your strategy, or am I part of your life?"
The question demanded honesty I was uncertain I could provide.
I examined my internal landscape with the analytical attention I applied to all significant matters. My feelings for Huang Mei—what were they, precisely? The warmth her presence generated, the anticipation when our meetings approached, the protective impulse that extended beyond strategic value, the simple pleasure of her company…
These were not calculations. They were not strategic. They were responses that my developing human nature had cultivated without my conscious direction.
"You are part of my life," I said finally. "Perhaps the most significant part, beyond my own development. The feelings I experience regarding you are not calculated—they simply exist, and I have not determined how to process them."
"That might be the most romantic thing you've ever said." Her smile carried the gentle humor I had come to treasure. "In your strange, analytical way."
"Romance is outside my expertise."
"Then we'll develop that expertise together." She leaned closer, her warmth against my side a comfort I had not known I needed. "Just promise me something."
"What?"
"When you're ready—when you trust me enough—you'll tell me what you actually are. Not explanations, not deflections. The truth."
The request was reasonable. The trust she had demonstrated deserved reciprocation.
"When I am ready," I agreed. "The truth. Whatever that means."
"Whatever that means," she repeated, accepting the limitation with the grace that characterized her responses to my evasions.
We sat in comfortable silence as the evening deepened, the future uncertain but the present, for once, feeling adequate.
—————
The years in Heaven Dou City had established foundations that would support continued development.
The restaurant thrived, its reputation growing toward the lower tiers of the capital's elite dining establishments. The income it generated exceeded our operational needs, accumulating capital reserves that could fund expansion when appropriate opportunities emerged.
The team had developed in ways that both pleased and complicated my planning. Wang Tao's cultivation had reached rank thirty-two, his Earth Hammer spirit developing combat capabilities that approached professional hunting team standards. Chen Wei's rank twenty-nine reflected his support focus rather than combat development, but his organizational expertise had become indispensable for our operations. Xiao Mei's rank thirty-six made her the team's most advanced member by visible cultivation—a fact that clearly contributed to her newly developed confidence.
And Huang Mei's rank thirty-five, combined with her cooking expertise and our deepening relationship, had made her essential in ways that transcended strategic calculation.
The network I had built was functioning as intended. The resources were accumulating. The power was growing in shadows that no one perceived.
But the timeline continued advancing.
Tang San was awakening his spirits in a distant village. The events I remembered were beginning their slow build toward the conflicts that would eventually involve gods and reshape the continental order.
Seven years until Shrek Academy's founding class assembled. Seven years until the young protagonist began his meteoric rise. Seven years until the forces that had pursued me since my beast existence began stirring toward confrontations I could not entirely predict.
I would use every day of that time.
The sixth ring had completed my skill restoration. My capabilities now matched or exceeded what I had possessed as a soul beast, enhanced by human cultivation techniques and the systematic development that my analytical nature had pursued.
But Spirit Emperor was not sufficient for what lay ahead. Spirit Sage, Spirit Douluo, eventually Title Douluo—these were the levels where survival became possible against the forces that the main timeline would unleash.
I needed to continue advancing. Continue accumulating. Continue preparing for a future that approached with the inevitability of sunrise.
The serpent settled deeper into its hidden patterns, watching the world change around it, waiting for the moments when action would become necessary.
The hunt continued. The accumulation proceeded. The shadows deepened.
And somewhere, a child with blue silver grass was taking his first steps toward a destiny that would shake the heavens themselves.
—————
End of Chapter 13
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