“A beast?!” Xu Kai repeated, the word hanging in the air between them.

  Chen Xi gave a single nod.

  He watched her face, searching for any hint of a joke. He found none. Her expression was deadly serious. Of all the things he’d braced for in this new life, being drafted into a monster hunt within the first hour was not on the list. Especially with a brain empty of practical knowledge.

  “What beast are you planning to slay?” he asked, keeping his voice steady.

  “A wolf.”

  “A wolf?” He almost laughed. The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction.

  “Yes. A monstrous, deadly one,” she clarified, her tone grave.

  Xu Kai let out a quiet breath. His reply was laced with a nonchalance he didn’t fully feel.

  “It’s just a wild animal. I’m certain you could kill it with your eyes closed and your limbs tied. So why do you need my help?”

  He had a point. In his old world, a wolf was a genuine threat. Here, from cultivation fictions he’d read, ordinary wildlife was trivial to cultivators. Even the lowest among them could dispatch such creatures without breaking a sweat. It wouldn’t be a fight; it would be pest control.

  “No, Master. You’re getting it wrong,” Chen Xi said, shaking her head slowly. “It isn’t a wild animal.”

  “Wrong?” he repeated, the ease fading. “It isn’t?”

  “No.” Her eyes met his, unwavering. “It’s a True Beast.”

  Xu Kai’s brows lifted.

  “A True Beast?” The term meant nothing to him, but her dismissal of ‘wild animal’ spoke volumes. This was something else. Something stronger. Dangerous enough that she hadn’t tackled it alone. Dangerous enough to require his, or rather, her master’s help. “What’s that?”

  “True Beasts,” Chen Xi began, her voice dropping into a lecturing tone, “are exactly what the name suggests. They are the actual definition of ‘beast.’ Their capabilities are unmatched by any ordinary animal.”

  She leaned in, emphasizing her point.

  “Just like cultivators overpower mortals in every way, True Beasts overpower ordinary beasts in every way. They start as animals, but prolonged exposure to dense spiritual energy changes them. They become… uh…”

  “Superanimal,” Xu Kai chimed in without thinking.

  'Superanimal. Like a superhuman,'

  The concept from his old world somehow fit oddly well here.

  “Yes,” Chen Xi accepted the term with a small shrug. “A Superanimal.”

  He wasn’t sure if she grasped the exact meaning, but it didn’t matter. The word was for him.

  At that moment, Chen Xi’s gaze drifted away, growing distant. It was the look of someone remembering something fond, something unrelated. She sighed, a soft, nostalgic sound.

  “I remember that play you used to take me to watch when I was younger. It was about a—”

  Xu Kai cut her off. He didn’t know the story, and more importantly, he didn’t care. It had nothing to do with the wolf or survival.

  “Hey. Back to the point.”

  “Ah, yes. Sorry, Master,” Chen Xi then folded her arms across her chest, a pout forming. “But you could have let me finish. It’s a good story.”

  “Tell it when I have time to waste,” he said flatly. “Right now, I don’t.”

  He meant it. Time felt precious. Waking up in this world had ignited a sharp, greedy hunger for knowledge in him. He wanted to understand everything, the rules, the dangers, the power. Sitting here listening to childhood anecdotes wasn’t on the agenda.

  “Hmph. Serious as always,” she rolled her eyes. “If you keep cutting off ladies like that, Master, you’ll definitely end up dying single.”

  'Ack!'

  The words were a physical blow. Xu Kai’s breath left him in a quiet rush. He slowly brought a hand to his chest, feeling a phantom, piercing pain right over his heart.

  'She has no idea,' he thought, the truth of it echoing bitterly.

  He had died single in his previous life. To have the same fate casually prophesied for this one… it hit harder than any punch. The words themselves were the pain.

  Chen Xi watched him from the corner of her eye and gulped. Her master’s face had gone pale. His eyes were wide, staring into the middle distance as if witnessing his own bleak future flash before him.

  Seeing the situation spiraling toward potential punishment, she steeled herself. She lifted her chin and plowed ahead, her tone forcibly bright, as if she’d said nothing more controversial than commenting on the weather.

  “So, Master! As I was saying, because of the spiritual energy, they become Superanimals. Far more powerful, intelligent, and dangerous than ordinary beasts.”

  Xu Kai’s head turned slowly. He fixed her with a glare so intense it could have scorched stone.

  Chen Xi immediately looked straight ahead, avoiding his gaze as if avoiding a death ray. Which, in a way, she was.

  With a monumental effort, Xu Kai let it go. Dragging that particular subject any further would only twist the knife. He forced his mind back to her explanation.

  From what she’d said, a True Beast was just an ordinary animal’s “I’m better” version. But not just a little better. A far better version. They absorbed spiritual energy, and it enhanced everything, strength, speed, senses, maybe even cunning.

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  But something still felt crucial to clarify.

  “Can they… perform energy blasts? Or something like that?” Xu Kai asked.

  From her description, it didn’t seem likely, she probably would have mentioned it to him, but Xu Kai saw no harm in checking. The last thing he needed, fresh into this new life, was to face a wolf that could pulverize steel and fire off Ki-blasts like a certain anime character.

  Chen Xi, oblivious to his internal dread, shook her head.

  “No, they can’t.”

  'Good.'

  True Beasts couldn’t hurl energy projectiles. Their threat was physical, enhanced muscle, speed, ferocity. That was manageable. Or at least, it felt less cosmically terrifying to Xu Kai.

  Xu Kai sat back, his gaze sweeping the dense, endless green around them.

  “What is this place, anyway?”

  Chen Xi hesitated. A beat too long.

  “Uh… this place is called Lud Forest, Master.”

  “A forest?” he repeated, the word flat.

  She gave a reluctant nod, unable to meet his eyes.

  “So we’re in a forest,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “Where monsters are literally our neighbors. Are we lost?”

  “No! Not at all!” she waved her hands in a frantic, dismissive gesture. “We’re not lost.”

  “Then why are we here?”

  “Uh…”

  A single bead of sweat traced a path down Chen Xi’s temple. Her face flushed a deep, brilliant red. She looked anywhere but at him, her eyes darting to the trees, the sky, the rock beneath them.

  In that moment, a vivid, cringe-inducing flashback assaulted her. She saw herself, pleading, begging, wailing. She’d desperately wanted to leave their peaceful, safe home for the thrill and resources of the forest. Her master had refused. Over and over.

  No amount of crying had worked. Not the flattery, not the, flimsy, logical arguments, not the constant shadowing, not the outright refusal to do her chores, not even the times she’d physically latched onto his leg like a stubborn toddler, refusing to let go until he agreed.

  He’d always given the same calm, firm answer: The forest is too dangerous. The threats are unpredictable. We are not yet strong enough.

  But she’d been dead set. Obsessed.

  The campaigns had grown more desperate, more outrageous. And finally, worn down by the relentless siege, her master had sighed. He’d looked at the sky as if asking for strength.

  And he had given in.

  “Are you okay?” Xu Kai asked, watching her sudden transformation into a flustered, tomato-red statue.

  “Y-Yes! I’m perfectly fine, Master!” Chen Xi’s voice was an octave too high. She let out a nervous laugh, her eyes still firmly locked on a particularly interesting knot in the wood grain of the rock.

  The embarrassment was bad, but confessing the whole, ridiculous story would be infinitely worse.

  'What should I say?'

  The idea to lie flickered through her mind. She lied to her master sometimes, when she had no other choice. But he always knew. He could read her like a simple children’s scroll, and getting caught always came with a special package: punishment.

  Now was different, though. He’d lost his memories. That sharp, knowing gaze might be gone. He might not see through a lie now.

  The temptation was sweet. But she pushed it away.

  'Not worth it. Betting weeks of punishment-free existence on a single fib? Over something this silly? No. Even amnesiac, he was still him.'

  Xu Kai stared, dumbfounded, waiting for an answer to a perfectly reasonable question.

  “We-well,” she stammered, drawing out the word. “How we ended up here is… a veeery long story.”

  'Please don’t like long stories. Please don’t like long stories,' she prayed silently, squeezing her eyes shut for a second.

  The original Xu Kai hated long stories, especially from her. He only demanded detailed explanations when she’d caused a disaster. Otherwise, he preferred brevity.

  But this Xu Kai was different. She didn’t know how different, but losing all your memories had to change a person. All she could do was hope the aversion to rambling had survived the memory wipe.

  Xu Kai didn’t answer right away. He just watched her, the fidgeting, the avoidance, the sheer depth of her awkwardness. Pushing further on this clearly felt like poking a beehive. The question wasn’t that important anyway. Whatever had happened, it had reduced his formidable disciple to a stammering mess. He should probably let it go.

  He should.

  But then, a tiny, mischievous impulse stirred. A bad idea, pure and simple, surfaced.

  A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips.

  He leaned forward, closing the space between them.

  “Well, you’re in luck,” he voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. “Because I like long stories.” He paused for effect. “Very long stories.”

  He was going to push. Just to see what happened.

  At that moment, Chen Xi froze. All the blood seemed to drain from her face, leaving her pale.

  The sight satisfied the little spark of mischief in Xu Kai. For Chen Xi, however, it was a disaster.

  His reply short-circuited her brain. A terrifying thought dawned.

  'Is he teasing me?'

  That was… unusual. Most of the time, she was the one doing the teasing. On the rare occasions the roles reversed, her master’s teasing was a surgical strike, precise, effective, and deeply unsettling.

  'No,' she told herself desperately. 'He can’t be. If he were teasing, he’d be wearing that devilish grin.'

  But—

  She realized she hadn’t actually looked at his face. Slowly, dread pooling in her stomach, she turned her head.

  'No.'

  He was grinning. It was a small, smug, utterly wicked thing. And in that moment, she knew the heavens had abandoned her.

  That grin was a signature. A declaration of war. He didn’t go out of his way to find ammo against her, but when life handed him a situation, especially one of her own making, he would weaponize it. It was his preferred method of payback for all the chaos she’d ever caused.

  “M-Ma-Master?!” she stammered, her voice a thin squeak.

  “What’s the matter?” Xu Kai replied. His tone was calm, perfectly innocent.

  But he wasn’t innocent. He knew she was sitting on something deeply embarrassing, and he was going to dig it out. His inner imp was thoroughly enjoying her squirming. She was so easy to fluster. For now, the power was his.

  Some deeper, wiser part of him whispered that this would likely come back to bite him. Hard. But he pushed the thought aside.

  He’d savor this victory first. Regret could come later.

  “N-Nothing… Master,” she managed, looking everywhere but at him.

  “That’s a relief,” Xu Kai said, his voice dripping with faux concern. “Your sudden change scared me for a moment.”

  “Th-There’s no need to worry.”

  “Good. So, now that’s settled,” he said, leaning in again, his grin widening just a fraction. “Back to the question.”

  Chen Xi stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye. The set of his jaw, the glint in his eye, it was a wall. There was no escape.

  The heavens had truly, utterly betrayed her.

  “Well…” Chen Xi began, the word dragging out miserably. “Master… it was my idea to come here.”

  Xu Kai’s brows lifted.

  “Your idea?”

  “Yes. I… convinced you for us to move here.”

  He nodded slowly, a thought clicking into place.

  'Expected. Who else is crazy enough to choose a monster-infested forest as a home?'

  “And I accepted?” he finally asked.

  “…Ye-yes. You did,” she mumbled, studying a crack in the rock.

  “Why?” His voice was flat. “Staying in a forest like this, with beasts that rival cultivators, seems to have more risks than rewards.”

  Chen Xi shook her head, a flicker of defensiveness returning.

  “I convinced you, Master. With reasonable proof. That’s why you agreed.”

  It was a half-truth. She’d provided some reasons, but the real persuasion had been a sustained campaign of sheer, relentless nagging.

  “So you’re saying living here has more advantages?” Xu Kai pressed, skepticism dripping from every word.

  She gave a firm nod.

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Well, Master,” she started, shifting her posture. “If you don’t remember… you spent more time on crafting, alchemy and other things than on actual cultivation.” Her expression darkened for a fleeting second. “That was due to reasons you never told me. I had my suspicions, but I could never be sure. Whenever I asked, you’d just… lie to me.”

  “How did you know I was lying?”

  Chen Xi threw her hands up.

  “Master, seriously? I’ve been with you since I was a little girl! You practically raised me. Of course I’d know when you were lying!”

  “Ah. Makes sense,” he conceded. “So there’s no way for you to find out what you were curious about?”

  She shook her head, the frustration evident in the slump of her shoulders.

  “No. No way. And now… now all hope of learning about it is gone. Because you don’t remember any of it either.”