I am willing

The rainbow mist toad's expression wavered for a moment before it sighed, then steeled its resolve for what it was about to say next.

"There's zero chance of me getting out of this predicament alive. Even if I risked blowing myself up with you, I have a feeling I wouldn't even get the chance to move before you killed me." Bolin paused, his voice trembling slightly. "Out of all my compatriots, I seem to be the only one you confronted personally instead of leaving it to the leaf. That must mean I hold more value than the rest to warrant your direct attention..."

Bolin paused again, studying Feng Xin's face for any reaction that might confirm his assumption.

Feng Xin merely smiled—calm, unreadable—and said nothing.

Bolin took it as silent confirmation that he was right.

"How about we make a deal, then? I submit myself to you—or even to the organization you're a part of—in exchange for my life. I'm willing to sign any type of soul contract, no matter how unfavorable the terms may be. I just want to survive," Bolin said softly, his voice tinged with desperation.

Feng Xin had expected this the moment Bolin requested to speak with him. He sighed faintly before replying.

"Well, you're right about one thing. You are more valuable than the rest." Feng Xin's tone was calm, almost indifferent. "But let me clarify something—your value doesn't come from your capabilities or power level. It comes from your anatomy."

Feng Xin's gaze sharpened slightly as he leaned forward.

"Pardon me for being blunt, but you're a walking alchemy ingredient. Whether you live or die, your value doesn't change—it's the same either way."

His words were delivered without a hint of hesitation, cold and matter-of-fact. He felt no guilt for his callousness—were their positions reversed, he doubted Bolin would have afforded him the same courtesy of a conversation. The fact that he and the other spirit beasts had ganged up on him without provocation was enough account as to their viciousness.

"Is there really no way to assure my survival?" Bolin asked, his voice trembling as his large, bulging eyes widened in a pleading look.

For a toad, it was an unsettling expression—enough to make Feng Xin flinch, despite himself.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Feng Xin asked.

"Living might be a crueler fate than accepting a quick death. Where I'm taking you, they may cut you up, heal you, and then cut you up again. You could end up living each day in constant agony. Life might turn out worse for you than you think."

Feng Xin's gaze lingered on Bolin, carefully gauging his reaction.

Bolin fell silent, lost in thought as Feng Xin's words echoed in his mind. Then, his fists clenched tightly, and his bulging eyes filled with firm resolve.

"I AM WILLING!!" Bolin growled through gritted teeth. He was ready to endure anything as long as he survived. So long as he was alive, there was always hope.

Feng Xin studied him for a long moment, waiting to see if his determination would waver. When Bolin's resolve held steady, Feng Xin finally muttered,

"Fine."

With a flick of his wrist, Feng Xin retrieved an object from his storage ring—a jar crafted from green bamboo and brown papyrus reeds. A parchment, seemingly made from aged goatskin, was attached to the lid, covered in black, ancient-looking script that pulsed faintly with spiritual energy.

Feng Xin opened the lid. In an instant, all the lingering rainbow mist was sucked into the jar, disappearing without a trace.

"Get in," Feng Xin said, pointing toward the jar.

Bolin froze, hesitation flashing across his face. The small jar exuded an oppressive aura, and just by glancing at a tiny portion of the script, he felt his soul tighten as if invisible chains were binding it.

Feng Xin's lips curved into a faint smile as he noticed Bolin's reaction.

"Don't worry—you won't die inside the jar," Feng Xin said, his tone calm and reassuring. "This is called a Soul Anchoring Hibernation Jar. Once inside, you'll be placed in a temporary stasis. Think of it as a death-like cultivation state where all external senses are completely cut off.

"Because of your value, I can't risk openly traveling with you. And since living beings can't be stored directly in a storage ring, we have to use indirect means—this jar being one of them. It isolates everything inside from the outside world, even in alternate spaces like a storage ring.

"Once we reach the Order, I'll release you. Don't worry, being stored in there won't cause any harm. In fact, it may even benefit you—you'll be able to meditate without distractions," Feng Xin explained.

Bolin's eyes flickered with uncertainty, but after a moment's hesitation, he clenched his fists and slowly stepped toward the jar. Survival was all that mattered now.

Just as Bolin was about to step entirely into the jar, he heard Feng Xin speak.

"Things might not end up as grim as I first made them out to be. Who knows? You may end up with the same luck as the Mirage Dragonfly and avoid becoming an alchemy ingredient. But I can't make any promises. Once we reach the Order, I'll hand you over to my boss, and he'll decide what happens next."

"Thanks," Bolin replied, his voice carrying a faint trace of hope as he fully entered the jar.

Feng Xin sealed the lid, and the talisman glowed with an earthy-red light. The ancient scribbles on the parchment unfurled, spreading over the jar's surface before vanishing completely. Once the glow subsided, Feng Xin stored the jar in his storage ring.

He then turned his attention to the last remaining creature—the green-flowered babirusa.

The massive beast, which rivaled a small mountain in size, was sprawled on the ground, painful grunts rumbling from its broad snout.

Its body was covered in thick, gray hide, but the most striking features were the four bronze tusks protruding from its snout—each one longer and wider than Feng Xin's sword. Atop its head bloomed a large, green flower shaped like a sunflower. A faint yellow glow emanated from the flower, flowing down the babirusa's body like a gentle current. Wherever the light passed, wounds began to faintly heal, but the damage was too severe. Many of its injuries were too deep for the glow to make any significant impact.

Deep lacerations marred the beast's body, and several areas were coated in frost, leaving patches of its hide stained a purplish hue. Its left foreleg and hind leg had been severed cleanly at the knees, leaving smooth, precise cuts—evidence that they'd been sliced off simultaneously by the same weapon or technique.

The babirusa strained to rise, its remaining legs trembling under the weight of its colossal frame. But its strength was fading. It heaved and struggled, unable to find balance, its grunts growing weaker as blood seeped from its wounds.

"What tremendous vitality," Feng Xin muttered, stepping closer. "Even after all that, it still has the will to keep struggling."

Despite himself, he felt a twinge of admiration for the beast's resilience. 

The babirusa glared at Feng Xin, rage burning in its eyes as guttural growls erupted from its throat. The sound rumbled through the swamp, echoing for miles. Instead of dying down, the growl only grew louder and heavier, vibrating through the air like a war drum.

At the same time, the green flower on its head began to swell, its petals expanding as the faint yellow glow it emitted shifted to a deeper green. The light intensified, pulsing rhythmically as it spread outward, reaching the surrounding vegetation.

Wherever the glow touched, plants withered and crumbled, their vitality siphoned away. The green light grew richer, and the flower swelled from the size of a sunflower to that of a small shrub.

Feng Xin arched an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Interesting ability," he remarked. "You're absorbing vitality from the plants to heal yourself and grow stronger. A handy trump card in a situation like this."

He paused, his tone turning sharp.

"Too bad it's already too late."

In a blur, Feng Xin vanished, reappearing directly above the babirusa using Shadow Void Steps. Before the creature could react, its world spun sideways.

It took the babirusa a moment to register what had happened. Its head hit the ground with a dull thud, eyes wide and unblinking. From its new vantage point, it saw its massive, headless body slump to the swamp floor.

Feng Xin stood a few paces away, sliding his pristine white sword back into its sheath.

"You really thought I'd just stand here and let you use your trump card?" he said, his tone carrying a faint trace of amusement.

He stepped closer, inspecting the sheer size of the creature.

"Up close, it's even bigger than I thought," he mused. "I can't wait to try some pork fried rice and pork chops from this thing. With all that vitality, its meat should be incredibly rich. And this flower..." He glanced at the green bloom still glowing faintly atop the severed head. "I wonder if it's edible too."

Feng Xin crouched and ran his hand over the babirusa's hide before shaking his head.

"Well, no need to rush. I'll carve it up later."

With a wave of his hand, he stored the babirusa's body and head, along with the remains of the Rapid Snapper Cottonmouth and the Iron Shot Frog, into his storage ring.

Turning toward the deeper parts of the swamp, his sharp gaze focused on the spot where a faint trail of blood vanished into the thick undergrowth.

"As for that Green Flash Viper..." Feng Xin's lips curved into a smirk.

"It's quick-witted, I'll give it that. Didn't even bother to fight—just fled the moment it realized things were hopeless. With instincts like that, the Green Fog Swamp Sect might want to keep an eye on it. But with that injury to its eye, it won't be making any moves for a while."

Satisfied, Feng Xin shifted his focus to the last creature—the Corroding Heron—which hung limply against a tree, its wings pinned by two crystal white leaves. Its faint breaths rattled weakly as Feng Xin approached, his expression calm yet predatory.

Feng Xin tilted his head as he gazed at the corroding heron slumped over, his expression thoughtful.

"Can this thing even be eaten?" he muttered, rubbing his chin. "I'll have to ask Yang Qing to try it with me. He's the only one I know with the same level of poison resistance. But how do we even cook something like this? I doubt the chefs will know how to prepare it—or even agree to."

After a brief pause, Feng Xin shook his head and summoned a thin strand of sword qi to his fingertip. With a flick, it pierced through the heron's skull, ending its faint struggles instantly. Without wasting another moment, he stored the body in his ring before turning to the next target—the ice-beaked egret.

He approached the massive block of ice encasing the egret and pressed his right palm against it. White mist began to rise as the ice dissolved, melting away layer by layer until the creature's stiff body slumped to the ground. Feng Xin swiftly stored it as well before walking toward the last living creature—the mirage dragonfly.

The dragonfly was encased in a cone of ice, its translucent wings frozen mid-motion. Feng Xin placed his palm on the frosted surface, and just like before, the ice turned to mist, carrying the leaf shards with it. The mirage dragonfly collapsed to the ground, too weak to even lift its wings.

Feng Xin crouched beside it, placing his palms lightly on its sleek body. Wisps of white mist began seeping out of the dragonfly and into his hands. Gradually, its wings started to twitch, faint at first but growing steadier as strength returned to its body.

Spirit beasts were renowned for their resilience, and the mirage dragonfly was no exception. Within moments, it gathered enough energy to rise shakily, its large compound eyes fixed warily on Feng Xin. Towering over him at nearly 20 meters tall, it dwarfed the human in size, yet it lowered its head submissively, trembling all the while.

Whether the trembling was from the lingering cold or sheer terror, Feng Xin couldn't be sure.

"You heard what I said before," he said calmly, straightening to his full height. "Will you come with me?"

The mirage dragonfly's response was so swift it startled him. It bobbed its massive head up and down in rapid succession, nodding so fervently that Feng Xin briefly worried it might snap its own neck.

"Alright, alright," Feng Xin said, raising a hand to calm it. "I get it. No need to break your neck agreeing with me."

He turned, his tone shifting back to business. "I'm heading to the west side of this swamp. I'm in a hurry, so try to keep up."

Feng Xin spared the mirage dragonfly one last glance before dashing forward, his figure blurring as he resumed his journey toward the Green Fog Swamp Sect.

He had briefly considered riding the dragonfly, but after seeing its battered state, he quickly dismissed the idea. It was in no condition to carry him—better to rely on his own speed than risk being slowed down.

Without hesitation, Feng Xin surged ahead, leaving the disoriented mirage dragonfly behind. It lingered for a moment, its wings twitching still looking disoriented. But when Feng Xin's silhouette began to fade from view, it jolted into motion, forcing itself to recover as it scrambled to follow him.