Yung waited a moment to ready his nerves, then his finger flicked out, severing the threads that bound him to Lord Yaoguai with a sharp snap. The threads were surprisingly strong, almost as if made of steel, but they yielded to his touch like soft silk. As they broke apart into two neat pieces, a feeling of finality settled over Yung. The process seemed simple, and merciful to the souls involved as no pain was felt. A slight flutter of xinqi vanished from his dantian.

Immediately, Yung noticed the change. Lord Yaoguai dimmed as though someone had set his opacity slider to thirty percent.

The critter jumped up. It panicked, cooed, cried, and flew around the room like a lost bee.

Yung measured the xinqi consumption and waited a few minutes, matching the rate with yesterday’s test results.

This link he cut would re-establish automatically after an hour, and the xinqi cost was minuscule each time he severed the thread. But after each time a split thread re-connected, he’d have to wait a while before cutting it again. He’d tried, but it was impossible with even half his total xinqi. Like a cooldown timer he could not hack.

With active xinqi manipulation, though, and if the thread hadn’t automatically re-connected again, Yung could keep it intentionally severed for half an hour more. But the xinqi cost rose exponentially the longer the thread remained severed.

He had been too afraid to test it. Qi depletion was ugly, and he still had shivers from that one time two years ago. But hard men needed to do hard things. Yung felt like crap, but a good night's sleep and a belly full of qi-rich meat (courtesy of the hotel manager, or rather, Su Nanya) solved that problem.

Today, he lasted perhaps a few seconds longer. It was hard to measure with a spitting headache and counting the seconds by mouth. But it felt longer.

So maybe the duration increases with more zhenqi…

When cultivating lingqi, Yung was at the 1st stage of qi refining. With the amount of xinqi Lord Yaoguai shared with him and judging by his own zhenqi capacity, he was in the 3rd stage of the faith refining realm, the analogous realm for shen cultivators. With another push, he could break through from the early stages (1st stage to 3rd stage) to the median stages (4th stage to 6th stage).

Speaking of which,

Lord Yaoguai had hidden under a pillow, sniffing softly.

Yung caught the snapped thread from the trembling foxmoth and willed xinqi into it. There, connection re-established.

“Okay, no more tests today. I promise. You want fruit? Look, grapes. Yum~” Yung coddled the foxmoth sulking on his palm. He fed it a large purple grape, and the foxmoth seemed to forget he was angry at Yung just five seconds ago. Truly like his youngest niece. So bright yet so attached. So quick to cry and so fast to forgive.

Yung decided he liked Lord Yaoguai.

It’s not like he enjoyed spooking the critter out with his abilities, but Yung would have to get the hang of them if he wanted to resist if the Youjin clan decided to use force. Under the current patriarch, Yung doubted they would be so extreme. But, there was a reason Lord Yaoguai severed ties with that partially prejudiced family, and Yung wouldn’t simply hand this adorable critter over to them.

For now, his abilities seem to only work on living things.

Read how others feel about him, sever the connection they have for a stealth effect, and rejoin the threads again intentionally. These were the three primary abilities he had tested. There was one more. If he channelled xinqi into an existing thread, whatever that person felt towards Yung would amplify.

It was scary, almost like mind control. And the bigoted hotel worker who served Yung a half-eaten half-spat-on dinner two nights ago would never forget it for the rest of his life. Yung did not want to test it on Lord Yaoguai without explicit permission, which the critter did not give him.

He had no idea how to actively process xinqi into zhenqi yet to progress his cultivation base, other than being poked by Su Nanya. What xinqi was even; he only knew the basics. Yung was a lingqi cultivator, or a spirit cultivator of five years, albeit a bad one.

And there was that—the elephant in the room. Cultivation was a thing.

“Chinese names. Fox girls. And qi. Entitled martial art clans where elders look for face. I’m in an eastern fantasy.” Yung had created this hypothesis in the last few days. He had enough evidence to prove it. “Why, though? I wouldn’t say I like this sort of novel. What were they called, wuxia? Xianxia?”

The last time he read one of them was a decade ago. Too much Gary Stu, power fantasies without character or morals. Yet here he was.

Improbable.

Moira probably did it. Or was it the Tang dynasty setting of the VR world? Maybe another reason the bone-god creature was called over was that the VR world setting also resembled its home universe.

“They are as real to us as the fictional world of Star Wars.” Moira had said. If Star Wars could be real in some non-Gaia theoretical unreality, why couldn’t a Chinese fantasy?

I should’ve read more of them when I had the chance. It was no use regretting now. Yung rarely ever finished this kind of web fiction when he did read them. They spanned thousands of chapters with either nothing happening or the same thing happening on repeat. Most were badly machine translated, and the ones written by Western authors went on hiatus more often than not. He remembered some familiar tropes, but other than that, empty.

“It would be much easier if this was Star Wars. Right, Lord Yaoguai? I could be a genre-savvy hero or something.” The critter ignored him and continued devouring a blue pear thing.

Yung got up and looked out the window. The hotel oversaw the central market square of Dim gold city. The Youjin clan owned it. Most of the market square was also owned by them. He could even see the clan’s jade slip store, where he worked seven to five every day. If this were Star Wars, the Youjin clan would be some local regiment of the Galactic Empire. Would he enjoy that life more?

“Speaking of Star Wars.” Yung thought back on Su Nanya’s bombshell attire. “We have a Princess Leia in a bikini slave-dress when she was held captive by Jabba the Hut. Would I be Han Solo?”

A wanted outlaw? No place to call home? Danger for breakfast and death for dinner?

No thanks!

“I’d probably be C-3PO.” Yung looked at Lord Yaoguai. “And you can be R2-D2.”

That means I think I am one of the main characters. Yung got apprehensive.

The Jung inside of him shot back. Why not? I transmigrated. We are important people.

I’d rather stay away from all that trouble. It’s how I survived, being a madlander half.

Have some confidence, me! I should teach ourselves how to begin self-compassionate meditation. We really need to take up that habit again rather than wasting meditation time on magic tricks.

Okay. But magic tricks run this world. It will keep me alive. Loving-kindness will get me killed.

Let’s do both?

Both.

Yung scrunched up his nose and corrected his previous conclusion. Jung and Yung did not merge seamlessly. Some clinks remained that he would need to smooth. It was a working process.

“No, Lord Yaoguai! I can’t pay for the damages.” The dumb land god ate part of the table under the pear while Yung was lost in his thoughts.

The foxmoth rolled over showing his fuzzy belly. He then paused and flew up to Yung's nose. The critter mewled; the serious look on his face meant there was something important to discuss.

“Kii!” Lord Yaoguai chirped.

“Your name? Isn’t it Lord Yaoguai? Everyone calls you that.”

The foxmoth made some angry gurgles, then stomped its tail on the wood repeatedly. Yung concentrated on the thoughts the critter passed him. These weren’t done by reading the golden thread but by their soul contract.

“Fluff? No, Silk Fluff? Fluffed Silk… Fluffy Silk? Silky? Which is it?” The thoughts were incomplete. Centuries of lazy living did not give Lord Yaoguai a good telepathic vocabulary. It would be so much easier if he could at least talk or write letters.

“So the adults called you Fluffy Silk, and the children called you Silky. Okay, Silky it is then.” Because I am fifteen, still a teen.

Yung did not choose the latter because it had one less syllable, no sir.

Still, it was a peculiar and lazy name. Figures. According to Silky, it was a nickname given by the children of the first settlers of the then-Dim gold settlement.

Though it certainly had that ‘awww~’ factor.

Yung smiled and cupped the critter in his palm and brought Silky up to his eye level. “Nice to meet you, Silky. I’m Yung. Let’s get along, shall we?”

Silky was happy. He booped Yung’s nose with a cute squeak.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The transmigrated teen spent the rest of the day playing with his new friend. But not hide and seek. Silky hated that game.

***

“Make your way to my lady’s quarters.” The expressionless fox maid wore a classical hanfu today. After saying her piece, she left without further explanation.

But a loud gurgle from Yung’s stomach stopped her in her tracks.

“Take lunch first.”

Yung nodded and slowly closed the door, looking at her receding figure vanishing with the closing crack. Silky crawled out from under the bed, climbing up Yung’s robe.

“Should we wait for the waitstaff to come up with our food?”

Silky rolled over. Yung looked out the window. He had skipped breakfast. Lunch was yet hours away.

Should I go down?

No! Room safe. No bullies or monsters.

Yung checked all his valuables; they would all fit in a tiny pouch. Five Westmoon gold coins, some change, letters and paper scraps, and a few jade slips from the shop.

He opened the door again, resolute. There was a restaurant downstairs he had wanted to visit.

After all, what’s the worse that could happen?

***

Bullies, that’s what.

Or the grandkid of the elder that tried to frame Yung as a thief.

"Well, if it isn't the cripple." Youjin Hong's bullish voice rang out. It was like a dull cattle ramming into a tree. Its deep, gruff timbre reverberated through the stairwell like a fat ghost crying for pastry. Ugly enough to spook the life out of Yung the moment he set foot down the stairs.

Both adjectives suited Youjin Hong well.

“What brings you here on this fine spring day? Shouldn’t you be out and about with your madlander coterie? Why ruin the mood here.” The bully said.

Yung frowned. He wasn’t the target. But,

Madlander…

The restaurant took up the whole ground and first floors of this hotel. Yung lived on the second floor, so he'd be bombarded with the tantalising aroma every day. The food the hotel staff brought him was good, but it did not do the aroma from downstairs justice.

This place; it had variety—a vast panoramic expanse with large windows on all sides. Many a man and woman sat, ate, and made merry. All were ren, like Yung; the yao of the fox clan mostly ate on the upper levels where Su Nanya lived. The waitstaff scurried between all the patrons taking orders and dropping off bowls on trays.

At the far end of the second floor was a balcony overlooking the market square. The tables set there were meant for the more luxurious company. Not private, those cabins were elsewhere.

Yet Youjin Hong did not care about any of that. After all, he was the grandson.

The fat mountain of a boy lumbered onto the table, causing it to groan and creak in protest. As he propped his size 13 boots on a chair, he snorted derisively and sneered menacingly at his target.

Who Yung recognised.

Youjin Chao.

“No doubt he’s here to stalk on the Mistress and Young Master Duan.” Another Youjin boy said.

Youjin Hong laughed at that. “Give it up, Chao. That sham engagement was already over a year ago. Chasing her now makes you look like a sore loser.”

Boisterous laughter rang out. Many patrons sent him annoyed glances but were too afraid to speak out.

Yung sat down and ordered a fish head roast and fish stock rice. The wait staff gave him a curious look but continued without comment.

At least not everyone is scum. I wish I had a cellphone to record all this. If this were Gaia, Youjin Hong would be cancelled in—

He had one. Not a cellphone, but a sound capturing token. After all, Yung spent most days carving various kinds of talismans and tokens at the jade slip shop.