Chapter 81: Anyway, everyone is different

Anyway, everyone is different.

Fu Guang, aided by the potion's effect, quickly and perfectly used her mental power to draw silk from cocoon, bit by bit stripping the essence from the stems and leaves of the freshly harvested medicinal grass.

A fresh purple medicinal herb as long as an arm instantly lost moisture and began to wilt.

Fu Guang then took out several similarly withered stalks of medicinal herb, rolled them in her hand into a black pill, put it in her mouth, chewed expressionlessly, and swallowed.

Although they had lost their medicinal value, they could still stave off hunger.

This was Fu Guang's habit when she was weak; when she was still weak, everything seemed expensive, let alone alchemy, which is notorious for burning money.

Although the sect provides disciples of alchemy with a batch of medicinal herbs, they still have to turn them in on time, so they can barely save anything from between their fingernails.

If this batch of alchemy fails, well.

The medicinal herbs aren't cheap; with the disciples' stipend at that time, buying them leaves almost nothing left.

Before Fu Guang reached the stage of inedia, after immersing herself in alchemy she grew hungry; looking at the processed herbs, she thought it wouldn't hurt to taste them, and they actually tasted not bad.

After that, no trace of the medicinal herbs could be seen; the disciples in the sect always thought Fu Guang wasted too much in alchemy, not even storing the dregs.

Fu Guang recalled the past, remembering how she once cultivated a physique invulnerable to all things, but at eighteen, by physique alone, she could press down and hammer her present self.

Lan Qian also didn't know when she would be able to come up from the Cold Spring.

The potion's effect gradually faded, and drowsiness welled up again.

Fu Guang took a piece from her space, deep red and still reeking of blood, beast meat.

Blood threads floated up from the fresh beast meat in the water; Fu Guang crouched, pressing with her fingertips to send it into the Cold Spring.

But after only a brief moment, when she picked it up again, the fresh beast meat was covered in red ice crystals, and.........

Fu Guang pursed her fingers, crushing the near-black transparent crystals into heavy salt.

Xi Guang stood behind her, brow furrowed, somewhat displeased with the guide's action.

She seemed only to think of their existence when she herself was doing something strenuous.

But as a sentinel, one should clear thorns and cut through all difficulties for one's guide; how could everything rely on the guide reaching out?

However, Xi Guang still said nothing.

Following the guide's orders is also one of the sentinel's codes of conduct.

Besides bioluminescent creatures, the deep seabed is a pitch‑black expanse, almost always the same, making it impossible to judge the passage of time.

Fu Guang could only silently count in her heart to judge the passage of time.

She hoped no nearby creature would alter her perception and cause her count to go wrong.

Fu Guang, fingering the silver ring on her little finger, thought, and drew from her bosom a warm, glowing little sprite.

If the little sprite didn't also have a soothing effect, she couldn't have lasted this long; she placed her head on the sprite's shoulder, closed her eyes, and rested a moment.

The white halo atop the little sprite's head glowed in the dim seabed like a lamp, an angelic innate talent that soothed the girl's tense spirit and her stamina, which was nearing its limit.

The girl's face had lost color, her lips were pale, a shadow lay beneath her eyes, and her crouched form swayed slightly.

Xi Guang appeared indifferent, standing to one side, unfolding one wing and releasing its defenses so the unfolded wing could support the weak girl.

The outer side of the wing felt icy cold, like the blade of Xi Guang's longsword in her hand; Fu Guang still had a free hand to tap the wing in front of her.

Xi Guang looked down; the girl's curiosity was strong, and although she had previously had the leisure to inspect his feathers during battle, it seemed to run counter to Fu Guang's cautious behavior.

Fu Guang spared a thought; unlike what she expected, the feathers that looked metallic were actually somewhat soft.

The numbers in her mind kept jumping; an incense stick's worth of time passed, and she didn't know how much longer Lan Qian would need.

Before she began alchemy, she still needed at least the time of an incense stick to recover her energy.

The Illusory Medicine itself is not low‑grade; with her current strength, it's still hard to produce a finished product, and what the finished product would look like or what effects it would have are still uncertain.

However, at least it can guarantee half the efficacy of a finished product.

There's much to do; after finishing the medicine, she still has to go to the Sea Pit, and there are vague dangers that might appear at any time.

The girl's breathing was shallow, as if she had fallen asleep; her breath fell on the little sprite's feathers, making Xi Guang's shoulder feel a little itchy.

Actually, the physique Fu Guang displayed already far surpasses that of a B‑rank Guide.

He had once taken on an escort mission for a low‑rank Guide, and low‑rank Guides tire easily.

Guides, because their mental power is active, easily pick up information from the surroundings; low‑rank Guides cannot filter it, so the flood of data only wastes their mental energy, making them tire quickly.

It's like passing a tree where a bird is chirping.

After walking away, the Guide can perfectly recreate what the tree looked like, how the little bird perched when they passed, what sound it made, and the exact tone of its call.

Even if asked half a month later, it remains the same.

A newly differentiated low‑rank Guide will, for as short as three months or as long as two to three years, fundamentally be unable to sleep soundly.

Because there's simply too much going on in the mind, the spirit never stops analyzing, making the brain spin ever more vigorously; although exhausted, they simply cannot fall asleep.

This also makes high‑rank Guides all detectives; trying to hide something from their sight is futile unless they simply don't care or pretend not to see, for nothing can conceal their spiritual forms.

Spiritual forms are more intuitive than their masters; the masters might miss them due to experience or convention, but the spiritual forms see everything.

Also unknown whether Fu Guang's egg has hatched.

A B‑rank Guide's spiritual form happens to be an unhatched egg, which is actually quite strange.

Looking over the history since Guides and Sentinels appeared, no one's spiritual form has ever been an egg.

Actually, Fu Guang possesses many peculiarities; upon closer inspection, she hardly seems like a Federation person born in an orphanage.

But right now, he is Fu Guang's guardian sentinel, not the Federation's executive chief.

Moreover, the Federation also has statutes.

Taking the guide as the first principle of action is exactly what a sentinel ought to do.

What's wrong with being different? Who is the same anyway? Anyway, everyone in this world is different.

Xi Guang shifted her wings slightly, moving gently behind her to wrap the girl inside the inner side of her wings. The little sprite also unfolded its wings, covering Fu Guang's eyes, letting her sleep soundly for a while.

For a moment, the vicinity of the Cold Spring grew calm; nearby, a dark current murmured, sea grass swayed and parted the water, and far off a long whale song rang out, like an ancient melody being played alone in the belly of the sea.