Chapter 88: Black Beach Island
The light behind his eyes faded, leaving a warm double-thrum in his chest.
In his mental awareness of his own abilities, Twin Heart no longer felt like a single thread pulling two things together; it felt like two threads braided, tighter and faster than before.
But that didn’t matter to Kian. The question was whether the old ceiling on what he could fuse had improved or not.
Mia turned back to the cutting board, sleeves pushed high. "You’ve got that phased look again."
She didn’t ask. She started slicing the melon into precise little moons. "By the way, Jia was muttering something about flying and stuff. Though, I couldn’t understand her. Do you know what she’s been talking about?"
"Yeah, I’ll tell you later."
Kian grinned and kissed her shoulder. "We barely had time for ourselves recently."
"Oh, so you noticed." Mia nudged him with her elbow. "Go wash your face. You smell like spilled wine and poor decisions."
Kian stole a melon slice from the board and ate it as he left. The bathroom door was still closed, water splashing softly behind it. So, he did not have access to Xiao Cui anyway and he was in no rush.
It was, for now, time to go test out his new level up.
But for that, Kian needed a lot of Spirit Stones and he had a great plan as to how he could get it.
Kian left the house through the main door and dropped onto an upturned crate behind the lemon tree.
He closed his eyes and found the puppet bond like a taut string at the back of his skull.
Kian pulled the string.
The fatty puppet’s head snapped up.
Standing up, it turned, slipped through the grand door, and moved into a bigger room without a sound.
Through its eyes, the rooms passed in flickers, and Kian guided it toward the room it owned.
This was where Zhang Wu kept all his money.
The puppet climbed through a back window and crouched. Its fingers found the loose board under the bed, pried it up, and pulled out a leather pouch fat with low-grade spirit stones.
"Rich people really are rich," he muttered.
Kian made it tuck the pouch into its robe, then move next door to the house where his Uncle Zhang Baole lived.
The puppet raised its fist and knocked twice.
"Uncle, I need some spirit stones," it said in a flat tone.
In a few moments, the matter there was also settled. After that, Kian just made the puppet walk to his home.
By the time Kian opened his eyes, the gate creaked.
Feimei was standing outside and upon seeing the fatty, her guard was perked up.
Kian appeared beside her. "Don’t worry, he is my servant."
The puppet crossed the courtyard with steps that looked almost natural, then stopped in front of Kian and bowed so low its forehead nearly touched the stone.
Kian took the leather pouch and the cloth sack. He weighed them in his hands, a thin smile cutting through the strategic plans.
"Is that money?" Feimei asked, curious.
"Yes."
"How much is it?"
"I have a feeling it contains at least 20,000 spirit stones. Let’s count later."
Whatever the case, it was enough to test Twin Heart properly, and maybe enough to make the next leap without any worries.
Kian threw the pouches into his home and looked at the fatty again.
"Come, now let’s go check out your map’s situation."
Feimei glanced from the bowing puppet to Kian, red eyes narrowing slightly. "Already? You don’t waste a single breath, do you?"
She was quite impressed, finding him talented and capable. "That’s a good habit," she said. "You better keep that."
"You make sure I do," Kian pocketed his hands. "Anyway. Let’s go."
She didn’t argue with that. Wordlessly, she followed him inside the house and toward her room, the skin-map still spread across the low table like a wound waiting to open.
The fatty trailed behind them, face blank, and then Feimei put a hand on Kian’s arm. "What’s the plan?"
Kian took her hand. "Once we’re in, you let it walk first. The moment anything looks wrong, we pull the thought and leave it there. Agreed?"
"Agreed." She nodded with a sigh. "Hold on tight. Let’s enter."
The world folded.
They appeared back in the Black Beach Island.
Black sand crunched under their feet.
The same blue sky burned overhead, and the sea pounded against the island’s edges like a distant war. Kian didn’t waste time. He pulled Feimei into his arms and launched upward, dragging the fatty by his collar.
They cleared the cliff and landed on the green slope above.
Nothing had changed in the time they were gone other than the sky and time.
The hut sat below, quiet in the dying light of the valley.
Kian pointed at it with his chin, throwing the fatty towards it. "Go."
The fatty obeyed, head low, steps slow and even.
Kian and Feimei watched from the cliffside as it crossed the grass and drew closer to the lonely little hut, its straw roof pale as old bone.
They were prepared to leave any time.
The fatty crossed the meadow with the sun sinking at its back, each step pressing into the grass. The hut waited just infront of him, its straw roof pale and its door shut so tight it looked like the mouth of a held breath.
The iron ring hung still, dark as a dead eye.
Fifteen paces. Ten.
The puppet slowed, then stopped. Its head tilted toward the door, and for a second Kian became nervous.
The fatty lifted its arm. It touched the door.
Nothing happened.
He pushed the door open.
Its hand hung in the air a full three heartbeats. Nothing happened.
Kian let his awareness slide behind the fatty’s eyes and looked at the house from his POV.
The hut swam into focus, thin and gray, and the world through the puppet’s senses felt slightly muted, like looking through a dirty window.
Cobwebs sagged from the low rafters in thick, fuzzy sheets. Dust swirled in the weak light that leaked through the open door, disturbed by the fatty’s entrance.
The air inside smelled ancient and dry, like a room that had not known breath in a hundred years.
’What’s inside?’
At the center of the hut stood a round water tank, its wooden lid cracked but sealed shut. Beside it sat a low table, and on that table were two boxes, small and plain, both shut.
The boxes were the only things in the room that looked clean. No dust on them. No cobwebs. Just two dark rectangles waiting on the wood like offerings.
Kian made the fatty step closer, scanning the corners for hidden arrays or tension in the walls. Nothing.
Its shoulder tore through the cobwebs first. Dust lifted in a thick silver cloud, then plastered itself against the fatty’s face and arms. It did not blink. It did not slow.
The floorboards gave a small, dry sigh under its weight.
Kian forced his puppet to take another step, then another, until its shadow fell across the table and swallowed both black boxes.
It reached out and closed its fat fingers around the lid of the first box. The wood was cool and smooth, and when its knuckles brushed the seam, nothing ran up the fatty’s arm.
Kian held his breath. The box did not spring open.
"Good, open the box."
The lid came free with a dry scrape. Dust puffed out from the seam, thick and gray, before settling across the fatty’s knuckles.
Inside, the box was packed with thin sheets of paper, each one tied with a pale green ribbon. They smelled like old herbs and candle smoke.
Kian stared through the puppet’s eyes. The writing on the sheets wasn’t any script he knew.
Jagged hooks and spiraling tails pressed into the fibers like black insects that had died mid-writhe. He made the fatty lift the top sheet toward the weak light.
Still nothing he could parse.
He let it drop and had the creature dig deeper into the box, searching for anything other than letters. Its thick fingers shifted layer after layer aside, checking beneath the stack and along the bottom edges.
No jade slip, no pill, no hidden key. Just letter after letter, all in the same language.
Kian clicked his tongue.
Beside him on the cliffside, Feimei leaned close, voice low against the wind. "What’s in there?"
Kian didn’t turn. "Letters. A whole box of them, and I can’t read a single word." He made the fatty shake the box, then tip it upside down over the table. Dust rained out. Nothing else. "First box had no trap. No hidden bottom. Just old mail."
Feimei’s eyes lit up. "I can read a lot of languages, perhaps I know it."
Kian nodded.
He exhaled through his nose and let the puppet set the box back down.
The second one sat there, clean and closed, waiting like a second locked mouth.
Kian’s focus slid to it. "Now that one," he murmured, "let’s see what is in it."