Liam sat quietly on the edge of the wooden platform, his gaze drifting sideways.
"There are still four left," he muttered.
To be honest, he didn't have much faith they'd all survive the process.
Not with how delicate it was.
Everything hinged on the state of the eggs. If they weren't in good condition, the chance of a successful transformation plummeted.
The only reason the last one had worked was simple, it was fresh. Likely only a few months old when it was found.
That alone had tipped the scale of success.
Liam exhaled softly, his eyes flashing faintly as he examined the remaining four eggs in silence.
"These… are older," he murmured, brows furrowing.
But he shook his head. If they failed, then so be it. There was no changing what already was.
Rather than brooding, he reached out and picked up the next egg.
He moved with ease, grabbing a small bottle from his storage pouch.
Uncorking it, he popped a Qi-rejuvenating pill into his mouth, just enough to replenish what he'd spent.
Then he focused again.
Not long after.
Boom.
The egg detonated in a quiet burst during the sixty-seventh strand.
No surprise.
Liam shook his head, calmly swept aside the dust, and reached for the next one.
He settled his thoughts, centered his breath and continued.
As expected, it ended the same.
Another muted explosion.
Dust.
Knowing the last two were unlikely to succeed, Liam rose from the floor with a quiet breath and moved toward the door without rush.
His hand hovered over the doorknob, hesitating. But then, he whispered, "Let's see what that fool wants. A friend after all"
He stepped outside, into the quiet night air, and headed across the compound toward Brother Fu's residence.
A few solid knocks later, the door creaked open.
Brother Fu poked his head out, and for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossed his weathered face.
But then the door swung wider.
"Well, look who it is," Fu said, gesturing him inside. "Thought you weren't coming, Old Li."
"I came anyway," Liam replied with a dry smile, stepping in. "Needed to clear my head. Figured food might help."
"Ah," Brother Fu nodded knowingly, stepping aside.
He gave Liam a quick once-over, eyes narrowing playfully. "How many appearance preservation pills have you taken, seriously? You still look exactly like your younger self."
"Probably too many," Liam chuckled, following him through the familiar layout.
The house was built in the same style as his own, broad courtyard, still pond, a tree that shaded one side.
But Fu's place had more life to it.
There were decorations scattered around: wind chimes, clay figurines, little colorful things that made the space feel lived-in.
Inside the main living room, a short wide table sat in the center beneath a blue lantern.
Shelves lined the walls, packed with trinkets and wooden boxes. A soft couch leaned against one side.
The two men sat across from each other, facing the spread of dishes already set on the table.
Judging by the state of the food, it had been laid out for quite a while.
Liam raised a brow, rolling up his sleeves as he glanced at Fu. "You waited?"
"I did," Brother Fu answered with a small grin. "My wife cooked all of it. I might've hyped you up a little too much."
"I see," Liam's eyes flickered, a small smile forming as he picked up a wooden spoon and pulled a dish closer.
He took a sip of the soup, and paused. His expression softened, eyes glinting.
"It's good."
"Of course it is," Brother Fu beamed, grabbing food for himself without ceremony.
"Mortal food or not, this taste never leaves the tongue."
"Mortal cuisine, huh…" Liam muttered, chewing thoughtfully. "Your wife is mortal?"
Fu scratched his temple, letting out a small sigh. "Yeah. I know."
"I didn't say anything," Liam shrugged. "But you know what that means."
"I do," Fu nodded slowly. "But love's… blind."
"It is."
They shared a quiet stretch of time, the silence between them seasoned with decades of old camaraderie.
Then Liam's voice broke through.
"Your daughter?"
There was a pause.
Brother Fu slowly set down his spoon, the soft clink tapping against the bowl's edge. "I… I'm still trying to find someone suitable."
"How much?"
The directness of the question made Fu choke. He reached for the cup beside him, taking a quick gulp, and wiped his mouth.
"Two thousand?"
"Not enough," Liam replied without pause.
Fu's face sank. A long breath escaped his lungs. "You knew already, didn't you?"
"Well, if those two hadn't been hiding behind that door…" Liam let the rest hang in the air.
Sure enough, a hurried shuffle echoed from the back room.
Brother Fu's face twitched at the sound, but he said nothing.
Moments later, a woman and a young girl stepped cautiously into the room. Both looked far younger than they actually were, but Liam's gaze was sharp.
The woman had obviously consumed a good number of appearance-preserving pills. Her bone age placed her well past sixty.
The girl… Liam's eyes narrowed.
Her constitution was terrible. Weak. Fragile. He could tell at a glance.
Even with a suitable spiritual core, she wouldn't survive the transformation process.
"She won't make it," he said plainly. "Her body's too weak. Even if the core's compatible, she'll die during the procedure."
"But"
Fu's voice cracked. "That only applies to low-level, first-grade puppet masters. You… you're different."
Liam raised a brow, genuinely surprised. "And what makes you say that?"
"The risks are great... Too great"
"I don't know," Brother Fu said, setting down his spoon for good.
He turned to glance at his wife and daughter, an apologetic, heavy look in his eyes. "It's just… a feeling."
"I see."
Liam exhaled and studied the girl again. Then he closed his eyes.
When he opened them, they were clear and cold.
"How much are you willing to sacrifice?"
Brother Fu's voice came without hesitation, lips tight. "Everything."
"For a mortal wife… and a mortal daughter?"
"Yes."
Liam didn't reply right away.
He sat still, weighing risk and reward in his mind, letting the silence stretch.
"You understand there's still a chance she dies, no matter how much you prepare?"
"It's either that…" Brother Fu reached for his robes and pulled back his left shoulder, exposing a patch of twisted, darkened flesh spiraling down his chest. "…Or this."
Liam's eyes darkened.
"Taboo marks," he muttered, fingers tapping quietly against the edge of the table.
The woman went pale at the sight, but said nothing.
Mortals knew better than to speak in the presence of an immortal monk.
That was simply how the world worked.
Taboo marks weren't common, but they weren't exactly rare either. They came from creatures cursed by the heavens, remnants of judgment twisted into flesh.
Whether human or beast, once afflicted, they ceased to be what they were.
What remained was something else entirely, something mindless, ravenous, a hollow shell driven by hunger and slaughter.
A cursed hunger for flesh, for blood, for ruin.
And once touched by their mark, the body would begin to wither, decay setting in like rot crawling through a dying tree.
It came fast.
Unforgiving.
Most wouldn't last long.
And even in death… it wouldn't end there.
"By the rules," Liam spoke flatly, eyes never blinking, "I should kill you on the spot."
"And I should also kill your wife and daughter"
"There's a chance they might be affected already"
Hearing this, the two pair of mother and daughter paled instantly, trembling.
However, Brother Fu let out a dry laugh, pulling his clothes back up and hiding the mark again. "And yet you won't. You're cruel, sure… decisive too, but only to those you don't care about."
"Tch." Liam clicked his tongue and waved a hand dismissively. "Then bring the spiritual core. Lay her down on the table. But listen well, if anything happens to your daughter, I'm not responsible."
"As for you!"
Liam paused...
"Make sure to get out of the city before the times come. Kill yourself before anyone else kill you first"
"G-Great!" Brother Fu's voice cracked in his excitement as he called for his daughter. "Come, child, lie here."
The girl hesitated, trembling, but her mother stepped in gently, guiding her forward with soft hands.
One by one, the dishes, plates, and spoons were cleared from the table until nothing remained but the cold wood beneath her small frame.
She lay across it with her eyes shut tight, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
Her mother stood quietly to the side, head low, shoulders bowed. Mortals knew better.
In the presence of an immortal, there were rules, unspoken, but absolute.
Soon, Brother Fu returned with a softly glowing crystal in hand.
Liam's gaze shifted to it, and at a glance, he recognized it.
A low-grade spiritual core.
It wasn't much, but enough.
Commonly used for weapon forging, talisman crafting, even puppet creation.
Rarely, monks employed them to grant mortals a substitute spiritual root, an artificial spark of cultivation, however weak.
It was trash by monk standards.
But for a mortal, it was still a chance.
Her mother was aged. She wouldn't last many more winters. Her father, dying and cursed, wouldn't stay long either.
Liam could see it all from a glance. Their desperation.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, accepting the glowing core from Fu's hand and inspecting it.
It wasn't bad, actually, better than expected.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, voice low.
"A fluke in the Great Wilderness," Fu chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Almost cost me my life."
"You really are a fool," Liam muttered, casting a sideways glance at the woman nearby.
Then sighed. "A damn fool of an immortal."
"I am! I'm a great fool!" Fu barked a laugh, eyes bright. "But it was worth it!"
"Tch" Liam snorted, and proceeded with the transformation process.
The procedure wasn't difficult. For someone like Liam, someone already at the early second grade of the puppet master path, it was effortless.
As natural as eating and breathing.
It was just to melt the spiritual core into her body, and placed it there to act as a fake spiritual root.
An hour passed.
Then, slowly, the girl sat up on the table. Her eyes fluttered open, wide and unsteady.
She brought her hands to her face, touching her cheeks, her shoulders, her chest. The warmth of life still pulsed through her.
She blushed faintly, stealing small glances at Liam. "T-thank you, senior."
Liam simply waved a hand. His gaze slid over to the couple standing nearby, both beaming with joy.
Their smiles were the kind only parents could wear when watching a miracle unfold.
His own expression didn't change.
"Payment," he said coldly.
"Of course, of course!" Brother Fu was already moving, digging into his storage and pulling out bag after bag, offering them like tribute.
Liam took the storage bags into his hands. One by one, he scanned the contents, and his brow lifted slightly.
Fifty thousand low-grade spiritual stones. Dozens of rare-tier one materials. A spiritual weapon, a peak-quality tier one sword.
Without a doubt, this was his entire fortune, he gave them all for his mortal daughter.
Some men would've returned part of it. Said something generous. Claimed they didn't need that much.
But Liam wasn't that kind of man.
He wasn't a hero. Nor a villain.
He was simply himself.
So he kept it all.
Without blinking. Without softening.
Not a single word of thanks left his mouth. Just silence, and the soft rustle of storage bags disappearing into his robes.