"Um, Sister Beatrice, I might not be coming home tonight..." Flandre said into the phone in a soft, small voice.
"Huh~~~?!"
A second later, an explosive, shocked screech erupted from Beatrice on the other end of the line.
"What's going on?!" Beatrice demanded. She knew Flandre wasn't the kind of unruly child who would randomly stay out late for no reason, so there had to be a specific explanation.
Flandre patiently explained that a group of Sarkaz refugees were attempting to settle near Lungmen's border.
"So that's what this is about," Beatrice grumbled, her voice easing slightly. "I heard a rumor about that during the day, but isn't that Pink Sausage Dragon, Ch'en, handling it? Why did you get dragged along too?"
Flandre cast a quick glance at Ch'en sitting by the campfire, then described how Ch'en needed her assistance to gauge whether the refugees harbored underlying hostility.
"I see. That Sausage Dragon sure knows how to boss people around," Beatrice huffed, her tone turning warm and fussy. "Well, make sure you stay safe out there in the wastes. Don't sit outside the tent too long once the temperature drops—catching a cold out in the wild is miserable!"
Beatrice nagged for another minute before finally hanging up.
Flandre let out a long breath of relief. She had been bracing herself for a stern lecture, but it turned out Beatrice was simply worried about her catching a chill in the night air.
Just as Flandre put her communicator away, Ch'en's phone rang nearby.
Ch'en pulled out her device, saw "Beatrice" flashing across the screen, and her face immediately twisted into a look of absolute disgust. Without even guessing, Ch'en knew precisely what kind of earful was waiting for her.
She declined the call without hesitation.
A second later, the phone buzzed again. Ch'en swiped decline once more.
Just like that, the two played a stubborn game of "you call, I reject" for ten full minutes before Flandre's phone rang a second time.
"Turn on the speakerphone right now and let that Sausage Dragon answer!" Beatrice roared the moment the line connected.
Even through the speaker, Flandre could practically picture Beatrice bristling with rage on the other end.
"Ch'en, you [Lungmen profanity]—"
The instant Flandre switched to speaker, Beatrice launched into a blistering, high-octane barrage of colorful Yan idioms.
Before she could finish her first tirade, Ch'en walked over with a totally expressionless face and pressed the red button, cutting the call off mid-curse.
"Why answer her?" Ch'en said calmly, dusting off her sleeves. "Starting a conversation with dirty words is a terrible habit. Children shouldn't be exposed to that."
Flandre blinked her large red eyes, then quietly slipped the communicator back into her small pouch.
Back in the city villa, Beatrice was so furious at being hung up on twice that she literally rolled around on the living room carpet, jumping up and down in a fit of pure rage. She spent a solid ten minutes hurling creative insults at Ch'en's name before finally stomping off to her bedroom to sleep off her fury.
Patchouli, sitting nearby with a heavy tome, merely curled her lips in mild amusement. Beatrice always tried so hard to project the air of a refined, noble lady, but deep down, her temper was as volatile as a spoiled child's.
Meanwhile, back at the wilderness campsite, Flandre walked over to the edge of the Sarkaz settlement.
The refugees had spotted her approaching from a distance, and Mountain Hammer hurried out from the central tent to greet her.
"Lady Flandre," the leader said respectfully, bowing his head. "Is there anything you require of us?"
Flandre shook her head. "It's not that I need you to do anything, but there's something I have to tell you."
She pointed her finger toward the marshland to the southeast. "Over in that direction, about ten kilometers away on the edge of a swamp, I ran into a group of about fifty Pincerbugs earlier. Sister Ch'en told me to let you know so you can clear them out yourselves."
Mountain Hammer's expression turned instantly grave.
Ten kilometers wasn't particularly far. If their community was going to settle in this basin long-term, that swamp fell squarely within their natural hunting and gathering radius. A Needle Flea Swarm of that size operating so close to their home had to be exterminated immediately.
Exterminated, not merely driven off.
While wasteland arthropods like Pincerbugs were brainless beasts, they were notoriously aggressive and highly territorial. If left unchecked, the bugs would wander toward the basin and ambush elderly refugees or children gathering firewood alone—an absolute disaster for their fragile community.
Fortunately, Pincerbugs weren't entirely useless. Their venom sacs could be refined into hunting toxins or basic medical reagents, their hard chitinous carapaces made decent primitive weapons, and the meat inside their heavy limbs was actually quite flavorful when roasted over a fire (and happened to be Flandre's personal favorite).
Clearing the swarm was a necessary and profitable task, though facing fifty adult Pincerbugs with only a handful of combatants still required careful preparation.
Mountain Hammer bowed deeply, expressing his heartfelt gratitude to Flandre multiple times. If Flandre hadn't spotted the nest during her flight, the swarm might have ambushed their camp unawares, likely costing them several lives. For a tiny refugee community that had barely survived the journey from Kazdel, every single life was precious.
Flandre felt a little embarrassed by his intense gratitude, rubbing her nose before trotting back to Ch'en's side.
Ch'en offered a subtle nod of approval, reaching out to ruffle the girl's golden hair.
Flandre turned around, intending to ask Hong Meiling whether she thought the Sarkaz could handle fifty Pincerbugs on their own, only to find the martial artist already sprawled on a roll of canvas, sleeping soundly.
Flandre walked over and reached out to pinch Meiling's cheek, but before her fingers could make contact, Meiling's eyes snapped open instantly.
"Is something the matter, Second Young Mistress?" Meiling asked brightly, completely alert.
Flandre pulled her hand back, tilting her head in wonder. Just a moment ago, before the phone call with Beatrice, Meiling had been sitting upright and awake, yet she had fallen into a deep slumber in less than two minutes! Could a person really drop off to sleep that fast?
"Of course," Meiling replied proudly, dusting off her uniform. "For a true martial artist, absolute control over one's body is the most basic requirement. Whether it's instantaneously channeling Qi through every muscle or forcing the mind into a dormant state to recover energy, it's all fundamental training. As long as I desire it, I can fall into a deep sleep within ten seconds of lying down, and wake up instantly without a trace of fatigue!"
"So that's how it is!" Flandre clapped her hands together, offering a glowing compliment. "That's why Sister Sakuya could never catch you sleeping on duty at the Scarlet Devil Mansion unless she used her time ability!"
"That is obviously— Wait, no, no, no!" Meiling's eyes widened as she suddenly realized the trap, waving her hands frantically in defense. "I am a dedicated, responsible gatekeeper! Sleeping on the job is completely impossible! Unthinkable!"
Ch'en, who had been tending to the campfire, couldn't help but let out a soft snort. "Why bother denying it, Meiling? It seems like it's not the first or second time Sakuya caught you slacking off. Though I am somewhat curious—if you have 'Qi' to sense your surroundings and can wake up in a millisecond, how did Sakuya manage to catch you in the act?"