Xuekui had met plenty of people by now.
Yet the scene from that day remained carved into his memory.
When he treated the injured in the past, only the patient's family would look tense. But that day, when the crowd clamored for him to save someone, he realized nearly everyone in the settlement had come running to watch.
What flickered in their eyes was a color far too complicated to name—some hope, but more resignation.
Xuekui liked practicing medicine. Even so, the old physician—gentle as he always was—ended up arguing with the one who came seeking help.
After letting out a long sigh, the old man was persuaded in the end. He gestured for Xuekui to go with them.
Even in his eyes… there was a sliver of hope he knew was impossible.
The patient Xuekui saw was an elderly human—so old he seemed more corpse than living. He lay motionless on the bed. If not for the faintest trace of breath, Xuekui would've thought the man was already dead.
When Xuekui poured life force into him, his method failed.
Not because Xuekui made a mistake—his technique was flawless. It was the body itself that rejected the life force.
Or rather… the body could no longer contain life force at all.
Still, the old man was stirred by the influence. He slowly awakened, murmured a few words to his loved ones, then closed his eyes again.
The vitality within him vanished completely.
That was when emotion swelled across the settlement.
It was grief… but not grief for the dead. Xuekui could feel that much.
When white cloth fluttered in front of him, the old physician who'd followed along rubbed Xuekui's head and spoke quietly.
"It isn't your fault. Everyone has their fate. Wounds and illness can be treated—Heaven's law cannot be defied."
Xuekui stared at the old physician's face, lined with age almost as deeply as the man who'd just passed, and couldn't quite understand what he meant.
Nor could he understand where the sorrow came from.
A divine doctor may triumph over injury; a physician may triumph over disease. Only lifespan—before that, both were helpless.
But for a young yaksha, there was still so much to learn.
If he worked hard enough… maybe the list of enemies he couldn't defeat could be reduced by one.
On a bright, cloudless day, Xuekui lay on the roof of Shichen's house with a scroll of cloth the old physician had given him. He basked in the sun, matching the drawings of plants on the cloth to the ones he'd seen in the wild, memorizing the medicinal effects written beside each.
Some he hadn't seen before? He'd deal with those later.
Warm sunlight lulled him into a lazy yawn. Then—
A sudden, heart-lurching warning prickled through him. Xuekui shot upright. An ice spear had already formed in his hand.
Behind him, the familiar dragon-beast stared at him with a flat expression, then glanced at the cloth scraps at his feet. Its deep voice carried a chill.
"These past few days… this is what Guizhong has been teaching you?" Xuekui's gaze sharpened.
Morax watched the white-haired yaksha's hostility in silence. The child's strength had improved… slightly.
But not enough.
When Morax arrived, the first person he met wasn't Xuekui. It was Guizhong.
Besides the customary greeting upon entering her domain, he'd also meant to learn—through her—how the white-haired yaksha had grown.
Instead…
"A divine doctor!?"
"Yes. The little one's been working hard lately—trying to become a proper divine doctor. He's been memorizing plant names and their properties."
Guizhong spoke as if she were proudly showing off.
Morax could only think there had to be something wrong with her head. That was a yaksha.
A gifted yaksha, with outstanding potential.
And you weren't making him learn arts and battle techniques— you were letting him become a physician?
"Have you misunderstood something?"
Hearing the severity in Morax's tone, Guizhong finally sobered. Her voice softened. "He's still little. There's no need to rush."
Guizhong knew perfectly well what path Xuekui should take.
But lately… she couldn't bear to push that stubborn little yaksha away. "Because he's young, this is the best time to shape him. You know that." Pressed by her friend, Guizhong could only sigh and force out a sentence.
"Morax… in times like these… for a child, is becoming strong really a good thing?" "In times like these, being strong isn't always a good thing."
Morax's voice was firm. "But it is always necessary."
"What you lack isn't people who can fit in. What you lack are adepti who can fight."
"Your heart has always been too soft. You even guide humans into music and art—things you deem 'beautiful' but unnecessary. If you can't bring yourself to harden your heart…"
He lifted his chin slightly.
"Then let me teach that yaksha in your stead."
Guizhong's eyes trembled. She tried to say something—only for Morax to cut her off with a single sentence.
"This is our prior contract."
Guizhong fell silent, closing her eyes.
For Morax, contracts were sacred. Even he could not break an oath once sworn.
If he'd brought out the contract, then if she pushed further… he truly might turn cold.
…Fine.
For the little one, battle was etched into his bones anyway.
...
Now, on the rooftop, Morax looked at the cloth again and spoke once more. "These days… is this all Guizhong has taught you?"
Xuekui's eyes darkened.
Before the standoff could deepen, a voice drifted up from below. "I'm back—Xuekui, are you home? Let's go eat!"
Xuekui's expression changed instantly. Morax, meanwhile, caught that name.
So Guizhong had already given him one…
How unfortunate. Morax had intended to be the one to name him. "Don't come up here!"
"Huh—R-Rex Lapis?!"
Shichen froze the moment he spotted the dragon-beast above. His voice tightened with panic. He recognized Guizhong's friend.
But everything he'd ever heard about Morax painted him as utterly different from Guizhong.
Where the God of Dust was close to humans, the God of Geo—though he protected humanity and treated them with kindness—was difficult to approach.
Strict. Cold. Rule-bound. That was Morax.
Morax watched Xuekui's face tighten and fell into thought.
Though he disapproved of Guizhong's guidance, she'd done one thing right— She'd already anchored the yaksha's will to protect humans.
The yaksha under Morax's own command were bound first by contract, then taught to grow accustomed to mortal life.
But a yaksha who developed the desire to protect on his own? That kind of drive would be stronger.
In that case, the matter became simple.
All he needed to do was make the child understand—
In this world, he still wasn't strong enough to deserve the right to protect others. "I won't harm mortals."
After a brief silence, the dragon-beast tossed out that sentence. Xuekui's heart loosened—just a fraction.
"But you will come with me. This is the contract between me and the God of Dust. You should remember it."
Xuekui met Morax's gaze for a moment. Not wanting to make Guizhong's position harder, he answered.
"…Fine."