Holding Catherine, Jerry slipped his right hand from the side of her waist around to her back, his fingers blindly searching to grab hold of that cat tail peeking out from the slit in the hem of her combat robe.
Catherine's cat tail would uncontrollably break free from her Transfiguration disguise whenever she became emotional; the furry tip would sway left and right in the air like a tiny snake covered in brown fuzz.
His fingers met a warm sensation, but the texture was wrong.
It wasn't a furry tail, but a smooth palm bearing thin calluses.
Five fingers clamped over the back of Jerry's hand from the side. The grip was neither heavy nor light, falling perfectly into that delicate middle ground between "affectionate" and "warning."
"What's this? So preoccupied with the little kitten that you've forgotten about your fiancée?"
Isabella stood to Jerry's right. Her ponytail had mostly come undone, stray strands of hair clinging to her forehead and cheeks. The empty potion vial slots on her leather belt still swayed gently with her breathing.
Her eyes were half-squinted, the curve of her lips carrying a certainty that said, "You'd best give me a satisfactory answer."
Jerry grinned, bringing his lips close to the hand Isabella had clamped over his, and lowered his voice: "I haven't forgotten."
Hanging off Jerry, Catherine curled the tip of her cat tail around Jerry's left wrist. She lifted her face from his shoulder, glanced at Isabella, then back at Jerry, and opened her mouth to say something.
A piercing shriek tore through the depths of the valley.
The frequency of that shriek was incredibly high—so high it made the eardrums sting with pain.
Through the lens of Jerry's Eye of Magic, that golden-yellow sphere hovering eight kilometers away closed the distance to two kilometers within three seconds.
Catherine's body went rigid the instant she heard the shriek.
Her legs unhooked from Jerry's waist, her feet hitting the ground as her right hand tightly gripped her wand.
Her entire persona switched from "spoiled kitten hanging off her boyfriend" to "combat wizard ready for battle" in a mere zero point five seconds.
"It's him."
Catherine's voice changed, shifting from that nasal, spoiled tone just a moment ago to a hushed, teeth-gritting tightness: "The Cultivator who's been hunting us for two days."
Isabella released Jerry's hand and turned to face the direction the shriek came from, her right hand drawing her wand from her leather belt.
The six combat wizards behind her also halted in their tracks, automatically fanning out into a semi-circular defensive formation, every wand pointed toward the depths of the valley.
The Golden Core Cultivator stepped out from the shadows of the cliff face.
He appeared to be around forty years old, gaunt in stature, wearing a washed-out, faded cyan Daoist robe. The cuffs and hem of the robe were embroidered with several dark golden patterns.
His left hand was tucked behind his back; pinched between the index and middle fingers of his right hand was a circular token the size of a copper coin. The surface of the token was densely carved with array patterns, gleaming with a pale golden luster as spiritual power was channeled into it.
He wasn't standing on a flying sword; instead, he stood on a palm-sized, semi-transparent jade disk. The disk hovered about ten centimeters above the ground, carrying him forward in a slow, gliding motion.
Hung around his waist were seven or eight storage pouches of varying sizes. The mouth of each pouch was tied with different colored silk threads, upon which were strung miniature array inscription beads.
Around his neck hung a string of bone prayer beads. The surface of every single bead was carved with a different rune, pulsing with a faint light in rhythm with his breathing.
Through the lens of Jerry's Eye of Magic, the light radiating from the lower abdomen of this Cultivator wasn't particularly blinding. The golden-yellow sphere was only about twenty centimeters in diameter, and its rotation speed wasn't exactly fast.
However, the combined spiritual power fluctuations emanating from the storage pouches and magical artifacts hung across his body amounted to nearly three times the spiritual power of his own Golden Core.
"Ran for two days, and I still caught up to you."
The Golden Core Cultivator's voice drifted down the valley, his tone smooth, carrying the composure of a hunter whose prey could finally run no more.
His right index finger flicked the token pinched between his fingers. The token shot from his grasp, hovering three meters above his head, and began to rotate slowly.
As the token spun, a ring of pale golden light expanded outward from its edges in all directions. The radius of the light screen expanded to fifty meters within three seconds, enclosing this entire section of the valley within a hemispherical golden dome.
"Trapping Array." Isabella's voice came from Jerry's right, her tone urgent. "It's the same system as that Spirit-Trapping Array I researched, but on a much larger scale. This array will lock down all displacement magic within its space; Apparition, Portkeys, and Floo powder will all fail."
The moment the golden light screen descended, one of the combat wizards in Catherine's squad attempted an Apparition. His body distorted for a moment, then was violently rebounded by an invisible force, the gravel beneath his feet spraying in all directions under the impact of the recoil.
"Just as I thought." Isabella bit her lower lip.
The Golden Core Cultivator brought his left hand out from behind his back, opening his palm. Resting on his palm were five black chess pieces. The pieces were about the size of Go stones, their surfaces carved with incredibly fine array patterns.
With a flick of his fingers, the five chess pieces shot out simultaneously, landing at five different coordinates within the golden light screen. The instant the pieces hit the ground, a two-meter-tall black pillar of light erupted from the position of each piece.
Between the five pillars of light, dark red threads of spiritual power began to intertwine, weaving a dense, intricate net across the ground.
Every node of the net continuously emitted a weak pulse of spiritual power. The frequency of the pulse was the exact opposite of the fluctuation frequency of a wizard's magic, creating an interference effect.
Catherine raised her wand, a red Stunning Spell shooting from the tip. After flying for about ten meters, the Stunning Spell hit that dark red spiritual power net; the spell light was instantly decomposed into dozens of microscopic red light motes the moment it touched the surface of the net, flashing once on the mesh before dissipating.
"Spells are weakened by his array." Catherine's voice squeezed out from between her teeth.
"The attenuation rate is roughly seventy percent," Isabella rapidly added. "Only sufficiently powerful spells can penetrate that net."
The Golden Core Cultivator's right hand pulled a bronze mirror from his second storage pouch. The mirror was about the size of a washbasin; he aimed the reflective surface toward Catherine's squad.
As his spiritual power infused into the bronze mirror, ripples like water spread across its surface. Then, a beam of white light shot from the mirror, blasting straight toward the center of the squad's formation.
"Scatter!"
Catherine's shout hadn't even finished before the six combat wizards were already rolling and dodging in different directions.
The white beam struck the position where they had just been standing. The gravel on the ground vaporized instantly under the bombardment of the beam, leaving behind a circular crater two meters in diameter and half a meter deep, the edges of the crater scorched into black glass by the intense heat.
Simultaneously, the Golden Core Cultivator's left hand pulled a paper fan from his third storage pouch. Unfurling the fan to reveal an ink wash painting of three mountain peaks, he waved it toward the squad.
The three mountain peaks on the fan suddenly flew out of the painting, transforming into three fist-sized, mountain-shaped projections condensed from spiritual power, hurtling toward three combat wizards in different directions.
The three combat wizards simultaneously raised their wands and cast the Shield Charm. Semi-transparent magical shields coalesced before them. The instant the mountain-shaped projections slammed into the shields, dense cracks webbed across the surfaces of the shields, and the feet of the three wizards skidded backward for nearly a meter, the soles of their boots plowing deep grooves into the gravel.
"This guy has too many artifacts!" Catherine shouted toward Jerry as she dodged. "We chased him for two days and couldn't even get close. Every time we close in, he swaps to a different artifact; his fighting style never repeats!"
The cry of a Thunderbird echoed from the sky.
Malfoy controlled the Thunderbird, diving down from above the mountain peaks. Its twelve-meter wingspan unfurled inside the golden light screen, the blue-purple electrical arcs at its wingtips swelling to the thickness of an arm, bolstered by the abundant spiritual power.
The Thunderbird's beak opened, and a lightning beam over three meters in diameter blasted from its throat, striking straight down at the top of the Golden Core Cultivator's head.
The Golden Core Cultivator looked up, spotting that Thunderbird with its massive wingspan and the lightning beam crashing down from the sky. His expression didn't change in the slightest; his right hand simply flipped the bronze mirror, aiming the reflective surface upward at the diving lightning beam.
The lightning beam struck the surface of the bronze mirror. The ripples on the mirror violently oscillated the instant the lightning poured in; then, the lightning beam reflected out from the mirror, its trajectory deflected by ninety degrees, blasting straight into the cliff face on the side of the valley.
The cliff face exploded under the lightning's bombardment, blowing open a massive hole five meters in diameter, spraying rubble and dirt outward from the opening.
"It reflected it!" Malfoy's voice rang out from the control pod, carrying obvious shock.
The Thunderbird swept past above the Golden Core Cultivator's head. Malfoy controlled the Thunderbird into a sharp turn in the air, preparing to launch a second attack.
But the Golden Core Cultivator didn't give him the time to adjust. He closed the paper fan in his left hand and pulled an iron chain as thick as an index finger from his fourth storage pouch. The chain was only about a meter long, with a fist-sized iron ball attached to each end, the surfaces of the balls completely covered in array patterns.
He tossed the iron chain up into the sky. The iron chain spun rapidly in the air, the two iron balls flinging outward under the centrifugal force of the rotation, transforming the entire chain into a spinning ring two meters in diameter.
Driven by the Golden Core Cultivator's spiritual power, the ring shot toward the Thunderbird, moving so fast it dragged a grey afterimage through the air.
Malfoy controlled the Thunderbird into a barrel roll to the left, attempting to dodge the incoming iron chain. But the iron chain suddenly changed direction as it approached the Thunderbird; the two iron balls tracked the Thunderbird's movement trajectory as if possessing a mind of their own, carving a curving pursuit path through the air.
The iron chain wrapped around the Thunderbird's right wing. After winding around three times, the two iron balls snapped violently tight; the array patterns on the iron chain all lit up, releasing an intense binding force.
Constricted by the iron chain, the Thunderbird's right wing could not unfurl, interrupting its flapping rhythm; its entire body lost its balance in mid-air and began listing to the right.
"Damn it!" Malfoy's voice rang out from the control pod. He controlled the Thunderbird's left wing, flapping it desperately to try and maintain altitude with a single wing, but the Thunderbird's size was too massive; the lift generated by a single wing was insufficient to support the weight of its entire body.
The Thunderbird's altitude plummeted rapidly, dropping from fifty meters to thirty, from thirty to twenty.
The Golden Core Cultivator returned the bronze mirror to a storage pouch with his right hand and pulled a small flag from his fifth storage pouch.
The face of the flag was black, embroidered with a white skull motif. He waved the small flag toward the plummeting Thunderbird; the skull motif on the flag suddenly opened its mouth, and a cloud of black mist spewed forth from the skull's jaws, sweeping toward the Thunderbird.
When the black mist touched the electrical arcs on the Thunderbird's wings, the arcs rapidly dimmed under the erosion of the black mist, fading from blue-purple to grey-white, and from grey-white to a nearly invisible, faint glow.
Covered by the black mist, the Thunderbird's feathers lost their luster, and the spiritual power halo on the surface of its scale armor rapidly receded.
"My electrical arcs are suppressed! This black mist is devouring energy!"
The Thunderbird's body slammed heavily onto the ground at the bottom of the valley, the immense impact smashing a shallow crater into the earth, sending gravel and dirt flying in all directions.
The Thunderbird's right wing was bound by the iron chain, and its left wing was bent at an unnatural angle from the impact; the entire Thunderbird lay on its side on the ground, its chest heaving violently, its open beak spitting out a few weak puffs of blue electrical mist.
Standing fifty meters away, the Golden Core Cultivator tucked his left hand behind his back and returned the small flag to his storage pouch with his right.
His gaze shifted from the downed Thunderbird, sweeping over the scattered members of Catherine's squad across the valley, and finally landed on Jerry, who stood beside Catherine and Isabella.
"Two more."
His tone was flat, like someone taking inventory of goods on a shelf: "Perfect timing. Catch a few more to take back; the sect's research is still lacking materials."
Jerry stepped out from between Catherine and Isabella.
His pace was very slow, his sneakers making tap, tap sounds against the gravel ground. With his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets and his shoulders slightly hunched, his entire posture was so utterly relaxed it looked as if he were just out for a stroll.
His grey eyes were half-squinted, his gaze resting on that Golden Core Cultivator in the cyan Daoist robe fifty meters away.
The Golden Core Cultivator's gaze also fell upon Jerry. His brows furrowed, his eyes sweeping from the top of Jerry's head down to his feet, then back up to his face. One and a half meters tall, loose hoodie, sweatpants, sneakers.
He looked like a child who hadn't even finished growing yet.
The Golden Core Cultivator's right hand pulled a black chess piece from his sixth storage pouch. With a flick of his finger, the chess piece shot toward Jerry.
During its flight, the chess piece expanded to the size of a fist, the array patterns on its surface all lighting up as it released a black beam of light, shooting straight for Jerry's chest.
Jerry pulled his right hand from his hoodie pocket, extending his index finger, pointing the tip directly at the incoming black beam.
A speck of greyish-black light coalesced at his fingertip.
The volume of the light was incredibly small—only the size of a grain of rice—but its density was so unimaginably high that it visibly warped the air around it.
That rice-grain-sized speck of greyish-black light shot from Jerry's fingertip. It moved so fast there was no sound, no trajectory; only in the instant it fired did an incredibly thin, nearly invisible grey line appear in the space between Jerry's fingertip and the black beam.
The grey line pierced straight through the black beam.
The black beam snapped clean in two at the point of penetration, the cross-sections as smooth and even as butter sliced by a red-hot iron.
The severed beam drifted in the air for less than half a second before completely dissipating, along with that fist-sized black chess piece, turning into a cloud of ash that was blown away by the wind.
The grey line didn't stop. After piercing the black beam, it continued its forward flight, crossing the fifty-meter distance in zero point one seconds, and struck the token hovering and rotating above the Golden Core Cultivator's head.
The token shattered the instant it was hit. The shattering was very quiet—no explosion, no flash of fire. It simply split clean in half down the middle, the two halves plummeting from the air, disintegrating into fine metallic powder before they even hit the ground.
The golden light screen enveloping the entire valley vanished at the exact same moment the token shattered. The disappearance of the light screen was equally quiet—no shrinking, no flickering; it simply went from existing to non-existing, like someone turning off a light.
The five black pillars of light on the ground also extinguished simultaneously. Deprived of the token's energy supply, the dark red spiritual power net woven between the pillars rapidly disintegrated. Every node on the net went dark one after another like lightbulbs cut off from their power source, until the entire net turned into a thin layer of red smoke that was blown away by the valley wind.
The Golden Core Cultivator's expression changed.
That change was violent. In a mere zero point five seconds, his previous composure of "the prey can run no more" switched to a state of extreme vigilance, his pupils constricting and his facial muscles going rigid.
His right hand raised the bronze mirror to his chest, the reflective surface aimed at Jerry. Simultaneously, his left hand pulled the small black flag and the paper fan from his storage pouches.
All three magical artifacts activated at once: the bronze mirror unleashed a white beam, the small flag spewed black mist, and the paper fan conjured three mountain-shaped projections.
All three attacks blasted toward Jerry simultaneously.
Jerry halted in his tracks.
He raised his right hand in front of his body, opening his palm, facing the three incoming attacks. Greyish-black light expanded from his palm, coalescing into a circular shield of light thirty centimeters in front of him.
The diameter of the light shield was only one meter, its surface a semi-transparent greyish-black, with incredibly dense magic power swirling at high speeds within its interior.
The white beam struck the light shield. The beam was absorbed the instant it touched the surface of the shield, like a cup of water poured into the ocean—no splash, no shockwave, simply vanishing quietly into the greyish-black surface.
The black mist struck the light shield. The black mist was broken down the instant it touched the surface of the shield; every micro-particle in the mist was disassembled into even smaller particles upon contact, then swept into the interior by the swirling magic power on the shield's surface and digested completely.
The three mountain-shaped projections struck the light shield. The projections shattered the instant they touched the surface of the shield, like three glass sculptures smashing into a steel wall; the fragments scattered in the air for less than a second before turning into micro-particles of spiritual power that were blown away by the wind.
Three attacks, all blocked by a light shield no bigger than a serving platter.
An expression appeared on the Golden Core Cultivator's face that Jerry had never seen on a Cultivator before. His lips parted, a single syllable escaping his throat, but before that syllable could even form into a complete word, Jerry had already moved.
Jerry vanished from where he stood.
No warning, no transitional movement, no gathering of power, no leaping motion. His body simply disappeared from its position fifty meters away, and then appeared thirty centimeters in front of the Golden Core Cultivator's face.
The speed of this displacement was so impossibly fast that the Golden Core Cultivator's eyes couldn't catch a single trace of movement; his pupils were still locked onto that empty space fifty meters away even as Jerry appeared right in front of him.
Jerry pulled his right hand from his hoodie pocket, extending his index finger, and tapped the tip against the Golden Core Cultivator's chest.
The force of that "tap" was very light, like pressing an elevator button.
The Golden Core Cultivator's body flew backward the instant he was tapped. He flew so fast that his cyan Daoist robe tore in several places under the air resistance, the fragments of fabric fluttering through the air.
After flying for about thirty meters, his body slammed into the cliff face on the side of the valley. The stone wall indented into a human-shaped crater at the point of impact, gravel spraying outward from the edges.
The Golden Core Cultivator lay embedded in the crater of the cliff face, a thin line of fresh blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.
His right hand still gripped the bronze mirror, but a crack running from the center to the edge had already appeared on the reflective surface. The paper fan and small flag in his left hand had flown from his grasp under the force of the impact, landing in the gravel at the bottom of the valley.
His eyes were wide open, his pupils reflecting the silhouette of Jerry standing thirty meters away.
One and a half meters tall, loose hoodie, hands shoved back into his pockets, grey eyes half-squinted, and an incredibly tiny curve playing at the corners of his mouth.
"You..."
The Golden Core Cultivator's voice squeezed out of his throat, laced with bloody froth.
His body slid down from the crater in the cliff face, his feet hitting the gravel ground. His knees buckled, nearly sending him to his knees, but he braced his right hand against the cliff face, barely managing to steady his body.
Jerry did not pursue. He stood where he was, his grey eyes watching the Golden Core Cultivator slide down from the cliff face, his expression completely unchanged.
"You have quite a few magical artifacts."
His tone was flat, like commenting that a classmate had a lot of pens in their pencil case.
The Golden Core Cultivator's lips moved. His right hand released the bronze mirror; the mirror fell to the ground, letting out a metallic clatter.
His left hand pulled an object from the final storage pouch at his waist.
That object was a jade-like orb, about three centimeters in diameter, entirely blood-red, its surface covered in incredibly fine golden patterns that continuously flowed.
Inside the orb, a thick, viscous red substance resembling liquid blood slowly swirled.
Jerry's grey eyes narrowed the moment he saw that blood-red orb. Through the lens of the Eye of Magic, the density of the spiritual power stored within that orb far exceeded the density of the Golden Core Cultivator's own Golden Core. Furthermore, the nature of the spiritual power was entirely different; the Golden Core's spiritual power was golden-yellow, while the orb's spiritual power was blood-red—there was absolutely no connection between the two.
This orb didn't belong to the Golden Core Cultivator. Someone else had given it to him.
The Golden Core Cultivator shoved the blood-red orb into his mouth.
His teeth crushed the orb; the jade shell shattered into powder between his teeth, and the blood-red liquid substance inside flooded his mouth, pouring down his throat and into his body.
The transformation occurred within a single second.
The skin covering the Golden Core Cultivator's entire body turned crimson the instant the blood-red liquid flooded in, as if someone had splashed a bucket of red paint outward from inside his body. The blood vessels beneath his skin bulged, every single vein turning into a glowing red line, converging from his limbs toward his torso, all finally concentrating at his heart.
His body began to shrink.
Starting from his limbs—his fingers, palms, forearms, upper arms—they successively dissolved into blood-red liquid. The liquid didn't fall to the ground; instead, it was sucked toward his heart by an invisible force. His legs dissolved into liquid simultaneously; starting from his toes and spreading upward, his knees, thighs, and pelvis all turned into a blood-red liquid substance that converged at his heart.
Within three seconds, the Golden Core Cultivator's entire body had dissolved into a fist-sized ball of blood-red liquid. The liquid sphere hovered in the air for zero point five seconds, then violently stretched, transforming from a sphere into a line—from a ball of liquid into a blood-red thread as thin as a hair.
The blood thread shot out toward the depths of the mountain range.
The speed of its launch exceeded the limit of what the naked eye could track. Jerry's grey eyes caught only a flash of red the instant the blood thread launched, and then it vanished among the continuous rolling peaks. Through the lens of the Eye of Magic, the movement speed of that blood thread exceeded three kilometers per second; in the first second after launching, it had already flown out of detection range.
Jerry stood where he was, his grey eyes watching the direction the blood thread had vanished.
"Blood Escape."
Isabella's voice came from behind him. She walked up beside Jerry, her eyes also fixed on the direction the blood thread had vanished: "A Cultivator's escape mechanism. Burning their lifeblood in exchange for instantaneous extreme speed. The cost is massive—at least ten years of their lifespan and thirty percent of their cultivation base."
She paused: "An ordinary Golden Core Cultivator wouldn't carry a Blood Escape Orb. The cost to forge that thing is astronomically high; only the core disciples of major sects are issued them."
Catherine walked over from Jerry's other side, the wand in her right hand still drawn, the tip pointed toward the ground: "No wonder this guy hunted us for two days without giving up. This person definitely holds a high status in his sect."
Jerry withdrew his gaze from the depths of the mountain range, letting it land on Catherine's face: "He got away."
"If he got away, he got away." Catherine shrugged. "We've already caught enough Foundation Establishment Cultivators anyway. The objective of this mission has been accomplished."
Malfoy's voice came from the direction of the downed Thunderbird. The scale plate on the side of the control pod had popped open, and Malfoy climbed out of the hatch, his platinum hair a tangled mess, a few smears of black soot staining his face. He braced his right hand against the Thunderbird's back and waved his left hand in the air twice, using a spell to undo the iron chain wrapped around the Thunderbird's right wing. Deprived of the Golden Core Cultivator's spiritual power supply, the iron chain had reverted to an ordinary chain; it slid off the Thunderbird's wing, hitting the ground with a metallic clatter.
"That guy's iron chain nearly sheared my wing off."
Malfoy hopped down from the Thunderbird's back, the soles of his boots sparking two blue electrical flashes against the gravel ground. He rolled his shoulders, then turned to look at Jerry: "Jerry, how did you do that just now? Sending a Golden Core Cultivator flying thirty meters with a single finger?"
Jerry shoved his hands back into his hoodie pockets: "His defense wasn't as strong as one would imagine. Having a lot of magical artifacts is one thing, but his own Golden Core cultivation base couldn't support the simultaneous operation of so many artifacts."
Isabella crouched down, picking up the bronze mirror and paper fan the Golden Core Cultivator had dropped from the ground. The mirror surface was cracked, but the overall structure remained relatively intact. The paper fan had two broken ribs, the ink wash painting on the face had blurred, and the outlines of the three mountain peaks were reduced to faint smudges of ink: "These two artifacts can still be used. We can disassemble and study them when we get back."
Catherine walked over to the spot where the Golden Core Cultivator had been embedded in the cliff face, crouched down, and picked up the small black flag from the rubble. The white skull motif on the flag's face had dimmed, reverting to an ordinary cloth flag after losing its spiritual power supply: "Keep this flag too. The array patterns on it are different from any I've seen before."
She stood up, rolled up the small flag, and shoved it into her storage pouch. Then she turned around, looking at Jerry.
Isabella stood up from the ground, dusted off her hands, and walked up beside Jerry: "However, this also means that when he returns, he will bring information about us back to his sect. The next time they come, it might not just be a Golden Core Cultivator."
"That's a problem for later." Jerry let out a yawn. "Let's bring the people we caught back to camp first. Vera is still waiting on our Recording Stones."
Malfoy had already climbed back into the Thunderbird's control pod. With the iron chain undone, the Thunderbird's right wing had regained its normal mobility; the wing gave two testing flaps, and the electrical arcs at the feather tips lit up once more. The unnatural bend in the left wing was also rapidly recovering under the nourishment of the Cultivation World's abundant spiritual power; the dislocated bones slowly snapped back into place as the spiritual power permeated them.
Malfoy said, "My Thunderbird needs ten minutes to recover."
"Then we wait ten minutes." Jerry turned around, walking over to the net bag Catherine had dropped on the ground. He bent down to glance at the Cultivator inside the net bag, who had been knocked out by the Stunning Potion. "How many did you guys catch this time?"
"Seven." Catherine walked over beside Jerry, giving the net bag a tap with the toe of her boot. "All Foundation Establishment stage. Including the one Malfoy caught just now, that makes eight."
"Enough for Vera to write quite a few experimental reports."
The back of the Thunderbird was far more spacious than it appeared from the outside. The scale plates on either side of its spine formed two natural guardrails, dividing the back into a platform about three meters wide and eight meters long.
The surface of the platform was covered in short, dense down feathers; stepping onto it felt like walking on a thick carpet.
The six combat wizards of Catherine's squad were scattered across the rear half of the Thunderbird's back; each of them was bent over, gripping the edges of the scale plates on either side of the spine with both hands.
Jerry stood in the front half; Catherine hung off his left arm, her cat tail wrapped around his wrist, while Isabella stood to his right, her arms crossed over her chest.
Malfoy's voice rang out from the control pod: "Taking off."
The Thunderbird's wings snapped open, executing a powerful downward beat.
The lift catapulted the entire Thunderbird from the ground to an altitude of thirty meters in a single instant.
The acceleration hit too suddenly; three of the six combat wizards in the rear half were immediately thrown backward onto the down feathers by the inertia, and one lost his grip on the scale plates. However, Isabella uncrossed her right arm and swept her palm backward; a semi-transparent magical barrier expanded from her palm, forming an invisible wall across the midsection of the Thunderbird's back, catching the combat wizard who was sliding toward the tail.
Simultaneously, she pressed her left hand downward; another magical barrier spread flat against the surface of the down feathers, increasing friction and allowing the other off-balance wizards to regain their footing.
The entire sequence of movements took less than two seconds.
Jerry's grey eyes watched Isabella retract her hands and cross them over her chest once more, the corners of his mouth curving upward: "It hasn't been that long since we last saw each other; why does my fiancée feel like she possesses more leadership?"
Isabella rolled her eyes.
She didn't answer Jerry; instead, her gaze fell upon Catherine wrapped around Jerry's left arm.
Catherine's entire body was plastered against Jerry's left side, her arms looped around his, her face nuzzling his shoulder. Her cat tail poked out from the slit in the hem of her combat robe, the furry tip curled around Jerry's wrist, the base of her tail swaying gently in contentment.
Isabella reached out her right hand, her fingers accurately pinching the middle section of Catherine's cat tail, and gave a forceful backward yank.
"Meow...!"
Catherine's body went rigid the instant her tail was yanked; her spine arched, her shoulder blades squeezed together, and her mouth opened, letting out a short yelp of a cat. Her arms tightened in a reflexive action, hugging Jerry's arm even tighter, showing absolutely zero intention of letting go.
"Stop hanging off him. Stand properly."
Catherine turned her head, her brown eyes looking at Isabella, the corners of her mouth curving up. Her cat tail uncurled from Jerry's wrist; the tip stretched out toward Isabella, the furry end brushing against the back of Isabella's hand, flicking back and forth through the gaps between her fingers.
Isabella's eyebrow twitched.
Her right hand grabbed Catherine's tail. Starting from near the tip, her five fingers closed together and stroked firmly along the tail toward the base. The force was not light; the tightness of her grip flattened all the fuzz on the tail, exposing the layer of pink skin beneath the fur.
"Whimper..." Catherine's waist went soft, her knees bending slightly, her center of gravity leaning even heavier onto Jerry's arm.
Isabella stroked again. This time from the base toward the tip, the force of her fingers even heavier; as her pads rolled over the incredibly sensitive small patch at the base of the tail, Catherine's thighs clamped tightly together, her cat ears popping up from her hair, the tips trembling in the wind.
A third stroke. A fourth.
"E-enough..." Catherine's voice came from Jerry's shoulder, muffled, carrying a nasal tone of grievance—like someone being bullied but unwilling to fight back.
Isabella let go, flicking away the few cat hairs stuck to her fingers.
Catherine's tail shrank back into the hem of her combat robe; the tip swayed twice before completely disappearing. She buried her face in Jerry's shoulder, the tips of her ears flushing red, her breathing slightly more ragged than before.
"Jerry, why did you come?"
Catherine's voice came from Jerry's shoulder, muffled, as if attempting to change the subject.
"Tyranid Bionics was approved for combat deployment. The Ministry had us transport the first batch of finished products to the front line to conduct live combat tests. The Thunderbird Malfoy is controlling is one of those finished products."
Catherine lifted her head from Jerry's shoulder, her brown eyes brightening a degree: "I want one too."
"I want one too," Isabella's voice came from his right side, her tone calm, but her speaking speed half a beat faster than usual.
Jerry shook his head: "At best, these things can only be considered external tools. Meant for self-defense by wizards whose magical prowess isn't that profound. In reality, the restrictions are quite severe; when controlling a bionic entity, over sixty percent of your own magic power must be diverted to maintain the neural connection, leaving very little magic power for your own combat use. If you develop a dependency, it will very likely affect your future growth."
"Then will it affect me?"
Malfoy's voice drifted up from the Thunderbird's beak, amplified somewhat by the resonance of the oral cavity, bearing a metallic echo.
"With your low natural aptitude for elemental affinity, you're better off relying on external tools."
Jerry's tone was flat, as if stating an already confirmed fact: "Anyway, I feel like you have quite a talent for controlling this thing."
Malfoy fell silent for two seconds: "You're really not wrong. When I'm in there, I feel like the Thunderbird is my own body; how to flap the wings, how to grab with the talons, it's all instinctual reaction—I don't need to think at all."
Under Malfoy's control, the Thunderbird crested the final peak of the Zhongshan Mountain Range, the view ahead suddenly opening up.
The outline of the camp appeared on the horizon, those grey buildings and green tents looking like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle beneath the grey sky.
The Thunderbird began to lower its altitude, the flapping frequency of its wings slowing from three times a second to once a second, its body gliding smoothly through the air.
The landing was much smoother than the takeoff. The Thunderbird's talons touched down lightly on the clearing at the edge of the camp, its inertia vanishing completely after skidding for five meters. Its wings folded, the electrical arcs at the feather tips crackling as they closed.
Vera was already standing at the edge of the clearing, waiting. Her fiery red eyes swept over everyone hopping down from the Thunderbird's back, counted heads, and then looked at the Cultivators tied up like zongzi behind Catherine's squad: "Eight? Not bad."
As Catherine hopped down from the Thunderbird's back, her left hand tugged on the sleeve of Jerry's hoodie, while her right hand carried the net bag containing the Cultivators. She tossed the net bag to an adjacent combat wizard, then turned to look at Isabella.
Isabella had also hopped down from the Thunderbird's back, her knees bending slightly to absorb the impact as she landed, the soles of her boots letting out a slap against the flagstones. She walked over beside Catherine, and the two exchanged a glance.
That glance lasted only zero point five seconds, but in that zero point five seconds, some kind of information understood only by the two of them was exchanged.
Catherine's left hand tugged on Jerry's left sleeve; Isabella's right hand grabbed Jerry's right sleeve. Both exerted force simultaneously, dragging Jerry toward the tents deep within the camp.
"Wait... I haven't given the Recording Stones to Vera yet..."
"Malfoy will give them to her," Catherine's voice came from ahead, her tone bearing a non-negotiable certainty.
Jerry's sneakers were dragged across the flagstone floor, making a continuous scritch-scratch friction sound. Being only one and a half meters tall, and dragged left and right by two witches nearly twenty centimeters taller than him, his toes occasionally lifted half a centimeter off the ground.
Isabella's tent lay deep within the camp, the deep green flap embroidered with the serpentine crest of Slytherin. Catherine used her free right hand to pull back the flap; Isabella shoved Jerry into the tent, and then the two followed him in, the flap dropping behind them.
An Undetectable Extension Charm had been applied to the interior of the tent; the space was much larger than it appeared from the outside. A single bed had been expanded to the size of a double bed, covered with deep green bedding, the surface of which was relatively tidy. On the table sat the tools for researching magical artifacts and the beast hide scrolls; several wooden crates were stacked on the floor.
Catherine released Jerry's sleeve, turned around, placed her hands on Jerry's shoulders, and pushed him to the edge of the bed. Jerry's calves hit the edge of the bed; his body tipped backward, his back landing on the deep green bedding.
Isabella walked to the other side of the bed, bent down, hooked her fingers into the waistband of Jerry's sweatpants, and yanked downward. The sweatpants slid from his waist to his thighs, from his thighs to his knees, and from his knees to his ankles. That thing sprang free from the restraint of the waistband, casting a thick shadow under the dim light of the tent.
Catherine knelt at the edge of the bed, her brown eyes staring at that thing, her pupils dilating a degree. Her cat tail extended from the hem of her combat robe once more, the tip swishing rapidly left and right in the air, the frequency of the swishing perfectly synchronized with the rhythm of her accelerating breath.
"It's been a long time."
Her voice was very soft, like greeting an old friend.
Isabella climbed onto the bed from the other side, her knees pressing into the bedding, moving her body toward Jerry. She extended her right hand, her fingers wrapping around the base of that thing's shaft. Her five fingers closed, the heat of her palm pressing against the skin of the shaft. The shaft throbbed within the enclosure of her fingers, the veins bulging under the pressure of her pads.
"I go first."
Isabella's tone was flat, like announcing an already decided fact.
"Why should you?" Catherine's cat ears perked up, the swishing frequency of her tail increasing.
"I am the fiancée."
"I am the little kitten."
The two stared at each other for a second.
Lying on the bed, Jerry looked up at the two arguing faces above him with his grey eyes: "You can do it together."
Catherine and Isabella looked down at Jerry simultaneously. Then they exchanged another glance: "Fine."
Isabella's fingers slid upward from the base of the shaft; her pads moved slowly along the path of the thickest vein, gliding all the way from the base to the coronal ridge at the head. Her fingertips traced a circle along the edge of the coronal ridge, her pad rolling over that intensely sensitive small patch of skin on the side of the head; stimulated by her fingers, the shaft swelled another degree, the color of the head shifting from pink to deep red.
Catherine climbed onto the bed from the edge, laying her body down on Jerry's left side, bringing her face close to that thing. Her tongue darted out from between her lips; starting from the left side of the base, the tip of her tongue licked upward along the curve of the shaft, the flat of her tongue sliding slowly against the warm surface of the skin, leaving a wet trail behind.
Squelch.
The first wet sound spilled from between Catherine's tongue tip and the shaft. A massive amount of saliva secreted the instant her tongue touched the shaft; the excess saliva slid off the flat of her tongue, trailing downward along the shaft.
Isabella leaned in from the right side of the shaft. Her lips pressed against the skin on the right side of the shaft; starting from the midsection, her lips began to suck, the sucking motion producing a soft smack. Her tongue licked back and forth within the gap between her lips and the shaft, the tip of her tongue rolling over every bulging vein.
The two tongues met at the head of the shaft. Catherine's tongue tip licked up from the left to the head, and Isabella's tongue tip licked up from the right to the head; the two tongues collided dead center at the head, sandwiching that intensely sensitive small patch of skin on the head between their tips.
Smack... squish...
Wet sounds continuously spilled from the gaps between the two tongues and the head. Saliva mixed with pre-cum formed a transparent film of liquid over the surface of the head; the film was pulled into fine threads by the churning of the two tongues. The threads shimmered briefly in the air before breaking.
Catherine opened her lips, taking the left half of the head into her mouth. Isabella also opened her lips, taking the right half of the head into her mouth. Their lips pressed together along the exact midline of the head, forming a complete, circular enclosure.
Slurp...
The sound of sucking drifted out from the seam where their two pairs of lips met, mixing with the wet sounds of their tongues churning within their mouths and the occasional breath escaping from their nasal cavities. The two tongues licked alternately across the surface of the head; Catherine's tongue tip traced circles around the left half of the coronal ridge, while Isabella's tongue tip traced circles around the right half. The trajectories of the two tongues converged at the highest point of the head, tongue tip touching tongue tip, before parting to continue their respective paths.
Jerry's waist arched slightly when the two tongues converged, the muscles of his lower abdomen contracting. He extended his right hand, threading his fingers through Catherine's fluffy, short brown hair, his pads resting against her scalp. He extended his left hand, threading his fingers through Isabella's scattered, long black hair, his pads resting against the back of her head.
Catherine's cat tail lashed frantically in the air, the tip swishing at a frequency of four or five times a second.
Her lips released the head, her entire mouth opening to its maximum angle, taking the head entirely into her mouth.
With Catherine monopolizing the head, Isabella's lips moved downward, pressing against the midsection of the shaft. Her lips sucked at the shaft, her tongue licking back and forth between her lips and the skin.
Squish-squish... smack... slurp...
Wet sounds echoed through the tent, mixing with the muffled mmh sounds spilling from Catherine's nasal cavity and the low hums occasionally rumbling from deep within Isabella's throat. Catherine's head bobbed back and forth, the frequency of her lips sliding along the shaft growing faster and faster; every forward thrust swallowed a bit more of the shaft, every backward pull paused for a moment at the coronal ridge. Isabella's lips continuously sucked at the midsection of the shaft, the range of her tongue's licking expanding from the midsection to the base, the tip of her tongue brushing back and forth along the junction between the shaft and the scrotum.
When she swallowed down to her maximum depth, a glug of a swallow tore from Catherine's throat; stimulated by the foreign object, the muscles of her throat contracted, clamping tightly around the head. A tiny physiological tear seeped from the corner of her eye, sliding down her cheek to drip onto the bedding.
Isabella's lips left the shaft. She straightened her body, bracing her hands on either side of Jerry's abdomen, her brown eyes watching Catherine's bobbing motion: "Enough. My turn."
Catherine's lips slowly slid down from the shaft; as the head withdrew from her mouth, it drew out a long, long silver thread. The silver thread trembled in the air before snapping, the broken end landing on Catherine's chin.
Isabella straddled Jerry's waist. Her combat robe had already been undone during the previous actions; the robe slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her waist. She reached her right hand behind her back, her fingers gripping the shaft of that thing, aligning the head with her own entrance.
Her waist sank downward.
"Mmh!"
Lying on Jerry's left side, Catherine's cat tail curled around Jerry's left wrist. Her brown eyes stared at Isabella's slowly sinking waist; her tongue darted out to lick the residual liquid trailing on her lips: "Hurry up. I can't wait."
Isabella's waist sank all the way to the bottom. Her buttocks pressed against Jerry's hip bones, the shaft completely submerged within her body. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened her eyes, and her waist began to rock back and forth.
Squish... squelch... slurp...
Wet sounds continuously spilled from the junction, keeping rhythm with the rocking of her waist. Every forward thrust squeezed a small squirt of liquid from the seam; the liquid trailed down the base of the shaft, pooling into a small wet patch against Jerry's hip bone.
"It's my turn next." The swishing frequency of Catherine's cat tail increased once more.