The scholar’s ​​soul is burning!

What was going on?

Tang Qiaohuan’s eyes welled with mist, her gaze suddenly hazy, her cheeks flushed deep pink.

Her body slumped forward—into Gong Ning’s arms.

But even now, Gong Ning didn’t believe it.

Seeing her lean into her chest like this, she assumed it was just another act—another ploy to grope her.

Yet she allowed it.

In her embrace, Tang Qiaohuan gasped heavily, her hot breath brushing against Gong Ning’s chest, making her feel oddly flustered.

Then came that look—a wounded, accusing stare:

“Master… did you forget… I’m a demon?”

She really had forgotten.

Who would’ve thought this technique would affect humans and demons differently?

Now it was awkward.

“Cough—I’ve figured out your problem.”

“Hey!”

Seeing Gong Ning try to brush it off, Tang Qiaohuan panicked—was she just using her for fun and then discarding her?

“Quiet. Or I won’t teach you.”

The words died in her throat.

This woman said she’d come to train her, but clearly, she was just here to expose her weaknesses!

And yet—her weakness had been struck.

Gong Ning had diagnosed the issue.

Her dual bloodlines couldn’t be cultivated separately—one would decay if the other flourished. But cultivating both together caused interference.

Gong Ning had seen half-demons before—but they usually had balanced or complementary traits.

People like Tang Qiaohuan should’ve died young.

“How did you survive as a child?”

“My father used countless pills. The Fox Dream Valley helped too, thanks to my father’s status. But almost nothing worked.”

So she’d been kept alive by force—truly suffering.

For her, maybe mastering flashy tricks was the right path—even forbidden arts—as long as it gave her a functional body.

Gong Ning had never seen a case like this.

It was her favorite kind of mystery: unknown, uncharted.

Even the Sect Master’s connections and the entire fox clan couldn’t solve it.

How could she not pursue it?

And there was one more striking phenomenon.

Humans had dantian and spiritual roots.

Demons had demon cores and demon bones.

If spiritual roots were the gate, the dantian was the vessel. Human innate qi activated the dantian, awakening the roots.

Demons lacked innate qi—they slowly absorbed ambient energy over centuries. First came demon bones, then demon core.

But Tang Qiaohuan had a dantian—no spiritual root.

Demon bones—no demon core.

Perhaps her innate qi still existed.

Without a root to guide it, it swirled uselessly in her dantian.

With bones but no core, she couldn’t gather demonic power—like a rooted branch, veins intact, but lifeless.

How do you fix this?

Gong Ning felt this could be textbook material.

Tang Qiaohuan saw her Master’s eyes growing brighter, hotter—and shivered.

Did she just unlock some switch? Why was she acting so strange?

“Just stay here. Don’t move. I’ll review some texts.”

With that, Gong Ning activated her System Space—the “Wonder Hut”—and pulled out a mountain of books.

Tang Qiaohuan stared, stunned.

These were all texts on human and demon cultivation.

Gong Ning wasn’t great at memory, but she remembered key terms.

She sat cross-legged in the pile, fingers tracing yellowed pages—frowning, muttering, then suddenly slapping her knee in revelation.

She pulled out a sheepskin scroll of human meridians, flipped through a beasthide tome on demonic mutations, even studied tiny notes tucked in the margins.

Looking closer—she’d only read two or three books.

No end in sight.

I’m sitting here—naked—while you’re buried in books?

Does reading really offer better company than me?

Fine. I’ll dress myself. No need to embarrass me further.

By nightfall, Lu Yunling knocked and brought dinner.

Gong Ning hadn’t moved.

“Master, rest a while. Eat first.”

No response.

She’d just had a breakthrough—scribbling notes, afraid to lose the thread.

Lu Yunling didn’t leave.

She knelt before her Master, blew on the porridge, and gently fed her.

Gong Ning instinctively opened her mouth.

Tang Qiaohuan watched, envious.

Wow, Senior Sister—you already have Master’s favor, and now you’re stealing every last crumb? She’s trying to save me, and you’re barging in?

Lu Yunling sensed the jealousy.

She handed the bowl and spoon to Tang Qiaohuan—then left.

What could she say?

Truly, the senior sister—so touching.

She picked up the bowl, knelt beside Gong Ning, blew on the porridge, and offered it to her Master.

“I’ve got it!”

Gong Ning suddenly shouted, startling her.

She rushed to the table, pulling out parchment, sketching something frantically.

Tang Qiaohuan leaned over carefully.
“Master… the porridge…”

“Stop disturbing me. I’m busy.”

Still playing dumb?

Guess it’s just her fate—not meant to be cherished.

Tang Qiaohuan put the spoon Gong Ning had used into her own mouth, staring at the drawing.

On the left: an oval labeled Dantian, with swirling energy inside—marked Innate Qi.

On the right: tangled lines labeled Demon Bones, with fainter branches.

Most bizarre—was the line between them.

Not straight.

A winding snake-like path, curving from the dantian, passing through several dotted nodes—finally connecting to the main bone channel.

Three red cinnabar dots marked the nodes—labeled Blood, Qi, Bone.

“What’s this formation?”

Tang Qiaohuan poked the snaking line with the spoon tip. It looked odd.

Gong Ning slapped her hand away.
“Not a formation. It’s the foundational diagram of the Dual-Life Flowing Art. Created by conjoined twins. I collected it as a curiosity—never thought it’d inspire me now.”

The twins shared one circulatory system but cultivated separately—developing a method where excess flowed to deficiency, creating balance.

Tang Qiaohuan’s case was the opposite.

“They complemented each other. She’s clashing—like mismatched parts forced together. Alive, but unable to cultivate properly.”

Gong Ning exhaled.
“Now, I need to find a way to link her demon bones to her dantian.”

“There was that incident—demons resenting humans for innate qi. They kidnapped children, refined them. Actually produced results.”

Though a tragedy, it held research value—proof that demons could manipulate innate qi.

Tomorrow, she’d search the Xuantian Library.

Gong Ning held out her hand.

Tang Qiaohuan didn’t understand—so she tiptoed, resting her chin in Gong Ning’s palm—only to get lightly slapped.

“Elbow.”

“Oh.”

“Get me a new spoon.”

“Oh.”