Chapter 39 Looks Quite Interesting

Chapter 39: Pretty Interesting-Looking

He stashed the Cat’s Eye Emerald into his inventory, his expression still indifferent: “The rules don’t allow me to refuse—but I don’t want it.”

Meng Shu stared intently at his face, searching for any crack in his composure.

He probably doesn’t hate it… right?

As long as he doesn’t hate it, there’s still a chance. Unable to decipher Ling Qingjue’s true thoughts, Meng Shu clung to that sliver of hope.

Taming the little cat was just around the corner!

Along the way, they encountered several low-level monsters. Eager to show off, Meng Shu immediately unleashed Sword Light Slash—dealing a massive eighty points of damage and cleaving the monster cleanly in half.

He hadn’t expected the strike to be so devastating, and his tail shot straight up. “Not to brag, but these monsters are way too easy! That spider earlier—it’s not that I couldn’t have taken it down. I was just giving it a chance.”

Ling Qingjue trailed behind him the entire time, hands idle, merely observing the spectacle.

This guy had wasted his strongest move on a weakling—truly reckless.

Ling Qingjue remarked coolly, “Sword Light Slash is currently your highest-damage skill—and you can use it no more than three times per day.”

Meng Shu froze. “There’s a limit?”

“No kidding?” Ling Qingjue replied, amused. “Did you think you could spam your ultimate like a basic attack?”

“…”

He’d miscalculated.

So caught up in showing off, he’d blown his ultimate like an ordinary strike.

Ever the thoughtful one, Ling Qingjue offered comfort: “Don’t worry. Your stupidity doesn’t hurt me—so no need to apologize.”

A vein throbbed at Meng Shu’s temple. For the first time, he sincerely wished Ling Qingjue would just shut up. He let out a dry laugh. “I’ve still got two uses left. That’s plenty.”

He sheathed his sword, extended his right hand—and suddenly clenched his fist. “If I have to, I’ll rip the monster’s head off with my bare hands.”

Recalling the wolf king he’d slain last time—its death had been so grotesque even a demon like Ling Qingjue couldn’t help but shake his head.

Definitely not a good guy.

Ling Qingjue asked, “Did I piss you off? You planning to rip *my* head off too?”

“Nah—I’d only give someone like you a beating,” Meng Shu grinned. “I’d yank your pants down and spank your ass with a belt.”

Ling Qingjue frowned. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Meng Shu shot back, “Wanna test that theory?”

“Trying everything will only get you hurt.” Ling Qingjue picked up two crystals from beneath the fallen monster and dropped them into Meng Shu’s palm. “These are monster crystals. They contain immense energy. Most of the world’s energy comes from them—you can sell them at the Adventurers’ Guild.”

Meng Shu was pleasantly surprised. “So your world’s electricity runs on monster crystals?”

“Yeah. We sometimes use wind or water power, but most of it comes from crystals.”

Ling Qingjue spoke slowly, his tone perpetually lazy and relaxed. “Adventurers mostly earn money selling crystals. Remember to finish off monsters and collect the loot.”

“I see.”

“Monsters in this forest max out at Tier Six. A Tier-Six crystal usually sells for five figures on the market.”

The two ventured deeper, encountering increasingly diverse monsters. Meng Shu soon felt overwhelmed—many couldn’t be killed in a single hit.

Each time he felled a monster, Ling Qingjue offered a brief introduction: “That one just now was Tier Four—weak offense, strong defense. It’s the toughest monster you can handle right now.”

To kill the creature resembling an ancient turtle, Meng Shu had to use Sword Light Slash again. Wiping sweat from his brow, he muttered under his breath—if a Tier-Four monster was this tough, a Tier-Six must be practically bulletproof.

Ling Qingjue seemed to read his mind. “It’s not too late to turn back.”

Meng Shu was drenched in sweat, his face smeared with monster blood, his entire body filthy and disheveled.

In stark contrast, Ling Qingjue remained immaculate—not a speck of dust on his white robes—as he stood there like some pristine, detached observer delivering snide remarks.

Meng Shu had nearly decided to retreat—but hearing those words, he bristled. He laughed. “Leave? No way. I said I’d get you those feathers today—and I *will*.”

He wiped his sweat, brows lifting with determination: “Just watch—I’ll raise your favorability to twenty today. Get ready for some forced affection from me.”

At the phrase “forced affection,” Ling Qingjue almost chuckled. His eyes crinkled. “You? Worthy?”

“You’ll see.” Meng Shu didn’t argue, following the map toward Crystal Lake.

Near Crystal Lake, the temperature dropped several degrees. The surrounding vegetation grew denser—vines coiled around towering trees, lending the place a damp, chilling atmosphere.

Meng Shu cautiously hid behind a bush, peering through the gaps toward the center of Crystal Lake.

Ling Qingjue, meanwhile, made no effort to conceal himself. But he stood tall and imposing—and fearing he’d ruin everything, Meng Shu grabbed his wrist and yanked him down to crouch behind the bush.

Ling Qingjue had spent his entire life acting openly—never skulking about like this.

He frowned instantly. “I’m not about to stoop to your level!”

Meng Shu hastily covered his mouth, whispering desperately, “Lord Cat—if you won’t help, at least don’t mess this up for me, okay?”

The Cat Lord was deeply displeased; his voice muffled by Meng Shu’s hand: “Don’t cover my mouth.”

His soft lips pressed against Meng Shu’s slightly dry palm, and as he spoke, his warm breath fell across it—making Meng Shu’s palm tingle as if scorched. He jerked his hand away immediately.

Ling Qingjue finally exhaled in relief.

Meng Shu dug his fingertips into his own palm, his face flushing. “I won’t cover your mouth—but just behave. Stay quiet. Stay here. Okay?”

“It’s embarrassing.” Ling Qingjue remained reluctant. As the Demon King Cat Head, he’d always upheld dignity and propriety since his creation—when had he ever resorted to such underhanded tactics?

He started to rise. “If you’re going to fight, do it openly. What kind of man ambushes from hiding?”

At the lake’s center stood several crystalline cranes—translucent, statue-like, refracting faint light.

Hearing the commotion, they turned their heads toward the bush.

Meng Shu’s heart leapt—and he covered Ling Qingjue’s mouth again, pleading silently with his eyes.

*You can take them on—but I can’t!*

His eyes were pitch-black and bright—like a pitiful puppy with drooping ears and tail.

His features were soft, especially the gentle curve of his eyes—carrying a subtle air of submission and nervousness, a bead of cold sweat clinging to his chin.

A flicker of stunned surprise crossed Ling Qingjue’s gaze.

Why… did this guy look *so interesting* when he begged?

Must be an illusion—right?

Ling Qingjue’s heart felt as though gently squeezed. He lowered his head and nodded in silent cooperation. “Mm.”