The dazzling, luminous lotus pod vanished, and nine longan-sized seeds plummeted. Shen Yi and Xi Ye, unable to communicate verbally, reached a tacit understanding.

Shen Yi clung more tightly to Xi Ye with all six legs, simultaneously amplifying his spiritual power to mask their presence to the utmost.

Almost instantly, Xi Ye shot forward like a streak of light, dodging the lashing tentacles, nimbly weaving through the gaps. He swiftly grabbed two seeds before pulling back, intending to retreat.

Shen Yi watched helplessly as the orange-named seeds, like game items, drifted past him, about to disappear. Time seemed to freeze. In that split second, one seed fell directly before him—just a slight lean, and he could catch it…

Shen Yi’s gaze locked onto it like a magnet. In that brief moment, his body moved before his mind could react, leaping out to catch the seed in his embrace.

Once he left Xi Ye, maintaining the spiritual concealment over a distance put immense strain on him. The pressure intensified, and Shen Yi didn’t have time to conceal the seed he’d caught. The Moon Spirit Butterfly seemed to detect something amiss, its grotesque, writhing tentacles lashing toward Shen Yi.

Xi Ye noticed immediately that Shen Yi had left his shoulder and saw the tentacle strike coming. He glared furiously at the reckless, plump bee clutching the seed—with that tiny frame, a single touch from the Moon Spirit Butterfly would mean certain death.

Though inwardly cursing the bee for its foolhardiness and acting without permission, Xi Ye’s body moved against his will, flying toward him.

The spirit caught the terrified bee, swiftly twisting to evade, but was still struck hard by the vicious tentacle and sent tumbling down.

Shen Yi opened his mouth to cry out but choked, unsure what to say. He realized then that he didn’t even know the little spirit’s name—had never even wondered.

Pressed tightly against his chest, he heard the impact as the tentacle struck the spirit. It was injured.

“System, help me,” Shen Yi pleaded, panicked and acting on instinct, not truly expecting a response.

“Host, please confirm: activate the system’s auto-collection function?”

“Activate, activate!”

Shen Yi didn’t even fully process the system’s words—desperate times called for desperate measures. He hastily agreed, thinking they might be saved.

“System auto-collection activated.”

No sooner had he spoken, the seeds falling through the air suddenly transformed into streams of light and vanished.

Enraged by the loss of its seeds, the Moon Spirit Butterfly went into a frenzy, its tentacles whipping wildly through the air. The pressure of a four-star spirit beast abruptly enveloped the entire lake.

—What’s happening?

Realizing the system had only made things worse, Shen Yi didn’t even have time to curse. Forcing himself to stay calm, the only thing he could do was increase his spiritual power output, hiding their presence as best he could.

Perhaps spurred by the threat of death, Shen Yi tapped into his utmost potential. His spiritual energy condensed into a shield tightly covering their bodies, somehow managing to evade the Moon Spirit Butterfly’s sensory search.

A tearing, agonizing pain shot through his back and left wing. In that instant, Xi Ye lost strength and plummeted. Gritting through the pain, he forced his wings to beat, barely managing to stay airborne just above the lake’s surface, stumbling out of the Moon Spirit Butterfly’s tentacle prison.

Both were wound up tight with tension. Even after flying out of the valley, they didn’t dare relax. Shen Yi struggled, wanting to fly on his own to ease the spirit’s burden, but was held even tighter and stopped moving.

Xi Ye, severely injured and suffering backlash from the Thousand-Thread Vines, was barely conscious, moving his wings almost mechanically by instinct.

The journey passed in silence. Finally reaching their territory, Xi Ye, stretched to his absolute limit, sensed the presence of his Destiny Flower and suddenly relaxed. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, his strength gave out completely, and he fell.

Shen Yi cried out in alarm, trying to catch the spirit’s body, but could do nothing. Fortunately, the valley’s thick grass provided some cushion.

Terrified, Shen Yi extended his antennae, relieved to feel the spirit’s breath.

“Are you okay?” After the extreme tension, Shen Yi felt completely drained, his head throbbing from spiritual power depletion.

Now out of danger, Shen Yi instinctively began to replay what happened in his mind. Only then did regret and lingering fear set in.

“I’m sorry.”

The spirit beneath him showed no response. Shen Yi remembered him coughing up blood earlier—he must be badly hurt.

Struggling, he crawled out of the spirit’s embrace. Without the glow of luminescent plants in the valley and with his spiritual energy drained, Shen Yi could see nothing in the darkness. Feeling his way, he climbed to the spirit’s chin and pushed the seed he’d carried all the way into his mouth.

If it was such a treasure, it should help with injuries.

“I’m sorry.” Shen Yi crawled back onto the spirit, pressing against his chest to listen for a heartbeat. It was only now that it fully sank in. He didn’t understand why he’d been so reckless—it all came down to greed.

When he saw the tentacle strike coming, he hadn’t even felt fear, as if death didn’t matter.

He never expected the little spirit to save him.

Too much had happened in this short night. Shen Yi’s thoughts were a tangled mess.

Now, he deeply regretted his earlier greed. When ambition outweighs ability, greed only brings harm to oneself and others.

“Thank you. This time, you saved me.” The silence of the valley made Shen Yi uneasy. He muttered to himself, seeking comfort. “As for that time you almost strangled me… let’s call it even…”

Honestly, being nearly strangled by the spirit’s threads felt more terrifying than watching that tentacle strike—probably because the choking process was so prolonged.

A sudden vibration came from beneath him, followed by a familiar, disdainful snort that dispelled Shen Yi’s anxiety. “Who said we’re even?”

Xi Ye sat up, coughing and spitting out congealed blood.

“You’re awake?” For the first time, Shen Yi found the spirit’s sarcasm utterly endearing. He just wanted to hear more.

Xi Ye picked Shen Yi up. While he was unconscious, the backlash from the Thousand-Thread Vines had retracted the threads from the plump bee—it seemed the fellow hadn’t noticed yet.

He shook the bee in his hand, his tone as haughty and calm as if commenting on the weather. “My wing is broken.”

Shen Yi froze, his mind blank.

“Ah, I forgot—you probably can’t see it.”

Xi Ye raised his left hand, conjuring a green light sphere the size of a ping-pong ball at his fingertips. The soft glow illuminated the spirit’s beautifully disheveled face and Shen Yi’s wide eyes.

He saw the spirit’s drooping left wing and felt a painful twist in his heart. His throat choked up; he opened his mouth but couldn’t utter a word.

Suddenly, the spirit reached behind his back and forcefully tore off the damaged left wing. The severed wing, stained with green blood, its ragged edge facing Shen Yi. !!!

Imagine someone you’ve been with day and night casually twisting off their own arm in front of you and shoving the severed limb right before your eyes.

Shen Yi was utterly stunned.

When he finally snapped out of it, he lunged forward. “What are you doing?!”

Even if it was broken or dislocated, with proper setting and care, it might have healed. But this guy just ripped it off!

Shen Yi was frantic and furious, his heart aching as if squeezed.

He couldn’t bear the thought of the proud, domineering spirit being wingless and unable to fly.

Xi Ye secretly curved his lips into a slight smile, then quickly straightened his expression. He set the plump bee down, spread his fingers, and the blood he’d shed earlier seemed to come alive, flying into his palm and coalescing into a fist-sized dewdrop. He guided it to float before Shen Yi.

“Give this to your swarm to drink.”

“Huh?” Shen Yi, jerked around by the spirit’s unpredictable actions like a marionette, stammered, “You—your wing?”

“Don’t waste it,” Xi Ye ignored the question, casually flicking the blood into the empty Floral Spirit Realm. “Since you can enter my Floral Spirit Realm, just take it yourself from now on. I’m too badly injured this time and and can’t take care of you anymore. Do as you please from now on.”

“Don’t say that,” Shen Yi was terrified by its final-sounding tone, and hurriedly flew into the spirit’s palm. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t have wings. Have you forgotten I’m not an ordinary bee? I have many talents. Maybe someday there will be a way to heal your wings. Even if it can’t be healed, I—I promise I’ll take responsibility. You saved me, so I’ll be your wings. I’ll find many good things for you…”

Xi Ye lowered its eyes, hiding the shrewd gleam within, and gave a soft, dismissive snort. “That’s easy for you to say. Are you secretly happy inside, glad you can finally escape…?”

“I’m not,” Shen Yi wished he could swear an oath. “I won’t run away anymore. I will take responsibility for you.”

Shen Yi’s mind was filled with the image of the bloody stump and the wing, now devoid of life, his body trembling uncontrollably.

Xi Ye handed him a lotus seed. “This is yours.”

Shen Yi refused to take it. Xi Ye shoved him and the seed onto the ground. “I must return to the Floral Spirit Realm to heal. I might fall into a long slumber. You’re free now.”

“Go.” With those words, Xi Ye transformed into a stream of light and vanished into a closed flower bud.

“I’ll wait for you.” Shen Yi barely managed to say it, unsure if the spirit heard him.

The night’s turmoil had passed, and dawn was breaking.

Shen Yi lay on the ground in a daze, clutching the lotus seed, his mind filled with images of that green figure.

The spirit’s fierceness and all its bad behavior seemed to vanish along with the torn-off wing. All Shen Yi could remember now was its kindness—the Spirit Nectar it gave, its harsh words yet patiently agreeing to his requests, and how it had firmly shielded him from the tentacle…

The first rays of morning sunlight fell on Shen Yi’s face. Finally snapping out of his trance, he flew with the lotus seed to the flower bud where the spirit rested, gently pressing his antennae against it. His voice was calm but resolute. “I will heal you.”

Then he flew into the flower bud where the spirit’s blood was stored. Staring at the large pool of emerald Spirit Nectar, he realized with a start—the spirit’s blood was green. Had he been drinking the spirit’s blood all along?

Setting aside his complicated thoughts, Shen Yi drank some of the blood and stored it in his honey stomach. By noon at the latest, his little followers would have finished building the remaining three hives. Once the side quest was completed, he would let them consume the Spirit Nectar and the lotus seed.

He had a feeling they would undergo another evolution. Once they developed spiritual awareness, they would be perfect as guide NPCs to assign tasks to players.

While his followers slept, he could focus on editing videos, promoting the game, and attracting players.

As long as tasks were completed, there would be rewards. Perhaps there would even be a way to heal the spirit.

Only with sufficient strength could he protect what mattered to him.

Running through his plans in his mind, he flew to the spirit’s flower bud with the lotus seed before leaving and whispered softly, “I’m going to check on the hive. I’ll definitely be back before dark.”

As the buzzing of his wings gradually faded away, inside the flower bud, the spirit withdrew its spiritual sense, ate another lotus seed, and fell into a peaceful slumber.

In its dreams, the corners of its lips curled upward slightly, as if thinking of something happy.

Without the Thousand Vine Threads, the plump bee no longer thought of escaping.