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    Chi Qiong suddenly started fearing this unfamiliar version of himself. He hurriedly raised his head, moved his beak away from Yun Xiguang’s forehead, and withdrew from Yun Xiguang’s dream.

    Yun Xiguang was too exhausted; he didn’t wake up, merely rolled over to continue sleeping.

    His frown had unknowingly smoothed out, and a faint smile graced his lips. It seemed that for Yun Xiguang, the dream he just experienced was a pleasant one.

    For Yun Xiguang, he was reluctant to break his contract with Chi Qiong, yet he felt he should respect Chi Qiong’s choice. This internal conflict kept him from voicing his true thoughts.

    This restraint weighed heavily on Yun Xiguang.

    Today, Yun Xiguang finally confessed his innermost feelings in his dream. Although Chi Qiong hadn’t explicitly stated it, he vaguely sensed that Chi Qiong didn’t intend to leave him either.

    This realization brought immense joy to Yun Xiguang.

    Chi Qiong leaped to the side where Yun Xiguang had turned and observed his sleeping face intently. The close proximity made Chi Qiong realize how much he enjoyed seeing Yun Xiguang happy and disliked seeing him frowning.

    He became more aware of how handsome Yun Xiguang was.

    And that golden hair was somewhat obtrusive.

    Indeed, gold was beautiful, and Chi Qiong had always favored the color. He appreciated a world filled with vibrant hues and splendid feathers; this preference never changed.

    But the golden hair didn’t suit Yun Xiguang.

    Yun Xiguang’s clean aura, coupled with his black eyes that concealed rich emotions, was restrained and low-key, not ostentatious.

    He suited a calm black, not an audacious gold.

    Chi Qiong still loved gold. He didn’t deny its elegance and brilliance; he simply realized that even if he liked it, this color shouldn’t adorn Yun Xiguang.

    Yun Xiguang was similar to fine jade, warm and translucent, steady and majestic, brimming with a lustrous texture.

    In the past, Chi Qiong’s preferences overshadowed Yun Xiguang in his eyes, leading him to believe that the golden hair looked good. Now, Yun Xiguang’s true self surpassed Chi Qiong’s preferences, allowing him to discern what truly suited Yun Xiguang.

    He moved closer to Yun Xiguang, pressing his fluffy face against Yun Xiguang’s. His cheeks flushed red, the red blending with the down around his face, turning into two small, orange-red cheeks.

    Warm, soft, and embracing, Yun Xiguang leaned against him to sleep, like resting against a giant cloud.

    Chi Qiong fell asleep, his face pressed against Yun Xiguang’s.

    The human and bird slept deeply until a ray of morning light shone through the window, flickering across Yun Xiguang’s eyes.

    Yun Xiguang woke up, feeling warmth and softness on his face. Reaching out, he touched something furry.

    This touch roused Chi Qiong as well.

    He stretched his wings comfortably, emitting a melodious call, seemingly saying, “I haven’t slept so well in ages.”

    Even though he spent most of his time sleeping, Chi Qiong didn’t consider it a good sleep. It was a state of drowsiness, not a restful sleep where he could let go of everything.

    Yun Xiguang extended his hand, and Chi Qiong nimbly perched on his finger, gripping it with his claws. Yun Xiguang held Chi Qiong before his eyes, observing him for a moment before asking in puzzlement, “Why did your face turn orange?”

    Chi Qiong was taken aback. How come the color hadn’t returned to normal yet?

    He asked Yun Xiguang to take him to a mirror. In the mirror, the little spirit bird appeared slightly larger, with longer wings and significantly lengthened tufts of hair. The yellow of his body had changed from a tender hue to a pale shade.

    The two patches of orange-red down on his face hadn’t changed color, as if they had permanently grown there.

    “Chirp?” Chi Qiong tilted his head, staring at his reflection, utterly perplexed by these red patches of down.

    Yun Xiguang meticulously observed the gradually growing Chi Qiong, finding him reminiscent of a little yellow chick, yet also somewhat resembling a Cockatiel.

    “Is it because you’re recovering your strength, causing your form to change?” Yun Xiguang speculated. “Your complete form should be fiery red, right? These patches of down resemble the color of your original feathers, so perhaps all your feathers will change color in the future?”

    Chi Qiong shook his head, his three tufts of hair swaying along, seeming to acknowledge Yun Xiguang’s words.

    In reality, Chi Qiong knew that he was currently in his juvenile form and hadn’t grown. The color of his face down wouldn’t change.

    The transformation occurring wasn’t growth but a return to his original juvenile form.

    Yes, even in his juvenile form, he was incomplete.

    How could there be a phoenix chick, reborn from flames, looking like a little yellow chick? Even ordinary spirit birds were different from little yellow chicks when young. The reason Chi Qiong resembled a little yellow chick was naturally due to the absence of his nine phoenix feathers.

    As each phoenix feather returned, his juvenile form gradually shed its resemblance to a little yellow chick, evolving toward the form of a juvenile phoenix.

    Therefore, Chi Qiong wouldn’t experience sudden changes in his appearance or down color due to his physical transformation.

    Changes in down color were determined by his mood.

    When happy, he could radiate brilliantly, his body adorned in a splendid array of reds, incredibly lavish. When emotionally stable, he would be a normal fiery red, with colors consistent throughout his body. As for when he was down…well, Chi Qiong had never experienced such moments.

    Now, the change in color must signify a shift in his mood.

    But how exactly had his mood altered compared to before? Chi Qiong was quite perplexed.

    However, in summary, the increase in colors indicated a good mood rather than a bad one.

    As Chi Qiong pondered, Yun Xiguang deftly moistened a towel to help clean Chi Qiong.

    When wiping his cheeks, Yun Xiguang rubbed a few more times. Seeing no red on the towel, he confirmed that these two orange cheeks weren’t stained but were the natural color of the down.

    Yun Xiguang didn’t think much of it. What concerned him more was the lack of a hairdryer in the dormitory.

    After some thought, a flame appeared in each of his hands, using the temperature difference to create hot air. With a mere thought, Yun Xiguang transformed the hot air into a mini tornado, enveloping Chi Qiong. Soon, Chi Qiong’s feathers became fluffy.

    Chi Qiong gazed at Yun Xiguang, realizing that he was a person with exceptional learning abilities.

    Yun Xiguang hadn’t actually learned many skills from Chi Qiong. He merely borrowed some of Chi Qiong’s spiritual energy; most of his abilities were self-taught.

    Having tamed Heavenly Fire, Yun Xiguang spontaneously learned to control mundane fire. After mastering control over mundane fire, he learned various techniques, such as creating fire wings, and by extension, learned to wield True Sun Fire and Zhuzhao Fire. Of course, these latter two fires could only be controlled with Chi Qiong’s permission.

    He also deduced the rules of fire from Heavenly Fire’s principles. Now, he could even harness wind using fire.

    Another point was that humans could accommodate a tiny amount of spiritual energy within their bodies, but this accommodation was more like a conduit than a container.

    Humans used their own bodies to assist spirit beasts in exerting their power. If an analogy was needed, spirit beasts were information in gigabytes, while human bodies were data transmission channels. Information had to pass through the channel to be outputted.

    Different people could transmit varying amounts of information, similar to network speeds, ranging from 2G to 5G. This was the basis of a Spiritbond Master’s aptitude.

    To become a Heavenly-grade Spiritbond Master, one needed to possess 5G aptitude to unleash the vast power of divine beasts.

    As conduits, humans would also have a trace of spiritual energy left in their bodies, but it was as scarce as water in a pipe.

    However, Yun Xiguang was different. Unbeknownst to him, his body had gradually transformed into a container capable of retaining spiritual energy.

    Perhaps it was to tame Heavenly Fire that his body underwent a subtle change; or maybe it was due to the absence of a spirit root, severing the transmission channel like a blocked water pipe that could now hold water; or perhaps it was because he had borrowed the spiritual energy of phoenix feathers multiple times. Like the millions of spirit beasts such as the weaver ant, his body evolved due to absorbing Zhuzhao’s vitality.

    Regardless of the cause, Yun Xiguang seized this opportunity and learned to collect spiritual energy on his own.

    Like a spirit beast, he absorbed the sparse spiritual energy between heaven and earth during rest. As his physical strength fully recovered, his body also filled with spiritual energy.

    After comprehending the rules of fire, Yun Xiguang could accommodate even more spiritual energy in his body.

    Logically speaking, he should have needed three days and three nights to completely recuperate. During this period, even after waking up, he would feel weak, with shortness of breath and chest tightness.

    But he was currently at Zhuzhao Spiritbond Academy, which backed onto the Two Principles Mountain. The mountain’s spiritual energy was five to ten times denser than ordinary areas, accelerating Yun Xiguang’s recovery.

    As Chi Qiong praised Yun Xiguang mentally, Yun Xiguang rummaged through his cabinet and shook his head. “I haven’t stayed in the dormitory for too long. There’s nothing to eat here. I’ll go to the cafeteria to find food; I can’t act on an empty stomach.”

    He casually placed Chi Qiong on his shoulder and stepped out, only to see Bai Ze and Azure Dragon flying toward the entrance of his dormitory.

    Yun Xiguang’s heart tightened, and he asked seriously, “Are we moving out now?”

    Azure Dragon replied, “Yes, we’re conducting a surprise operation, aiming for a quick victory. There’s no time to send a plane to pick you up. I’ll take you straight to the airport.”

    Azure Dragon’s body twisted, transforming into a massive dragon over ten meters long, then invited Yun Xiguang to sit on him.

    Yun Xiguang rode on Azure Dragon, supported by a force that kept him stable and let him sit firmly without holding on.

    The chibi version of Bai Ze also jumped onto Azure Dragon’s back, squatting beside Yun Xiguang’s legs like a small sheep.

    “Bai Ze’s body hasn’t fully recovered. Forced flight would consume its energy. I’ll carry it,” said Azure Dragon.

    “Where’s Dean Qin?” Yun Xiguang curiously looked at Bai Ze. Spirit beasts couldn’t stray too far from their Spiritbond Masters, right?

    “Qin Shu and I aren’t bound by a Spirit Contract. We can be slightly apart, but not more than a hundred kilometers,” Bai Ze explained. “He went straight to the airport after finishing the meeting at headquarters. I’ve been recuperating on Two Principles Mountain this whole time.”

    As Bai Ze spoke, it naturally glanced at Yun Xiguang. Just one look caused its eyes to sting, as if pricked by needles. It hurriedly covered its eyes and crouched down.

    “What’s wrong with you?” Yun Xiguang asked with concern.

    He took advantage of his concern to casually stroke the fur on Bai Ze’s neck, something he had wanted to do since the day he entered the academy. Today, he finally fulfilled his wish.

    Chi Qiong narrowed his eyes, watching Yun Xiguang’s subtle actions and began to seriously contemplate roasting wool.

    Bai Ze only felt a burning pain on its neck and hastily moved a few steps away, distancing itself from Yun Xiguang, before the burning sensation subsided.

    Yun Xiguang hadn’t touched enough and regretfully retracted his hand.

    Bai Ze knew that all its discomfort wasn’t a mere illusion but a premonition of its spiritual nature. Whether the earlier eye pain or the burning on its neck, there was a reason behind it.

    It raised its hooves to rub its eyes and fearlessly glanced at Yun Xiguang again. This time, the pain was significantly reduced, but it still hurt.

    It understood why its eyes hurt — it saw things it shouldn’t have seen.

    Bai Ze possessed a life chart in its eyes. When looking at someone, not only did it see the person’s appearance, but it could also perceive the life chart behind them, revealing their recent or future fortunes.

    Powerful beings like Chi Qiong were invisible to Bai Ze. Even if it strained to catch a glimpse, it would suffer as if punished by the Heavenly Law.

    But it could see Yun Xiguang.

    Earlier, Bai Ze glimpsed a stirring of the Red Lotus Star in Yun Xiguang’s life chart, indicating a romantic destiny.

    This wasn’t a major issue. With so many passionate students at Zhuzhao Academy, it was the prime age for love. Bai Ze constantly witnessed the stirring of the Red Lotus Star.

    But it was the first time it had suffered from such a minor incident.

    The backlash occurred because Bai Ze accidentally caught a glimpse of Zhuzhao Deity’s future through Yun Xiguang!

    The Red Lotus Star stirring in Yun Xiguang was connected to none other than the Sun Zhuzhao!

    Realizing this, Bai Ze slid to the top of Azure Dragon’s head and whispered to his dragon horns, “Him, him, him…they…”

    Azure Dragon sighed, weary, “Did you notice?”

    “You knew already?” Bai Ze exclaimed in shock.

    Azure Dragon lamented, “If only I didn’t know.”

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