120: Chapter 121 This nest will taste delicious

Young Master Su Jiuheng heard this from Lu Jin and couldn't help but glance at him.

To bargain at a time like this, to distinguish between friend and foe, and to hold firmly onto the initiative in the conversation—it was very Lu Jin, and also very reassuring.

The black-gold throat patterns in the eyes of the Selom projection rotated in circles, as if calculating some ancient chess game.

The Unnamed Attendant's body began to collapse; his flesh, having lost the support of the grey threads, was like an old garment emptied of its stuffing, slowly sticking back to the ground with a wet, sticky friction sound.

Yet the layer of grey film behind him did not dissipate; instead, it bulged upward, and a very small shadow vaguely appeared within it.

The shadow resembled a youth with narrow shoulders and a long neck, wearing a thin crown woven from fine throats and insect eggs.

His facial features were unclear, save for the corners of his mouth, which were always smiling. The smile looked as if it had been carved with a knife, forever maintaining the same bone-chilling arc.

Upon seeing the shadow, the Temple Inspector's voice completely changed pitch, filled with near-collapsing terror: "Projection manifestation! All Verification Deacons, retreat! This is the complete manifestation of a Prince-level projection, not a phantom image—it is a direct projection of the original body's will!"

The Verification Deacon was about to retreat when Lu Jin spoke. His voice was not loud, but it struck everyone's heels like a heavy hammer: "Do not retreat."

The Inspector raged: "This is a Prince-level projection! Do you know what this means? It means a direct Bloodline of the Niehou Royal Court is watching this place from across the Void Realm; its gaze itself is a contamination!"

Lu Jin stared at the small shadow within the grey film, his gaze like a torch, as if he wanted to burn through that layer of grey film with his eyes: "If we retreat, who will write the records? Who will set the protocols? Who will tell those who come after what once stood here?"

The Inspector's breath hitched, as if he had been punched in the chest.

Instructor Han Tiecheng cursed from the tent entrance, his voice like thunder rolling across the earth: "Write! Even if your hands are broken, write it for me! Even if you go blind, you must record it! Whoever puts down their pen today, I will throw them in to chat with that thing!"

The Verification Deacon's face was deathly pale, but his pen tip did not stop. In violent trembling, he wrote rapidly: "Brief manifestation of a Niehou Royal Court Prince-level projection. Selom syllable confirmed. Spore-Plague Explosive Rat shell sealed with a segment of parasitic thread. Grey Pupil's cleansing sacrificial sequence stable. Wu Fu's dead shell powder severed the living scent. Contamination has not entered the Half-Gate main line."

With every sentence written, the grey film thinned by a fraction, like a stain being erased by a rubber eraser.

The rules of the Human Race have loopholes, but they also have sharp edges. As long as one sees it, writes it down, and Seals it into the procedure, it is not so easy for an Outer God to erase this entry as a mere misunderstanding.

Rules are dead, but rules are also knives; if held in the right place, even gods can be cut.

The Selom projection clearly also sensed the power of the record.

He finally stopped looking only at the door; the small shadow lowered its head and looked at the Verification register.

Grey began to seep from the edge of the Verification register, as if scorched by some invisible gaze.

The Temple Inspector's expression changed drastically: "It is touching the record! It is trying to contaminate the Verification!"

Grey Pupil's sacrificial staff shook, and the Sacrificial Fire surged: "Sacrificial Fire, protect the register!"

Lu Jin's black fire attached to it simultaneously, like a black river flowing in reverse.

Ning Yanqiu's Cold Mirror Auxiliary Seal added a line of cold light from the side, and the three forces intertwined, pressing the grey spot on the Verification register against the corner of the paper, like three large hands simultaneously pinning down a struggling beast.

Wu Fu, however, did not even look at the Verification register.

She kept staring at that shadow, because the Selom projection's gaze had returned to the egg tray in her arms.

The egg tray was closed tightly, but the young egg within it still trembled slightly; the tremor was as faint as the first heartbeat of a heart in a mother's womb.

The ferocity on Wu Fu's face suddenly became very still, as still as a volcano about to erupt.

She hugged the egg tray to her chest, wrapping it layer by layer in nest silk, winding it so tightly that not even air could pass through, as if she intended to use the barrier of the entire world to protect the faint vitality within.

"Lu Jin." Her voice was unnaturally low, as if afraid of waking something: "It has remembered my tray. It remembered the scent, remembered the markings, and remembered how many eggs are inside."

Lu Jin looked at Selom, black fire slowly rotating in his palm like a forming Seal: "I have remembered it too. It watches the door, and I watch it. We will settle this account slowly in the future."

He raised his hand, and between the Half-Gate Fire Line and the cleansed spore shell, the black fire was pressed into a small mark.

The mark did not pursue the projection, nor did it attempt the futile task of cutting out the roots, but instead pressed the reactions of the door, anchor, and nest that Selom had just looked at into a fire Seal beside the Verification record, like a Seal stamped on a file, telling those who come later—there is danger here, it has already been explored.

The Temple Inspector's eyelids twitched as he watched: "You want to write the Prince-level projection reaction into the vanguard handling procedure? Do you know what this means? It means the Temple must admit that a direct Bloodline of the Niehou Royal Court has noticed this line, and from now on, all resource allocation, personnel reinforcement, and risk assessment must be upgraded!"

Lu Jin said: "It has already come to the door to look, stepped into our tent, and almost licked our anchor and nest. Are we supposed to leave it with the status of an Unnamed Attendant so it doesn't have to knock next time it comes?"

The Inspector was choked, his face flushing red.

Instructor Han Tiecheng sneered: "Write it. Not only must you write it, but you must write it clearly, in detail, written so that those who come after can understand at a glance—what once came here, and how we pinned it down."

The Verification Deacon gritted his teeth and added another line, the pen tip carving deep marks into the paper: "Spore-Plague cleansed shell can withstand short segments of Niehou parasitic threads. Requires Grey Pupil's sacrificial sequence, Wu Fu's dead shell powder, and Lu Jin's Half-Gate Fire Line for joint restraint. List as a temporary contamination response procedure."

The Temple Inspector's expression changed. He wanted to say it was too fast, that this procedure had not been reviewed by the Temple Elder Council and could not be concluded hastily.

But the cleansed spore shell was clamped right before his eyes, the parasitic thread was sealed in the third compartment, and the projection was being forced thin by them bit by bit; the Temple could not deny this record, nor did it dare to.

The path of the Spore-Plague Explosive Rat, which had always been restricted, questioned, and watched by the Temple and aristocratic families, finally had its first usage that could be brought out into the open—shell cleansing, containment, severing living scents, and sealing parasitic threads.

Wu Fu's nest, Grey Pupil's sacrifice, and Lu Jin's fire—three forces that were not originally acknowledged by the mainstream were, at this moment, forcibly written into the framework of the protocol.

Wu Fu was not happy. Upon hearing the words "temporary contamination response procedure," she instead hugged the egg tray tighter, as if she had heard some ominous omen: "No one is to just take my things to fill a pit. A protocol is a protocol, and a nest is a nest. If anyone dares to use my egg tray as a consumable, I will bite through your account books."

The Temple Inspector said in a deep voice: "The protocol requires review, requires deliberation by the Elder Council, requires..."

Wu Fu looked at him coldly, her pupils narrowing into thin lines: "Review is fine. If one tray of ash material goes missing, I will bite your account. If one strand of nest silk goes missing, I will dismantle the outer supply lines of your Temple."

Young Master Su Jiuheng said in a low voice, his tone filled with genuine admiration: "I love this line too; I'll have it carved on a monument later."

Lu Jin said: "Survive first, then settle accounts. Only by living can there be accounts to settle; if you are dead, no one will even accept an IOU."

The Selom projection in the grey film had thinned until only a black-gold outline remained, like an ink painting that had been soaked in water and was now nearly dry, slowly fading.

Inside the cleansed spore shell, the parasitic thread was still hitting, and with every hit, the dead shell powder sank in a little bit, emitting a dull rustling sound.

Wu Fu threw out a second handful of dead shell powder. This time, she did not sprinkle it into the shell; the powder turned toward the eye on the Unnamed Attendant's chest.

It touched the black-gold throat patterns and immediately emitted a dense "rustling" sound, like countless dry shells grinding their teeth, or like some ancient curse being forcibly dismantled.

The smile of the Selom projection finally faded a little, and for the first time, the corners of his mouth, which had always been upturned, faltered.

Grey Pupil seized this moment and held his sacrificial staff high: "Withdraw sacrifice!"

The three rings of Sacrificial Fire moved inward simultaneously, like three millstones slowly closing together.

The Half-Gate Fire Line did not move, the Living Registry Anchor did not move; they only pressed down on the last grey thread between the cleansed spore shell and the eye on the sternum, as if to forcibly crush the last connection between this abominable thing and the human world.

Lu Jin's black fire slashed down.

There was no explosion of fire, no earth-shattering roar, just a crisp, clean snapping sound, like a musical string breaking, or like some contract being forcibly torn apart.

The grey thread snapped.

The cleansed spore shell clicked tightly into its second layer, and a layer of dense runes appeared on the surface of the shell, locking the parasitic thread completely within the grave of dead shell powder.

The eye on the Unnamed Attendant's sternum rapidly shriveled, like a grape drained of its juice, and the black-gold throat patterns faded to ash-white.

The grey film collapsed inward, and the Selom projection retreated toward the bottom of the well along with it. It retreated very slowly, as if it still wanted to take one more look, record one more note, and leave one more trace of itself on this human defense line.

Lu Jin stared at him, his gaze like a knife, as if he wanted to carve the image of those eyes into his bone marrow.

Grey Pupil's sacrificial staff was still holding the formation, the Sacrificial Fire burning quietly at the head of the staff, not daring to relax in the slightest.

Wu Fu held the egg tray, her eyes glowing red; it was anger, it was fear, and it was the madness of a mother beast protecting her young when forced into a desperate situation.

The Selom projection passed over Lu Jin, passed over Grey Pupil, and passed over the Temple's Verification register. Finally, he looked at the egg tray in Wu Fu's arms.

The gaze was like someone selecting goods—damp, cold, picky, and carrying a nauseating greed, as if looking at a delicacy about to be served on the table.

Wu Fu's teeth ground together with a creak, and her voice squeezed out from between her teeth, carrying the scent of blood: "Don't look. Look again, and I will dig out your eyeballs and stuff them into my dead shell powder as grinding material."

The corners of the Selom projection's mouth lifted, and the smile carried a composure of someone holding the winning hand, as if he had already seen some future scene.

Before the grey film dissipated, he said softly, his voice sounding as if it came from far beneath the water, yet clear as if pressed against the ear: "This brood will be very delicious."

As the words fell, the grey film completely dissipated, as if it had never appeared.

The tent was silent for a full three breaths.

Then, Wen Zhao was the first to heave a sigh of relief; he collapsed forward and was caught by Qiao Ye.

Three Line-Marking Nails slid from his hand, their bodies covered in dense cracks, like three pieces of broken weaponry that had completed their mission.

Wu Fu held the egg tray and did not speak for a long time, only the tip of her tail trembling slightly.

Lu Jin stood up, looking at the cleansed spore shell lying quietly on the ground, his voice low: "Finish writing the protocol. Seal the record well. Transmit everything that happened today back to the forward station, without missing a single word."

He paused, then looked at the bottomless Grey Fire Well outside the tent, his gaze as if piercing through layers of rock walls to see some distant and dark Royal Court.

"It will come again. Next time it comes, we will make sure it cannot even touch the door."