Ling Long, will this really work? Yu Zhao tugged uneasily at the frilly long dress of bright red she wore, doubt lacing her tone.

Ling Long was confident: The Beastkin may be xenophobic, but they are especially tolerant of younglings. Once they see you, they should lower their guard. If not, I’ll simply take you away. Yu Zhao nodded and flew with Ling Long toward the lushest patch of green on the little planet.

They had not yet arrived when several powerful auras erupted upward, surrounding them. At their head stood a towering Giant Spirit Bear Beastkin covered in brown fur. He watched Ling Long warily and said coldly: This is the Giant Spirit Bear tribe’s territory. Outsiders are not welcome. Leave at once.

I’ve heard your lineage excels at forging, said Ling Long with a small smile. I came to ask instruction in the craft. If there’s a chance, we’re willing to offer some rare materials in exchange.

Our forging arts are never passed to outsiders. Go! The Beastkin’s expression did not ease; it grew harsher instead. The others stepped forward in unison, heavy and savage presences rolling out around them.

Ling Long’s battle intent stirred, but remembering their purpose she reined it in and glanced at Yu Zhao: Your turn.

Yu Zhao drew a deep breath, tipped up a bright, innocent smile, and piped: Greetings, seniors. My name is Little Zhao. I followed my big sister to broaden my horizons. Big sister is a good person, and I’m a good person too. Could you not chase us away? She felt nauseated by her own words, a faint flush creeping over her cheeks. [So cloying.]

But the Beastkin fell for it. Seeing her fair, rosy face, their expressions softened at once, though they still did not relent. Ling Long stepped in at the right moment, giving repeated assurances that she bore no ill will and was willing to pay generously. After a long silence—and with Yu Zhao on the verge of tears—the leading Beastkin finally nodded: For her sake, I’ll grant you an audience with the patriarch. But if you try any tricks, don’t blame us for being rude.

Ling Long and Yu Zhao exhaled together. The first gate was passed.

Led by the Giant Spirit Bear Beastkin, they entered the tribe’s domain. Along the way, Yu Zhao stayed obediently at Ling Long’s side, letting her eyes wander about with curiosity and occasionally chatting with nearby Beastkin to ask seemingly foolish questions. Their vigilance gradually eased; a few even offered her their specialty fruits. [Good. That move was the right one,] Ling Long thought.

Before long they reached the tribal grounds. Wait here, said their guide. I’ll report to the patriarch. Ling Long thanked him, then lowered her voice to Yu Zhao after he left: Now it depends on whether our sincerity can move them.

Do you truly mean to ask them for forging instruction? Yu Zhao asked, blinking.

Of course. But more importantly, we must use this chance to find Bookworm’s whereabouts.

I understand.

A moment later, a Beastkin even larger than the rest approached, bare-chested with a necklace of beast-bone rings, surrounded by his people. His gaze skimmed Yu Zhao first, then settled on Ling Long: You’re the one proposing a trade?

Yes, said Ling Long. She flicked her right hand and set out a row of rare Artifact Refining materials before them. A murmur rippled through the Beastkin behind the patriarch. He turned and glared them quiet, then said to Ling Long: I see your sincerity. Sit, and we’ll talk.

Thank you for your trust, Patriarch, said Ling Long, and she led Yu Zhao as they followed him toward a stone house.

Yu Zhao took the chance to sweep her eyes over the surroundings again. All the Beastkin nearby were adults; none of the younglings she had seen in the mirror were present. She lifted her head and blinked her big eyes at the nearest Beastkin: Senior, aren’t there any children here? I haven’t seen a single one.

The Beastkin rubbed the little tuft on her head and laughed heartily: Of course there are. Our Giant Spirit Bear tribe has plenty of youngsters, but they’re all in school right now.

School? Something stirred in Yu Zhao’s mind. May I go have a look?

Hearing this, the Beastkin looked toward the patriarch. The patriarch waved his hand: Take her.

Granted leave, the Beastkin grinned wider: Come on, I’ll show you. Ling Long shot Yu Zhao a look to be careful. Yu Zhao nodded and followed the tall, gentle Beastkin away.

As they walked, he explained kindly: The patriarch recently invited a very capable teacher from outside to teach our younglings. It’s class time now, so you don’t see them around. At this hour it used to be lively here.

Yu Zhao nodded dutifully. [We definitely came to the right place. Bookworm should be that teacher.]

Soon the sound of loud, rhythmic reading drifted from ahead—threaded with a wail that tore at the ears. At the cry, the Beastkin’s face changed and he lengthened his stride. Remembering Yu Zhao was lagging behind, he scooped her into his arms and hurried toward the school.

Outside the school, Yu Zhao spotted a blue-robed man crouched beside a tree house, speaking softly to a little Beastkin with pale-gold fur. The little one had his eyes shut and his hands clamped over his ears, bawling at the top of his lungs, ignoring every word. Yu Zhao’s eyes lit up: she had seen a portrait of Bookworm before, and it matched this man exactly.

The Beastkin holding Yu Zhao crouched in front of the child, worry thick in his voice: Little Stone, what’s wrong? Why are you crying so hard? As he spoke, he shot a wary glance at Bookworm.

Bookworm spread his hands helplessly: I didn’t do anything. Halfway through the lesson he suddenly started crying, so I brought him out to talk so we wouldn’t disturb the others.

Is that right, Little Stone? asked the Beastkin.

Little Stone only howled louder. The Beastkin’s patience lasted a few breaths before it ran out; he gave the little one a light smack on the head. The child finally opened his eyes to look at him—then burst into even louder sobs: I don’t want to study! I don’t want to learn characters! I want to learn forging! I want to go fight!