It was all the time Ji’an needed.

She plummeted downward, gripping the cast-iron spatula with both hands, channeling a terrifying amount of hyper-dense mass into the kitchen utensil.

"Grand Banquet Technique: Shell-Cracking Strike!"

Since Ji’an’s techniques weren’t conventional in this world, they didn’t have any fancy names or titles.

So Ji’an made up these ridiculous names herself, even flaunting them proudly, despite her Master cringing at every word she spilled out.

Anyway, Ji’an brought the spatula down directly onto the absolute center of the crab’s cephalothorax, the only point on the shell weakened by the creature’s own internal acid production.

KRA-KOOOOM!

The impact was cataclysmic.

A visible shockwave of displaced air and swamp water blasted outward in a perfect ring.

The impenetrable obsidian shell, capable of withstanding cannon fire, fractured with a deafening CRACK.

The raw kinetic force bypassed the armor, completely liquefying the beast’s rudimentary neural cluster.

The giant crab twitched once, its glowing red eyes fading to black, and died instantly.

Ji’an landed gracefully on top of the massive carapace, breathing heavily, but grinning from ear to ear.

She looked down at the intact, perfectly preserved pincers.

"Flawless!" Ji’an laughed, turning to look at Blue. "Did you see that?! We didn’t even puncture the meat! That was a model textbook example!"

Blue stood a few paces away, his dark leather robes completely untouched by the mud or the acid.

He looked up at her, standing victorious on the beast’s shell.

Beneath his calm, collected rogue facade, Blue was experiencing a spiritual ascension.

He was watching the woman he was obsessed with stand atop a slain monster, illuminated by bioluminescence, looking like a flawless, feral goddess of culinary destruction.

The way she had trusted him to pin the claw, the blind faith she had placed in his timing, was a high far more intoxicating than any spiritual breakthrough.

He was internally screaming his devotion to the heavens, mentally waving his glowing light tubes with the fervor of a religious zealot.

But externally, Blue merely offered a soft, impressed smile.

"Your striking power is formidable, Young Master Ji’an," Blue murmured, his voice a smooth, low hum. "Your instincts are sharp. It is an honor to set the board for you."

Ji’an hopped down from the shell, pulling out her specialized carving knives to begin the arduous process of harvesting the meat and the core.

For the next three hours, they carved a path of gourmet devastation through the Eastern Coastal Wastes.

They encountered a pack of Venomous Shadow-Mantes, terrifying insectoid beasts that blended perfectly with the darkness.

Blue pinned their scythe-like arms to the trees with his kinetic needles, while Ji’an aggressively harvested their glowing abdomens, which she claimed tasted like spicy soft-shell crab when deep-fried.

They fought a Rank 6 Swamp-Croc.

When the beast attempted to roll Ji’an into the water, Blue seamlessly stepped in, using a wave of kinetic force to flip the massive reptile onto its back, allowing Ji’an to deliver a devastating spatula strike to its unarmored belly.

It was a beautiful, terrifying dance of death.

They didn’t need to shout commands.

If Ji’an stepped left, Blue covered her right flank.

If Blue restricted a beast’s movement, Ji’an was already in the air, winding up a lethal strike.

It was a tacit, silent understanding that bordered on telepathy.

Two bodies, moving with the synchronized, fluid grace of a single soul.

As the witching hour approached, the volume of high-grade ingredients crammed into Ji’an’s spatial ring was beginning to defy the laws of physics.

They stopped to rest on a relatively dry, elevated outcropping of basalt rock overlooking a vast, mist-covered lagoon.

Ji’an sat on a flat stone, using a rag to wipe the corrosive acid and monster blood off her spatula.

The adrenaline of the hunt was slowly wearing off, replaced by a quiet, reflective exhaustion.

She looked over at Blue.

The red-haired rogue was standing near the edge of the outcropping, keeping watch over the lagoon.

He looked entirely serene, his fiery hair a stark contrast against the gloomy backdrop of the swamp.

A sudden, unexpected wave of melancholy washed over Ji’an.

She stared at the rag in her hands, her lips turning downward into a small, quiet sulk.

’It’s not fair,’ Ji’an thought, a heavy sigh escaping her nose. ’I have spent months in this world dealing with arrogant prodigies, backstabbing nobles, and absolute psychopaths. And the one time I find a normal, highly competent, perfectly synchronized party member... he’s a rogue cultivator.’

In gaming terms, Blue was the ultimate co-op partner.

He didn’t steal loot or didn’t talk over her.

He understood her aggro-management perfectly, and he provided flawless crowd-control support so she could execute her high-DPS strikes.

But rogue cultivators were, by definition, wanderers.

They didn’t tie themselves to sects or empires.

Once this mission was over, once they reached the border towns to sell the cores, Blue would take his cut and vanish into the wind, moving on to the next hunt.

’I’ll have to go back to the mountain,’ Ji’an mourned internally. ’I’ll have to go back to dealing with the Ice Demon’s mood swings, the Holy Son’s golden retriever energy, and the constant threat of the Sword Lord challenging me to a duel every time I try to boil some water for soup. I’m gonna miss this guy.’

Blue, whose senses were attuned to her every micro-expression, immediately noticed the shift in her aura.

The vibrant, chaotic energy she had radiated during the hunt had dimmed, replaced by a quiet, sullen cloud.

He turned away from the lagoon, his dark eyes instantly narrowing with concern.

"You are troubled, Young Master Ji’an," Blue noted softly, walking over and sitting on a nearby rock, maintaining a respectful distance but offering his full attention. "Are you injured? Did the acid from the crustaceans breach your Qi defenses?"

Ji’an looked up at him, offering a wry and slightly sad smile.

She tossed the dirty rag into a small portable fire she had started.