When Jerry walked out of the main tent, his legs were like jelly.
The red marks scraped into his back by the rough burlap hadn't faded yet, his lower abdomen was sticky with what McGonagall had left behind—a half-dried mixture of sweat and bodily fluids. The tear in the collar of his grey robe ran from his collarbone down to his chest, letting in a chilly draft of wind.
He stood outside the tent for a moment, took a deep breath of the night wind, and then walked toward the medical tent.
The medical tent was situated at the very back, a Red Dragon scale insignia hanging by the entrance. As he lifted the flap, the mixed scent of herbs and dragon's blood weed poured out. Yin Luo lay on the innermost hospital bed. The wound on her right shoulder was sealed by a dark red membrane; the freezing layer condensed from Vera's Red Dragon blood Qi suppressed the sword intent near her collarbone. Her breathing was steady, her purple hair scattered across the pillow. Although the tips of her hair were withered, the color in her face was much better than when she had returned.
Vera sat on a low stool beside the bed, her high heels kicked off underneath it, her two legs wrapped in black pantyhose crossed and resting on the edge of the bed. The buttons of her dark green combat jacket were only fastened up to her chest, the Red Dragon scale pendant resting in the hollow of her collarbones, gleaming with a dull luster under the oil lamplight.
At the rustle of the curtain, she didn't look back.
"It's only a few steps from McGonagall's tent. It took you this long—are your legs weak, or did you get lost?"
Jerry didn't reply. He walked to the other side of the bed and looked down at Yin Luo's wound. Beneath the dark red membrane, the white sword scar remained, but the blackness at its edges had stopped spreading. He hovered his hand over the freezing layer for a moment, sensing the sword intent... It was still squirming, but its speed had slowed tenfold.
"How long will this hold?"
"One day." Vera lowered her legs from the edge of the bed, her bare, pantyhose-clad feet stepping onto the ground, tracing the arch of her feet. She stood up, walked around the bed to his side—standing a full head taller than him—and leaned her nose near his collar, taking a sniff.
Then she froze.
"You were in McGonagall's tent doing more than just reporting."
Jerry took a half-step back. Vera's left hand pressed against his lower back, her five fingers sliding into the tear of his grey robe, her pads pressing against the red, burlap-chafed skin on his waist, pinning him in place. Her fingertips were hotter than usual, radiating a scorching heat even through the fabric.
Jerry opened his mouth to speak.
Before he could, Vera's left hand slid down from his lower back and grabbed a handful of his ass.
The force wasn't light; her five fingers dug into his glutes through the ruined fabric, her nails sinking in a fraction.
"The first thing you do when you get back isn't to see me, but to find McGonagall. As if looking for her wasn't enough, you let her fuck you."
"She lifted me up and threw me to the ground first."
"Same thing." Vera reached her right hand in through his collar, pressing her palm against the nail scratches on his chest, her pads tracing the red marks one by one. "Wherever she touched, I have to touch too. Otherwise, it's not fair."
As she said this, her pupils constricted from the sides into narrow vertical slits. The flame of the oil lamp reflected as two dancing points of light within those slits.
The precursor to Dragonification. The pupils changed first, then the body temperature, then the skin.
The temperature of Vera's palm skyrocketed within a few breaths, pressing against his chest like it had just been fished out of boiling water. Her other hand moved from his ass to his waist, her thumb pressing into the dip above his hip bone. Her nails began to sharpen, pushing out from the pink flesh of her fingertips—thicker than human nails, their edges tinged with dark red.
"What did you tell McGonagall just now?"
"Things about the Cultivation world. The Heavenly Secrets Pavilion colluding with Moody, the Alliance bombs, the Qingming Realm ambush."
"Tell me again."
She spun him around and pushed him against the edge of the hospital bed. Jerry's waist hit the metal bed frame with a dull thud. Vera pressed her hand flat against the center of his chest, forcing him down flat on his back onto the bed. His back pressed against the bedsheet near Yin Luo's feet, his head pointing toward the foot of the bed, his feet barely touching the ground. Yin Luo lay right beside his arm, the tips of her purple hair falling near his fingers.
Vera straddled the bed, her knees parting on either side of Jerry's waist. Her black pantyhose-clad legs gathered into deep and shallow creases as her knees hit the bed; the pantyhose fabric on her inner thighs stretched taut, slightly outlining the muscles beneath. Her skirt rode up to the roots of her thighs, the crotch of her panties hovering right above his cock—which was still semi-flaccid from having just been milked dry by McGonagall. Vera yanked his waistband down, pulling his pants and underwear down to his knees. The semi-hard shaft hung between his legs.
"How much did McGonagall milk out of you? You only have this much energy left."
"Didn't count."
"I'll count for you."
Vera reached her other hand under her skirt, pulling the crotch of her panties to one side.
Her vaginal opening was already wet. She didn't use her fingers to stretch it open; she aimed it directly over the coronal ridge and sank her waist down.
The head squeezed in halfway.
The temperature of her canal was significantly hotter than McGonagall's. The scorching heat made Jerry hiss. Hot liquid welled up from the depths, pouring over the coronal ridge, trailing down the shaft of his spear, flowing over his scrotum, and dripping onto the bedsheet.
Vera's moan tumbled from her throat, a drawn-out, breathy "Mmh," the tail end pitching upward.
"You still haven't told me." Her waist sank down another notch, swallowing most of the length, forcing hot liquid to overflow from the vaginal opening. "How did the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion get involved with Moody?"
"Three years ago." Jerry thrust his hips upward, but she slapped her palm flat against his lower abdomen, pushing him back down. When the coronal ridge ground past a certain spot on her vaginal wall, her canal fiercely clamped down, and another gush of hot liquid poured out. "Moody found the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion through a spatial rift and taught them magic. Peach wood wands, Ollivander's stock. After studying for two years, seven know magic, three can cast complete spells."
Vera's waist continued to press down.
Swallowing it to the very bottom. Pubic bone crashed against pubic bone with a resounding smack, hot liquid splashing onto his lower abdomen.
"The Alliance bombs."
"Planted by the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion on Moody's orders. Twenty-eight wands to bomb the Alliance representatives to death and ignite total war."
"How was your identity exposed." Vera's voice still carried a mocking tone, but between her moans, she was losing control, the tail end of her words trembling.
"Went up and tore the disguise off myself."
"Idiot." As she cursed, her waist slammed down ruthlessly, the smack louder than before. Her pupils morphed entirely into vertical slits, the whites of her eyes taking on a faint golden hue. The Red Dragon scale pendant on her collarbone began to glow, a dull red light seeping from within the scale, casting a warm red glow over her collarbones and the base of her neck.
Traces of scales emerged on her skin. In her semi-Dragonified state, scale patterns surfaced inch by inch along her shoulder blades, collarbones, outer arms, and tailbone, as if something beneath the skin were pushing upward, raising the epidermis into convex outlines of scales. Jerry's fingers slid up her thighs, reaching the edge of the pantyhose waistband on both sides of her hip bones. Her skin was heating up, a dense pattern of diamond-shaped scales surfacing, feeling rough and coarse to the touch.
"Don't touch there." Vera's waist pressed down, her canal clenching tight. "During Dragonification, tactile sensation is magnified several times over. You touching me feels like..."
Jerry's thumb rubbed against it again.
Her canal convulsed violently, her flower heart spraying a small jet of hot liquid directly onto the tip of his cock. Vera's upper body slumped forward, her hands bracing on either side of his chest. Her nails had completely transformed into sharp claws; the ten dark red talons dug into the bedsheet, tearing two gashes in the fabric.
"I told you not to touch, and you touched anyway." Her moan churned up from deep within her throat. Her pupils were so thin they were mere slits, only revealing a sliver of the golden fundus through the vertical gap. Something extended outward from the base of her spine; the fabric at the back of her skirt pushed out into a pointed bulge, and then that tail sprang free from beneath the hem.
The tail was an arm's length long, thicker than a wrist at the base, tapering toward the tip. Its surface was covered in overlapping, tiny dark red scales. After extending from beneath her skirt, it swayed twice in the air, then wrapped around Jerry's left calf, coiling a circle around the pantyhose-clad muscle. The scales scraped against the pantyhose, producing a fine, dense rustling sound.
"A dragon's tail. Letting it out means I'm very fired up right now."
"Fired up because I touched your hip bone, or because McGonagall beat you to it?"
"Both." Vera's thighs clamped tight against the sides of his waist, her canal simultaneously clenching, squeezing the entire length from base to tip. Her hips began to rise and fall violently, the range twice as large as before; she lifted until only the head remained inside the vaginal opening, then slammed back down to the very bottom. The smack-smack-smack blurred into a rapid, continuous staccato, every impact accompanied by the wet sound of hot liquid being forced out of her opening.
Her tail wrapped another coil around his calf, tightening and pulling one of his legs up from the edge of the bed. His pelvis tilted upward, making the angle of their connection even steeper; every time she sat down, the tip smashed directly into her flower heart, squeezing it so hard it caved inward.
"Keep talking. Don't make me ask before you answer. Why did the Qingming Realm ambush you?"
"I don't know." Jerry gripped Vera's hip bones, his fingers pressing into the diamond-shaped scale patterns. He didn't rub them this time; he just gripped them for leverage to thrust upward. The two opposing forces collided dead center with an exceptionally loud smack, hot liquid spraying out from all sides.
"Guess."
"It might not be the same thread. The Heavenly Secrets Pavilion colluding with Moody was a private affair. The Qingming Realm struck right after we extracted the confession; the timeframe is too tight. The scale of the ambush was massive: forty-seven Nascent Souls, six late Nascent Souls. That kind of mobilization requires at least a few days of advance preparation."
"So the Qingming Realm ambush wasn't a tip-off from the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion; they had already received orders and were waiting for you." Vera's hips didn't stop. White foam was already being churned up inside her canal, her moans shifting from muffled grunts to uninhibited cries. "Whose orders?"
"Investigate." Her tail coiled another loop, yanking his calf even higher, the angle of their connection becoming almost perfectly vertical. "Ask the woman you brought back after she wakes up. She was injured by Qingming Realm sword intent; she definitely knows something. I'm a Dragon Vein Sorcerer, not a mind reader, and you're the one who has been in both worlds. You're responsible for this."
With that, she threw her head back, the speed of her rising and falling hips reaching its maximum. The hot liquid was churned into a white froth by the high-frequency copulation, plastering the base of his shaft and his scrotum, streaming down the roots of his thighs. Her tail uncoiled from his calf and wrapped around his waist, the scales rubbing back and forth against his sides, the tip brushing against the small of his back.
And then, her canal constricted tightly from base to entrance.
Climax. The vaginal walls twisted around the long spear, milking its entire length several times, each contraction accompanied by hot liquid geysering from the depths of her flower heart. Her cries were completely unleashed during those climactic throes, shouting straight from the depths of her throat; as the tail end of her voice pitched upward, it carried a slight rasp unique to her Dragonified state. Leaning her upper body backward, she moved her hands from the bedsheet to grip her own thighs, her claws leaving several deep gouges in her pantyhose.
Clamped so tightly, Jerry couldn't hold back.
His hips thrust upward one last time, the head burying dead center in her flower heart as his bodily fluids shot into the absolute depths of her canal.
When the first spurt shot out, Vera's canal was stimulated into another spasm. The subsequent spurts continuously blasted into her canal, flooding her flower heart.
Vera's tail slowly loosened, sliding down from his waist and coiling in a circle on the floor.
The scale patterns on her body began to fade, retreating down from her hip bones, back from her shoulder blades, receding from her arms down to her fingertips. Her pupils slowly returned from vertical slits to round circles.
Only the dragon scale pendant on her collarbone was still glowing, casting a warm red hue beneath her neck.
She panted for a moment before rolling off, lying down on the bedsheet beside him. Yin Luo lay quietly less than two arm's lengths away, completely oblivious to the commotion from start to finish.
"Milked dry by McGonagall once, then you come running to me, and you can still shoot out this much."
Vera's voice returned to its cold, brittle, mocking tone, though slightly hoarser than before. "You held out pretty well."
"I had no choice with your tail wrapped around me so tightly."
"I won't wrap it next time. I want to see exactly how long you can last."
Jerry lay on the bedsheet staring at the tent ceiling, both his legs having turned completely to jelly.
His lower abdomen was covered in a half-dried mixture of their bodily fluids, and a large patch of the bedsheet was soaked through.
His grey robe was unwearable: the collar was torn open, the back was scraped through, and there were holes in the sides from Vera's claws.
"Down to business." Vera propped herself up to a sitting position with one hand, readjusted the crotch of her panties, and pulled her skirt down to cover her thighs. Several small tears had been clawed into her black pantyhose; she frowned slightly, running her finger over the damaged areas, and the silk threads rewove and restored themselves under the influence of magic.
"What business."
"When the woman you brought back wakes up, you need to ask for the reason behind the Qingming Realm ambush. If someone within the Qingming Realm deployed troops privately, there's still room for negotiation at the top. If the Qingming Realm's overall stance has already shifted toward the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion's side, the Cultivation world allied forces could collapse at any moment. You and McGonagall continue investigating the Order of the Phoenix's thread; I can't help with the Cultivation world's side. You brought her back, so she's your responsibility."
She walked to the side of the hospital bed, looked down at the unconscious Yin Luo, and reached out to press against the freezing layer above her collarbone. Red Dragon blood Qi poured in anew, reinforcing the seal.
Jerry propped himself up and climbed off the bed, his legs shaking.
"I'm going to the main tent to find McGonagall and discuss our next steps."
"Your legs can still walk. Want my tail to support you a bit again?"
"No need."
He took two steps while holding onto the edge of the bed; on the third step, his knees buckled and he almost fell to his knees, but Vera reached out and grabbed him by the back of his collar, pulling him up. She hauled Jerry up and patted his torn collar.
"Get a needle and sew your robe up first. Going out looking like this, the whole camp will know exactly what you've been doing today!"
"Oh my!"
The curtain was suddenly thrown open from the outside.
The night wind blew in, making the oil lamp's flame flicker twice. McGonagall stepped into the medical tent, her combat jacket draped over her shoulders; underneath, she was still wearing that black training vest. She stood in the doorway for a beat, her gaze sweeping over Jerry.
Jerry was just standing up while holding the edge of the bed, both his legs trembling, the collar of his grey robe torn down to his collarbone, with several small holes punctured by sharp claws along his sides.
A large patch of the bedsheet was soaked, the semi-dry stains leaving distinct outlines under the oil lamp.
Vera sat on the edge of the bed; an incredibly faint stitch mark remained where her black pantyhose had just been magically mended. Her tail curled slowly on the floor by her feet, the tip occasionally twitching against the ground.
Taking all this in, the corners of McGonagall's mouth turned downward.
"Am I interrupting something?"
"You're right on time." Vera stood up, her bare feet stepping onto the ground, tracing the arches of her feet inside her pantyhose. "Your student just finished reporting the matters of the Cultivation world to me. An extremely thorough report."
McGonagall ignored the jab. She walked to the other side of the hospital bed, looking down at the wound on Yin Luo's right shoulder. The dark red freezing layer sealed the white sword scar; the blackness at the edges was suppressed and hadn't spread, but the sword intent was still squirming beneath the membrane. McGonagall extended her right hand, hovering it over the freezing layer for a moment; her magical perception probed inside, and a moment later she withdrew her hand.
"Qingming Realm sword intent. Autonomous erosive type. Freezing it keeps it from spreading, but it cannot be pulled out."
"I tried with Dragon Vein techniques." Vera walked over beside her. "Red Dragon blood Qi can only freeze external energy, and this sword intent isn't as simple as external energy. A portion of it has already fused into her meridians; freezing the outside doesn't seal the inside. Forcibly pulling it out will tear her meridians apart."
"How long can it hold?"
"A day. Maybe a day and a half. Her foundation is solid; the resilience of a late Nascent Soul's meridians is a tier above ordinary Cultivators. But the sword intent will wear through the freezing layer sooner or later; the outside is frozen, but the inside is still crawling."
McGonagall withdrew her hand from above the freezing layer, wiping the residual blood Qi from her fingertips onto a bandage. She turned her head to look at Jerry. Jerry was leaning against the railing at the foot of the bed, his legs still shaking.
"What do you think."
"This has nothing to do with frontline outposts." Jerry caught his breath a bit. "The sword intent was left by a core technique of the Qingming Realm—top-tier stuff from the Cultivation world. The wizarding world's healing arts can treat physical trauma, but they cannot extract consciousness residues on an energy level. We have to go back."
"Go back where."
"The wizarding world. St. Mungo's has Curse-Breakers, and if that fails, there's the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. There must be a way."
Vera crossed her arms and took a half-step back, her tail lashing by her feet. Her bare foot stepped onto the crossbar at the foot of the bed, her pantyhose-clad toes hooking the edge of the bar; her entire upper body leaned backward, shifting her center of gravity onto the bedpost.
"I will stay behind to guard the front line."
McGonagall looked at her.
"Are you sure? The supply line was cut twice; next time they might go straight for your throat."
"The supply line was cut because I am on the front line. If I weren't on the front line, the front line would have fallen long ago." Vera reached out and pressed the Red Dragon scale pendant on her collarbone. The dark red luster of the scale flashed, and a few scales on her tail lit up along with it. "It's not as if you haven't seen a Dragon Vein Sorcerer's ability to hold a position."
McGonagall fell silent for a moment, then nodded.
"The front line is yours. I'll find someone to investigate the supply line once I get back. I have half a list of the inside operatives the Order of the Phoenix planted in logistics. Once I gather the other half back home, I'll send the complete list to you."
"Half a list is enough. Once I know who is ours and who is someone else's blade, the rest is easy."
McGonagall sat down on the low stool beside the hospital bed. She didn't cross her legs; both feet were planted on the ground, her knees parted, her hands clasped and resting on her lap, her back perfectly straight. That posture was the textbook posture of a commander.
"Now let's synchronize our intel. Both sides report what you have; don't miss anything."
Jerry shuffled over from the foot of the bed and sat down on the edge near Yin Luo's feet. His legs truly couldn't support him anymore; when he sat down, his knee hit the metal crossbar of the bed frame with a clang. McGonagall shot a glance at his trembling calves but didn't say a word.
"I'll start with the wizarding world's side." McGonagall brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear with one hand. "After Moody escaped, the Order of the Phoenix completely tore off their disguise. Half a month ago, they published a full-page statement in the Daily Prophet, signed by the Central Committee of the Order of the Phoenix. The phrasing was: 'The wizarding world must launch a preemptive, devastating strike against the Cultivation world.' That same day, the Ministry of Magic's Cabinet voted to pass the war escalation bill by a narrow margin. Out of the seven who voted in favor, five have direct ties to the Order of the Phoenix. Of the four who voted against it, two received Howlers via owl the next day, containing the home addresses of their families."
"Open threats."
"Correct. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement opened a case, but three members of the investigation team were replaced. The new replacements were all recommended by the Order of the Phoenix. Opening the case meant nothing. The situation on the front line is an even bigger headache. Half of my combat units have been redirected to protect the supply line; the remaining half has to hold the front. The itinerant Cultivator hordes from the Cultivation world charge us every few days; the attacks aren't heavy, but they're extremely annoying. The key is that every time they charge, they hit our exact weak points."
"The Order of the Phoenix tipped them off."
"It's obvious. But because the intel is sent out from the front line and passed in from the outside, I can't find proof of treason. Every time they exploit a vulnerability, every time they perfectly bypass our sentry posts. It's impossible without an inside man, but I can't smoke the inside man out."
Vera pushed herself up from the bedpost. Her tail smacked the ground.
"What about the people on your list."
"Three people on the half-list are on the front line. One logistics dispatcher, two combat staff officers. Before I left for here, I had Isabella isolate those three and interrogate them separately. After the interrogation, one confessed; he said he didn't send the intel himself, but his dispatch schedule was copied and flown out by an owl every week. He didn't know where the owl came from. But he admitted that the logistics weak points marked on the schedule matched the enemy's charge locations with over seventy percent overlap."
"So the Order of the Phoenix cast a net across the front line." The tip of Vera's tail drew circles on the floor. "It's not just one or two people; it's an entire intelligence relay system. The owl is just the endpoint. The source is much higher up."
"The source is in the Ministry of Magic. The Head of the Department of War Mobilization was replaced by someone from the Order of the Phoenix just half a month ago. The new Head's first order of business upon taking office was to centralize the approval authority for frontline supply lines into their department. Previously, one approval covered the supply line for a week; now, one approval only covers a single day. A new application must be submitted for every single approval; if the department sits on the application and refuses to approve it, the front line starves. We've only managed to hold out until now by buying off the black market."
"Frontline troops are buying supplies on the black market?" Jerry almost burst out laughing.
"Correct. And guess who's selling the supplies on the black market."
"Who."
"Shell companies belonging to the Order of the Phoenix. Strangling your supplies with their left hand, and selling them to you at exorbitant prices on the black market with their right hand. Having their cake and eating it too." The curve at the corners of McGonagall's mouth was definitely not a smile. "My daily job now is fighting a war against my own logistics. The Cultivation world side is actually less of a headache; if I can't beat them, I just retreat. This bunch from the Order of the Phoenix is far more difficult to deal with than the Cultivation world."
Jerry reached out and rested his fingers on Yin Luo's wrist. Her spiritual power was still there—weak, but steady. The freezing layer locked the sword intent at her collarbone; she was fine for the time being. He turned his face to look at McGonagall.
"Here is the situation on the Cultivation world side. The Pavilion Master of the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion is on the run, along with two others who know magic. The Heavenly Secrets Pavilion mole detonated four wands, injured three itinerant Cultivators, and fled in the chaos; his identity remains unknown. Forty-seven Nascent Souls from the Qingming Realm, plus an assassin wielding sword intent, ambushed Yin Luo and me. The assassin struck from over a hundred zhang in the sky; the sword intent grazed Yin Luo's right shoulder and sliced in. What we know now is this: the Qingming Realm ambushers were not summoned on short notice by the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion. Mobilizing forty-seven Nascent Soul-level cultivators requires at least several days of preparation, which means they were already lying in ambush near Qingsong Ridge before the Alliance Summit even began."
"Was the target of the ambush you, or her?" McGonagall pointed at Yin Luo on the hospital bed.
"Yin Luo. The sword intent aimed straight for her heart meridian; I was suppressing it with magic the whole time we were running. The Qingming Realm wants her dead."
"Why."
"We have to wait until she wakes up to ask."
McGonagall tapped her fingers on her knee twice. Then she stood up, walked over to Jerry, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Pressing, squeezing. Her five fingers gripped his shoulder blade through the torn grey robe, the force toeing the exact line between painful and not painful.
"I see."
"To summarize. Both sides are preparing for total war. There is internal division within the Cultivation world, and internal division within the wizarding world. The internal divisions on both sides are pushing the situation toward full-scale war. The only person capable of halting this setup..." McGonagall released his shoulder and poked her index finger dead center on his chest, "...is you. You hold information from both worlds. You know the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion is colluding with Moody. You know about the Qingming Realm ambush. You know the Order of the Phoenix is strangling the frontline supply lines. You are the only person who can piece all this information together."
"So you're having me go back, and not just to heal her injuries."
"Healing her injuries is an excuse." McGonagall poked his chest a second time with her index finger. "The true objective in returning to the wizarding world is to deliver this information to the remaining people in the Ministry of Magic who haven't yet been bought by the Order of the Phoenix. By releasing the evidence of the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion's collusion with Moody, we can at least stall the war escalation bill on the Cultivation world's side. Then we investigate the reason behind the Qingming Realm ambush, figure out the internal divisions within the Cultivation world, find the factions that don't want to fight, and cooperate with them. Finally, we uncover exactly what Dumbledore is searching for in the Cultivation world."
Jerry lowered his head.
McGonagall withdrew her hand.
"Let's go back first. Can you hold up, dealing with the aftermath of two rounds of tossing and turning, to return to base with me?"
"I can."
Vera let out a cold sneer from the bedpost.
"You took two steps earlier and nearly fell to your knees; now you suddenly can again?"
"Earlier, I had no one to support me. When you supported me, you just hauled me up."
McGonagall reached out, yanked her combat jacket off the back of the chair, and tossed it into Jerry's arms.
"Put it on. Flying back at night with your collar torn like that will freeze you to death."
Jerry draped the jacket over himself. The combat uniform was a size too large; the sleeves were long enough to cover his fingertips. McGonagall drew her wand from her waist and unlocked a box in the corner of the tent, fishing out an old leather boot from inside. Just a single boot; the shaft was covered in dust, the heel worn beyond recognition.
"Portkey. The destination is my safe house in London. All three of us touch it and leave together."
Vera grabbed a handful of powder from the low table at the head of the bed and sprinkled it over Yin Luo's freezing layer. The finely ground powder of dragon's blood weed and red phosphorus stone melted into the dark red membrane upon contact with the blood Qi; the membrane thickened twofold, and the sword intent struggled twice within but failed to break free.
"A day and a half." Vera patted the area above Yin Luo's collarbone. "I've reinforced it on my end; it won't reach her heart meridian within a day and a half. But once that day and a half is up, even the gods won't be able to pull it out."
"That is enough." McGonagall placed the leather boot on the edge of the hospital bed.
Jerry stood up from the edge of the bed; his legs didn't tremble this time. He rolled up the sleeves of the combat jacket twice to expose his fingertips, bent down, and scooped Yin Luo up from the hospital bed. Yin Luo's head rested in the hollow of his shoulder, her purple hair cascading down to trail over the back of his hand, the tips brushing past those small holes punctured by Vera's claws. One of his hands supported her beneath her knees, while his other arm wrapped beneath her armpit to press against the edge of the freezing layer.
McGonagall reached out and grabbed his back collar, dragging him and Yin Luo in his arms over to the leather boot.
"Vera."
"Mmh."
"Have your own people investigate the supply line issue. The names on my list aren't enough; once I'm back, I'll have Isabella send you the records from the isolated interrogations. Keep a close eye on the owl deliveries. Anyone on the dispatch schedule who hasn't confessed yet, isolate them individually; do not interrogate them together. When interrogating them separately, tell them: whoever confesses first gets a lighter sentence; whoever confesses later gets a harsher one. Regardless of whether it works, let them suspect each other first."
"I know. It's not my first day holding down a position either. Be careful on your end. The Ministry of Magic Cabinet is mostly Order of the Phoenix members now; don't go head-to-head with the Department of War Mobilization right when you get back. Find a breakthrough point with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement first; at least there are still a few people over there who want to investigate cases."
McGonagall nodded, then pressed her hand against the upper of the leather boot.
Jerry held Yin Luo a bit tighter.
The leather boot began to glow.
A dark blue light flooded upward from the sole, washing over the upper, the shaft, the heel, and then creeping onto the back of McGonagall's hand, Jerry's arm, and the tips of Yin Luo's dangling purple hair.
Their feet left the ground.
Their bodies were yanked into an incredibly narrow pipe; the sensation of being squeezed and plummeting crashed in from all directions simultaneously, enveloping and spinning them. The leather boot vibrated madly in their grasp, the entire world stretching into countless streaks of colorful fluid flying past them.
Then, three pairs of feet slammed simultaneously onto a carpeted floor. Jolting as they were spat out from the muzzle of the portal, he dropped to one knee, his knee letting out a muffled thud against the carpet, but he didn't let go of Yin Luo lying in his arms.
McGonagall stood up, twirling her wand between her fingertips; the flames in the fireplace roared to life. The fire shifted from orange-red to emerald green in just two seconds. She crouched down and tossed the leather boot into the fireplace; the boot was reduced to a pile of ash in the green fire, swept away by the draft.
"Safe house. Bayswater district in London, basement of a red-brick building. I've cast Anti-Tracking Charms and Muggle-Repelling Charms outside; the Order of the Phoenix won't find it."
Holding Yin Luo, Jerry looked up and surveyed his surroundings. To the left of the fireplace was an old table covered with maps; to the right were filing cabinets stacked to the ceiling. The chalkboard hanging on the wall was plastered with densely packed sticky notes; several names on the notes were circled in red pen—and following every single name was the exact same line of text: Known Order of the Phoenix member or associate.
McGonagall yanked a blanket down from the top of the filing cabinets and spread it over an old sofa, gesturing for Jerry to lay Yin Luo down on it.
Jerry laid Yin Luo flat on the blanket, her purple hair spilling over the armrest of the old leather sofa. He reached out and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead—her body temperature was stable, the freezing layer was still intact, and the white sword scar hadn't spread.
"We go to St. Mungo's tomorrow. Today, we rest."
"Jerry. From this moment on, you are no longer MIA from the front lines. I am placing you under the roster of my direct-action team. Nominally, you're a Special Reconnaissance Operative; in reality, you report directly to me. I will accompany you when you take that woman to St. Mungo's and when you meet people at the Ministry of Magic. No unauthorized actions, and absolutely no running off alone to the Cultivation world. Burn these three rules into your brain."
"Understood."
"As if you did. You said the exact same thing last time, and then turned right around and ran off to the Xuantian Realm."
"I didn't go to the Xuantian Realm willingly."
"Then shut up." McGonagall rapped her knuckles against the side of the filing cabinet, dug an old button-up shirt out of a drawer, and tossed it to Jerry. "Change out of that torn robe you're wearing. Give me back the combat jacket; that's my spare."
Jerry took off McGonagall's combat jacket, draped it over the armrest of the sofa, and threw on the old shirt. The sleeves were too long, so he rolled them up to his wrists, leaving the top two buttons at the collar undone. He crouched beside the sofa, slipped Yin Luo's Myriad Demons Palace storage ring off her finger, and held it tightly in his own palm.
Leaning against the chalkboard with her arms crossed, McGonagall watched him for a moment.
"She fought a bloody ambush to protect your escape. You brought her back by forcefully breaching the barrier rifts. She is currently lying there unable to move. Do you owe her a life?"
"More than one."
"Then you will accompany her to St. Mungo's tomorrow. Stay with her the entire time. I'll go to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to find someone in the morning, and rendezvous with you both in the afternoon. When this woman wakes up, ask her about the Qingming Realm. Regardless of what she says, tell me immediately."
Jerry nodded, curling his fingers to grip Yin Luo's ring tightly. The green fire in the fireplace danced with flickering light across his face. Yin Luo lay on the sofa, her purple hair scattered across the old blanket, her breathing light and slow. The freezing layer sealed the white sword scar; the dark red membrane occasionally flared bright and then grew dull under the illumination of the firelight.
McGonagall reached up and grabbed a tin teapot from above the fireplace, placing it over the fire to boil. As the water bubbled and gurgled inside the pot, she set two dented, misshapen enamel mugs on the table and poured two cups of tea. She pushed one toward Jerry, holding the other herself and blowing on it twice.
"We sleep here tonight. She gets the sofa; there are blankets on the floor for you to make your own bed. We set out at dawn tomorrow."
Jerry picked up his enamel mug and took a sip of tea. The hot tea flowed down his throat, the warmth seeping into his blood vessels and spreading through his limbs. He finally stopped trembling. On the sofa, Yin Luo rolled over; her injured shoulder bumped against the backrest of the sofa, the sword scar jarring slightly. The dark red light of the freezing layer flashed once in response, and then settled back into quietude.