Douluo Continent: Tonight, a Fairy Tale Descends

She was sitting by a stream in an unnamed mountain hollow, her boots off on a nearby rock, her bare feet immersed in the cool water, her long golden hair disheveled by the mountain breeze.

She held a freshly picked herb in her hand, carefully examining the veins on the leaves against the sunlight.

On a hillside not far away, Pinocchio was squatting next to a clump of bushes, sticking his butt out and fiddling with something, muttering to himself.

Levin stood atop the hillside, his short, golden hair gleaming coldly in the light, his gaze sweeping across the distant, rolling mountain ranges as if confirming his direction.

The three of them had been traveling together for quite some time. They began their journey after helping the students hunt for spirit rings outside Notting City.

Chapter 550 Intuition

Cinderella examined the leaves of the herb in her hand for a long time, turning them over and over to make sure that its age and medicinal properties met her expectations, before carefully putting it into her medicine pouch.

She stood up, patted the mud off her hands, stepped barefoot onto the warm stones by the stream, bent down to pick up her boots and put them on.

From the hillside, Levin's voice came from above, carrying a rare hint of relaxation: "There's not much of value here. Ten miles north, there should be a wetland where some good medicinal herbs supposedly grow."

Pinocchio was still busy behind the bushes, his voice muffled as he said, "I'm almost done here too! A few purple-leaved vines have grown in this bush. They're not very old, but their roots are quite good; we can use them as medicine when we get back."

He peeked out from behind the bushes, a few leaves clinging to his short brown hair, a satisfied smile on his lips, like a cat that had just finished raiding a bird's nest.

Cinderella glanced at him, her lips twitching slightly. It wasn't exactly a smile, but it conveyed a visibly relaxed feeling.

Since parting ways outside Nottingham, the three of them had been traveling together, heading north for many days.

Without a specific destination or any task to complete, we simply followed the mountain range, stopping to collect suitable medicinal herbs and exploring any valleys that seemed worthwhile.

This aimless wandering made Cinderella feel very comfortable.

She walked back to Levin's side, retied the medicine pouch, and asked, "How did you know about that wetland ten miles north? Have you been here before?"

Levin shook his head: "I've seen it on the map. Beyond this valley, over that ridge, there's a low-lying area where a stream flows in. Judging from the terrain, that kind of place is most likely to grow damp-loving medicinal herbs. Whether it's worth the special detour depends on luck."

Cinderella nodded without saying anything more. Along the way, Levin was in charge of determining the direction and assessing the terrain, Pinocchio was responsible for capturing those easily overlooked details during the exploration, and she was responsible for identifying and collecting medicinal herbs.

The three of them had clear roles and worked together smoothly.

Pinocchio finally emerged from behind the bushes, carrying several well-preserved purple-leaf vines in his arms. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he jogged over: "These are quite old. While they're not exactly rare treasures, they're more than enough to make a tonic soup to strengthen the body's foundation."

Cinderella took the purple vine, carefully examined its roots, and only put it away after confirming there was no damage: "You certainly know how to pick things."

"Of course!" Pinocchio clapped the dirt off his hands, his tone filled with undisguised pride.

"While I may not be as knowledgeable about herbs as you are, my intuition is always spot on. I can tell at a glance whether a plant is worth digging up or not."

Cinderella replied nonchalantly, "So you spent so long rummaging through the bushes just because your gut feeling told you there was something good there?"

Pinocchio was taken aback, his expression froze for a moment, then he retorted confidently, "My intuition needs verification, and verification takes time; that's rigor!"

Levin's lips twitched slightly, but he didn't reply.

He turned and walked a few steps up the hillside, then stopped and looked back at Cinderella and Pinocchio.

He seemed to be waiting for them to catch up, or perhaps confirming the direction.

Cinderella retied the medicine pouch and followed after him.

Pinocchio clapped the dirt off his hands and jogged after him, muttering to himself about how intact the roots of those purple-leaved vines were and how suitable their age was.

The three walked forward along the ridgeline.

The path underfoot gradually changed from soft soil to gravel and exposed rock, and the vegetation on both sides also changed subtly, transitioning from low shrubs to sparse drought-resistant herbaceous plants.

The further north you go, the colder and drier the air becomes, and the mountain wind blows from ahead, carrying the unique dampness of the distant wetlands.

Levin's judgment was always accurate. After crossing the ridge, a low-lying area appeared ahead, stretching out into a large, lush wetland along the stream.

Water vapor evaporates into a thin white mist under the sunlight, flowing slowly to one side with the wind.

Several clumps of aquatic plants with pale purple flowers swayed in the shallow water, their leaves glistening with fine water droplets that refracted the sunlight into tiny shimmering patterns.

"We've arrived just ahead."

Levin stopped at the edge of the ridge, not rushing down, but first surveying the terrain from his vantage point. Cinderella stood beside him, her gaze also fixed on the wetlands.

Her mental energy, like invisible tentacles, had already probed that area. A moment later, she withdrew her senses, a hint of satisfaction flashing in her eyes.

"There are a lot of water pepper growing along the edge of a body of water, and they are quite old. There may also be a few sweet flag plants near the reeds. If we are lucky enough to collect some that are old enough, we can use them to make some good prescriptions."

Pinocchio's eyes lit up when he heard the word "medicinal herbs": "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go, let's go, while it's still early, let's gather as many as we can."

As he spoke, he took the lead and started walking down the slope, looking as impatient as a hunting dog that had been released from its leash.

Cinderella and Levin exchanged a glance and followed behind him at a leisurely pace.

The three descended into the valley and explored along the edge of the marshland. Cinderella's footsteps were extremely light, leaving almost no noticeable traces on the damp mud.

Her gaze swept over each clump of plants, accurately judging their medicinal properties and age, before selecting the most suitable plant to work with.

Levin, however, maintained his composed demeanor, slowly strolling around the area, selecting what was suitable to pick.

Pinocchio fully utilized his exploratory instincts, venturing into every nook and cranny to take a look, and soon returned carrying a handful of fresh aquatic plants and several wetland plants to show off.

This is almost a snapshot of their daily lives.

When you arrive at a new place, stop and take a look, collect any useful natural treasures, and then continue on your way.

There was no clear destination, nor a fixed route; we just kept heading north.

Cinderella herself couldn't pinpoint when she started having this feeling.

It was probably after the Soul Master Competition, or after receiving the Divine Test, that she had a vague premonition.

She should collect some rare and precious materials.

It's not about aimless hoarding, but about selectively and systematically acquiring things that are truly valuable.

She couldn't explain where the premonition came from, just as she couldn't explain why she would sometimes suddenly look up in a certain direction.

But the feeling was so certain that she didn't doubt its reality. She simply did as she was told.

And she discovered that she wasn't the only one who felt this way.

One night, while they were resting by the campfire, Pinocchio casually remarked, "Have you ever had that feeling... like something is urging you to do something?"

As he spoke, he was fiddling with a piece of ore he had just picked up, the firelight flickering on his face, making his eyes appear exceptionally bright.

Cinderella looked at him, not answering immediately. She knew what Pinocchio meant, because she sensed it too.

Levin, who was sitting on the other side of the fire, was polishing a neatly shaped piece of bone. He paused for a moment when he heard this, and then nodded.

That feeling of being pulled by something is not just one person's illusion.

All three of them are being driven by the same invisible force, and in their respective choices, they are doing the same thing.

But they all knew their limits.

When harvesting medicinal herbs, only the mature parts are taken; they are never uprooted.

When collecting ore, they only take the surface-spreading parts and don't dig extensively for the deeply buried pieces.

They were like the most restrained passersby on this continent, taking what they needed as they passed by, but never destroying the foundation for things to continue growing.

The feeling was like preparing for a future that I couldn't even see clearly.

As evening fell, the three returned to the main road.

As darkness fell, the outline of a small town emerged in the twilight not far ahead.

Levin glanced at the sign and said they could stay in town for the night. Pinocchio immediately perked up and quickened his pace toward the town entrance.

Cinderella followed at a leisurely pace, her gaze fixed on the darkening horizon in the distance, silently calculating tomorrow's route.

……

north.

The wind outside the Iron Gate Pass was colder than it had been a few days ago. The sky was overcast, the clouds hung low, obscuring the sun and the outlines of distant mountains; the whole world looked as if a large, grayish-white bowl had been turned upside down.

Xiao Wu stood under a withered tree at the edge of the training field, her hands tucked into her sleeves, watching the physical training that was taking place on the playground ahead with a bored expression.

The soldiers, in neat rows, carried heavy logs and ran back and forth on the frozen ground. Their breaths quickly dissipated in the cold wind, and their slogans rose and fell, creating a rather imposing scene.

But after watching for a while, Xiao Wu only felt more bored.

This was already the umpteenth day she had been in the North. At first, she counted the days, but then she realized that each day was about the same, so she stopped counting.

In her mind, joining the army meant fighting every day, making contributions, and rising through the ranks quickly. She would soon be close to the high command of the Northern Alliance, and even have the chance to kill Bibi Dong herself, or witness the day Bibi Dong was killed.

But reality dealt her a harsh blow.

Since the Spirit Empire suffered a major defeat in the northern border and three Title Douluo were captured, the entire front line has been as quiet as if it were asleep.

The Spirit Hall's army retreated back to its defensive line, while the Anti-Spirit Alliance was busy digesting its gains and reorganizing its forces. Neither side had any intention of launching another large-scale offensive.

Due to its geographical location, the Northern Territory has become the quietest corner of the entire Anti-Soul Alliance.

It seems that the Spirit Hall has temporarily abandoned the northern frontier and concentrated its forces on other locations that require more defense.

As a result, Xiao Wu's military camp repeated the same training and routine every day. At most, there was an occasional border patrol mission where she would run dozens of miles out and return without even seeing a scout from the Spirit Hall.

She felt as if she were trapped in a giant cage. Not a physical cage, but an invisible one, made up of waiting and silence.

So she started frequently running to Zhu Zhuqing's tent.

Although Zhu Zhuqing's scout battalion didn't receive any major missions, they at least went on a mission every few days, running to the border, which made their daily training a little more varied than that of ordinary infantry battalions.

When Xiao Wu couldn't find anything to do, she would go to Zhu Zhuqing's place. Sometimes she would bring a pot of hot tea, and sometimes she would bring a few pieces of roasted jerky, just like dropping by on her way.

Today was no different. When Xiao Wu lifted the curtain and slipped inside, Zhu Zhuqing was sitting on the edge of the bed, polishing her short blade.

She had polished the short blade until it gleamed, the edge gleaming coldly in the candlelight, but she continued to wipe it again and again with a fine cloth, as if she were doing something that required patience.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up, confirmed it was Xiao Wu, and then lowered her head to continue her work: "Did training end early today?"

"What do you mean 'early'? It's just like that." Xiao Wu sat down on the low stool, her hands supporting her knees, her pink scorpion braid hanging down from her shoulders, swaying slightly in the dim candlelight.

"I ran ten laps in the morning, practiced marching for two hours in the afternoon, and then we were dismissed. It's the same every day, I've almost memorized it."

Zhu Zhuqing didn't reply, but simply flipped the short blade over and continued wiping the other side.

Xiao Wu didn't mind her silence and continued, "What do you think those big shots are thinking? They fought such a brilliant battle, why did they stop? Wouldn't it be better to strike while the iron is hot and push south? The Spirit Hall's morale is low right now, it's the perfect time to expand their gains."

Do you think war is child's play?

Zhu Zhuqing put down the fine cloth in her hand, sheathed the short blade, and placed it on the bedside table.