Chapter Twenty-Five: Cackling, the Featherless Chickens of Israel

What the heck? Feng Ke'er was so anxious she could only make muffled noises, not even bothering to get up, but sprawling on the ground as she clawed desperately at whatever was in her mouth.

Class had just ended, and she already knew what "contracting" meant—in short, it was the act of forming a pact between a cultivator and a spirit beast. There were two kinds of contracts: servant contracts and equal contracts. Although a cultivator could form equal contracts with multiple spirit beasts at once, in their entire life, they could only form a single servant contract with just one spirit beast. So, making a contract was no trivial matter—it was a major event!

When forming a contract, the cultivator would drip a bit of their heart's blood onto the spirit beast's forehead, channel spiritual energy, draw a sigil in the air, and simultaneously recite their name, saying: "Contract." Supposedly, this would bind them to the spirit beast. The type of contract depended on the symbol drawn; the two kinds of contracts had different sigils.

Judging by what had just happened, it seemed as if some idiot had mistaken her for a spirit beast! Even if it was an "equal contract," that was enough to make Feng Ke'er furious.

At last, she managed to dig out the lump in her mouth—a cold sticky rice ball.

"You..." That damn Feng Jiu, do you have pancakes for eyes? Contract my foot! Are you kidding me? I'm human, not a spirit beast!

"Keep quiet, ancestor!" The voice sounded urgent. "I—I just formed a contract with you. If I so much as get a headache or fever, you won’t feel good either!"

It was as if a shooting star flashed through her mind. Feng Ke'er blinked and finally remembered where she'd heard the voice before.

In the cave!

This guy had mocked her with all sorts of tricks, even calling her a "coward"!

Damn it! She was sure this was the creature who, hiding in the shadows, had devoured her three wild chickens, one grey rabbit, and nine wild chicken eggs!

Without any hesitation, she burst out, "Ugh, presumptuous and self-important... When did I ever agree to any damn contract with you?"

No sooner had she spoken than voices barked harshly from all around: "Who’s there? Who’s over there?"

Feng Jiu sighed, resigned, and clamped his mouth shut. Fate, timing—it was all the same. After forming the contract, he could have slipped away without anyone noticing. But it was his luck to run into this ill-tempered, foolish girl! Still, better to be her guardian beast than fall into the hands of those mediocre fools. At least, her surname was Feng!

A faint popping sound echoed, and a dazzling white light scattered the white steam in the kitchen.

Lying flat on the ground, Feng Ke’er saw dozens of small legs—some fat, some thin, some pale, some dark; some belonging to women, some to men. Some wore blue cloth shoes, some wore blue silk slippers, and there were even short leather boots inlaid with pearls and gemstones.

The world suddenly fell eerily silent.

Come on, haven't you ever seen a beauty take a flying spill? Feng Ke'er, still sprawled on the floor, lifted her head awkwardly to look at the crowd.

The crowd seemed to have been struck dumb, their mouths agape and expressions exaggerated as they stared at her.

"Fire Phoenix, it really is the Fire Phoenix!" Finally, the white-boned beauty in the green silk robe at the front snapped out of her stupor. Clutching her chest with one hand, pointing at Feng Ke’er with the other, she trembled like a branch in the wind. "You, you, you—!"

The crowd erupted into chaos, whispering and pointing.

"Ah, that's the Fire Phoenix, a divine beast from the upper realm!"

"It just voluntarily contracted with that girl?"

"Who is this ugly girl?"

"Looks like a new disciple."

...

Suddenly, the white-boned beauty’s eyes rolled back, and with a "pfft," she spat blood and collapsed straight backward!

"Senior Sister Chen!"

"Master Chen!"

On either side of her stood a young woman in a green silk robe and a sturdy middle-aged man in a yellow short robe with blue trim. They caught her in time, voices anxious.

Meanwhile, the rest glared at Feng Ke'er as if she was the enemy of all, their faces twisted with envy and resentment—what kind of dumb luck was this? That the Fire Phoenix chick would actually sacrifice a whole stage of cultivation to voluntarily form a contract and become her guardian beast!

Their stares made Feng Ke'er’s scalp tingle, her heart pounding wildly. She had no idea what a Fire Phoenix was—Master Chen hadn’t explained that in class. But she did know that getting caught red-handed for stealing food was indefensible! For her, a scolding was nothing, but if she dragged Jiang Fang into it, that would be a grave sin.

So she pretended to get up from the ground, quickly wiping her mouth to destroy the evidence amid the chaos, planning to deny everything. She was ready for the worst case: if it came to it, she’d admit stealing the rice ball herself and say it had nothing to do with anyone else. At most, she’d take a few lashes.

Hmm, there weren’t even any grains of rice on her mouth! What were they staring at?

With that, her heart calmed. Hmph, child’s play—so long as she wasn’t caught in the act, she had a hundred excuses to completely sever any connection with the rice ball fragments on the floor.

She got up calmly, dusted off her blue cloth short robe, then reached up to tidy her hair bun. At Qingyun Sect, the new disciples’ attire was strictly uniform—no individuality allowed. The same went for hair, regardless of gender: everyone had to wear a bun, with no ornaments. Once they entered the Qi Refinement stage, the rules relaxed. As for Feng Ke’er’s thick, pot-lid bangs, that was just her exploiting a loophole in the sect’s regulations—a cheeky gray area.

What the—! Her hands froze. She seemed to be touching a chicken claw! A hot, plump, meaty chicken claw! And it had five long toes—a mutant chicken claw!

"Mommy!" She yanked the claw and flung the wretched chicken away.

No wonder everyone looked like they’d seen a ghost—she’d not only taken a spectacular fall, but also had a chicken on her head!

"Cheep!" With a flash of red, something tumbled awkwardly to the ground less than two meters away, flapped about, and finally steadied itself. Lifting its head, it was ready to scold her.

But when Feng Ke’er got a clear look at it, she was so startled she covered her mouth and shrieked, "Ah—an Israeli featherless chicken!"

Recently, word had spread online that certain famous global fast food chains were using genetically modified, supposedly toxic Israeli featherless chickens.

What did a chicken with no feathers look like? Out of curiosity, she’d searched online. Sure enough, they existed. According to the internet, this breed was developed in Israel by crossing a genetically mutated featherless chicken from America with a regular chicken: the result, a new breed, all red, featherless, non-toxic, and edible—with pictures for proof. She shuddered at the sight—wow, this world was insane, even chickens went streaking!

And now, right before her, was a real live Israeli featherless fat chicken—about the size of a year-old broiler, plump, with a fire-red comb the size of a peanut, blue eyes, golden beak and claws, a red, naked body... featherless. Well, maybe that was exaggeration; it did have a little tuft of grayish down on its rump—if that wasn’t a feather, what was it? (Israeli featherless chickens protest: Nonsense! We’re fit, low-calorie, low-fat—where’s all that grease? We’re red, healthy, pollution-free, safe! Feng Ke’er scoffs: Yeah, but you’re still raised on feed! Country chickens make the best soup. [Narrator sighs: Oops, off topic. Quick interlude, now back to the story.])

"Ahem, ahem, ahem." The circle of green-robed disciples all contracted a collective cough, each covering their mouth with a fist and regarding the tactless girl with sympathetic eyes.

They had no idea what "Israeli" meant, nor did they care. The last three words—featherless chicken—were loud and clear. That was enough.

It was common knowledge that in the divine realm, there was a species of divine beast called a phoenix, born from primordial energy at the dawn of time. Whether male or female—or rather, cock or hen—every one of them was a card-carrying member of the beauty club, famous for their flamboyance and vanity throughout the Three Realms. Most important of all, the purest bloodline among them was called Fire Phoenix, and when angered, they loved to spit out a little fire for fun.

The creature before them, from its appearance, was precisely the fire-spitting type; the fire had no special qualities—just the famous Samadhi True Fire, known to be capable of burning all things in the world. Generally, it couldn’t be put out, unless doused by the water of Extreme Yin or Extreme Yang.

And where were these waters found? Everyone knew. The river separating the God and Demon realms was originally the heart’s blood of Pangu; over millions of years, this blood absorbed the Demon Realm’s yin energy and turned black, becoming the water of Extreme Yin. As for the water of Extreme Yang, that was no secret either: the sun, since the world’s creation, poured its pure yang energy onto the seas, turning the waters where the four seas meet golden—this was the water of Extreme Yang.

The first was in the divine realm, unreachable for most. The second was where the Kun turned into a Peng—a forbidden zone even immortals and demons dared not approach.

In short, neither water was easy to obtain.

So, in everyone’s eyes, the tactless girl was already a dead woman.

But, unexpectedly, the maligned flamboyant bird merely paused, then held its head high, strutted like a triumphant general, and with a flutter, landed on the girl’s right shoulder, ordering, "Let’s go, home."

The voice was childish and sweet, but brooked no refusal.

Strangely, this time Feng Ke'er’s legs acted before her brain. Under everyone’s gaze, she stumbled out of the kitchen, the featherless chicken on her shoulder, and left the dining hall...

It wasn’t until she was out of sight that she came to her senses. She flung the bird off her shoulder, planted her hands on her hips, jabbed a finger, and yelled, "Featherless chicken! What’s your game? Who do you think you are? Who agreed to contract with you?"

Feng Jiu, caught off guard, landed hard on his rump.

He took a deep breath and silently reminded himself over and over, "Conquer with virtue, conquer with virtue."

He had a temper, and when he lost it, he spat fire—so people kept their distance. It troubled him deeply.

Later, someone taught him a technique to suppress his temper. It worked well. Today alone, he’d managed twice to tamp down his rising fury with it.

Of course, there was another, even more important reason for his restraint—after forming the contract, Feng Jiu realized the other party had the Extreme Yin water constitution!

That just happened to counter his Samadhi True Fire!

The Feng family, long friendly with his kind, had produced a descendant with this bizarre mutation!

Heavens, are you messing with me? This girl was clearly born to restrain me.

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Tongtian Compendium, Chapter 25—Cackling, The Israeli Featherless Chicken—update complete!