Immediately, thunderous cheers erupted from the Wei soldiers. The door of another room creaked open, and Xiao Yan rushed out with great strides, his face showing wild joy. Though his clothes were somewhat disheveled, he laughed heartily at Yun Ya: “You’re awake! She managed to save you!”

Feng Miaojun was awakened by a fragrant aroma.

The scent of rice porridge was faint, yet it made her stomach growl.

The sound of gentle bubbling came from the kitchen. Feng Miaojun kept her eyes open for a while, her gaze falling on a pot of amaryllis by the window.

The flowers were in full bloom, oblivious to the biting cold outside.

She was still in the farmhouse, with the small room’s light half-bright and half-dim, creating a lazy atmosphere.

The curtain moved, and Yun Ya entered carrying a small pot, their eyes meeting as his peach blossom eyes instantly curved into a smile: “Awake? How do you feel?”

“Hungry!” Her small lips pouted, “Too hungry to get up.”

Yun Ya set down the pot on the table, then turned to lift her from the bed, seating her in a chair without her feet touching the ground.

She obediently curled up in his embrace, enjoying her lover’s attentive service while asking: “How are things outside?”

“Very good. Both Wei and Xia armies are present, but keeping to themselves.”

Feng Miaojun finally relaxed, seeing that the earthenware pot on the table still had a lid. She hurriedly lifted it: “What delicious food is this?” A wave of heat rushed to her face.

It was a pot of white porridge, cooked to aromatic softness, melting in the mouth. There were some red specks in it; Feng Miaojun scooped some up for a taste—sweet potatoes.

Yun Ya returned from the kitchen with two small side dishes. Seeing her blowing on the porridge before swallowing, looking like a starving ghost, he couldn’t help but smile: “Eat slowly. There’s something else buried in the porridge, don’t choke.”

Something else in the porridge? She stirred around and indeed dug out a round object, poking it with bamboo chopsticks—white and soft, resembling a rice ball.

She took a gentle bite. Salty, yet with great elasticity, soft and smooth, with a rich milk fragrance.

Eating it with the porridge made the white porridge taste even sweeter. “What is this?” Having eaten throughout New Xia, she had never tasted such a perfect porridge accompaniment. “A local specialty?”

“Salted buffalo milk.”

Feng Miaojun was astonished: “This is buffalo milk?”

Wasn’t milk always liquid? Apart from cheese and milk skin, this was her first time seeing a solid dairy product.

“Strictly speaking, it’s water buffalo milk.” Yun Ya also served himself a bowl of porridge, placing a piece of salted buffalo milk at the bottom of his bowl. “This thing only becomes soft and smooth when put in hot porridge. Once cooled, it hardens and the texture becomes quite grainy.” He took a sip, his posture incomparably more elegant than hers. “Soldiers like to carry these during campaigns; they’re very popular.”

Before and after battles, resources are tight, and even finding vegetables can be difficult. This item is easy to preserve in midwinter, tastes good, and is a winter staple for the Wei army in the northwest.

With just two pieces of salted buffalo milk, one could easily finish a large bowl of porridge. Feng Miaojun found it extremely satisfying, and before long, she had consumed more than half the pot. On the table was also a dish of winter melon stewed with ham, a dish of pickled radish, and a dish of small fish in wine lees, but she barely touched any of them.

After finishing the porridge, she felt her spirit returning. As Yun Ya cleared the bowls and chopsticks, she followed him into the kitchen: “How long did I sleep?” When she moved her limbs earlier, she even heard her joints cracking, a sign of prolonged stiffness.

“Not long, five days.” Hearing Yun Ya’s answer, she breathed a sigh of relief, only for him to point at his temple and add, “But before that, you spent three days in my sea of consciousness.”

What? She was startled: “I was in there for at most three hours!”

“The flow of time in the sea of consciousness differs from the outside world, with no fixed pattern.” Yun Ya explained while washing dishes. “Except for the master himself, no one entering can accurately gauge time. Don’t you know this?”

“Of course I know.” She instinctively touched her nose. “But experiencing it firsthand makes it seem absurd.” So she had slept for eight days in total, no wonder her joints were stiff and she was starving.

She glanced out the window, noticing the dimmer light, and asked: “Is it night outside now?”

“Yes.” Yun Ya wiped the water droplets from his hands. “It gets dark early in the mountains.”

“What about Xiao Yan?”

Yun Ya smiled: “He’s tied up with official duties, and quite busy right now.”

“Which means you have time tonight.” Feng Miaojun placed both hands on his cheeks, turning him to face her directly, unable to wait any longer. “Explain everything to me from the beginning—what’s with those monsters in your sea of consciousness!”

Typically, the sea of consciousness is a cultivator’s most private sanctum, with no second life form besides its “creator.” Yet Yun Ya’s was densely packed with invaders, suppressing even him as the master. She had nearly died there with him.

Yun Ya heard the irritation in her voice and took her small hands: “As clever as you are, you’ve probably guessed their identity?”

Feng Miaojun indeed had a vague conclusion in her heart. After hesitating for a moment, she tentatively suggested: “Hmm, Celestial Demons?”

What creatures could infiltrate his sea of consciousness and nearly devour its rightful owner? Beyond Celestial Demons, she could think of no other possibility. When eliminating the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the answer. She paused before continuing: “But their power wasn’t strong. I killed several when I infiltrated the labyrinth. They don’t seem like a race capable of opposing the Realm God.”

How powerful were Celestial Demons? Back then, humans and demon races together couldn’t defeat them. Eventually, these beings confronted the Realm God directly, and though they were ultimately defeated, their power far exceeded what modern cultivators could aspire to. She not only killed the monsters in the labyrinth but also blocked them outside the small courtyard in the end. If they were truly Celestial Demons, how could she have dispatched them so easily?

Another peculiar point: if Celestial Demons had appeared, why weren’t they wreaking havoc in the world, but instead stirring up trouble in Yun Ya’s sea of consciousness?

“They are indeed Celestial Demons, yet not their true selves.” Yun Ya gave her a definitive answer. “You found them weak because they were merely projections of Celestial Demons in my sea of consciousness, with strength not even one-tenth of their true forms.”

“Projections?” Feng Miaojun frowned. Most cultivators would be confused by this statement, but as someone who specialized in soul techniques, she immediately grasped the key point: “Are their true forms still sealed?”

“Otherwise, how could this world remain so peaceful?”

With the continent engulfed in warfare, could it be called peaceful? Feng Miaojun couldn’t help but roll her eyes. However, she understood that if the Celestial Demon race descended, the chaos would multiply many times over.

“Where are their true forms, and why are they specifically targeting you?”

Yun Ya remained silent for a long time before saying quietly: “Their true forms are still at the sealing site. They infiltrated my sea of consciousness seeking a method to break the seal.”

Finally, she had uncovered another secret he had been hiding!