She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar-Chapter 83

Quan Xiang seemed tempted but hesitated. "But the two of you… you're still just fledglings."

Compared to other races, mermaids had a very clear distinction between adulthood and childhood, with no in-between—likely tied to their racial traits.

—A mermaid maiden who consciously pursued love was considered an adult. One who hadn’t yet awakened to romantic feelings was still a fledgling.

In Quan Xiang’s eyes, though Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang appeared to be around twelve or thirteen in human years, their playful bickering lacked any hint of romantic tension. It was purely the squabbling of childhood friends—undeniable proof they were still fledglings.

Yan Luoyue chuckled. "Don’t underestimate us. Man Shuang and I are quite capable."

Chang Lili chimed in to vouch for them. "It’s true. After the exchange sessions, I’m not even confident I could defeat Junior Sister Yan and Junior Brother Wu in a sparring match."

Quan Xiang shook her head, clearly unswayed by Chang Lili’s endorsement. "Thank you, Lili, but you’re just a fledgling too."

Chang Lili: "…"

Her eyes widened in shock—this was the first time she’d learned her mermaid friends viewed her this way.

But the problem was…

"I’m not a fledgling! I might have a bit of a baby face, but I’m already twenty-one!" Chang Lili protested loudly. "I’m just naturally solitary and haven’t developed an interest in romance yet!"

If possible, Chang Lili fervently wished her future children could be grown from trees.

Yan Luoyue had no comment on this avant-garde notion.

After some deliberation—or more accurately, after Wu Manshuang demonstrated his prowess by amplifying his toxicity and incapacitating half the mermaid clan in one go (Quan Xiang: "…")—the mermaids finally agreed to the plan.

On the way to the whirlpool, Yan Luoyue couldn’t help but smirk at the memory of what had just transpired.

Over a dozen beautiful mermaid maidens, paralyzed stiff, floated belly-up to the surface like a row of acrylic standees drifting downstream…

Quan Xiang, Wan Zhi, and the other mermaids who had swum farther away and avoided Wu Manshuang’s attack hurried after them, pulling their companions back to prevent them from being swept away by the current.

The scene was equal parts pitiful and hilarious.

"Man Shuang, I’ve realized something," Yan Luoyue mused with a rebellious glint in her eyes. "Underwater is practically your invincible domain. If you wanted, you could even claim the river as your own and reign supreme."

Wu Manshuang’s lethal toxicity was always a double-edged sword.

But when wielded correctly, it could achieve unparalleled results.

On land, with his robes tightly wrapped, it wasn’t as noticeable.

But in the water, his poison spread relentlessly through the currents.

A single application of his toxins could unleash a devastating, indiscriminate area attack.

…The only drawback was that Yan Luoyue had to swim a safe distance away before Wu Manshuang unleashed his full power.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to focus.

Wu Manshuang shook his head lightly, showing no pride in having single-handedly incapacitated half the mermaid clan.

He smiled, his gaze lingering briefly on their intertwined hands, and admitted candidly:

"But… I still prefer being on land."

He loved the gentle breezes on land, the moon that hung overhead at night.

Even more, he loved holding Yan Luoyue’s hand as the two of them skipped and ran about, teetering on the edge of mischief but always pulling back at the last moment in perfect sync.

Days like that—chasing butterflies in the mountains or picking flowers from the trees—were far more enjoyable than ruling a river alone, powerful yet isolated.

Transforming into their beast forms, the two dove into the sandy whirlpool.

The initial descent could be described using lines from The Peach Blossom Spring: At first, it was extremely narrow, barely wide enough for a person. After advancing a few dozen steps, it suddenly… No, it still didn’t open up.

Yan Luoyue took out luminescent stones, pearls, and even a hand-crafted flashlight she had designed for illumination.

But the light from each was swallowed whole by the darkness, vanishing without a trace.

It was as if an invisible maw lurked around them, biding its time while exuding a palpable threat, as though taunting the intruders who dared venture into the whirlpool’s depths.

In the end, Yan Luoyue solved the lighting issue with two lanterns.

These weren’t ordinary lanterns—their wicks were split flames from the Wuti Fires (Pinkie and Inky), their frames woven from Jiang Tingbai’s handcrafted Pixiu grass braids, and their shades made from pure mermaid silk gifted by the mermaids.

The darkness that had snuffed out all previous light sources couldn’t extinguish the glow of the Wuti Fires.

Holding up the grass-woven lantern, Yan Luoyue looked around, deeply moved.

"Thank goodness Senior Brother Jiang’s Pixiu braids are full of holes like a sieve—perfect for letting light through."

If she’d brought one of those finely crafted, tightly woven braids from the market, the lighting would’ve been abysmal.

In the dim glow, Wu Manshuang’s lips curled faintly. "Since you hold Senior Brother’s weaving skills in such high regard, should I pass along your compliments?"

Yan Luoyue played along. "Better not. I’d hate for Senior Brother to take it to heart and switch careers to weaving colanders."

With that, the little turtle and little snake exchanged glances, sharing a mischievously shameless grin.

Wu Manshuang held up the ink-black lantern as he inspected the surroundings, occasionally crouching down to examine something closely. Finally, he determined the reason behind the "light-devouring" phenomenon in this place.

"What we're standing on is a large-scale formation."

The ability to swallow light was merely a minor function among the formation's many purposes.

Beyond that, it also had a powerful concealment effect.

When this formation was fully operational, it could absorb sound, mask auras, and function like a labyrinth—only allowing the guide holding the formation's core to see the true path ahead.

And even...

Wu Manshuang lifted his head, gazing toward the vortex entrance where he and Yan Luoyue had descended.

This quicksand vortex was itself part of the formation.

If one could grasp the formation's core, the vortex would cleverly expand, opening a passage wide enough for an ordinary person to pass through.

...However, all the aforementioned functions could only be realized when the formation was fully operational.

At present, for unknown reasons, most of the formation had been severely damaged.

Only a few minor tricks—such as the light-absorbing formation and the quicksand vortex—were still functioning.

Yan Luoyue's mastery of formations paled in comparison to her expertise in artifact crafting. If formations were a test worth a hundred points, she'd score around eighty.

Unlike Wu Manshuang, who scored a hundred because that was the highest possible mark.

It wasn’t until Wu Manshuang made his initial conclusion that Yan Luoyue, while bending down to inspect the area, noticed some of the more obvious details.

As for the deeper analysis and final judgment, that still had to be left to Wu Manshuang.

When Wu Manshuang stood up after his fifth crouch, his body swayed visibly.

Yan Luoyue, standing right beside him, swiftly caught his arm.

Even though her palm tingled as if struck by a burst of static electricity, she didn’t let go.

"Manshuang?"

"A bit mentally drained..." Wu Manshuang replied, privately astonished by the complexity of the formation.

Just moments ago, to decipher the patterns he had discovered, he had nearly exhausted all the knowledge he had accumulated since studying formations.

—Spatial formations, guidance techniques involving spiritual awareness, the stabilization and construction of massive formations, even the distinctive mandala vine patterns unique to cross-realm teleportation.

Even so, Wu Manshuang couldn’t confidently claim he had fully deciphered even a corner of this formation.

"Luoyue, you know what? There’s something that strikes me as odd."

Rubbing his temples in slow circles, Wu Manshuang shared his new discovery with Yan Luoyue.

"Look here—this method of setting up spatial formations was popular eight thousand years ago, but it’s rarely used now."

Modern formation masters learned spatial formations that were more cost-effective—ahem, or as Wu Manshuang put it, more streamlined and material-efficient.

"But the builder of this formation clearly spent extra resources to stabilize the spatial passage—only to cut corners blatantly in other areas."

Take the sound-absorbing formation, for example.

Wu Manshuang had crouched and risen twice while examining it, puzzled as to why it lacked a third of the standard formation lines.

Wouldn’t that make it prone to malfunction?

Then, belatedly, he realized: Well, yes—that’s why it’s already broken now!

"..."

After mentally reviewing the standard sound-absorbing formation five or six times, Wu Manshuang finally understood.

The missing third of the formation lines all shared one common trait.

They were expensive to lay down.

Wu Manshuang: "..."

Though the reasoning was absurd, he felt he was infinitely close to the truth.

Nearby, Yan Luoyue straightened up. "I’d guess this formation must be very old."

Even with her limited expertise, she could sense the heavy historical imprint in the formation’s design.

If the builder wasn’t an adherent of ancient craftsmanship, then this formation must have been activated long ago—possibly even before the Demon-Subjugation War.

"Manshuang, in your opinion, what was this formation’s purpose when fully operational?"

Wu Manshuang answered gravely, "I believe this is a cross-realm formation."

Considering how the demonic energy around them had grown more distinct after entering the vortex, he theorized that when intact, this formation could open a passage between the demonic realm and the cultivation world.

This only deepened the mystery.

—Who had built this formation, only to abandon it later?

—The demonic energy, though faint, persisted. Could it be that demonic creatures had used this passage to infiltrate the human realm?

Just as Wu Manshuang was silently unsettled by his own conjecture, Yan Luoyue suddenly clapped her hands.

"Ah, hearing you say that, I understand now."

"...Luoyue?"

"I know what this formation was used for."

Yan Luoyue nodded sagely. "It’s obvious—this was a smuggling route for cultivators traveling between realms thousands of years ago, most likely before the Demon-Subjugation War!"

Wu Manshuang: "..."

Even through the sheer veil of his hood, his stunned expression was unmistakable.

Yan Luoyue chuckled in explanation. "Manshuang, you might not know this, but back when the three realms were connected, crossing through an official inter-realm passage was exorbitantly expensive."

This had been mentioned in their history lessons at the academy.

Moreover, Yan Luoyue had firsthand experience with it in the game Worlds United.

Worlds United had three servers: the Cultivation World server, the Demon World server, and the Monster World server.

If players wanted to switch servers—that is, transfer their character data from one server to another—they had to use the "Cross-Realm Teleportation Formation."

Unless they obtained a special quest item called the "Realm-Passing Token" through a storyline mission, a single server transfer would cost roughly two-thirds of an average player’s in-game wealth.

In Yan Luoyue’s memory, players had once protested this fee vehemently.

But the game developers remained unmoved.

In fact, they even issued an official in-game mail, citing lore reasons and attaching a notice: "Wartime regulations—strict entry and exit controls."

So, where there was demand, there was supply.

Some third-party exploiters began offering "character transfer services," colloquially known among players as "smuggling."

However, this "smuggling" operation was swiftly cracked down upon by the developers.

To eradicate it entirely, the game’s administrators deleted thousands of accounts and publicly listed the offenders’ names in a rotating announcement...

For weeks afterward, the game’s atmosphere was tense.

Players became hyper-vigilant, reporting suspected smugglers on sight—after all, abiding by the rules and turning in offenders even earned them in-game rewards...

—Wait, but law-abiding players hadn’t smuggled.

Why were they so eager to report?

Ah, right—the bounty.

"It's just a game, no need to take it too seriously. So, why was everyone so tense back then?"

Yan Luoyue froze for a moment.

In an instant, a flash of white light seemed to streak through her mind.

Like a thin cardboard separating oil from water, this brief daze forcibly interrupted her train of thought.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Yan Luoyue naturally shifted her focus.

She briefly explained the historical context of smuggling to Wu Manshuang, quickly earning an enlightened look from the little snake.

"Alright, let’s keep moving deeper," Yan Luoyue said with a smile, tugging gently at Wu Manshuang’s sleeve. "Just like we planned."

They couldn’t hear the mermaid whistle, nor did they know whether the source of the demonic aura was connected to it.

According to their plan, they would first locate the origin of the demonic energy.

If they found the mermaid whistle at the source, the two matters could be resolved as one.

If not, the situation would clearly become more complicated.

Depending on the circumstances, they would decide whether to return to their sect for reinforcements.

Following the faint, wispy traces of demonic energy, Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang pressed forward.

Along the way, Wu Manshuang noticed signs of deliberately damaged formations.

It seemed this smuggling route had been sabotaged from the cultivation world’s side long ago.

Yan Luoyue ventured a guess: "Maybe it was destroyed during the Demon Subjugation War by smugglers who once used this path?"

After advancing in the dimness for about another quarter of an hour, they finally found the source of the demonic energy—a tightly shut clam shell, wreathed in faint tendrils of dark energy.

Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang circled the clam once each, confirming it was their target.

The black clam was firmly sealed.

No larger than an adult’s palm, it lay buried in the riverbed, indistinguishable from any ordinary clam.

Were it not for the trace of demonic energy clinging to it, no one would have given this pearl-bearing mollusk a second glance.

Yan Luoyue picked it up and shook it experimentally, hearing a clear clinking sound inside.

"There’s something in it."

"Let me see."

Wu Manshuang took the clam from her and tried prying it open.

Oddly, despite his strength as a mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator, the seemingly ordinary shell refused to budge.

Yan Luoyue mused, "This shell carries demonic energy… Manshuang, does your inherited memory include anything like this?"

Wu Manshuang hesitated before shaking his head.

Until now, he’d considered himself a walking encyclopedia of serpentine demonic creatures.

But after being stumped by Yan Luoyue’s questions about mermaids and clams, he began to wonder—were his inherited memories incomplete?

After discussing, they decided to take the clam back and gather help to open it.

On the return journey, a thought occurred to Yan Luoyue.

She recalled Quan Xiang mentioning that mermaids had unique methods for cultivating clams.

Could releasing clams be a cultural tradition for mermaids, akin to humans floating lanterns or sending messages in bottles?

...

"What?" Quan Xiang sounded surprised. "We do raise clams, but we don’t have a custom of releasing them like that."

By now, Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang had returned with their prize.

The mermaids had already gathered near the whirlpool, waiting eagerly.

They chattered excitedly, certain the clam contained a mermaid whistle.

"The sound we’ve been hearing grew louder!"

When they saw the palm-sized black clam, the mermaids huddled around it in astonishment.

"It’s so small?"

"Quan Xiang, do you think there’s a tiny person inside blowing the whistle?"

"She must be very, very tiny."

"Smaller than our thumbs?"

"Maybe even smaller than our pinkies!"

Yan Luoyue hovered at the edge of the group, silently observing.

The clam shell, which neither she nor Wu Manshuang could open, yielded effortlessly after Quan Xiang formed a single hand seal.

The mermaids flicked their tails in delight, as if solving a shared riddle: "It’s the spell we use to open clam beds!"

"Maybe mermaids from another tributary sent us a message inside?"

"But they shouldn’t have used a distress whistle."

"Exactly! It had us all worried."

"I’ve been anxious for over half a year!"

Stepping discreetly between the mermaid sisters, Yan Luoyue moved to the front as the clam opened.

Inside, she saw a piece of red-and-white mermaid silk and an unusual mermaid whistle.

Quan Xiang lifted the whistle in surprise. "This seems specially altered."

It was a whistle that could only produce a distress call—any water flow through it would trigger the sound endlessly.

As for the mermaid silk…

Only when Wan Zhi gently unfolded it did Yan Luoyue realize the fabric itself wasn’t multicolored.

Instead, someone had used a red liquid to scrawl a long series of… well, scribbles?

The group exchanged baffled looks.

Wu Manshuang confirmed it wasn’t a formation pattern.

Yan Luoyue could attest it bore no resemblance to talismanic script.

The mermaids, too, had never seen anything like it.

They were especially amazed—mermaid silk was famously water-resistant, yet something had left permanent marks on it.

After passing the silk around, it finally landed in Yan Luoyue’s hands.

"Let me take it back," she suggested. "I’ll contact Little Ling—he’s well-traveled and might have clues."

"Of course!"

The mermaids handed it over without hesitation, even gifting Yan Luoyue enough pearls to cultivate a mirror-image tree and a vibrantly woven farewell silk.

"We worked on this while you two were in the whirlpool," said Wan Zhi, her sweet smile deepening with dimples.

"Thank you both for solving our long-standing mystery so quickly!"

"Truly!"

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"Little Luoyue is amazing! Little Manshuang too!"

The mermaids swam closer, unfurling their masterpiece.

At the first glimpse of its unfolding beauty, Yan Luoyue’s eyes widened in awe—

This piece of mermaid silk was not a solid color, but rather adorned with intricate patterns.

The mermaids giggled softly. "Because we all wove it together. Even when depicting the same memory, each person's emotions and colors are different."

As the scroll unfurled halfway, even Wu Manshuang's expression turned subtly complicated.

At the very center of the vast silk, a younger version of Wu Manshuang—half-human, half-snake—was depicted with a slightly awkward demeanor, deliberately turning his head away.

Looking further down, the jade-green tip of his serpentine tail coiled gently around the wrist of a smiling young girl, who rested her cheek playfully in one hand.

"..."

Quan Xiang swam over leisurely.

Mindful of the numbing toxins in Wu Manshuang's body, she didn’t approach him directly. Instead, she flicked her tail, sending ripples through the water that lifted his hair like a gentle wave.

"At first, none of us had a clear idea of what to weave… But halfway through, we realized everyone had unconsciously chosen the most vivid memory."

With a teasing lilt, Quan Xiang grinned.

Wu Manshuang: "..."

Yan Luoyue ran her fingers over the silk, marveling at how perfectly the mermaids had captured her and the little snake’s expressions.

Except…

"I remember, when Manshuang coiled around my wrist, he was in full snake form, wasn’t he?"

So how had they instinctively woven him in his half-human, half-serpent form? And how had they so accurately depicted the exact expression on his face?

Quan Xiang spread her hands innocently. "Ah, well… sometimes life needs a little delightful imagination."

Carefully storing away this one-of-a-kind treasure, it was soon time to bid farewell.

The mermaids showed no sorrow at parting.

Their deepest affections had already been woven into the shimmering silk.

Laughing, they took turns embracing Yan Luoyue in their soft arms.

A few even nuzzled her smooth cheeks affectionately, their way of saying goodbye to their beloved Little Luoyue.

Since Wu Manshuang carried his numbing toxins, the mermaids flicked their tails, sending playful ripples against his robes instead.

Before they left, Quan Xiang gifted them a mermaid whistle.

"If you ever return, blow this."

The beautiful mermaid spoke softly, her golden-orange tail fanning gracefully in the water.

"Whether you’re at the river’s head, its tail, or its depths—if we hear the whistle, we’ll swim to meet you."

For the mermaids, the warmth of friendship was a gentler, sweeter love than romance.

"We’ll come back to see you," Yan Luoyue promised, accepting the whistle. Then, a mischievous glint flashed in her eyes as she remembered something.

Leaning close to Quan Xiang’s coral-like ear, she whispered a few words.

"If that clingy scoundrel shows up again, you can just…"

Surprise flickered across Quan Xiang’s face.

A second later, she swayed her tail like a carefree girl and laughed brightly.

"Oh, I’ll have to try that!"

…

Half a year later, a young cultivator named Cui Jiasong arrived at the Biluo River.

Tall and slender, his features were refined and handsome.

Yet the whites of his eyes were streaked with alarming red veins, and his face bore an exhaustion so deep it bordered on sickness.

He lingered for three long months before catching sight of a mermaid.

When the delicate, ethereal figure appeared, his first instinct was to look at her tail.

…A sky-blue hue, like a clear day—not the deep crimson he remembered.

Disappointed, he quickly called out before she could vanish.

"Hello." His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms, though his sleeves hid the damage.

Swallowing hard, Cui Jiasong forced his voice steady.

"Have you… seen Wan Zhi? She’s a mermaid—her tail is vermilion…"

"Oh, Wan Zhi? I know her." The sky-blue-tailed mermaid tilted her head. "Were you her lover?"

His throat bobbed. "I was."

He should say more.

Confess how he had been an unworthy, faithless man.

How he had trampled on the purest love with his own distrust and cruelty…

But the mermaid only studied him with clear, knowing eyes, as if no words were needed.

"I see." She nodded decisively. "You hurt Wan Zhi. Now you can’t find her, so you’ve come to buy the silk she once wove to remember your love, haven’t you?"

At the words "hurt Wan Zhi," a violent surge of emotion tore through him, and Cui Jiasong coughed up a mouthful of blood.

"Yes… yes, I hurt her."

Shivering, he repeated the words like a broken man.

Only after what felt like an eternity did he snap back to awareness, disbelief coloring his voice.

"Wait—you said she wove silk? She wove silk for us? I—I can have it?"

"Of course. For a price."

The mermaid named a sum so exorbitant it bordered on absurd.

Yet Cui Jiasong agreed instantly, as if the number meant nothing.

She dove beneath the water, leaving him to stare desperately at the surface.

After what felt like a lifetime, she resurfaced, holding a tightly shut clamshell.

Cui Jiasong grabbed for it—and failed to pry it open.

"..."

The mermaid flicked a spell at the shell, and it parted at last.

Inside lay a dark violet piece of mermaid silk.

Without hesitation, Cui Jiasong draped it over himself.

The mermaid watched curiously.

He clearly knew the purpose of colored silk—perhaps even how it was made.

But judging by his reaction, he had no idea what selling a finished piece meant to the mermaids.

In an instant, a tidal wave of love—aching, desperate, and sorrowful—engulfed him.

Tears spilled from his reddened eyes, and his knees buckled, sending him crashing to the ground.

So this was how Wan Zhi had loved him.

This was how she had looked at him, cherished him, endured his baseless—

—Wait.

As the first wave of emotion ebbed, the silk unveiled another layer: illusions of memory.

Though the faces of the man and woman were indistinct, Cui Jiasong could still see it clearly:

The two of them had once strolled hand in hand across Dragon Green Mountain, singing freely by Longjin Ferry, their affection as tender as that of immortal lovers…

Everything was perfect.

Except for the fact that Cui Jiasong had never once wandered Dragon Green Mountain or Longjin Ferry with Wan Zhi.

Cui Jiasong: "……"

The tear halfway down his cheek suddenly froze in an awkward pause.

Staggering slightly as he stood up, the moment Cui Jiasong lowered his head, his jade hairpin slipped from his loosened crown and clattered to the ground.

Perhaps because his vision was blurred by unshed tears, through that watery filter, the jade pin seemed even more vibrant, its emerald hue richer, its luster fuller and more radiant than usual…

Cui Jiasong: "……"

Silently, he picked up the pin—only to hear the mermaid behind him clap her hands.

"Ah, wait, did I forget to mention? The mermaid silk you just got isn’t Wan Zhi’s, you know?"

Then, under her breath, she muttered, "This one’s probably leftover stock that never sold…"

"……Huh?"

Stunned by this sudden twist, Cui Jiasong belatedly realized: the female figure in this silk had thin, grass-green fins along her arms…

But Wan Zhi—her tail and fins were vermilion red!

Of course, mermaids were creatures of pure love, innocent and sweet-hearted. Words like "leftover stock" must have been a misunderstanding on his part.

Cui Jiasong eagerly turned back. "Please, miss, exchange this for Wan Zhi’s silk instead."

The azure-tailed mermaid stared at him, her tail swaying, but she didn’t move an inch.

"……Miss?"

"Did you not listen when I explained the pricing earlier?"

The ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‍mermaid flicked her tail impatiently, splashing water. "You only paid for one blind box, so you only get one blind box. No returns or exchanges after opening! If you want Wan Zhi’s silk, you’ll have to keep drawing!"

Cui Jiasong: "……"

After roughly the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Cui Jiasong finally grasped the concept of a "blind box."

Then, resolutely, he handed over another spirit stone.

"Please give me another 'blind box,' miss."

With the deliberate awkwardness of someone newly acquainted with the term, Cui Jiasong declared firmly:

"Even if I must empty this so-called… gacha pool today, I will obtain Wan Zhi’s love for me!"

The mermaid gave him a once-over, nodded, and soon returned with another clamshell.

This time, Cui Jiasong had learned his lesson—he waited for her to open it.

The shell parted slowly, revealing… huh?

Cui Jiasong gasped. "Why is this one white?"

"Eh? Let me see."

The mermaid craned her neck for a glance before answering lazily, "Oh, tough luck. You pulled an R-rarity this time."

"……"

After explaining the gacha mechanics in painstaking detail, the mermaid offered a half-hearted consolation:

"Don’t take it too hard. Only the first draw guarantees an SSR."

"……"

"So… wanna keep going?"

"……Keep going."

The mermaid cheerfully suggested, "How about a ten-pull? It’s faster that way, y’know?"

"……Do it."