We both spent some time catching our breaths after that. Metaphysically, of course.

  I rebuilt my qi reserves, and she did the same. She had expended more qi in the battle than I had.

  “Thank you for your aid,” the wild woman stated after a few short breaths.

  “It was you who did most of the fighting,” I replied.

  “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “Your attacks, they were strange but they broke his nature. That last one made him entirely defenseless. So many little things countering him in so many ways. If it weren’t for that, then I wouldn’t have been able to attack.”

  “But you did get him, and so the credit goes to you.”

  “Yes, I suppose,” She said with a curious look. “You are not native to these lands?”

  It was phrased like a question but it was more of a statement. The Cosmic Forest was home to many but those that were native to it were shaped by it. It was almost impossible to live in this place and not have it influence you, or have you influence it.

  The Hills of Life were a good example of that. Aftol dug its roots deep in them and influenced it and the surrounding realms into blossoming places of power.

  In the grandest ways, the Cosmic Forest was the home of God-Imperium plants. Everything else in here was merely the grass and weeds between them.

  The woman put her spear away, sending it into a separate space she carried.

  Then she reached down and lifted what remained of the dragon. It was small now. Size didn’t exist out here, not in the same way it existed in the physical realms. But the amount of qi something had, along with its nature and existence, did produce something akin to weight.

  The dragon was, to me, huge. It had been something the size of a house. To her, it had been the size of a horse. She was at the fifth step of the thirteenth rank, which meant nothing and everything.

  Steps were measurements of qi, while rank was a qualitative leap in both nature and power. That was to say someone at the fifth step of the thirteenth rank wasn’t all that different from someone of the first, they had only more fuel.

  I had struck at the dragon’s attention and qi while she used her abilities to attack it. Running was an option, but it would lead to me doing this whole journey all over again and possibly facing this beast when I inevitably came back.

  “No. I am not. Though I had thought the Hills of Life to be safe in these areas?”

  “It generally is,” she replied. “But, beasts have been coming out more lately. The Queens of the Fey tend to stir them up at times when things get too settled.”

  “Which one?”

  “Titania, though the others aren’t any kinder.”

  That was true. The Fey consisted of many groups, not just Titania or Oberon like the myths said but any being that ruled over the forest.

  Fey was a complicated thing, but if there had to be a word for them it would be connections. They were like the forest, they were the prey, the predator, the king, and the beast. They were men and animals and insects and plants. Demons and angels, life and death.

  The Fey were the fey. The sirens and the fairies, all of it.

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  They were the composite nature of every being there had ever been and thus they had many kings and queens. Some benevolent, some unseemingly cruel. It was said that they were their own thing, a thing removed from the rest of existence but made from it.

  They were known even on Earth. The Fey, Yokai, Spirits, and Cryptids.

  The myths differed, but in all of them, there was one common string. Rules. They all had rules. Some hated iron, others required etiquette, and some needed to be named.

  And that was all due to their kings and queens, they made their courts and the fey followed their orders.

  The woman hung the dragon over her shoulders. It was smaller now. It had less qi and power, and its existence was diminished. That was partly due to the nature of this place. It ate at the dead, as all forests did.

  Whatever you killed, whatever you got, it got as well. But in return, it gave back.

  And that was why I was here.

  A list of herbs was needed as bedding for my soul’s healing process. And the best place to find those said herbs was here in the Hills of Life.

  Trade was a common thing, even in places like this. And the druids native to this place were rich with alchemical herbs. They often traded with alchemists in this area. Deeper in you could find plants of the sixteenth rank, and gather enough of them and you could make potions worth unimaginable wealth.

  However, one had to fight said plants first. After all, these plants were powerful, and while not necessarily sentient, they had protection measures. The druids here filled the role of both growing and harvesting most of the wild herb area.

  “What keeps them away normally? Surely this place is tempting to many beings?” I asked.

  “Yes, but only if you can handle the impact. That dragon was a fourteenth-rank being when it first got in here. After venturing too deep into the Hills, it lost both its nature and cultivation. It was originally a void dragon.”

  Ah. It had been reshaped by the higher beings around it. The druids could call this place home because they were similar to it. Their dao aligned with the area and all its higher influences that walked through it. But that dragon’s original dao didn’t. It had been broken, similar to how I had almost been reshaped by both Wukong and the Tome.

  “No wonder it died so easily,” I replied.

  “Yes, it was a fresh being. Much more powerful than we had originally thought. I am Forn of the Growing Life Grove, by the way.”

  The problem with beings of this level was the perception. I had to only look at the woman to know her nature and her dao. And the same could be said for me.

  But names were a different thing. People could sense lies, or rather they could see them as concepts and I wasn’t proficient enough at deception to try something like that. I hadn’t given a name at the Divine Beast Emporium for the same reason.

  “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Forn.”

  “You don’t give your name?” She asked.

  “I have many enemies.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “Much more than most.”

  She squinted her eyes and gave me a curious look.

  “You do seem like the overcautious type,” she said. “Well, I’ll have to call you something either way. Would you care if I gave you a name?”

  “Not at all,” I replied.

  “Then you are Drean. It means careful in the fey tongue.”

  I chuckled lightly.

  “Is that funny?” She asked.

  “Yes. I’ve recently suffered for not being careful,” I explained. “It’s strange to be named the quality I lacked so dearly.”

  “Well then, hopefully, it sticks,” she said with a smile. “Now tell me, why are you here?”

  She tied the dragon’s head with its tail, making its corpse choke on the scaly noose. Then she slung it around her shoulder, and it draped over her like a piece of cloth.

  “Soulsween,” I replied. “And a few other herbs. I require them.”

  “Soulsween?” She asked. “As in the weed, soulsween?”

  “Yes.”

  “My grove sells all herbs within this region. Come, and we can get you the herbs there.”

  “Ah, but souls when is everywhere, isn’t it-”

  “You should not pick that variant. It’s not even good for grazing beasts. Come, come, I will give you real herbs, clean and good.”

  Soulsween was a common plant in the Hills of Life. So much so that it was considered more of a weed than a herb, and its effects were considered useless for even mere immortals, much less gods like me.

  But that was because immortals had fully immortal souls. Soulsween was something light, able to heal both mortal and immortal souls. But because of that characteristic, it became something useless.

  It was like trying to glue something together. If you were trying to glue two pieces of wood together, you might need a strong adhesive, wood glue, or something stronger. But if you were trying to glue a piece of paper to a piece of wood, well then you’d need much weaker adhesive. Something that wouldn’t overwhelm the paper and soak through it.

  And that was my soul right now, a weak mortal soul and a strong godly soul. I would need to tighten the connection first and reinforce their bond, like grafting a frail branch onto a tree.

  And Soulsween was perfect for that.

  Then I grimaced.

  “What’s wrong?” Forn asked.

  “I think I dropped my book.”

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