Wagging Its Tail

The Golden Dragon Fish thought of his second master.

That master's disciple had inherited his contract, and inherited his contempt for him as well. When his master was in a good mood, he would toss him a few pills to eat.

When he was in a bad mood, he used spells to bombard the Spirit Pool, watching him dodge in panic.

His master stood at the edge of the Spirit Pool, and a spell struck him.

His master roared with laughter. "Not bad, this spell's power is decent." Then came another spell. One after another. He was beaten until his skin split and his flesh gaped, yet he could not even dodge.

The contract kept him from defying his master's orders. If his master said, "Don't move," he could not move. If his master said, "Swim over here," he had to swim over. If his master said, "Do a somersault," he had to do a somersault. He was not a fish. He was a pet dog.

He thought of his third master. When he needed him, he would crouch by the Spirit Pool, stroke his scales, and say gently, "You are my most loyal friend."

Friend? Friends did not lock each other down with contracts.

Friends did not trap each other in a Spirit Pool for thousands of years.

Friends did not turn and leave the moment they no longer needed the other, without even sparing a glance. But he could not say it aloud. He had to wag his tail and put on an obedient, fawning look to make his master happy.

He thought of his fourth master. His master pointed at the Spirit Transformation Fruit Tree by the Spirit Pool and said to him, "From today onward, your task is to guard this tree. When the fruit ripens,