Chapter 829 – Mind Healing House

So this was where Mama Shanna lived in the City of Chaos. Mo Lan strode toward the oak door and gently pushed it open.

A faint fragrance of calming herbs washed over her, instantly smoothing away the sweltering heat and clamor of the street.

The interior wasn’t particularly spacious, but it was arranged with extraordinary warmth.

Soft, warm light spilled from magical lamp fixtures on the ceiling. The walls were a gentle cream white, and one large photo wall displayed pictures Mama Shanna had taken during her travels across the Mainland.

Several plush-looking sofas and armchairs were scattered about casually. On the small side tables beside them sat Mo-Pics holding fresh flowers.

The magical clock on the wall and the large bookshelf stuffed with books beside it both looked very familiar—she seemed to have seen them in the little wooden cottage at Emerald Creek Plains when she was young.

An enormously built lion-tribe Beastmanwarrior was awkwardly crammed into a sofa that was clearly far too small for him.

His golden mane hung limply, and his amber eyes—which should have been brimming with wildness and majesty—stared vacantly into space, carrying a hint of confusion and vulnerability utterly at odds with his powerful frame.

His massive hands cradled a steaming cup of herbal tea with the utmost care, as though that cup of tea were the only thing he had to hold onto in this moment.

Mama Shanna sat in an armchair across from him, the psychic power around her especially active as she gazed downward, sensing the troubles buried deep within the Orc’s heart.

Noticing someone enter, Shana glanced toward the door from the corner of her eye. Seeing an unfamiliar black-haired Witch, she used the subtlest of gestures to indicate that the visitor should take a seat and wait.

Mo Lan understood and silently made her way to the nearest empty armchair by the door, sitting down and watching Mama Shanna work with great interest.

She saw the shadow cast by a ceramic teapot on the table under the lamplight suddenly writhe as if alive, silently lifting the physical teapot, tilting it steadily, and pouring steaming herbal tea into the empty cup before Mo Lan. Mo Lan raised an eyebrow in surprise.

The shadow magic she had brought back from the Dreamweaver World—Mama Shanna had learned it too?

It seemed that over these years, Mama Shanna had truly devoted herself to studying magic and self-improvement. Not only had her mana rank advanced by an entire major tier, but she had also begun delving into magic of a new school.

Mo Lan raised the cup and took a small sip, then turned her gaze back toward Mama Shanna and the lion-tribeBeastman, curious about how her mother conducted psychic healing.

She quietly channeled a thread of mana, converting it into psychic power and casting Heart Speech, carefully reaching toward the edge of the active psychic field around Mama Shanna to observe.

Mo Lan’s Psychic Magic level was far higher than Mama Shanna’s, and she effortlessly picked up clear psychic voices and fragments of memory.

“Why?! Why couldn’t I save him even when I unleashed my strongest power! Kalok fell right before my eyes! My axe couldn’t even cleave through that monster’s carapace! What good are these muscles?! What good is this berserker strength?! All it does is leave me feeling more hollow and regretful afterward!”

A powerful bull-tribe Beastmanslowly collapsed under a magical beast’s assault. The lion-tribe Beastmanwarrior let out a desperate, furious roar, hacking away madly with bloodshot eyes, but unable to change the outcome.

“I see it—Kalok’s sacrifice. I also see the flame that ignited in your heart because of him, the desire to grow stronger. But that flame is burning you now.”

“They all look up to me! The young ones in the tribe! They think I’m ‘Skull-Crusher’ Balak! Invincible! But I… I’m afraid of next time! Afraid of watching another comrade fall! Thoughts like these are cowardice! A warrior shouldn’t think this way!”

“Balak, true cowardice is denying your own feelings. Acknowledging fear and still choosing to press forward—that is courage. Kalok fought to his very last moment. What he would want you to carry is that same courage, not a wreck consumed by fear and rage.”

“But… when that fury rises, I can’t control it… all that’s left in my head is killing… I’m afraid… afraid that one day I’ll hurt my own people…”

After one episode of berserker rage, Balak looked at the camp facilities he had unwittingly destroyed, a flash of lingering dread passing through his eyes.

“Let’s get acquainted with this ‘anger’ friend of yours. It’s not an enemy—it is your strength, but it needs reins. Try to feel it, the way you would tame a wild stallion. Communicate with it. Tell it when to charge and when to halt.”

Mama Shanna’s psychic voice was resolute yet warm, like a lighthouse illuminating the fog, gradually easing the emotions of the lion-tribe Beastmannamed Balak, guiding him to bravely face his setbacks and learn to truly master his own power rather than be mastered by it.

After about half an hour, Balak’s gaze gradually cleared. He let out a long breath, and his thick shoulders finally relaxed.

“Thank you, Lady Shana… I feel… much better. My head doesn’t feel like there are war drums pounding endlessly inside it anymore.”

He performed a warrior’s salute toward Shana—clumsy but deeply sincere—his eyes full of gratitude and even… a trace of barely perceptible admiration.

After these several deep psychic healing sessions, he had developed a special fondness for the gentle, wise, and powerful Shana.

He hesitated for a moment, his massive hands fidgeting awkwardly, then mustered his courage and spoke: “Um… Lady Shana, might I have the honor of inviting you to… share a meal?”

Shana’s face still wore a warm yet professional smile, but her refusal was swift and decisive: “Thank you, Balak. But tonight won’t work.”

Though she was quite pleased with Balak’s physique, her daughter had promised to come see her today.

A flash of obvious disappointment passed through Balak’s eyes, and his furry ears drooped slightly, but he quickly rallied and pressed on: “Then… will tomorrow’s session still be at the same time? I’ll be here on the dot!”

“Yes, same time as always.” Shana nodded, then shifted her tone, her voice casual: “As for tomorrow evening… I don’t happen to have any other plans at the moment…”

These words were like water on a wilting plant. Balak’s eyes lit up instantly: “Really? Then… please, you must give me the chance to show my gratitude tomorrow evening! I know a new barbecue restaurant just opened on Lava Avenue—they say it’s excellent!”

His tail swayed involuntarily.

Shana looked at the lion-tribe warrior before her—his emotions plain as day, his thoughts practically written across his face—and smiled as she nodded.

Balak couldn’t hide the delight on his face. “Then I’ll take my leave! See you tomorrow, Lady Shana!”

He saluted once more, then strode out of the healing house with a spring in his step.