"What do you think about these children?" Newt inquired, his gaze shifting towards the group of fox cubs engrossed in their cultivation practice.
The snake, coiled around Newt's wrist like a bracelet, responded with deference, "They are okay, Lord."
Having learned the lesson from Newt's display of strength, the snake now addressed him with utmost respect, acknowledging his authority.
Newt's eyes wandered over the young cubs and then settled on Irachik, the one guiding them in their cultivation journey. "She has helped me once, albeit I did not need her help at that time," he reflected, his tone measured.
"I do not owe favors to anyone," Newt continued, his voice decisive. "Give her something," he instructed the snake, his words carrying a hint of generosity and gratitude.
With a dutiful "Yes," the snake released its grip on Newt's wrist and slithered down towards the dwelling below, tasked with delivering Newt's token of appreciation to Irachik.
