“Huh? Lingsaki, that vermin’s still twitching under the boot. Let’s go again.”

Lingxiao spotted Diak sprawled in the distance, his breath a dying ember that refused to gutter out. Her temper flared like a spark to tinder, and she moved to finish it.

“Mm, right. This time we leave nothing, not even ash drifting on the wind.”

Lingsaki dipped her chin, eyes cold as moonlight on dark water. She reached to open the Book of Night again, clearly ready to strike in tandem with Lingxiao.

Seeing that, the elder couldn’t stomach it. He hurried up to the sisters, a strained smile cracking like old bark. “Spare our young master, won’t you? If compensation’s needed, name it. I’ll make it right within what I can bear.”

From the magic they had just unleashed, he judged them at least high-tier Sacred Realm. The thought crawled like frost under his robe. Where had the world birthed such monstrous sisters again? He himself was only half-step mid-tier in the Divine Realm. He didn’t fear them, not openly, yet a real fight would be a storm with no shelter for him.

“Hah? You want courtesy? And compensation?”

Lingxiao’s laugh was scorn, sharp as sleet on stone; Lingsaki’s smile mirrored it like twin crescent blades. The elder felt a chill, the kind that comes before thunder.

“You want courtesy from us?” Lingxiao’s words hit like pebbles in a still pond. “Look at yourself—what are you, and who gave you the right? As for payment, we lack nothing. Whatever we want, we already have. Your offerings are gutter trash.”

“Exactly. No matter what, we won’t spare that bug,” Lingsaki added, voice a clean cut like ice. “He dared spit filth at us. A quick death is charity.”

They were truly angry now. Born of the Mizumi Clan on the Central Continent, they’d never seen a mouth so foul, mud splashed on a shrine’s steps.

Around them, the crowd sucked in breath like a cold tide. Young and brazen, calves charging tigers—fearless to a fault.

“So you mean nothing I say will matter?” the elder asked, his patience fraying like rope in rain.

“Right. If you’ve got nothing else, get lost,” Lingxiao snapped, eyes like snapped bowstrings. “Or we cut you down too.”

“Mm. Same here,” Lingsaki said, her tone cool as night dew.

At their core, the sisters were simple. Show them sincerity, don’t offend their sense of clean lines, and they were easy to speak with. Come with ill intent, crude as gutter water—like Diak—and you were nothing but a bug. A bug spoils the mood when it crawls into sight. You squash it.

“At such a young age, your hunger for slaughter runs so deep,” the elder growled, a winter knife flashing in his gaze. “Looks like I’ll cleanse this evil today.”

He drew out a rustic staff, wood dark as old earth, and a fierce glint slid across his eyes.

“Killing intent?” Lingxiao tilted her head, puzzled, like a bird listening to rain. “Squashing a bug counts as slaughter, Lingsaki?”

“Shouldn’t,” Lingsaki replied, voice soft as dusk. “It’s just a bug, not a person. Kill as many as needed. Probably fine.”

The sisters had long since stopped seeing Diak as human. The elder almost spat blood, a red splash on winter snow. The crowd went speechless, breath caught like leaves in a sudden gust. Savage, these two—and yet a few nodded, grim approval in their eyes.

“Enough. Since you insist on blocking us, we’re out of options,” Lingxiao said, calm like iron under silk.

“Mm. Let’s finish fast and go find our dear brother,” Lingsaki answered, hope a star behind her gaze.

They shared a glance. Pages fluttered like wings as the Book of Day and the Book of Night opened.

“Book of Day, page two hundred and one. Offensive Magic—Sword of Light!”

“Book of Night, page one hundred and ninety-eight. Binding Magic—Dark Curtain Descends!”

The area dimmed in a heartbeat, dusk pouring in like ink. The elder felt the ground become a marsh, his limbs sucked down; for a breath, he couldn’t move at all. Above, a vast light array blossomed like a pale sun, and countless Swords of Light burst forth, falling like a silver rainstorm.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He tore free of the Dark Curtain just as the storm hit. He couldn’t dodge; he raised every shred of strength to shield himself, a lone pine bracing against hail.

After a time, the last Sword of Light speared down through the array’s center. Quiet returned in ripples, like a lake smoothing after stones.

The elder sagged to one knee, lungs burning, his breath rasping like bellows. The sisters’ power had far outstripped his fears; just defending had emptied his mana dry.

A sharp hiss swept the crowd, the sound of a thousand breaths drawn through teeth. No one dared call them calves facing tigers now. No wonder they would kill Diak regardless of consequence. They had the storm to back their thunder.

“Phew. My mood’s finally clearing,” Lingxiao murmured, closing the Book of Day with a soft snap, like a fan folding.

“Same. But how do we find Brother?” Lingsaki asked, her voice light as wind over reeds. “Lingxiao, any leads?”

“…None. Where is our dear brother?” Lingxiao looked up, hope thin as thread.

They lifted their faces to the ice-blue sky and sighed, breath drifting like mist. Then the world shuddered. Silence froze everything; the sisters felt no element stirring, no pulse of life, only the stillness of sealed frost.

“It’s noisy out there,” a clear, melodic voice drawled behind them, like water over jade. “Also… why can I feel a Rule Book?”