By the time they finished gathering the spirit herbs, night had draped the roofs like a velvet shawl. A day of play weighed on their limbs like warm sand, so the three sisters ate, bathed, and let the lights go dark like snuffed fireflies. As for luggage, tomorrow would do; their plan was an afternoon departure, no need to chase the wind tonight.
A rare thing—Xinuo had given them a task, yet they were idling at home like koi under a willow’s shade for three whole days. Unease flickered first, then thought followed; before sleep, Yumigawa Senki couldn’t help but wonder.
Forget it. Just Dark Demons, nothing more than shadows in tall grass; it should be easy. With that small shore of confidence, she let her eyes close like petals at dusk. Moonlight washed her sleeping face, pure and bright as frost over a lake.
The night passed without a ripple. At first light, as the sun’s edge lifted like a golden coin from the horizon, Yumigawa Senki woke. A soft stretch sent the last dreams off like mist, and she wandered into the courtyard, where dew breathed cool as bamboo.
“Catching the sunrise once in a while isn’t bad,” she thought, mood rising like a kite in a mild wind. But standing and waiting felt like watching paint dry on rice paper. She changed, washed, then raided the kitchen’s warming cabinet. With snacks and drinks in hand, she settled by the stone table under a great tree, its crown a jade umbrella against the paling sky.
“Mm—Qianji Sister, you’re up so early.” A silver‑haired little sprite came pattering over, yawn blooming like a sleepy flower. Seeing snacks, Littlesky reached out by instinct—only to be blocked.
“Wash first, then eat.”
“Eh— I just sat down and have to run back?” Her big eyes flashed sly light like foxfire. Littlesky wheedled, “How about you carry me to the washroom, Qianji Sister?”
She even lifted her hands, a ‘come carry me’ plea as open as a morning lily.
“You’re thirteen, Littlesky. Don’t lean too hard on sugar.” Qianji Sister pinched those soft, mochi‑plump cheeks with helpless warmth.
“If Big Brother were here, he’d carry me for sure!”
“I’m not the Emperor, and I won’t spoil you like the Emperor does,” Senki said, tone cool as spring water. “Hurry and wash, or I’ll finish the snacks.”
“Eh—fine.” Thwarted by a wall of sisterly resolve, Littlesky trudged back the way she’d come, pretty face puffed like a steamed bun with tiny storms of protest.
Senki could only sigh, speechless as a wind chime with no breeze. A pampered sister like this… clearly the Emperor’s overindulgence had carved the habit deep as river grooves.
After a good ten minutes, Littlesky reappeared, tugging along Yugong Jingyue, who still wore the hush of sleep like twilight on her lashes.
“Qianji Sister, you’re so mean, you ate so much!” Littlesky saw the half‑emptied plate and rushed over, stuffing two pastries at once until her cheeks were round as dumplings.
The sight made Senki’s laughter ripple like clear water. She gave those puffed cheeks a gentle squeeze. “Finish that, then grab more from the warming cabinet. There’s plenty.”
“Slowly, Littlesky. Don’t chase your food like a gust through leaves,” Yugong Jingyue said, settling beside her. She tipped her face up, eyes narrowing into crescents. “Ah—here it comes. Sunrise.”
“For real… it’s been a while since this feeling,” Senki murmured, voice soft as incense.
“So beautiful!”
Together they tilted their heads to the sky, where the sun climbed like a phoenix from its egg. Light spilled over the land, waking color in every blade of grass; the night withdrew like a tide you could watch with the naked eye. When the sun stood clear, dew jeweled the garden, glittering under gentle rays. The vault above was a flawless blue silk, promising good weather again.
By the time the last glow settled, the snacks and drinks had vanished like crumbs to sparrows. Yumigawa Senki stood, rolled her shoulders, and let her joints sing like strings. “Let’s pack.”
“Qianji, Littlesky, what time this afternoon?” Yugong Jingyue asked, a touch of loneliness clouding her words like a passing veil.
“Around four or five.”
“At the Aerucia Bird’s pace, it’s a half day,” Senki said, eyes narrowing like a plan unfolding. “Forget that. Let Elyar send us straight over; it should be quick as lightning.”
“Is that so? Then spend some time chatting with Mom and Dad before you go,” Yugong Jingyue suggested, her tone warm as hearth coals. “It’s rare to be home and already leaving again.”
“Exactly what I wanted.”
“Mhm! Let’s pack up and eat breakfast first, then talk!”
Time streamed on like a quiet river. Besides packing and breakfast, the three spent their hours at the manor where Yugami Yuu and Ayane lived, the air there calm as pines in snow. They talked about daily life and about cultivation, words rising and falling like cranes.
Littlesky naturally asked about their grandparents, questions fluttering like moths toward light. But years without contact and no returns to the Mizumi Clan meant Yugami Yuu and Ayane knew little of their current state. They did pull out photos from thirty years past, old gloss catching new sun. The sisters gasped as one—just as Yumigawa Senki had said last night, the two looked no older than their twenties, faces and bearing both striking as carved jade. Hard to believe those were grandfather and grandmother.
Truth be told, Yugami Yuu and Ayane themselves looked young as spring shoots—more like older brother and older sister in appearance than parents.
“Can those in the Law Realm really live for thousands, even ten thousand years?” Littlesky asked, curiosity bright as a bird’s eye.
“In theory, yes,” came the answer, steady as a drumbeat. “But in the entire Mizumi Clan, only Father and Mother reached the Law Realm. If there’s an answer, it rests with them. Sadly, even Ayane and I don’t know where they are now.”
And so the clock slipped its knots. In a blink, five in the afternoon arrived, the light mellow as tea. After dinner, when they returned to their family courtyard, Yumigawa Senki and Yumigawa Nozomi found Elyar already waiting, a lone figure like a willow catching wind.
“Elyar, you’re early,” Senki said, travel light as a feather—everything else tucked into a space pouch.
“Littlesky sent word to Us this morning—depart at four or five,” Elyar said, voice archaic as bronze. “Yet it is nigh five‑thirty, and ye arrive only now. Thou madest Us watch the scenery for an hour and a half—boredom as dry as dust.”
“Sorry! We got carried away chatting with Mom and Dad,” Littlesky said, skimming to Elyar’s side like a sparrow. “Riding an Aerucia Bird to the Eastern Moon Empire takes half a day. That’s too slow. If it’s you, Little Ya, how fast can we get there at best?”
“If We get serious, a handful of heartbeats,” Elyar said, smile sharp as a drawn blade.
“Perfect! Then you’re our ride this time!”
“No problem. Art ye ready?” Elyar’s eyes were clear as winter skies.
“Of course,” Yumigawa Senki and Yumigawa Nozomi said together, nodding like twin reeds.
“Good.”
A long sword bloomed in Elyar’s hand, viridian and bright, wind essence coiling around it like dragons of air. She swung once, and the world thrumed like a drum.
“Wings of the Wind King.”
At her words, a teal gale rose and shaped itself into wings, feathers of air folding around the three like a hawk’s embrace. A few seconds later, the wind peeled back like silk—and the courtyard stood empty, not a shadow left behind.
