It felt like ages, or a heartbeat; my mind floated back like a leaf on a slow current. My body rocked gently, wrapped in a faint, orchid-sweet scent.
“Emperor, wake up!”
A familiar warmth tugged at me before sound; the voice drew nearer, clear as a bell in fog. I blinked open and found myself in Qianji Sister’s arms, swaying whenever she nudged my shoulder.
“Qianji Sister, where are we?”
Clarity settled like dew. Beside her stood Aunt Saintvoice, worry soft in her eyes, steady as a lantern in night wind.
Strangely, Wansheng and Wanling weren’t here; no one else was either. In short, it was just me, Qianji Sister, and Aunt Saintvoice, three reeds in a quiet pond.
“We only woke up a bit ago too,” Qianji Sister said, shaking her head like breaking off frost. “No idea what this place is. Lingxiao and the others seem to have been sent elsewhere.”
“Sent elsewhere?” The question pricked like a thorn.
“Probably the second phase of the trial splits into multiple arenas,” Aunt Saintvoice mused, like measuring threads. “We got scattered at random.”
That made sense, like stones sorted by the river’s hand. Still, worry pulsed for Lingxiao, Lingsaki, and Lixue—may Wansheng and Wanling be with them. Heartvoice and Celia Maya both sit in the Law Realm; they should be fine, steel wrapped in silk.
“This little miss is sharp; you adjusted quick.”
Without warning, a crisp childlike voice chimed around us, like a silver bell. We looked up. Ten meters ahead, a plum-red flame with blinking eyes floated in the air, appearing as quietly as dawn mist.
“What are you? How do we pass this place?”
Qianji Sister hugged me tighter, a shield of willow and water. Aunt Saintvoice, silent as snowfall, drew the Allsaints Spirit Staff.
“Rude, aren’t you,” the flame chimed, playful as a cat. “But I forgot to introduce myself, too. I’m Keyaf, the keeper here. In these few centuries, you’re the first to break through the Town of Deathspirits and reach this spot—quite delightful.”
A child’s voice calling itself old; a flame that spoke with eyes like coals—likely a creature of deathspirits, a candle with graveyard breath.
“So we need to defeat you to pass, Keyaf?” Qianji Sister asked, words straight as an arrow.
“As girls, it’s bad to be so violent so young,” Keyaf teased, floating like a spark. “Besides, my tiny body can’t handle your roughhousing.”
Keyaf was fist-sized, truly a small ember in a big night.
“Then how do we pass?”
Not battle—what else? My mind flicked back to the Nine Cold Labyrinth, to tricks like rime on stone; was this another strange, sour whim to placate?
“Simple. You’ll play a game of hide-and-seek. If you manage to stay hidden till the end, you can leave. Otherwise…”
Keyaf’s eyes swept us, like a brush marking rice paper. “You could also break the seal and leave directly. But with your current strength, just play the game. The seal reflects—if you can’t shatter it in one blow, the backlash will hit you multiplied, like a tide returning thrice over.”
“Hide-and-seek? How does it work?” Aunt Saintvoice asked, calm stitched tight.
“Easy. Stay under Zuari’s halo for three hours without being touched.”
As his words fell, a massive black spiked sphere appeared above and behind him, iron-hard and ominous as storm clouds. A blood-red eye sat in its center, while wings of woven wire fanned from its sides, and its crown bristled with sharp horns—it was Zuari.
What gripped us most was the vast light ring Zuari projected, a round halo a hundred meters across, hanging like a cold moon. From it, we felt a terrifying energy—touch it, and danger would bite deep, injury looming like winter wolves.
“If we’re touched by the halo, what happens?”
At the sight of Zuari, Aunt Saintvoice’s face tightened, stern as carved jade.
Unlike the seemingly harmless Keyaf, Zuari radiated crisis—like standing on thin ice over dark water.
“If you’re touched…” Keyaf’s tone was breezy, sparks dancing. “That depends on your lifesaving tricks. From your look, you probably won’t die—rest easy. But once the halo touches you, clearing the game is impossible.”
“How about it? If you’re scared, you can still quit,” he added, lilting like a flute. “And one more crucial thing—do not attack Zuari. Its reflection is stronger than the seal’s. You might be killed by your own strike, the blade turning like a snake.”
So, we couldn’t clear by destroying Zuari; only honest hide-and-seek on a blade’s edge.
“We understand,” Qianji Sister said after a beat, steady as a flag in stiff wind. “Honestly, fighting Zuari head-on feels shaky. Pure evasion? I’m confident.”
Judging by Sword Intent, Zuari felt like high-tier Law Realm, thunder coiled under iron. Without Wansheng and Wanling, we had little chance in a clash; better play the game.
“Emperor, your Sword Intent sensing is sharper than mine and Saintvoice’s. We’ll be counting on you.”
She leaned down, breath sweet as honey, tickling my cheek; I was still in her arms, close as a heartbeat.
“Right. And in turn, Qianji and I will protect you, little Emperor,” Aunt Saintvoice nodded, firm as a temple gate.
As a man, I wished I weren’t the one being protected; pride thrummed like a drum. But here, my strength was the weakest, a reed in wind.
“Got it. I’ll do my best to guide you both. Also… Qianji Sister, mind letting me go for a bit?”
Being held by Qianji Sister was bliss—soft as clouds, scented like tea leaves—but with Keyaf and Zuari watching, heat climbed my face like sunrise.
“Oh, honestly, what’s wrong with letting sis hold you longer? Well, I know it’s not the time.”
She laughed, pinched my cheek twice, then set me down and stretched lazily, a cat after rain.
“Hoo—any extra conditions?”
I stood with her, brushed the creases from my clothes, and asked Keyaf, keeping my voice even.
“None. Just last three hours without being touched by Zuari’s halo. I’ll give you half an hour to prepare—learn the terrain, make your plans. Good luck.”
...
