This was another clearing. If the teleportation array before was a room, this was open air under a bruised dusk.

A place called a clearing won’t hold much; the wind swept an empty yard, and we combed it in ten minutes like rakes over sand.

It was broad as a dry lake. At the far rim stood a shut gate, a stone cliff of a door, its pressure like a mountain on the chest; brute force wouldn’t pry it, not with our strength.

Though outdoors, evening bled in like ink in water, the light dim and fogged, the mood like a child’s game of hide-and-seek under shadowed eaves.

Only a few dozen boulders dotted the ground, the earth’s old bones; thin grass tufts and skinny dead trees stood like withered ribs.

In short, the place felt dead, a pond without ripples, a field without birds.

“Hide-and-seek in a wide-open field feels dull,” Aunt Saintvoice muttered, her voice like a pebble dropped into quiet water. “There’s nowhere to tuck yourself in.”

“The setting comes second,” Qianji Sister said, cutting through the air like a clean blade. “Even if there were a thousand nooks, Zuari’s halo will erase them on touch. Thinking about cover is a dead end.”

She shook her head, calm as a pine in wind. “What matters is how Zuari moves.”

“How it moves?” My gut tightened like a knotted cord before my mouth found the words.

“Yeah,” Qianji Sister said, gaze steady as starlight. “Does Zuari trail us like a shadow, or does it blink, teleport? The first is manageable. The second is trouble.”

“I see.” The thought chilled like water on the neck. “That’s a real problem.”

We couldn’t shift space here; the Soulless Sanctuary was warped by the Primordial Source, like glass bent by heat. But Zuari might be different.

It was stronger than us by a full head, a storm to our lantern. And it had lived here for years, like the undead in Dead Spirit Town, likely turning the Primordial Source’s taint into fuel to evolve.

“Blinking in hide-and-seek is straight-up cheating,” Aunt Saintvoice said, a rare childlike puff of steam in winter air.

“There’s no cheating here,” Qianji Sister replied, voice cool as moonlight on water. “This is their turf. We only need to ride out three hours in one piece.”

With the half-hour prep draining like sand through fingers, Qianji Sister pulled us into quick talk, her tone a bowstring drawn taut.

“Hide-and-seek is still a contest,” Aunt Saintvoice said, her eyes sharp as sparrow wings. “Just swapping force for speed and reflexes.”

She looked at me then, serious as frost tracing a window. “Speed-wise, Qianji and I are fine. The key is you, Little Emperor.”

“Me?” My heart dipped like a swallow in a crosswind.

“Yeah. In my memory, you’re not built for speed,” she said, warm but firm as a hand on a shoulder. “The opposite of Lixue.”

“Uh…” The word tasted like dry leaves. I finally faced it—speed. I wasn’t slow, more like a steady stream, but next to Lixue I was just another creek.

“Emperor was never about pure speed,” Qianji Sister said, soft as a shawl in snow. “Don’t worry. I’ll back you with everything I’ve got.”

She drew me into a light embrace, spring-fragrant and steadying, telling me not to fret; pride pricked like a thorn, but truth was a mirror. I wasn’t strong enough yet.

“Right,” Aunt Saintvoice said, a smile like sunlight through clouds. “Qianji’s support magic is top tier. Good. That problem’s patched. Less than ten minutes till the game starts. Any clever schemes?”

“At this point,” I said, breath a white mist, “we flow with it and adapt.”

“Fair,” Aunt Saintvoice nodded, calm as a lake. “Use the last minutes to breathe and loosen your shoulders.”

“Agreed,” Qianji Sister said, voice like snow’s hush.

The few minutes of rest vanished in a blink, a dragonfly skimming water, and we returned to the start to wait for the call.

“Looks like you’ve walked the ground,” said Keaaf, his tone dry as old bark. “Rules are simple. You get one minute to hide. Last three hours without Zuari’s halo touching you, you pass. If it tags you, you’re out.”

We had no objections, so Keaaf lifted his voice like a bell. “Then—game start!”

He shot up to the highest point, a hawk to watch the field. Zuari floated high above and shut its huge eye, counting down sixty like a boulder earnestly reciting beads—an oddly endearing contrast.

“Emperor, Holy Voice, move!” Qianji Sister snapped, voice cracking like a whip. “We put distance first.”

Her buffs fell on me like feathers of wind and light, and my body turned swallow-light, spring-air underfoot.

We didn’t waste breath. We bolted, a trio of arrows, feet drum-rolling dust; I felt blazing quick, chasing Qianji Sister and Aunt Saintvoice like a kite rides a gale.

Sixty heartbeats flew by like sparks. I had no idea how far we’d run; Zuari’s bulk was gone from sight, only a faint thread of presence like smoke on the horizon.

Presence…? Relief froze to ice. I pushed out Sword Intent, mind honed to a blade, and slipped into full sensing like a fisherman casting a net.

Not good. Zuari’s aura surged like a swell. The next place it would appear would be—

“Move!” I shouted, fear tight as wire. “Qianji Sister, Aunt Saintvoice, this way!”

No time to think; I grabbed their jade-white hands, warm as fresh snowlight, and leapt hard toward the southeast like a deer over a hedge.

Boom!

A nearby boulder at our old spot burst without warning, stone shattering into gravel, dust billowing like a brown storm. A giant shadow fell, night swallowing the ground.

We looked up and saw Zuari. The massive halo blazed like a cold moon, and the touched rock had cracked like an egg, shards skittering.

The shockwave kicked our feet out; the world tilted like a boat in chop, and we were about to slam down when Qianji Sister’s Wind Shield bloomed, a green-blue shell like a spinning leaf.

We tumbled together in a knot, rolling like river stones, but the shield held us aloft; not a scratch, not even dust on our clothes, as if the ground were a mirage.

On another day, I might have drowned a while in the warmth and scent of their soft bodies, a mortal weakness under a spring quilt. Not now. Zuari was closing like a tide.

“It can blink and teleport,” Qianji Sister snapped, eyes bright as flint. “And it’s faster, a wolf on our heels. No more slow-footed running. Emperor, hold tight.”

She pulled me close instead, and behind her, wind and light laws gathered like twin storms. A cyan wing and a white wing unfurled, feathers like blades.

She beat once. The world smeared, then vanished, scenery sucked into streaks like rain in a gale, and the gap to Zuari opened like a widening river.

Instinct took over. I clung to Qianji Sister, heart a drum under thunder; pressed close, I felt the fierce heat and the peril’s chill, both hard to swallow.