“Mr. Eli?”

“Mr. Eli?”

“Why won’t you answer me?” Hilriad pouted, a willow-bend on his lips, eyes like damp spring.

I look up at the sky, a slate of cloud pressing down. “No. I just feel my future is a field of despair.”

I turn, tap his shoulder like knocking on a wooden gate. “One more thing, classmate. That Jim of yours—he human?”

Hilriad blinks, stunned, then shakes his head like a reed in wind. “No. My father bought him on a slave market when he took me out traveling. Why? Mr. Eli, interested in him?”

I shake my head. I pat his shoulder once more, then drift away like a shadow at dusk.

Half-demons do exist—count them, maybe a thousand in the open records, scattered like fallen leaves.

Their endings are bleak, a winter of iron. After the Demon Race collapsed, nations launched purges like storms sweeping the plains.

The best of what remains? Chains and collars, the slave blocks under a sun that doesn’t warm.

Worse waits in hidden rooms—human experiments, cold knives and colder notes. In those hours, life is a heavier curse than death.

Thinking of that, I glance at Edlyn. She was turned into a half-demon by human hands, a flower spliced with thorn. Her mood, surely, is not a spring breeze.

I finish my questions and return. Edlyn blinks, a quick firefly flick. I blink back. She curls into a smug smile, like a cat sure of its hunt.

I chuckle, soft as fallen snow. No idea what this imp finds so funny.

Edlyn thought, bright with mischief: Since he’s half-demon, the moment she lets that side slip, that arrogant brat will learn the perfect lesson.

Clearly, she’s annoyed a half-demon dared swing a blade at her—sand in her silk, a scratch on jade.

After we called the retreat, the gong faded like the last glow of sunset. We stayed at the inn, lantern light pooling like warm honey.

I look at Tengger. “City Lord, where do you stand? Among the three princes with the strongest momentum, which do you choose?”

He lifts that odd white drink I saw him sipping the first time—moon-pale in a clay cup. “No need to put it like that, Mr. Eli. Out here in the far reeds, we’ve got no other choice.”

He looks up and smiles, a winter sun. “The Third Prince guards the borders. Naturally, he’s our best choice.”

The man in black steps in front of Hilriad at once. He levels his hilt at Tengger, a silent thunderhead forming.

Tengger gives a bitter smile, dry as old bark. “Easy, young man. If I meant harm, I’d have struck earlier. Why wait till this room’s full of the Ninth Prince’s people?”

The black-robed man doesn’t move. Tengger only keeps smiling, thin as paper. “Rest easy. I swore to follow the Ninth Prince long ago. Mr. Jim, you forget?”

Edlyn and Angela return, a big map cradled like a sail. They pass it over.

I spread it on the table. Rivers and borders sprawl like veins. “Your Highness, bold question. Is His Majesty truly in that state? Or… already gone? Or…?”

Hilriad shakes his head, a slow bell. “No. I went to see Father myself. He’s not dead—he’s truly in critical condition.”

Good. What we fear most is the old king stirring the pot like a sudden storm at midnight.

I drum my fingers on the tabletop, rain on a roof, mind already pacing through future roads. The Third Prince has shown killing intent toward Hilriad. And he’s long kept the frontier—those lands are his hawk’s eyrie, perfect ground for a strike.

Days ago, we angered the Demon Bear clan. Beyond the borders, the wind won’t be kind to us.

The princes knocked out of contention sit safe in the Imperial Capital, like stones at the bottom of a calm pond. The three frontrunners keep the surface smooth, their public work neat as lacquer.

Edlyn comes over and settles in my former seat. The stool I dragged is slightly higher, so the little girl swings her white-stockinged feet, a pair of pale ribbons, and hugs a magic book like a stove of coals.

I smile and pull my gaze back. “Your Highness, you all know the best place for us right now.”

Hilriad nods, a firm beat. “I know. Where the eight elder brothers are.” Tengger chuckles. “The Mit Imperial Capital.”

“Exactly.” I smile, a blade in its sheath. “You know our biggest problem on the road. So… Liqianyu, it’s yours.”

She flashes an impish grin, fox-tail flicking. “Easy. Disguises are what I do best.”

“Eh?” Hilriad gets hauled downstairs like a fish on a line. “Why me first?”

As the leader, you set the banner in the wind. I shrug, light as a feather.

I slide over to Edlyn. “Ed-chan, what are you reading now?” She glances up, frost-clear, then lowers her eyes again. “High-tier spell application.”

“Want me to teach you?” I quietly lift her onto my lap, like placing a scroll on a stand. She gives me a faint look, then sinks back into the book’s forest.

Heh. She doesn’t mind—no thorn under the silk.

I’m about to tease this little sprite, when she says, airy and sly, “Right, I’ve got something to tell you.” She smiles, sharper than me, hops off my knees. “Come on, Hero.”