“What’s wrong?” Angela’s voice brushed the air like snow on pine. Edlyn’s face went strange; her eyes traded colors like dawn and dusk wrestling, a pretty mask made uncanny.
Angela seemed to realize something. She slipped off her scarf and wrapped it gently over Edlyn’s eyes, a quiet veil over stormlight. “Sister, let’s go back.”
“You’re done shopping?” Edlyn’s words fluttered like leaves, puzzled yet agreeing. “Then let’s head back first.”
Just now, she’d broken the shackles of a demon soul, awakened her half–Demon Race blood, and fused the Demon King’s soul fully into this sixteen-year-old vessel, a dark river pouring into a clay bowl.
That soul was too strong; though only a thread had escaped the Hero years ago, it was still a mountain’s weight no ordinary girl could bear.
So Edlyn’s soul had split in two—one within, one circling without, twin moons orbiting a single lake.
She hadn’t known, walking in mist without a map.
Only now, after she drew in demonic qi and her half-demon body woke, did the scattered fireflies of her soul gather back into the lantern of her flesh.
A moment of discomfort was just the tide settling after storm.
Her expression stayed odd; her five senses felt dimmed like candles in fog, yet her power grew deeper, a well dug into bedrock.
More than anything, her skull felt leaden, sleep tugging at her like heavy rain on a roof.
So when Angela suggested going back, she longed to sink into quilts like clouds and disappear.
“Your Highness, the retinue of the Third Prince approaches. Allow your humble old servant to dress you.” The butler, seventy or so, bowed like a bent willow and spoke softly to Hiri.
Hiri squinted and nodded, then smiled at Eli. “Mr. Eli, sorry to trouble you.”
Eli answered with a silent nod, easing into the wheelchair like a stone settling in river silt, letting Liqianyu bandage him with brisk hands.
Hiri stepped to the door. Servants pushed everything aside, hiding bone-white snow shovels, then lined up behind him, as respectful as reeds bowing to wind.
A convoy drawn by fierce mount-wolves stopped at the manor gate; the wolves growled like thunder under fur. Hiri narrowed his eyes, set a tremble on his face, and edged back a step.
From the third-floor window, Eli watched the scene while Liqianyu pushed him, a hawk’s view above winter branches.
A handsome blond man in armor descended from the lead carriage, steel catching sunlight like a river. Up close, he shared seven parts of Hiri’s features, but without Hiri’s feminine grace.
Smiling with midday warmth, he strode forward and hugged Hiri tight. “Little brother! I heard you were attacked by brown bears from the Demon Domain at the border. Seeing you safe is the best news!”
“Mm—brother, you’re choking me.” Hiri wriggled free, cheeks pink as peach blossom. The Third Prince chuckled. “Still that girlish look, huh? Haha.”
“Third Brother, you’re teasing me again!” Hiri pouted, grievance shining like dew on a petal.
Eli couldn’t help a shiver. His thought cut cold as a blade: This guy’s acting is mountain-peak level.
Liqianyu blinked, then smacked Eli’s bandage-wrapped back with friendly cruelty. “Oh, please, someone’s not bad either. Playing the living dead really suits you.”
Eli’s mouth twitched, copper-taste patience held like a coin; he let it slide.
“Brother, I heard a great mage helped you get back from the frontier. Where is he?” The Third Prince waved, sending his guards to lead the mount-wolves out, the tension ebbing like water from a dock.
“Oh, Mr. Ostol. You know how terrifying the Brown Bear King is. For my sake, Mr. Ostol was beaten half to death—every bone broken, can’t move at all, resting now. So he can’t come greet you.” Hiri’s eyes rolled like marbles, voice smooth as oil on silk.
At that, Eli shot Liqianyu a glare sharp as flint. She went wide-eyed, a picture of innocence. “What? I really couldn’t move then, you know that. And come on, we’re iron brothers—blessings we share, hardships you take!”
Then she thumped Eli’s back again, hard enough to jar rusted blood; he coughed, tasting old iron.
What the hell does “I take the hardship” even mean?!
Gurgle—
“What was that sound?”
“Uh…”
Eli glanced at Liqianyu, curious as a cat. She scratched her head, sheepish. “Uh… my stomach hurts a bit. You hold the fort—I’m going to the bathroom.” She waved and tiptoed off like a mouse at dusk.
Eli frowned, the line between his brows a thin blade, and let it go.
Out front, the Ninth Prince had servants accept the gifts from the Third Prince. The two brothers hugged, then parted with lingering reluctance, like geese breaking from a flock in autumn sky.
Eli slid his wheelchair back into the courtyard, wheels whispering like reeds in wind.
Hiri wiped cold sweat from his brow—despite the warm room, chill bit to the bone like hidden frost.
Eli moved closer, and Hiri gave him a bitter smile, a wilted orchid trying to bloom. “Mr. Eli, my third brother—what did you see?”
Eli shook his head, thoughts thick as stormcloud. “The Third Prince is twenty-three. His Battle Aura is already at level eight, rich as a brewing tempest. From the elements he stirred, his magic’s no slouch. His acting’s on par with yours. The attendants behind him aren’t weak either. Was that a show of force?”
“Yes. He wants me to behave. No crooked schemes.” Hiri sank into the sofa like a reed into marsh, eyes closing, slipping back into the guise of a fragile girl with no fight.
Eli chuckled, a warm spark in cold ash. Winning’s a thin thread for him. Surviving—he’s got a real shot.
Just then, Angela burst in like wind through paper screens. She scanned the hall, then ran straight to Eli. “Uncle Eli, my sister—she fainted at the door!”
“What?!”
