“Speak. Why did you come to me?” Edlyn steadied herself, eyes on the two whose auras stood like storm-fed peaks, close to her own at her prime. Shock rolled through her like a cold tide.

Humans have power like this? Do I still have a sliver of victory, or is it ash in the wind?

“Well… what comes next might be fog to your ears, but you still need to hear it.” The masked man paused, voice light as drifting mist.

“Ha? Your sudden entrance already threw me into fog.” Edlyn’s tone bristled like a cat in rain. “I doubt anything else can crack my world like a shattered mirror.”

The woman planted her hands on her hips, a crooked smile curling like a hook in water. “Oh ho. That attitude is rough.”

“Yeah. Real smug, too.” The masked man lifted his shoulders, like a kite tugged by a careless wind.

“Cut the crap. Who are you to mouth off? Shut it.” The woman shot him a glare sharp as ice, and he could only shrug again, like reeds bending before a gust.

Silence fell, heavy as a wet curtain, draping over the room until even breath sounded loud.

A strange light flickered in the woman’s pupils, like foxfire in reeds, and the nearby Demon Race guards, tense as drawn bows, began to file out in order, a tide receding from the shore.

When only the three of them remained, the masked man reached up and tugged down a scrap of cloud; it unfurled into a water-blue veil, and the room lay under a still lake of light.

“Good. Time to get to the point,” the woman said, her voice steady as a bell at dawn.

Edlyn stiffened. In that blink, the room’s currents of law veered like a river reversed, and her skin prickled.

It felt like steering a boat into headwind; every thread of power answered slow, as if wading through silt.

“Well, since you don’t believe us, we’ll show you.” The masked man smiled, gentle as falling snow, then raised his hands to the mask.

He lifted it away and looked at her with a calm smile, the moon breaking from cloud. “Now? Can you listen?”

“You… you! Impossible—no. No.” Her voice cracked like ice.

“Looks like you’re shocked—hahaha.” He set the mask back, laughter spilling like pebbles down a slope.

“You’re toying with me, aren’t you?” Edlyn forced her breath into iron rails, then shouted, her chest heaving like a bellows.

The masked man glanced at the woman and shrugged, palms open like empty sky. “See? That temper. I told you; she wouldn’t believe me.”

“…Sigh. I’ll do it.” The woman shook her head, a willow in wind, unfastened her mask, and let her own power bloom like a night-blooming flower.

Edlyn froze, her pretty face glazed like porcelain in frost. “Impossible. This… this power.” The words looped like a broken wind chime.

“But you know there’s no other path,” the woman said with a soft smile, drawing her power back like tide at dusk, and set her mask in place again.

Edlyn’s gaze tangled with theirs, thorns and silk. She sighed, breath fogging like winter glass. “What… are you to each other?”

The masked man grinned, sunlight through leaves. “Hahaha, what else? Husband and wife!” He swept her in and planted a noisy kiss, bold as drumbeats.

The woman’s fist flashed like lightning. Thud—he sailed back, and she scolded, half-sweet, half-sting: “Get lost. Keep that up and I’ll kill you later, believe it?”

Edlyn frowned, lines like rain across a pond. The answer sat wrong, a fishbone in the throat.

Sprawled on the floor, he tilted his head and smiled up at her, a fox in idle shade. “What? Can’t cross that little bridge?”

Edlyn stared at him, teeth grinding like grit underwheel. She wanted to smash that smirk into dust.

The woman came forward and patted Edlyn’s shoulder, light as a falling petal. “I’ve been with him a long time. Some things are decided by the river, not the boat.”

Edlyn looked at her, eyes a crowded sky, then sighed. “I… wish you happiness.”

“Hahaha—she wished you happiness,” the masked man crowed, laughter skipping like stones.

The woman’s glare cut like a blade; he shut his mouth at once, lips clamped like a sealed jar.

“Our matters don’t need your worry,” the woman said with a small smile, calm as a temple lamp.

The man’s smile cooled, a blade sheathed. “All right, Edlyn. We need to talk about things—things that must be done by you.”

Edlyn’s brows knit like tight weave. “Why?”

“Even if we’re strong as thunderheads, there are… snags. We can’t move directly, for now. Hear us out, and you’ll know.” His voice dipped warm, like tea steam.

The woman pulled over a chair, wood creaking like an old bridge. “Let him tell it. If it tangles, I’ll untie a few knots for you.”

Edlyn drew a deep breath, a bell struck in the chest. “Fine. Show me what you’re really after.”

...

“What is it? The tea not to your taste?” The old priest held the tray, steam curling like pale snakes, his gaze mild.

Eli cut a glance at the Ninth Prince, eyebrows signaling like quick flags in wind.

The prince flushed, then bowed slightly. “Honored elder, please, allow me a word in the inner room.” His voice tried to be steady, like a boarded-up door.

“Oh? Something you can’t say here?” The old priest’s curiosity flickered like a candle flame.

Eli’s eyes slid to the two praying monks and nuns behind them, backs like bent reeds. The old priest chuckled and shook his head, as if brushing dust. “No need to mind it. Our whole chapel, including me, is just three people. No leaks here. Speak freely.”

Hilriad hesitated, breath stalled like a bird on a wire. “Father, I am Hilriad Osborn, Ninth Prince of the Miter Empire.”

The priest stroked his beard, a quiet stream over stones, and smiled. “So, Your Highness. What can this old man do for you?”

Hilriad’s brow furrowed, clouds bunching. “I hope… I hope…”

Eli sipped tea, the warmth a small coal in winter. After this, it was Hilriad’s choice, and the stream would run its own course.

“I hope… that you—and the Holy Court Church—will help me win the throne, steady and sure.” Hilriad’s eyes tightened, resolve like a drawn bow.

Li Gongxuan folded his arms, stare narrow as a slit of light. Bold kid, he thought; going for the throne.

The old priest blinked, a ripple in a pond, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, little prince.”

“Sir, you won’t help me?” Hilriad’s words jumped like sparks.

The old priest sighed, the sound thin as winter wind. “I said this earlier: the people of the Miter Empire don’t believe. Our Holy Court’s deployment here is scattered like stars. Frankly, I can speak as the Holy Sanctuary’s highest authority within Miter.”

He drained his cup, then added, slow as dusk, “Even so, there are only three of us here. We truly have no way to help you.”

Eli watched with a small smile, a cat by the hearth. “Father, in that case, we’ll take our leave for now.”

He had everyone ushered out with easy steps, like guiding ducks to water. Outside the hall, Li Gongxuan clapped Eli’s shoulder, palm firm as a stone. “Brother, what are you really after?”

Eli shook his head, smile a thin blade. “Nothing. I just needed Hilriad to say the words. Leave the rest to me.”

“Mysterious as fog,” Li Gongxuan muttered, rolling a shoulder like a wave.

Once the group boarded the carriage, Eli slipped back to the hall like a shadow returning to a tree. He stood at the door and spoke to the dim, voice calm as night water. “Elder, I don’t believe the Holy Sanctuary will sit on its hands at a chance like this. You love to steer a country from the shore, not the helm.”

The old priest stepped from the shadows, smile unchanged, a lantern behind paper. “You seem to know us well, sir.”

Eli shrugged, light as drifting leaves. “Mm-hmm.”

“So, what can you offer?” the old priest asked, words neat as stacked scrolls.

“Offer? Isn’t the Ninth Prince’s identity enough?” Eli’s reply was a thrown pebble.

The old priest exhaled. “In fact, we already received the Eldest Prince’s consent recently. My apologies.”

Eli snorted, a spark on dry grass. “You pick the one you think is easy to manage and not the right one. And I hear the Eldest Prince despises you. Why trust him?”

The old priest shook his head, the motion soft as falling ash. “We won’t wade into power. I will do my best to keep the people safe.”

“Even if I say you will act, won’t you?” Eli’s words glinted like fish under ice.

“I will protect the people,” the old priest repeated, steady as a mantra.

“Then fine. I won’t guarantee the people’s safety.” Eli shrugged, letting the stone drop into the pond. “It’s on you.”

“You really are…” The old priest sighed, half laugh, half frost, then nodded. “Very well. As you wish.”

...

“Your Majesty, the Demon King, that man’s waited too long. He wants to make a move.” Reni’s brow drew tight, a storm on the horizon. “If he acts here, it’s a big problem for us.”

Edlyn looked at Reni and sighed, the sound thin as a reed flute. “Relax. He won’t jump for long. Soon, he’ll be gone like smoke.”

“Huh? Your Majesty, did you just wake up?” Reni’s face was a field of question marks, crows lifting off in a flurry.

Edlyn pointed at the window, finger like a compass needle. “See for yourself.”

Downstairs, the black-robed man stared at the time, anger rising like heat mirage from stone.

Just a bunch of parasites? How bold of these worms.

A masked man patted his shoulder from behind, palm landing like a leaf.

The black-robed man jolted, a deer at a twig snap. He hadn’t sensed him at all. His sword flashed free with a hiss, moonlight on water. “Who are you?!”

The masked man lifted his shoulders, a ripple on a pond. “I’ll tell you this—I’m the river god.”

“What nonsense. Leave, or I’ll cut you down.” The black-robed man’s voice grated like gravel.

The masked man smiled. He spread his hands, and three identical longswords rose into the air with a soft whoosh, like swallows. “Young traveler, did you drop this Silver-Gleam Sword, this Gold-Gleam Sword, or this Yaoguang Sword?”

The black-robed man felt both hands empty in a heartbeat, like sand slipping through fingers. “What—what happened!”

The masked man shrugged, clouds parting from a peak. “Told you. Mm… that doesn’t sound very river-god-like. Forget it.” He tucked away the two tacky-looking blades, then leveled the man’s own sword at his nose, point cold as frost.

“Now,” he said with a light laugh, a bell in fog, “do you want your soul, your life, or your qi?”