“Liuyi, little sis—are you okay?” His shout cut the air like wind through paper screens.

Luyao shoved open the Moon Post Bookstore’s door and ran in, like a gust blowing snow off a step.

The red‑haired youth was usually smooth and composed, but now his shirt was soaked like rain‑dark linen, and his flying hair carried a killing chill like iron frost that wouldn’t lift.

“Huh? I’m fine—Brother Luyao, what’s wrong?” Her voice trembled like a small bell in a quiet room.

Yue Liuyi was tending the room’s flowers, petals like little moons; she looked up at him, unsure and wide‑eyed like a startled fawn.

“Hah… good, you’re fine.” His breath steamed like a winter cup. “Little sis, don’t go out alone lately! Someone wants you dead.”

“To—kill me…?” Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird against a cage.

Confusion pricked first, then thought unfurled like roots under loam—unless her World Tree Maiden identity had been exposed.

“Oh? Someone wants to kill my Little Moon?” Yue Dier chuckled, a sound like a blade on porcelain. “What a dreamer’s boast.”

She lifted her head from red tea whose steam curled like thin ghosts; green eyes locked on Luyao like a hunter sighting prey. “Speak. Who wants to come and die?”

Though still wounded, Dixue loosed a force like a storm spearing the room, her presence knifing through the bookish hush.

That aura pierced everything like wind‑arrows; Luyao’s heart jolted like a drum, and he answered without thinking:

“A pack in black—members of a crime syndicate, crows flocking over carrion.”

“The syndicate?” Her words stumbled like pebbles rolling.

Yue Liuyi froze for a breath, the blue‑haired girl tilting her head like a willow leaf; she remembered Yin Mu still resting upstairs.

“Yeah. They came for revenge,” he said, anger smoking like a forge. “They’ve been butchering my boys—ink‑dark blood on the pavement.”

“What—against the Flame Ruins Gang?” Sparks leapt in her voice like flint kissed.

“Yes…” His voice sank like dusk behind rooftops.

Luyao nodded, teeth grinding like stones. “They were merciless. A few of my boys already died in their hands… so in the heat of it, I killed them. All of them—decision falling like a guillotine.”

“Huh?!” Her surprise flitted like a bird off a branch.

“Heh… maybe they thought I was just a regular punk.” His smile held iron under silk. “But my abilities are a coiled spring—they’re more than that.”

He glanced at his palm, a map of small scars, then shook his head like a tree shedding rain. “I left a few alive. From their mouths came some cold‑rain news.”

“…”

“One of their underbosses died yesterday in the Winterwood District,” he said. “They took it as shame, knives drawn in oath to slay the killer.”

“Revenge? He was rotten to the core!” Her anger flashed like fire. “Yesterday’s gas leak—was that underboss’s doing, a gray snake loosed on the streets!”

“Yes… but the rank‑and‑file don’t know.” His words drifted like fog. “They only know the killer was the Flame Ruins Gang, and a blue‑haired girl. So they swarmed like locusts, leaving no mercy at the door.”

“Punish the Flame Ruins Gang… why?” Her voice rippled like water around a stone. “Those thugs—I took them out; that had nothing to do with Brother Luyao.”

“I don’t know… but they did strike my boys!” Grief piled in him like a thunderhead. “Xiao Fang went to talk and was killed—words shattered like broken glass.”

Luyao’s face burned red, a smoldering ember barely contained. Yue Liuyi, young and raw at heart, knew this was a boy’s fiercest blaze.

Wait—red…? The thought flickered like a small flame in a draft.

She glanced at Luyao’s red hair, then remembered Little Rose in red clothes—two scarlet threads tugging at one knot.

A possibility struck Yue Liuyi like lightning behind clouds.

For style, the Flame Ruins Gang prized red—red clothes, often red hair, a field of poppies in the alleys.

And Little Rose was crimson head to toe, a little flame sprite bright against gray walls.

If Little Rose had been mistaken for one of them… a shadow falling over a lamp.

“Ugh! This might be our fault!” Her guilt settled like frost. “Little Rose’s hair looks similar, so the Flame Ruins got…”

Yue Liuyi bowed with an earnest apology, words folded like paper cranes; she hadn’t imagined it would twist into this.

“No—you’re not wrong, little sis.” His judgment flashed like a cold blade. “If they tried to poison us, they had to die.”

“Huh?” The sound hopped like a sparrow on a sill.

“Little sis, you might not know…” Luyao’s gaze hardened like ironwood. “The avengers had an underboss and several heavy enforcers. Elite‑class, stone bulls all—and I felled them like pines.”

“Ah? Then Brother Luyao, doesn’t that mean…” Her thought creaked open like an old door.

Elite‑class strength is never trivial; in packs, wolves can gouge at society’s walls and leave villages bleeding.

Yet the red‑haired youth before her bore no wounds, standing in the bookstore like a carved cedar pillar, muscle coiled and quiet.

Such power could stand beside Dongfang Chen of old—roads he walked like star rivers—and Chen’s strength came not only from broad sights but from being a World Tree Maiden whose spring of magic never truly ran dry.

Luyao was different: a ramen shop owner, his lantern warm in Dreamwood Star’s streets; he’d never left the planet, never trained at the Academy of Magic and Swordsmanship. A hidden mountain under everyday cloth—unbelievable.

“I’m fine.” His vow lifted like a shield. “Rest easy, little sis. I’ll protect you. From today, the Flame Ruins Gang is the mob’s mortal enemy.”

“Mm… Since it’s come to this, we must strike back,” Yue Liuyi said, a bow drawn tight. “If they want trouble, I’ll guard our streets, a river of stones under my feet.”

She knew a clash with capital‑backed outsiders was storm‑written; this conflict only yanked the curtain early like torn silk in wind.

By pure motive, the ones ordering the poison were likely those capital forces—black rain over Winterwood can drown Dreamwood Star’s seedlings of revival.

“Woof! Are we going to war? Kaka will do his best!” The dog’s tail beat like a metronome in sunlight.

Kaka didn’t look afraid—he bounced in place like a spring under sunshine, eyes bright as glass marbles.

“Mm… I hate war,” Yue Liuyi murmured, a pale moon behind clouds. “But now I finally understand Tisinate’s helplessness back then.”

She sighed, wind through reeds—if you’re bullied, you strike flint and answer; to endure forever is to let the cold seep in.

Only… Hesitation fluttered like a moth at her ribs.

She looked to LittleSnow; the blue‑haired girl didn’t want her lover thrown into the tearing rain of a storm. If LittleSnow fought while wounded, it’d be awful.

But the silver‑haired girl shook her head and took Yue Liuyi’s hand, touch like snow resting on pine. “Little Moon, don’t worry. My body should recover combat strength in three days—drumbeat steady.”

“Huh? That fast?” Her worry pulled tight like strings. “LittleSnow, don’t force yourself. If there’s lasting damage, regret will freeze me solid.”

“Relax… there won’t be lasting damage.” Her calm flowed like a river through time. “Across long evolution, my genes braided roots that can handle this.”

“Handle…?” Her question was a ripple crossing a pond.

“Mm…” The sound was a soft drumbeat before dawn.

Dixue didn’t continue—she knit her brows like drawn bows and fixed her hawk gaze on Luyao.

“I… I’ll go prepare,” he said, stacking plans like shields. “I’ll seek support from other forces and meet their next wave head‑on, a black tide faced with steel.”

“Ah… thank you, Brother Luyao.” Her gratitude warmed like tea between cold hands.

“No need.” His duty unfurled like a banner in wind. “It’s what we should do as part of this planet.”

Sensing LittleSnow didn’t welcome him, Luyao turned and slipped away, a shadow sliding off a wall.

And in the Winterwood District, the conflict lifted its curtain wide—drums starting under cold stars.