Luyao’s little brother sprinted up, feet drumming like frantic rain on stone.

“Big bro, you died so miserably!!!” His voice cracked like thin ice on a winter pond.

“He’s not dead. Brother Luyao’s still breathing, steady as a tide.”

Yue Liuyi stepped in, calm as moonlight over water, and checked the red‑haired youth.

Aside from mana drain and bone‑deep fatigue, Luyao had no other wounds, like a storm‑beaten tree still rooted.

With quiet resolve rising like dawn, she asked, “Could you take Brother Luyao back?”

Caution edged her breath like a drawn blade; the tunnel ahead was a fog‑choked river, unknown and dark.

“We can! But only the boss knows the subway’s veins; without him, we’re reeds lost in the marsh.”

“It should be fine, right? Luyao said keep going forward—like a straight road under noon sun.”

“Th‑then we’ll… head back first?” Their eyes flickered like startled fireflies.

“Mm. Go safe, like boats hugging the shore.”

She waved the three from the Flame Ruins Gang away, her hand a falling leaf in dusk wind, then faced the deep tunnel and began to chant.

“Xiaoyue, you’re using that ability?” The words floated like mist off a lake.

“Mm… there’s no other way.” Resignation pooled like rain in a clay bowl.

She’d rather not guide by the Stellar Moon Compass; the mechanical World Tree lay ahead like iron roots, and stray magic could warp the needle like a heat‑hazed road.

But with Luyao unconscious, choices thinned like winter branches.

“Stellar Moon Compass!”

Stars swirled overhead, pearls moments ago, now fireflies—dim as moth wings, yet stubborn as embers.

Orbs shifted like slow clouds, and patterns bloomed before them like frost flowers on glass.

“Hmm… looks fine. The signs say the exit’s ahead,” she murmured, voice a lantern in fog.

“Whoa! That skill’s gorgeous! Master, you’re amazing! Master, teach me, pretty please!” Yin Mu’s envy sparkled like a child chasing kites.

“It’s a personal gift, like a birthmark under starlight. Hard to learn.”

“No worries. If talent’s a dry well, I’ll pour years in like rain. Ten‑year retreat, I’ll still learn it!”

“This isn’t a cultivation world! Don’t scatter your springtime like petals in a gale!”

…

After parting from Luyao, the girls moved on, their shadows stringing behind them like river weed.

With fewer allies, Yin Mu gripped her gun, nerves tight as a bowstring against storm.

The tunnel breathed damp; on rainy days it held a marsh’s chill, mist circling their noses like pale snakes.

“Dong—ah… Miss Yue Liuyi! No road ahead!” The warning rang like a bell lost in fog.

“Eh?” Surprise flicked her eyes open like twin moons.

Da Shi, who carried a sliver of Dongfang Chen’s power, took up the light like a torchbearer at dusk. The boy’s fire‑feathers couldn’t burn, but they cast glow like a quiet hearth.

A collapse? The word fell like a stone into a well.

The subway ended in ruin; concrete walls were torn by brute force, rebar laid bare like ribs in red light.

From above, earth and rock had poured down like a landslide, choking the tunnel like a buried stream.

“Eh? Why… a dead end?” Her doubt fluttered like a moth against glass.

She’d followed the Stellar Moon Compass like a pilgrim tracing stars, yet the end was a sealed tomb.

“Blast marks. The soil’s fresh—this cave‑in’s recent,” LittleSnow said, eyes sharp as frost.

“R‑recent?” The syllables trembled like dew on grass.

“Mm. Magic traces still linger like smoke. Don’t lose heart, Xiaoyue. We’ll find another path, like water cutting stone.”

“What if we wander deeper, like geese lost in fog?”

“That’s fine too.” Comfort warmed like tea at midnight.

Dixue patted Yue Liuyi’s head, gentle as falling petals. “If push comes to cliff, I’ll use my finisher and blast a road open.”

“Uh! But that drinks mana like sand drinks rain! It’ll hurt the next battle…”

“Hee‑hee… do you girls need a guide?” The voice slipped out like a cat from shadow.

A purple‑haired girl stepped from the dark, seamless as night rising over a lake.

Like the Night Trio, her arrival was noiseless, presence woven into the tunnel like ink into paper.

But to Yue Liuyi, the face was a lantern from old streets—familiar in the rain.

She wore a plain white dress, bare feet pale as shells, calves crossed with red scratches and black mud.

“Y‑you’re…” The memory stirred like leaves in wind.

“That’s right. Purple Illusion. Long time no see, jiejie.” Her smile curved like a crescent moon.

Her left hand dragged a rabbit plush, its neck snapped, red stuffing peeking like a wound.

“Xiaoyue, enemy?” Dixue tilted her head, stance set like a blade planted in ice.

“Mm… not exactly. Just… LittleSnow, let me talk.” Her wariness rose like thorns under silk.

They’d first met Purple Illusion as a damsel among wolves, yet it had been a snare, a spider’s silk under starlight.

“You girls just now… seem to have dealt with my pets. Convenient—one pebble moved from my shoe.”

“P‑pets?” The word pricked like cactus spines.

“Three slaves always slipping their leash. You probably chased them off like dogs from a gate.”

Purple Illusion smiled soft as rain, then “gently” patted the rabbit’s head like a child petting a broken bird.

“Ha! The Night Trio are your pets?! You’re the boss of the enemy nest!” Yin Mu’s anger flared like a spark in dry grass.

She raised her P90, muzzle steady as a pointing star—simple creed, simple thunder: hit first, talk later.

“Wait, Yin Mu.” Yue Liuyi shook her head and set a finger on the barrel like a leaf on water.

Purple Illusion felt wrong as a sweet with pepper, yet showed no claws—now wasn’t the time to strike.

“What do you mean by guide? Can you find an exit and lead us there, straight as an arrow?”

“Hee‑hee… of course. These tunnels are my playground, veins of the city under moonlight. Xinke District or business district, I’ll take you.”

“Don’t trust her!” Teng Ying stepped forward, brows drawn like storm clouds.

“Eh?” Doubt flicked like a sparrow’s wing.

“That red‑haired youth was likely beaten under her direction, to cut our compass and lead us astray like will‑o’‑wisps.”

“Is that so?” The question hung like mist over reeds.

“Heh. Think what you like, but…” Purple Illusion reached behind her, motion smooth as silk.

A box rose from empty air, slow as the moon climbing a ridge.

(Is she about to attack?) The thought flashed like lightning across still water.

Yue Liuyi braced, every muscle a bow, expecting fangs in the dark.

Dixue frowned, unreadable as a winter pond, unsure what brew simmered in that gourd.

“What are you doing?” Her words snapped like a twig.

“Returning your jacket!” A blue jacket flew from Purple Illusion’s hand, swift as a kingfisher.