Leaving Oceanward Tower, it was already late; Nana Toki was caked in mud and clotted blood, reeking like a swamp at low tide.

Nesting Phoenix didn’t care, but Nana did, pride prickling like thorns.

She found an inn by the South Sea.

She washed until steam curled like mist, changed into cool clothes, then spent a day mending herself like patching sails.

At dawn, under a sky pale as fish belly, Nana and Nesting Phoenix headed straight for the relay like arrows to a target.

Her previous flying beast had bolted in the South Sea chaos, spooked like a deer at thunder.

So she had to buy another mount, reining in a new flyer like a fisherman netting a big catch.

Good thing the original body’s pockets were deep as a well; no need to pinch coins, she bought a big flying beast with wings like boats and flew toward Cloudpeak Sect.

From departure to the South Sea, she hadn’t truly rested; now that idleness came, she didn’t want it, itch crawling like ants.

Curled in Nesting Phoenix’s arms like a cat in sun-warmth, Nana watched birds and beasts sweep by below like dark waves, and drifted a little, cloud-light and far away.

These days, the pressure piled like boulders; too many things, wave after wave.

She was carrying weight above her level, heart weary like soaked wood.

Still, no heroine meddling this trip; relief rustled like a breeze through bamboo.

Back in the sect, she’d rest and reward herself, a hot tea after rain.

Only with energy raised could she keep crafting “surprises” for Her Highness, firecrackers hidden behind a fan.

System: “...” It’s terror, right!

Was the heroine doing okay in Cloudpeak Sect? Without me, was she bored like a stage without its lead?

Thinking how to explain Nesting Phoenix to Shrine Water like laying offerings at a shrine, she also plotted fresh trouble for the heroine, a mischievous wind scouting doors.

Then. As if the plot itself heard her call like thunder answering a drum.

Riding the flying beast, her vision dimmed; a giant whirlwind plunged from the sky like a falling pillar, and her mount rocked like a leaf, nearly dropping.

“Feng Luo Luo, why aren’t you in the sect—what are you doing here!?”

Nana steadied herself on the beast’s back; before she could look up, a familiar voice poured into her ears like a splash of cold water.

Nana Toki: “...”

No need to guess; nine times out of ten it was the heroine, like a coin landing heads again.

She squinted upward: dozens of flying beasts hung in the air like storm crows, and at their head stood Yiling Shen—the very heroine she’d been muttering about.

From the dozen-strong formation, she’d clearly led a team out, flags to the South Sea for training like banners in a sea wind.

Ah, the heroine’s life was blessed; mounts issued by the sect and a personal simp squad buzzing like bees—so nice.

Me? I buy my own, buy two; no simps, just one lecher trailing like a stray dog.

Nana Toki felt envy rise, sour as a green plum.

Why couldn’t she have the heroine’s fate, two stars—one bright, one dim?

Sigh—everything started the moment a busted System picked her, like drawing the short stick.

System: “...”

Old grudges met, and sparks struck like flint.

On her mount, Yiling Shen’s face was winter-cold as ice; if not for Nesting Phoenix at Nana’s side, she’d have rushed in and torn her like paper.

This woman had dared injure her inside the sect—audacity sky-high like a runaway kite!

“How is that any of your business?”

Nana leaned back, head cushioned on Nesting Phoenix’s chest like a pillow, lounging with catlike arrogance.

By now she knew Nesting Phoenix’s strength like a mountain’s shadow; with Yiling’s rookie realm, a single palm could end it, a chick before a hawk.

“What, Comrade Shen, bored in the sect, so you ran a thousand miles to play with me?”

Yiling Shen: “...”

No way she’d come this far for fun, storm-eyed and grim.

“Feng Luo Luo, cut the slick tongue,” Yiling stood arms crossed, gaze cold as a sword edge, high and aloof like a crane on a peak. “You know what you did to me in the sect—measure it well.”

If Shuiqin Lin of Stream Peak hadn’t said you were training by the South Sea, would I have asked Master and come do a sect mission here?

“Back in the sect, you’ll pay for it.”

“Oh? Running to your Sect Master to tattle?”

“How about I go to the town under the mountain and fetch you a plaque to hang?”

“Look at you, preening like a peacock. Spooky.”

Yiling Shen: “...”

Is this Feng Luo Luo broken in the head? Why’s her mouth twisted like a shadow with a smile?

“Senior Sister! What’s there to say to a traitor colluding with demons?”

“Just seize her and let the Sect Master judge!”

“With witches who only win with their tongue, Senior Sister needn’t waste breath.”

The Cloudpeak Sect disciple popped out from behind a mount like a jumping bean, finger stabbing the air.

Nana Toki: “...”

What, I leave a few days and I’m already a witch?

Give it half a year and I’ll be a Demon King?

Offstage Demon King: “...” Heavens, I’m about to be usurped!

“Feng Luo Luo, you’d better come back and explain to Master.”

“On spar day, what did you do in my Moonview Peak forbidden grounds?”

“Who is the woman behind you?”

“Did you remove the barrier and the guards behind my peak?”

Under Nesting Phoenix’s stare, Yiling’s scalp prickled like needles, but with many behind her, she forced herself to meet Nana’s eyes like a stag before lightning.

Forbidden grounds had a barrier and guards?

Nana’s eyelid twitched like a moth’s wing; doubt crossed her face like a passing cloud.

That day she’d seen no barrier, not even a guard’s shadow; the place was empty as a hush.

Could someone have known her path and pushed from the dark like a hidden current?

It made no sense; Nesting Phoenix’s emergence helped no one, a wildfire in a granary.

No time to dig deeper; answers could wait until she got back, fish waiting in a net.

For now, she grabbed a sloppy excuse like a straw: “What barrier at Moonview Peak? I was stuffed and went for a stroll behind your mountain.”

Yiling Shen: “...”

Disciples: “...”

“You believe that yourself?” Yiling couldn’t swallow that nonsense, not even with salt.

If this were her first day in the sect, maybe; but Feng Luo Luo had been on Stream Peak three full years.

Who “strolls” into a forbidden ground at dawn?

“I do, of course!” Nana lifted a brow, brazen as a sunlit wall. “If I don’t trust me, who should I trust?”

“...” Shameless, jaw-dropping.

“Feng Luo Luo! I’ll ask again! Was it you who broke the demon seal behind my Moonview Peak?”

Anger knotted Yiling’s chest like a tight drum; with that wild defiance, was she also possessed and reborn, like me?

“Yeah. That was me.”

“...” Did she just drop a world-shaking line, a bell rung in chill night?

“You admit it!” Yiling’s face went dark as stormclouds.

“No choice,” Nana shrugged, helpless as a leaf in current. “If I don’t say that, you geniuses never believe me.”

“I say I did nothing, you bite down it was me; what can I do? Playing along with your script is so hard, like dancing in shackles.”

“...”

“Luo Luo, want me to kill them?”

Behind her, Nesting Phoenix’s arm hugged Nana’s slim waist; her head rested on Nana’s shoulder like a lazy cat, voice light as a feather.

The tone teased, yet everyone who heard felt a cold spike down the spine, like being dropped into an ice cave.

“Feng Luo Luo, don’t you dare!”

Yiling knew Nesting Phoenix’s terror; if it came to blows, they might not win, storm or no storm.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Nana’s sneer flashed, sharp as a blade. “We’re not in the sect; if you die, no one links it to me.”

“And Nesting Phoenix’s flame turns everything to ash, leaving no trace, snow melting in spring.”

Her smile widened to a crescent; in her eyes lay a black, cold pool.

Run!

The word lightninged through Yiling’s mind like a spark over dark water.

“Hiss—”

“Hiss—”

Before she’d gathered herself, red flared before her eyes like dawn; several nearby mounts burst into crimson fire out of nowhere.

The sky shattered into chaos like a scattering flock; unprepared disciples were thrown by panicked beasts, tumbling into the forest below, life or death unknown.

Yiling’s face sank like a stormfront; she poured Spirit Energy to soothe her mount, shot Nana a knife-edged glare, and rode the turmoil to flee like a streaking bird.

“Enough, don’t chase; burn the rest.”

Nana laid her hand over Nesting Phoenix’s, smoothing her mood like stroking a cat’s fur.

She couldn’t let the heroine die yet; the System’s rules were iron, cold as law.

Nesting Phoenix obeyed; flipping her hand, she laced fingers with Nana’s like a lock, then nestled in to doze on the beauty’s shoulder like a resting bird.

Ten fingers interlaced, Nana Toki: “...”

Well then, this little rascal keeps pushing, a tide inching up the shore.

But what can I do? I can’t beat her; never mind hand-holding—if she wanted to sleep on me, I couldn’t resist, a leaf under rain.

Under another’s eaves, you bow your head, grass under wind.

Still, give me a few hundred years of cultivation and I’ll beat Nesting Phoenix. Probably.

Today I bow and scrape; tomorrow I swing heavy, thunder after stillness.

For now, keep my head down and play the meek junior, a turtle in its shell.