Before the arena dust even settled, word rolled from the capital like thunder: the Second Princess, Jade Ring Long, had vanished.

In a heartbeat, the Marl Kingdom roiled like stirred hornets, chaos from court to alley.

Rumors blew in like dead leaves: princesses from many realms snatched by faceless hands; the capital’s people clumped in panic like flocks of startled birds.

And the culprit stirring this storm—Nana Toki—had already slipped past the city like a night wind, pink sack on her back holding the Marl Kingdom’s First Princess.

No one in Marl, rack their brains as they might, would guess Nana Toki took the wild path—over the wall like a stray cat.

A wall a hundred meters high, sheer as a cliff, and she treated it like a low fence.

Up and over in one breath, like a swallow skimming a ridge.

Even the System watched, dumbstruck, like a lantern caught in daylight.

She ran several hundred meters into open fields, feet drumming like rain on packed earth.

When silence trailed her like a shadow, Nana Toki dropped the pink sack.

She meant to see what the Nesting Phoenix of this world looked like.

Whoosh!

She’d only loosened the knot; before a face showed, a cutting sword-shadow split the air toward her eyes like a flash of winter lightning.

Instinct flared first; her right hand rose like a shield.

Clang—metal sang like a struck bell.

The sharp longsword met the dagger in Nana Toki’s hand, sparks spitting like fireflies.

She hadn’t even spoken. Ling'er Long burst from the sack and pressed the attack like a gust through reeds.

Fuck! The single word hit like a thrown stone.

The Nesting Phoenix had an itch for trouble, daring to swing at even me, like a cub snapping at a tigress.

She cooled her breath; ice element gathered like frost on glass, shaping a razor ice-sword to blunt the strike.

Ling'er didn’t stop; Nana’s face darkened like a storm front.

If you don’t like the pink sack, say so; I can swap it out, she said, voice dry as winter wind.

She flicked the ice blade upward like a leaping fish. Ling'er's iron sword went flying in an instant, a dark arc against the sky.

The iron blade landed point-first in the dirt, quivering like a reed.

Ling'er hadn’t even set a stance. A breath later, cold crystal pressed her throat like a shard of winter.

Don’t lean on my liking for you to test my patience. Piss me off, and I’ll carve you up in minutes and scatter your ashes like dust on the wind.

Her eyes were hollow as a winter well as they held Ling'er’s bright gaze.

Nana spoke cold as ice: Be good and come home with me. Or tomorrow you’ll meet a wheelchair for life like a chain.

With that, the ice at Ling'er’s throat withdrew, melting to a dark puddle on the earth like spilled moonlight.

Mother— this world’s Nesting Phoenix isn’t cute at all, like a hedgehog of thorns.

Maybe I should hop a world and reincarnate again, like changing inns on a long road.

System: …

Host, don’t be willful, the voice pleaded like a thin flute.

She’s prickly, sure, but she’s still the Nesting Phoenix, the words fluttered like paper charms.

Don’t want her! Nana snapped back like a slammed door.

Scowling, Nana stooped for the pink sack; with a temper like that, this Phoenix was a goose fit for the chopping block before winter.

System: …

Spared by Nana, Ling'er bit down, watching the woman ignore her and fuss with the pink sack, her face shifting like sun and cloud.

What had she just said, the thought rippled like a pebble in a pond.

That I was leaning on her liking me to test her patience, the words echoed like a drumbeat.

What kind of nonsense was that, outrage flaring like sparks.

Today was the first time she’d met this Bingtang; how could “liking” even be on the table, the logic stiff as dry wood.

Yet confusion flowed warm in her chest, like tea on a cold night, despite those cutting words.

Who are you really, she asked, voice taut as a bowstring.

She freed her sword from the soil and sheathed it with a soft hiss like grass in wind.

Ling'er stepped closer. What’s your goal in kidnapping me?

I already told you who I am. Name’s Bingtang. As for why I nabbed you… my place is poor, can’t afford an ox, so I’m taking you home to plow fields for me, till some earth, she said, straight-faced as a stone.

She folded the pink sack with careful hands, delivering those words like neat knife cuts.

What’s with that look? Even if you handed me an ox, I wouldn’t let you go. I bagged you myself; not plowing a few acres would be against heaven and earth.

You want me to plow for you? Ling’er’s expression shifted like ink in water.

Was this woman serious, disbelief buzzing like wasps.

She was a noble princess of the Marl king, a general of the realm, praised by tens of thousands like banners in wind.

And this woman spent all that effort to drag her out of Marl… just to make her pull a plow?

How dare she, fury rose like fire up dry tinder.

Eh, don’t fret about your status. Folks in my village are plain as clay. They won’t stop you farming just because you’re a Marl princess or a general.

Ling’er: … Those words didn’t soothe at all, like cold rain under a leaky roof.

Are you insulting me, she asked, teeth set like a locked gate.

She glared at Nana. Her right hand on the hilt trembled a shade, like a leaf in wind, from the sting of those words.

Enough, enough. Quit posturing to scare me. Do it again and I’ll smack you, she said, casual as a cat flicking its tail.

Nana was used to Ling’er drawing blades at a word, like lightning to a rod.

She cut her a bored glance and turned toward the Hedon Kingdom, feet steady as a road drum.

You’ve been kidnapped by me. Can you act kidnapped? Pack away that general’s pride and princess airs. I won’t indulge you.

Yeah. You don’t spoil the Nesting Phoenix, or she’ll molt on your head like a bothersome bird.

I must’ve been too soft in the last world, the thought floated like ash.

No wonder this version’s so unruly, like a river out of banks.

Nana presented this solemn, half-baked analysis, face straight as a bamboo pole.

In this world she’d retrain the Nesting Phoenix, tame fire with iron like a blacksmith.

Ling’er: … You don’t look like a kidnapper either, the protest fluttered like a sparrow.

…

Ling’er disliked much of Nana’s talk, yet she still listened, the words lodging like seeds in soil.

She didn’t try to flee. She trailed behind Nana like a tailing shadow, eyes skimming the roadside like hawks, curious where this woman would take her.

Seeing that, Nana murmured to the System, breath low as mist: in our world we call that the cold-and-smug type—savage on the surface, obedient underneath, like a wolf that heels.

Usually not too bright, she added, wicked as a pinprick.

System: … As long as you’re happy, Host, the sigh drifted like smoke.

After a stretch, they reached a river. In the shade by the water, a youth scrubbed a carriage, water flashing like scales.

Wasn’t that the boy who’d hauled her from the Hedon side, a familiar outline like a marker stone.

Why are you still here, she called, voice skipping like a pebble across water.

Nana went over with Ling’er in tow, curiosity bright as a flame; she’d told him to head back alone, like a bird set free.

The back of the carriage was dirty, not fit for the city, he said, words neat as stacked wood.

Aji, mid-scrub, flinched at the greeting. He turned, saw who it was, and nearly slipped from the wagon like a spooked foal. Y-You’re here?

The shadow Nana had cast over his wagon still clung to him like fog.

Even with Nana’s innocent look, the boy felt pressure like a millstone on his back.

Your wagon smells faintly of blood. Have you killed, Ling’er asked, her nose sharp as a hound’s.

A veteran of battle, she moved in with Nana. Though Aji had scrubbed the bed clean, she still caught the thin trace of iron like rust on rain.

Her willow brows knit, face dark as a storm; her hand twitched to draw and pin the youth like a butterfly.

Nana pushed her hand down, firm as a lid on boiling water.

What are you doing? I did the killing. What are you drawing on him for, she said, tone flat as a blade.

She pressed Ling’er’s right hand to the hilt, then jerked her chin at Aji like a guiding lantern. We still need him to get home.

Home, my ass! Bingtang, do you know killing inside the Marl Kingdom is a capital crime, Ling’er snapped, anger roaring like a bonfire.

She held her temper by the reins and glared. With that lawless, life-sneering attitude, you could die a hundred times under Marl law, she spat, words like arrows.

But I’m not a Marl citizen. Your laws don’t leash me, Nana said, innocent as clear water. I’m from the Hedon Kingdom.

What, the word cracked like thunder.

The revelation struck Ling’er like a lightning fork.

You… you’re from Hedon, she stammered, breath thin as paper.

She stared, disbelief hanging like frost. But your file said…

It said some nameless border village in Marl? Nana rolled her eyes at her, exasperation fluttering like a fan.

Please. I live in a village on the Hedon–Marl border. That line’s not wrong.

And hey, what girl signs up to a deadly tournament with real name these days? Offend the wrong person and the whole hometown burns with you. Right, Princess Long?

Ling’er: …

Words failed her, sticking like rice to the tongue.

True. If Nana were weaker and failed to subdue her, the charge of kidnapping alone would’ve killed her several times over, like a hammer falling again and again.

Between the two women, Aji hunched his head like a turtle, hardly daring to breathe.

Holy— what were these two even saying, his mind buzzed like flies.

Bingtang, the name rang like a bell.

Wasn’t that the Hedon Kingdom princess’s name, a title heavy as a crown?

Why did this woman with the Demon Hand carry it too, a shadow on a bright banner?

And also, his thoughts stumbled like stones.

That valiant, sword-wearing woman was called Princess Long?

Isn’t Long the noble surname of Marl, a crest carved in jade?

What were their identities, really, the puzzle coiling like smoke.

One bore Hedon’s royal name, one Marl’s noble line. Aren’t those two nations oil and fire, never mixing, like storm and flame?

How did both kingdoms’ ladies end up together before him, like two comets crossing one sky?

In that instant, Aji felt dragged into something immense, like a leaf in a whirlpool. Maybe not mortal, but surely messy.