“Master, I did it for you. Look—we scraped the money together.” Ouyang tugged a bundle open; a heap of gold gleamed like little suns as he offered them to Xi, his smile wagging like a puppy’s tail.

She shot him a frostbitten glare, a snort like winter wind, then left him to talk to the dust.

“Don’t be like that. To earn this, I’d shoulder the name of a con like a sack of rocks. You really have the heart to ignore me?”

“Heaven and earth, is this my fate?” He lifted his hands to the sky like a tragic actor on a rainy stage. “I work so hard, yet no one understands.”

The buzzing near her ear droned like summer cicadas, and Xi tuned it out like closing a window on rain. In a few days, she’d seen through that Demon King as through thin paper.

Useful to him? He’d drop his pride like a cloak in mud and flatter. Useless? He’d flip his face like a storm flag, cold and cruel in a heartbeat.

She remembered how he’d threatened her with that “notebook,” arrogant as thunder over black hills; she’d felt hauled back to the Demon-chaos era, facing a tyrant crowned in lightning. Then he learned she could lift his nine remaining seals, and he came slithering over with a smile oily as lamp smoke.

This shameless creature, a Demon King? Fate has a wicked sense of humor, she thought, tossing a pebble at the stars in her mind.

At least she’d learned he still wore nine layers of sealing chains, and a stone slid off her chest like snow off a roof. They had a contract, but her gut—cold as spring water—said that leash was paper on him.

She’d feared an ancient Demon King might crack his prison like thawed ice and surge free; her heart had been a tight drum in a windstorm. Now she knew—nine seals still bound him—no wonder he was weak as a damp spark.

In legend, a Demon King wrestled gods under a sky full of spears. Yet Ouyang could only kick up a Dust-raising spell, a puff that scuffed boots and nothing more; back then she’d thought it laughable—now it fit.

“Who,” Xi stopped, hands on hips like twin blades, anger flaring red as sunset, “did you call Master?”

“You,” Ouyang answered without a blink, voice smooth as a pond.

Xi frowned, her finger lofting like a poised dagger, her tone elegant and cool as jade. “Liar. You’re plotting to trick me into undoing the rest of your seals, then you’ll ‘teach me a lesson,’ won’t you?”

This girl isn’t ordinary. Ouyang lowered his head so his eyes were hidden like deep wells; in those black pupils, danger coiled like a snake in shadow.

“So give it up,” she said, the words set like stones. “Even if I die, I won’t let you, Demon King, run free again.”

Too young, he thought, eyes narrowed like slits against desert glare. Still, too young.

“My great and beautiful Master,” he said, voice honey over thorns, “could you take that back a step? Words nailed that tight are tinder to disaster. My nerves are iron, but another Demon King, once he knows there’s no hope, will corner like a rat and go down in flames, taking the house with him.”

“But if you don’t shut the door that hard—if you promise a sliver of hope—nobody wants blood on the street. Right?”

“Uh… well…”

She disliked the Demon King before her like grit between teeth, yet his logic left her no place to stand. Idiot, she thought, amused and wary at once—actually teaching me how to handle him. Fine. I’ll dangle the promise of unsealing like a carrot and make him work. Heh.

She beamed at him like sun after rain, and he mirrored it back, goofy as a scarecrow’s grin.

That dopey face must house a dope, she decided, and lowered her guard to the floor like setting down a shield. Drowned in a small victory, she forgot how close his tricks had come to killing her two days ago.

“Hmph. Since you’re so ‘sincere,’ I’ll keep you around for now,” Xi said, her mood bright as lantern light. “If you perform, maybe—if I’m pleased—I’ll undo a seal or two.”

Ouyang sat down cross-legged on the ground and looked up at her like a pilgrim at a shrine. “Don’t worry, Master. I’ll behave. I’ll fight for freedom.”

He was shouting that to the wind when—whoosh—a gust lifted hems like startled sparrows.

Huh. White? he thought, eyes flashing like a thief’s lantern. So the silly girl hasn’t noticed she’s flashing…

Xi felt the sudden silence like a dropped cup and followed his gaze; he was staring, unblinking, like a cat at cream. Not good. She yanked her skirt down in a panic, heat stinging her cheeks like sunburn. In a snap, she remembered—weak power, sure, but his mind wasn’t stupid. And she’d just filed him under “fool”?

“Ouyang… what crime is peeking at your Master?”

“Master, what did you say? My head’s spinning—so many little stars… twinkle, twinkle, little stars—so bright across the sky…” Ouyang wailed like a ghost at a temple gate, his sing-song needling her ears like thorns.

Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. That demonic noise poured into her ears like pitch, and Xi finally believed his title down to the bone.

“Stop! Ouyang, shut up! Do you want to violate the contract and murder me?” She clapped her hands over her ears, face pale as paper with fear. So this is a Demon King. Of course it is.

“Anyway… I forgive you. You’re… never allowed to sing again!”

“As you command.”

Turned away, Xi missed the thin, crooked smile that cut across Ouyang’s mouth like a crescent blade.

So young—her thoughts are scribbled on her face, he mused, a chill breeze sliding over hot coals. When the time comes, you’ll open my seals willingly. Because you won’t have a choice. Bonds? As long as you’re tied to them, you’ll have to borrow my strength.

He lifted his gaze to the sky, eyes deep as storm wells; dread stirred there, and a dare flickered like lightning in fog.

When I’m crowned king, you will all be ash. Glory and ruin will march side by side.

“Ouyang, what are you muttering? Hurry up—there’s a city ahead, a big one!” Xi’s voice rang like a bell, and his cold mask crumpled like wet paper.

“Dear Master, don’t wander alone,” he said, tone light as teasing rain. “Cute girls like you get scooped up by creepy uncles.”

“Shut it. I’m not a child. And lower your voice—you want everyone staring?”

…

The main street bustled like a river of ants, and Ouyang trailed behind Xi, eyes drinking in everything like a man seeing the sea for the first time.

“Ouyang, how about that inn up front? Also, how much money do we have left? Maybe we can rent a carriage and go straight to my home… Ouyang? Ouyang?” Her words fluttered like paper cranes and fell—no answer.

She turned. He was gone, his shadow cut out of the crowd like a missing tile.

The Demon King was optional in her life, but the gold was not; all the coins clinked on his body like a bell. Without Ouyang, she was stuck. With a sigh like a small wave, she headed back to track down the wandering menace.

Soon, not far away, she spotted him. He was craning his neck left and right, a skulker under eaves, suspicious as a stray cat.

“What… are… you… doing?” Xi’s temper sparked like flint. Seeing that look, she assumed trouble. If Terracafe burned, eight out of ten it would be the Demon King she’d brought; and that would splash on her, too.

At the sight of her, Ouyang shuffled back a few steps, panic flickering like a startled sparrow.

“M—Master… my cute, beautiful Master…”

“Answer the point.”

Her voice was cold as a blade, so he swallowed the next few hundred words of praise like bitter tea.

“Master, I’m searching for elves,” he said, eyes scanning like a hunter at dawn. “Back in that era, elves lived with humans. Their bloodlines are top-tier—other than angels, I can’t name a race with better genes.”

“So elf girls are petite and adorable. I don’t turn down mature beauties either,” he added, shameless as sunlight on a snake, “but there are no angels here, so I’ll have to ask an elf girl out for a night.”

Xi actually let him finish, his nonsense rolling past like clouds.

Ancient tales said elves and humans shared cities like two vines on one trellis. She didn’t doubt that. But follow the thread and—was he saying human girls weren’t pretty? She was human.

“You’re insulting us humans.”

“Ah… I see,” Ouyang said, enlightenment dawning like a dim lantern.

She didn’t notice how smoothly he’d nudged her thoughts off their original track. In truth, old habits had seized him. In a strange city, his eyes counted stones and alleys, weighing walls and corners, plotting the fastest way to shatter a city like a pot.

Back in that era’s City Wall Demolition Circuit, he’d cracked the top ten, smashing masonry like drums. If Xi hadn’t shown up, he might’ve slipped right back into the trade.

But reality hit like cold rain: he was no longer the Demon King who called wind and rain.

For now, one careful step at a time. Low profile is the way.

Even so, he gazed at those thick walls with reluctance heavy as lead. No, he thought, if I don’t topple a few houses, punch a few walls, my bones itch like ants.

Decision clicked into place like a blade in a sheath. In that instant, every living thing in Terracafe—human or beast—felt an unplaceable chill crawl up its spine like a shadow at noon.