After the rabbit’s tale, a reel played in Ouyang’s mind— a rabbit and a human slipping past iron bars like winter mice, fleeing a sterile lab under flickering lights. Then came the city’s hunger, a pack of greedy men sniffing like hounds, chasing the rabbit to taste its flesh. Next, rabbit and man traded wits like chess under storm clouds, one feint after another.
When the story ended, the rabbit clung to Ouyang’s thigh and sobbed, like a child stumbling back to its parents in rain. Picture it: a half‑meter rabbit hugging a human leg, weeping like a broken flute. To ordinary eyes, that’s wrong as a crow at noon. Here, under these dark boughs, nothing feels strange.
Ouyang patted its head, and a tide of old feelings rose like mist off a lake. Ages shifted like sand, faces changed like fallen leaves, yet the rabbit stayed the same moonlit shape— still that hopeless little thing.
"Fine," he sighed, a wind through pines. "I came to Nightfall Forest to pick a clever race as a banner. Since I ran into you, I’ll hand you the flag." He hadn’t been wandering; he hunted for minds sharp as flint to spread the Void Church through fur and feathers. Ouyang meant to be the Demon King, the one and only god of the Source World— over humans and beasts, under moon and sun.
"Rabbit, I appoint you one of three archbishops of the Void Church. Go sow our faith through the animal realms." To Ouyang, muscle didn’t matter for missionaries; their church lacked no sharp claws. Up on the continent’s far north, in the Sealed Land, dozens of Demon Kings slept like glaciers. Once Ouyang broke those chains, a tide of underlings would thunder out.
Right now he needed silver tongues more than steel. Ouyang could spin a corpse into a comeback, turn black into white like snow on soot; there wasn’t a second him to be found. That thought brushed him with a chill— loneliness fell like snow; the summit’s thin air bites cold.
"Void Church?" The rabbit’s eyes widened like twin moons; it didn’t know the name, but it tasted power like spice on the tongue. "But, my lord, didn’t you say you’d found a Demon God Church? Why’d it turn into the Void Church?"
"No change." Ouyang smoothed a strand of hair like a blade’s edge. "Void Demon God Church— that’s the full banner. Cool, right? For now, only we three know that true name, a secret like a sealed song."
"Remember," he said, voice like a bell in fog, "the only god of the Void Demon God Church is the Void Messenger." He pointed at his chest, a star marking itself.
The rabbit blinked, puzzled like a hare under lantern light. "But, Lord Ouyang, didn’t you used to call yourself Void? How’d ‘Messenger’ get tacked on?"
Ouyang didn’t answer; he sent a slow kick like a drifting log. Anyone could’ve dodged. The rabbit didn’t— it took it like a stone in still water.
"Yes..." it said, eyes closing like petals, soaking in the pain as if sun-warm. "Lord Ouyang, please kick me a few more times..."
Ouyang’s face twitched like a struck drum. Memory slid back— he’d kicked this rabbit so much the wires crossed; a proper bunny twisted into a shameless masochist bunny. Maybe the moment Ouyang dragged it off for modifications, the road to normal snapped like a brittle twig.
"Right, my lord, do we have doctrine?" the rabbit chirped, a sparrow asking rain. "They say preaching needs tenets." The word poked Ouyang’s mind. Doctrine? Why not his own whims, painted like lanterns. Before night’s fun, believers should set his booklet on a stand and pray: O great Void Demon God, grant me strength till dawn.
Or people meet and first say, "The Void Demon God is drop‑dead handsome." Wild tenets bloomed in his head like fireworks, but one mind felt thin. Better to gather those Demon Kings and brainstorm; doctrine would get delicious.
"Doctrine can wait," Ouyang said, face solemn as a temple mask. "As an archbishop, make a few temporary rules while you spread the word. We’ll polish later." The rabbit stared, speechless as a fish. It almost said something, then swallowed it like a stone, recalling Ouyang’s old style.
"But, my lord," the rabbit said, putting on pity like wet fur, "many beasts here are strong as mountains. They won’t listen. And... I owe them lots of food. Until I repay, they won’t heed me."
Getting beasts to join wasn’t hard with a nimble tongue. But those debts soured trust like old milk. Beasts think simple, single lines like river reeds. To fight that human, the rabbit had promised heaps of food. Until it paid up, their ears stayed shut.
Ouyang brooded a while, brows knotted like bark. In his eyes, none of this was a real problem. Among beasts, fists are law, thunder is scripture. Don’t preach— just strike. After enough blows, they obey like wind‑bent grass. The snag was the rabbit’s lack of power, a bruise that wouldn’t fade.
"I get it," Ouyang nodded, light cutting through cloud. "Rabbit, you move with us for a while. We’ll bully beasts along the road, show them who’s boss. Once we leave, you’ll have a clear path to preach."
"Relax, my lord. I’ll pound the stubborn ones, then strip their dens clean, let fear settle like frost." The rabbit thumped its chest. As master, so servant. The once‑pure Jade Rabbit had gone black; under Ouyang’s shadow, its heart darkened like ink. Now this rabbit was black through bone and fur.
It squeaked toward the honeycomb of burrows: "Squeak squeak... squeak squeak squeak... (Kids, your ancestor’s heading out with the lord to claim territory. Stay home and behave.)"
"Squeak squeak? (Claim territory? We’re getting a big territory?)"
"Squeak squeak squeak? (Will there be carrots? If the land’s big, does that mean lots of carrots?)"
A chorus of squeaks rose from the hive‑like holes, buzzing like bees; the rabbit clan sounded giddy as spring.
So Ouyang took an extra rabbit along. He’d thought to have Valiant haul it off to bully other beasts, but then he’d stand alone without a flashy lieutenant. If some beast refused, he’d have to grind the fight himself like a millstone.
He frowned, tracing his own arsenal like constellations. Xi had unlocked four seals for him; on raw magic he sat at third tier, strong enough to strut sideways through storm and brush. He still held the Divine Sword; worst case, he’d pull out the castle and crush whoever irked him like thunder falling on stone. Away from that castle, he wasn’t so weak after all.
"Valiant, once we hit the forest’s edge, I’ll head to Dragon Gorge per plan. You take the rabbit and rough up the beasts." Ouyang set his jaw. His Demon King empire had to rise on many fronts; doing it step by step would drag into dead winters.
Thus the odd trio cut straight through the forest, brazen as a hawk carving the sky.
A centipede, over ten meters long, coiled on the trees and barred their way like a rusty gate. "Strange," Ouyang said, eyes cold as rain, "didn’t it see the other beasts veer off like fish? Where’s this bug’s courage coming from?"
Annoyance pricked Ouyang. Valiant bristled too— beastman or fallen god, he’d been a Beast God; and now a mere centipede dared block his road like a dead log? Before the two lords spoke, the rabbit dashed ahead like a white blur.
It kicked off the ground, tapped two trunks like stepping stones, flipped midair like a tossed leaf, and landed on the centipede’s head. Standing there, it bowed like a gentleman to the air, as if saying, "Thank you, thank you, everyone!"
Ouyang squinted, stunned as a heron at dawn. That damn rabbit was bowing to empty air?
The rabbit’s limbs locked like frozen reeds. It’d just realized what it had done.
In that instant, it wanted to cover its face and sob, shame washing over like cold tide. Surviving hadn’t been easy for a rabbit. After it and the human fled the lab, a hundred years slid by like drifting ash. The rabbit took it in stride; the human took the hurt like a fall off a cliff.
Stripped of power, a rabbit hunting in the jungle is a leaf against wind. But the noble Jade Rabbit had feasted beside Demon Kings, sampling mountain delicacies and world‑rare treats; how could it bear chewing grass like a cow?
So the pair drifted through human streets like autumn leaves. They performed street tricks together. That season carved reflex into bone. Whenever it moved, the rabbit slipped into those showman steps without thinking. In short, the noble Jade Rabbit had just served a plate of mortification before its master. No face left to meet the Demon King.
