A gauzy veil of fog draped the small town, like wet ink blurring a scroll. In the pale morning, ten meters away turned to smudge.

“Hee-hee…” A giggle slipped through the mist like a silver fish, light and slippery.

Ouyang stopped, heart tightening like a drawn bowstring before a hunt. He looked around, yet the fog held no faces, only white breath.

But that voice, he’d never forget it. A tiny girl in black children’s clothes walked out of the haze, moon-pale face pinched into a snarl.

“Homeless little ghost, what is it?” Ouyang flicked his hand like shooing a fly, impatience beating like a drum behind his ribs.

The girl froze, eyes widening like cracked ice under a boot.

After a beat, the small body, big cunning spoke. “Let’s make a deal.” Her words glinted like a fox’s eye in brush.

Deal. Interest sparked in Ouyang like a hidden ember. He’d been fretting over how to pry the Dark Trinity Artifacts off that sprite, waves gnawing a rock.

A strong hitter had walked to his door like a storm to a dry field. He couldn’t handle the sprite, but someone like her might. Maybe.

“My request’s simple,” the girl said, voice cool as a needle of frost. “Get me the Eternal Trinity Artifacts.”

Eternal what? Ouyang only knew the Dark Trinity Artifacts, three shadows coiled like snakes.

“Sure, no problem. I’ve got a condition,” he said, smile smooth as a lake. “I’ll swap the Eternal Trinity Artifacts for your Dark Trinity Artifacts.”

“By the way, the Dark Trinity Artifacts are on a sprite in the Boundless Sea.” His tone was casual as drifting clouds. “That sprite… well, a sprite lives in the town’s ancient tree. The one in the Boundless Sea is about the same.”

The girl—Yuan—stared, blinking like an owl at noon. She clearly didn’t know the Dark Trinity Artifacts, relics buried like bones under ages.

She thumped her small chest, bold as a sparrow pecking a tiger’s tail. “No problem. Then I’ll wait for you to trade with the Eternal Trinity Artifacts.”

Yuan narrowed her eyes, gaze a thin blade reflecting light. Minutes dragged like damp rope. Then danger roughened her voice.

“Don’t you have anything you want to ask?” The question snapped like a twig. Ouyang hadn’t asked one thing about the Eternal Trinity Artifacts. The trap showed its teeth.

“No, no…” Ouyang’s smile flowed like oil on water. “I think you should take the Dark Trinity Artifacts from that sprite first.”

“That sprite holds the Dark Trinity. You should plan it well,” he said, words beating a soothing rhythm, like rain on eaves. “Once I get the Dark Trinity, I can use their power to help you find your so-called Eternal Trinity Artifacts.”

His line held water like a well-cast net. With the Dark Trinity Artifacts, he’d fight harder and live longer, odds rising like a favorable wind.

Yuan frowned, thought snagging like a sleeve on a thorn. It sounded right, yet something felt crooked, a reed bent under unseen weight.

Seeing her ponder, Ouyang’s heart lifted like a kite catching breeze. It was a clean grab for something out of nothing, a free meal under a bright moon.

A deal? On paper only. He’d get the goods, and her side had no chain on him. Some deal.

“How about I give you more intel?” he said, voice warm as a brazier. “Maybe I’ll even help you plan.” He patted her shoulder, light as a falling leaf, smiling at her tangled look.

After a while, the sun rose like a burning coin. The town’s fog thinned to wisps and then to clear air.

“But… I can’t beat that sprite.” The fearless girl’s voice shrank like a candle before wind. Panic pricked like needles under her skin.

“That sprite’s clearly the Boundless Sea’s guardian,” she said, eyes dark as a coming storm. “She can draw on the Sea’s power.”

“Once, an Ancient God borrowed the power of the Boundless Sea and defeated a High God who sounded the Hymn of Praise.” Her words rolled like distant thunder.

“The gap between Ancient God and High God is a canyon,” she said, palms cold as river stones. “But the Boundless Sea can bridge it. I’m no match for that sprite.”

Ouyang stared, speechless, face flat as a dead pond. She couldn’t beat the sprite, so why agree so fast? Then again, he’d said yes just as fast.

“So you help me find the Eternal Trinity Artifacts,” Yuan pressed, pupils burning like coals. “With all three, I’m near invincible. I can absolutely beat her.”

“Or give me your body. Fuse with me. Together we’ll crush that sprite like a shell in a fist.” The hunger in her tone prowled like a wolf.

They talked and circled, and the path looped back to the same old stone.

“Great and supreme Lady Yuan,” Ouyang said, honey in his voice, smoke in his eyes. “That sprite’s no match for you. Help me get the Dark Trinity Artifacts first.”

“Fine,” she said, gaze a hook in deep water. “Give me your body. Once we merge, there’ll be no one to fear beneath the sky.”

Silence tightened like a bowstring. They glared, two knives laid edge to edge.

Just then, Xi appeared, walking with Xian, like a breeze tugging a kite string. She spotted a wild Ouyang like a deer in a field.

“Ouyang? What are you doing here?” Her voice snapped like a twig. “Who’s the little girl? Did you abduct her?”

“Trouble. Silence them,” Yuan muttered, palm blooming with black flame, a night flower opening its fangs.

She lifted her hand to snuff witnesses like candles. Ouyang flinched, heart lurching like a boat in chop. He swept her up in his arms.

“She’s my little sister…” he said quickly, a smile pasted like paper on a window. A knot of black flame rose in his palm, a mirror to hers.

“See? Both black flame. That’s our family mark.” His lie walked on stilts, shadow long as dusk.

In his arms, Yuan wriggled like a caught fish, face dark as stormglass. By rights, she could break free with a shrug. For some reason, she huffed, then stilled, quiet as a stone.

“Little sister… I never heard you had one,” Xi said, suspicion coiling like smoke. “Did you force her?”

Xi stayed wary, a cat with arched back. Xian, though, didn’t overthink; her smile sprang like spring water.

“Big brother, we meet again,” Xian chirped, voice bright as a bell. To her, Ouyang wasn’t a passing acquaintance, but kin warmed by a hearth.

Xi could only sigh. They’d met only a few times, barely exchanged words. Yet Xian clung to him, mouth full of “big brother” like sweet candy.

Xian grabbed Ouyang’s sleeve, fingers light as sparrows. In his arms, the “little sister” didn’t like it one bit.

Yuan shoved Xian, bold as a kitten batting a lion’s mane. “Don’t get close to my brother!”

Seeing Yuan’s tiny fist clenched, Xian snorted laughter like wind through chimes. Yuan looked even younger than her.

Xian seemed twelve or thirteen, fresh as green willow. Yuan looked eight or nine, sharp as a thorn bud.

“Little sister, I’ll take you to play,” Xian said, eyes shining like stars in shallow water. “There are so many fun places.”

She took Yuan’s hand and dragged her off like a stream tugging a leaf, whether Yuan agreed or not.

After the two little gremlins left, Xi looked at Ouyang, doubt pooling in her eyes like deep wells.

“Really your sister?” Her question fell like a pebble into that well.

“Of course she is.” Ouyang pointed after the girls, words smooth as polished jade. “Look at her hair. Look at the flame.”

“Don’t we look like siblings?” He showed his own hair and the black fire in his palm, smoke curling like snakes.

Xi ground her teeth, turned her head away, cheeks tight as a bow. “Fine. So why are you here?”

Ouyang weighed answers, mind sifting like a sieve. Just then, a middle-aged woman spotted them, warmth rising like kitchen steam.

“Xi, is that your friend?” The woman’s voice wrapped like a quilt. “Why not bring him home?”

“I just bought fruit,” she said, smile bright as a lantern. “Bring your friend home and chat while you eat.”

She hooked Ouyang’s arm and led him away like a river taking a reed. Xi was left where she stood, thoughts scattered like leaves.

“He’s not… he’s not my friend!” Xi stomped, blush climbing like dawn on snow.

Ouyang wasn’t better off. He blinked, dazed as a chicken in fog, then realized the woman must be Xi’s mother.

“You’re Xi’s friend, right?” the woman said, kindness a steady fire. “Last time you came, we didn’t treat you well.”

“I don’t even know your name,” she added, curiosity fluttering like a sparrow.

“Where’s your family from? How old are you? When did you meet Xi?” Questions spilled like beans from a split sack.

“How long have you known each other? What’s your relationship?” The barrage felt like a cop’s ID check under a harsh lamp.

What a pain, Ouyang thought, temples throbbing like drumbeats. He’d come to scheme quietly, and ran into a parent’s crossfire.

“Mother, you’ll cause misunderstandings asking like that!” Xi protested, shame prickling like nettles. Her mother’s look for a son-in-law was a blazing sun.

“Ah… I’m Ouyang,” he said, daze clearing like fog in sunlight. “I’m… seventeen.” His performance slid into place like silk, Oscar-worthy.

A shy boy bloomed before them like a soft white flower. Xi ground her molars so hard they sang.

Seventeen? That fossil had lived more millennia than rings in an ancient pine. A world-wrecking Demon King, acting like a bashful kid—shameless as a fox in a henhouse.

“Ouyang, that’s a good name,” Xi’s mother said, approval warm as tea. “How’s your family situation?”

Xi could only lift her hands to the sky in mute despair. Her mother was unstoppable, a river after the thaw.

“Family… it’s just me and my sister,” Ouyang said, voice dim as a winter lamp. “She’s nine.”

“When we were little, Father and Mother fought,” he went on, sorrow a fine rain. “They left us.”

“Back then, I was twelve, and she was four.” The numbers fell like pebbles into a cold pond.

“To feed her, I hunted small game near the forest’s edge,” he said, shoulders hunched like a reed in wind. “A year ago, I went too deep and met a beast.”

“Luckily, Xi saved me,” he finished, gaze soft as dusk. The pity in the air thickened like congee.

Watching him, Xi almost burst out laughing, hand to her mouth like a lid on boiling water. If she didn’t know the truth, she might believe it.

Hearing the sad tale, Xi’s mother’s heart opened like a door in spring. She patted Ouyang’s head, gentle as a feather.

“And your sister?” she asked, concern a steady flame.

“Xian dragged her off to play,” Xi answered for him, voice level as a calm lake.

When her mother turned her head, Ouyang shot Xi a wink, grin bright as a fox’s moonlit grin. Xi wanted to bite him, teeth itching like flint.

If not to keep her parents safe, if not to avoid panic, she’d have unmasked him long ago, truth sharp as a blade.