Ouyang wanted to turn the Demon King’s City into a paradise, a paper lantern glowing in the night. The idea met a cold wind of refusal. He sighed and went back to his castle, ready to conjure a statue people could kneel to.
The magic array hung in the air like frost-laced vines. A phantom statue took shape before his eyes. It was a robed figure with twin wings at the back. The loose robe drowned the body like fog over a lake, even the head veiled. Only those black feathers showed, night folded on night, and stars and moons twined across the cloth like stitched constellations.
“Rabbit, what do you think?”
He asked the Jade Rabbit. The rabbit nodded, reeds in a breeze. He asked Eika and Nabelia too; the siblings dipped their chins like swallows skimming water. Ouyang dispersed the floating sigils, and a pitch-black statue sank from dream to stone.
“Next, the shrine’s site. Where should it go?” The question felt like a pebble stuck in his shoe. He’d never had followers. How did a shrine get built? Where did you plant it? What taboos hid in the soil?
He breathed out and let the thought drift like smoke. Why carry that worry? Shrines are a believer’s duty, not the god’s.
“Forget the shrine. Just set my statue in a plaza and make the townsfolk bow every day.” He made the call, voice like a knuckle knocking wood. “You two, plan a plaza in the Outer Domain. Then place the statue.”
He shrank the statue to a toy, moon in a thimble, and handed it to the Jade Rabbit. Tasks like this belonged to his small lieutenants.
“All right, get moving. I want results before night dew.”
The Jade Rabbit blinked, her two front teeth going click-click like pebbles. “My lord, we’re not going to Terracafe?” Because of Angus, Ouyang had returned to craft the statue, but now his mood flowed another way.
He glanced outside, a hand wave shooing sparrows. “No. I’m expecting guests.”
Guests? The Jade Rabbit’s surprise rose like steam. It was the first time she’d seen Ouyang seriously preparing to host anyone. No matter how she chased it, the thought was mist.
“Understood…” Nabelia stepped in before the rabbit finished. “My lord Ouyang, let me stay to help receive them. I can serve tea and water. Eika and the rabbit can handle the statue.”
She didn’t let the rabbit protest. “My lord, serving tea is a girl’s task, isn’t it? If a rabbit does it, guests will be puzzled. That would chip your image.”
Her words landed like rain on a drum. Ouyang had no comeback. The Jade Rabbit wanted to argue, but Nabelia’s truth was a clear mirror. A rabbit hovering around guests would look odd. For Ouyang’s face, the rabbit tugged Eika away to sort the statue.
After they left, Nabelia said she’d change into something suitable and slipped to her room. When she returned to the castle, she wore a black-and-white maid dress, night and snow stitched together. Her emerald hair was pinned by a purple clip, her bangs pressed smooth. Two locks hung over her shoulders like silk cords; the rest flowed down her back like a river of leaves.
Her skin showed at shoulder and arm, jade under dawn. From afar, she looked like a gentle princess walking out of a garden.
She began to tidy the hall with practiced grace. Tables scattered like stones were gathered and cleaned to clear water. The floor she mopped to mirror, enough to reflect a passing cloud. Ouyang wanted to say, is this necessary? But her joy shone like sunlight. To crush it would be cruel.
He sank onto the sofa, watching the maid dress flicker through the hall like a swift swallow. He let his mind settle, a pond without ripples, and saw Nabelia carry a quiet aura he couldn’t name.
“They say a man focused on his work has a rare charm. Women are the same. Focused work releases a light you don’t see otherwise.”
Ouyang propped his chin, eyes warm with appreciation, no stray meanings sliding under the door. He could stake his name on it.
But—
“Ah, spring’s here. Mating season. If you fancy your maid, why hesitate?” Two figures appeared in the hall like shadows stepping out of a screen. Dongze and Agas, smiles twisted like willow branches.
Their looks made Ouyang itch under the collar, but he still faced them with a polite smile, a fan over a storm.
“My lord Ouyang, are these the guests? I’ll brew tea. Gentlemen, please sit.” Nabelia’s elegance drew nods from Dongze and Agas. Ouyang stole a glance; a peach blush rose on her cheeks. Dongze’s teasing had bloomed shy flowers.
After a short chat, Nabelia brought three steaming cups. She bowed, soft voice sweet as honey on warm stone. “Please enjoy.”
She slipped behind the door, ready to move at a word, a willow waiting on wind.
Dongze sipped, eyes calm as deep water. “So, you want to use the Eternal Empire’s old method to make this place a nexus of wish-power?”
“Yeah. That’s the plan. If you hadn’t come, I’d have gone to Terracafe to consult the Nightfall Clan. But since you’re here, Boss Dongze and Dean Agas should know, right?”
He’d intended to ask the ancient clan. With two ancients present, why not ask the mountain you’re already on?
Dongze’s answer was a winter bucket over hot coals. “Sorry. I don’t know it. Aside from that Emperor, only Eternal Empire royals who used it know.”
Ouyang’s enthusiasm cooled like tea left too long. He hadn’t expected that method to be locked in narrow hands.
“In that case, I’ll find time to ask the Nightfall Clan. They’re near extinct. I just hope the few left still remember. Otherwise, trouble.”
He sighed, wind through pines. Dongze patted his shoulder, a steadying weight. “Don’t make it hard. Send someone to notify them. No need to ‘consult.’ Remember, you represent the Other Shore. It’s their duty. And don’t worry about the method being lost. Knowledge like that moves by soul inheritance. If one clansman lives, the old river still flows.”
Agas smiled beside him, a hearth in winter. Ouyang scratched his head, shy as a boy, then nodded.
“All right. I’ll send someone to call them in for a talk on gathering wish-power.” He drew a circle in the air, black light seeping inward like ink. A black hole opened in the hall, a mouth in the night.
Ouyang reached in and hauled out a head by the hair, moonfish from a dark pond.
“Boss? What now?”
Kooson’s head poked out while his neck down stayed swallowed by shadow. Ouyang didn’t bother to pull him free. “Little Kooson, remember the space at Terracafe’s clock tower, where we found Wutong?”
“Sure, boss. What’s the job?”
“Go find… Yiyue Qianliu. That guy. Tell him to come see me. Say I’ve got business to discuss.” Ouyang got halfway when Dongze cut in, voice like iron. “If he dares not come, bind him. Bring him anyway.”
Kooson didn’t know who Dongze was, but Ouyang’s respect was a beacon. He nodded without fuss. Ouyang tossed him back into the black hole, clapped his hands, and let the air go quiet, like nothing had happened.
“You treat your men like that?” Agas asked, rare words like pebbles in a stream.
Ouyang shrugged, a fox grin. “Can’t help it. That guy’s fine with it. The others, I wouldn’t dare.”
“Since you plan to stay here, I’ll find you a place to live.” From their talk, Ouyang already knew their intent, so he prepared a patch in the Inner Domain for them.
He walked the Inner Domain with the two elders, a slow tour under pale light. They chose the eastern side, a quiet grove with no other Demon Kings nearby. No worries about neighbors like Ouyang, whose oddities wandered over borders like curious cats.
Just imagine waking to a crowd of Man-eating Flowers at your bed, dripping sticky unknown fluid. The thought crawled over Ouyang’s skin like cold ants. Terrifying.
Back at the castle, Ouyang hadn’t breathed out yet when space tore, silk ripped by a hidden blade. A figure fell from the black mouth. Ouyang caught them by instinct, cradle under storm. He looked down, and his chest tightened like a fist.
“Lo… Loyin?”
The little girl in his arms wore rags clawed by wind. Soot smudged her face left and right, as if smoke had kissed her.
She glanced up, hurried, a sparrow seeking nest. “Brother…”
Loyin tried to say more. Ouyang’s anger flashed, lightning behind clouds. “I told you. If it’s dangerous, don’t force it. Those things mean nothing to me. The Dark Trinity Artifacts can’t replace my Loyin! If you had an accident, what use are they?”
He scolded, but his voice carried worry, rain under thunder. The little one didn’t bristle. Her big black eyes held on him, then she curled into his arms like a leaf in a hand.
He couldn’t see her face, but he felt the soft tremble, a quiet sob like dew. His words had admitted a truth: they were family. Only for family would he speak like that.
“Forget it. You’re okay. That’s enough. I worried myself sick. I regret sending you after the Dark Trinity Artifacts. Loyin, I won’t ask you to do dangerous things again.”
