Canopy City, royal capital of the Karosen Kingdom. After only a short span, Ouyang stepped back into its leaf-shadowed streets, like entering a stone forest.

“Teacher, when will you teach me to get strong?” Augustine asked all the way, his voice beating like a drum. Caro saw even Augustine might rise, and urgency gnawed.

She had joined this hunting squad on a rush of hot blood. After what they’d endured, the fever faded like mist, and reality bit like cold iron.

With her current strength, she felt like ballast on a storm-tossed boat, dead weight dragging the team.

Each time Augustine tugged at Ouyang for answers, Caro trailed in silence. She said nothing, but her eyes were lanterns, her hope bright and bare.

“What’s the rush? Youth these days...” Ouyang murmured, shaking his head like a slow bell. His gaze skimmed Canopy City’s gate, where guards paced like restless ants.

There were far more than last time, a sign like dark clouds. The Land of Light and Karosen were rubbing raw against each other.

Kanofia was the First Duke’s daughter. A ruler wouldn’t hand her over easily, not with eyes watching like hawks.

If he yielded, nobles’ hearts would frost over. Even without a strike from the Land of Light, seeds of distrust would sink like burrs into soil.

Then unrest would sprout sooner or later, a bruise beneath the kingdom’s skin waiting to spread.

If he refused, the Land of Light and the Light Church would grind on like millstones. Pressure breeds cracks; fear loves its own shadow.

Every land has those who clutch life like brittle glass. Whatever Karosen chose, turbulence loomed like a storm front.

Ouyang had hoped to invite Crown Princess Jielinka to the Demon King’s city, plan under night curtains, and prop Karosen from behind.

But Kooson’s news fell like a cold knife. As Crown Princess, Jielinka was assassinated inside the royal city.

“Special period. Please show identification.” Soldiers barred them at the gate, spears gleaming like fish scales.

In the past, Jade Rabbit would’ve stormed through and taught them manners. To it, a royal castle was once a back garden under moonlight.

Ouyang tugged the leash of impulse and pulled it back. Jade Rabbit settled, ears drooping like willow leaves.

Ouyang glanced at Collin, a cue flicking like a hand fan: your turn on stage.

Collin met Ouyang’s eyes and nodded. He smoothed his bishop’s robe, then strode forward, posture polished like lacquer.

“Gentlemen, I’m a bishop of the Void Church. This is our grand priest,” he said, voice steady as a drumbeat.

“Void Church?” the lead soldier’s face cracked in surprise, like ice under a boot.

Canopy City knew them. After the Light Church quarreled with the Empress, she named the Void Church the kingdom’s sole church.

Under the Land of Light’s pressure, the Void Church was their winter fire. Hearing Collin’s claim, their stance softened like thawing snow.

Gifts in spring mean less than charcoal in snow. In this storm, standing with the kingdom warmed the citizens’ hearts like coals.

Because of that glow, the soldiers didn’t gape at the upright rabbit. On ordinary days, they’d cage it for knives and questions.

Goodwill is one thing; proof is another. As the soldier weighed tests like stones, Collin seemed to run into an old face.

“Collin? I heard you quit the Knight Order. What’s with the costume—joined some cult?” A noble youth on a white horse laughed like clattering tin.

“Truly shameful. Your father must be burying his face.”

Facing the white-horse peacock, Collin didn’t flinch. Once, he’d have swung first; now, his temper flowed like a slower river.

The soldier at the gate knew that name. Among the capital’s nobles, Collin was tea steam, always a cautionary tale.

A powerful heir quitting the Knight Order looked brainless. Hard training and risk could be forgiven, but then he preached in the slums.

“Dear Collin, how many in your ‘cult’? Want me to send you slaves to bulk it up?” The white-horse youth sneered, laughter spilling like cheap wine.

His retinue echoed him, chuckles beating like hollow drums.

The white-horse noble and Collin had clashed since childhood, their families fencing for military reins like dueling stallions.

Lately, Collin’s line had triumphed; his grandfather rose to Marshal, a sun cresting high.

As the family rose, people expected a clear sky. Then Collin pulled this stunt, a gift like a stumble to a rival.

For a ‘pig-like opponent’, the noble should shake hands and say, “Good work.” But after years under a heel, he craved payback.

The soft spot was Collin, a door cracked in an iron wall.

Collin shook his head, contempt light as dust. He had stayed in Miracle City, met other races, felt power like mountains.

He’d walked the City of the Dead, glimpsed life and death’s seams. His horizon outpaced ordinary eyes by miles.

To trade barbs now would cheapen himself; the other lacked the weight for his scales.

“Can we enter?” Collin’s calm voice was a clean blade that cut the soldier’s thoughts.

Void Church. People mocked Collin’s work, but few knew which altar he served. A bishop’s claim reframed those hours in the slums.

No one knew the Void Church’s roots, but to stand now meant they didn’t fear the Light Church’s glare.

Many guessed Karosen’s stiff spine came from that shadowed support.

“Collin… Bishop… please.” The soldier stepped aside, making a welcome like opening a gate in wheat.

————————————————————————

Canopy City was Collin’s hometown, familiar as old cobbles. Ouyang needed no tour; his eyes glided like birds.

Jade Rabbit’s horizon wasn’t rattled by this stone hive of humans.

Augustine, Caro, and Bai peered everywhere, eyes flitting like swallows. Augustine came from a big city, but a capital was another beast.

Caro’s small-town roots showed in her wonder, and Bai, new to this world, found every stone a fresh star.

“Hmph. A gaggle of lowborns, dazzled by brick. Collin, you’ve sunk to sharing road dust with them.” The white-horse noble kept tailing like a burr.

“Oh, I see. Is this your family’s omen—falling so far you keep company with rabble?”

Collin’s expression turned odd. Insult him if you must, he thought; why spray everyone like mud from a spinning wheel?

He saw the White Cat and the rabbit ripple like grass in a sudden wind.

“Cat bro, that guy’s way too cocky,” Jade Rabbit muttered, ears twitching like antennae. It called the older, stronger White Cat “brother,” like a stream to a mountain.

“Black Rabbit, little brother, let his pride puff,” the White Cat purred, tail flicking like a whip.

“We’ll pick the right night and strip his house like raiding a beehive, make him cry at an empty chest.”

The White Cat had dodged the First Cult’s nets. Its ethics were alley-shadows—quick and not exactly clean.

Ouyang drifted over, amused like a cat at a fish bowl. “Interesting. Looting’s bland. Let’s try something spicier.”

“Wait till he sleeps, pluck a certain organ, swap his gender, then sell him to those who want it.”

Collin’s skin prickled, goosebumps rising like rice. These three weren’t good men, wolves in silk; Augustine, Caro, and Bai aside.

Ouyang, the White Cat, and Jade Rabbit were danger in thought and deed, blades wrapped in smiles.

“Ouyang, I’ve got another idea,” Jade Rabbit said, eyes bright as glass.

“Find a few big men to ‘serve’ him first, then take the organ.” Collin nearly yelped, breath snagging like a caught fish. Horrors stacked like stones.

Collin shot Karl a strange look, like a lantern with a cracked pane. Karl saw it and smirked, thinking Collin’s pride had collapsed like wet paper.

He didn’t know Collin was worried for him, like a bird for another in a storm. Karl, insult anyone else—don’t poke three demons, coiled like snakes.

You’re finished, utterly finished, like a candle in rain. Collin wanted to laugh, images spinning like lantern reels of Karl’s future.

First, a pack of big men would roll him, like a log in rapids. Then they’d make him a woman. Then roll him again.

Just imagining it made Collin shake, cold through bone. That’s the price of offending true powers, like kicking a tiger.