Back then, Jielinka only thought Miracle City was the Demon King's City.
Now, Miracle City wears new meaning like a fresh mantle.
Its nine hundred and ninety-nine miracles gleam like stars on a banner.
In the Karosen Kingdom today, if you can't name a few, you're behind.
If someone asks and you can't name even one, scorn falls like frost.
Outside rumors swirl like wind, but the Demon Kings inside look baffled.
Even Ouyang, the city lord, had no idea his city held so many tales.
So much meaning, so many “miracles,” stacked like stones along a river.
A pavilion built when a goddess of the Divine Realm loved a mortal.
A lake where you can see the dead like shadows under ice.
Fruit supposedly left by demons, sour as midnight legends.
What kind of nonsense is that?
Rumors ripen and go wild, like vines that overrun a wall.
Now Miracle City stands in everyone's eyes as a sealed, misty mystery.
Endless legends, endless chances, like stars and doors spread open.
Nerves tight, Jielinka led her people to Miracle City's main gate.
The old walls, once plain, now wore runes as dense as constellations.
Sigils flickered across the stones, magic circles hummed like beehives.
Watchers stood at the gate, but they only watched, letting crowds flow.
Awe blinds first; stepping inside, Jielinka felt her eyes drown in sights.
“Your Highness, is this really the mortal world?” the maid whispered, trembling.
The scene hit like thunder.
Quyas had long suspected the Miracle Rain touched beasts and trees.
It couldn't leave humans untouched, could it?
Everything inside Miracle City proved him right, like stamps on wet clay.
By a fountain, two children tussled, laughter tossing like pebbles in water.
At first, nothing odd—just play under spray and sunlight.
Then their mischief broke into a new realm, and every eye turned.
Two water columns danced beside them, colliding like antlers of stags.
The jets rose from the fountain, reshaping with each flick of tiny hands.
Sometimes fists, sometimes iron hammers, flashing like tools forged of rain.
Whether fist or hammer, they struck without harm, only cold drenching.
Quyas stood stunned, breath held like a string.
Free control of water belonged to water mages in his memory.
Now a pack of children shaped water as easily as clay.
“You two little terrors, stop!” a voice snapped, sharp as a reed.
“You dare play with the fountain's water?”
“Bold, aren't you?”
The voice came from a fish.
Yes, a fish hovered in front of them, swimming through air like a stream.
The sky felt like water to it, and it drifted wherever it pleased.
“Ah, Big Salted Fish…” the kids yelped, faces pale as rice paper.
The two jets crashed back into the fountain with a splash.
They bolted, feet pattering like rain.
Fish—things that turn into “salted fish” the moment they leave water—swam in air.
“Your Highness, over there… look there…” the maid tugged, voice thin as silk.
Ten meters up, a burly man sat on a cloud like a throne.
Behind him, a neat line of people sat, backs straight as spears.
The cloud was rectangular, a flying carpet cut from mist.
“Let's go!” the man in front barked, chest loud as a drum.
The cloud drifted forward, carrying the group like a slow river.
The sky above Miracle City was chaos, a marketplace of oddities.
Clouds bumped clouds; riders tumbled, yelling, like fruit dropping from branches.
Others streaked past on brooms—adults, children, elders—snow geese among roofs.
Whoosh.
A girl hugging a broom flashed past Jielinka's eyes like a comet.
Bang.
She clipped a man's pancake stall and flipped it like a turtle.
“Hey, up front—yes, you—don't look away.”
“No sky license, and you think you can fly in my city?”
“Trying to overturn heaven, are you?”
“You think you're a veteran pilot?”
A uniformed youth rode a white horse, hooves stepping on air.
The horse beat pure white wings, majestic as a swan god.
He spoke to the broom girl, jumped down, pulled out pen and paper.
Then he laid into her with a lecture, words pecking like sparrows.
“Does everyone in Miracle City get to fly on a broom?” Jielinka asked a passerby.
“Everyone? Of course not.”
“Those brooms mutated in the Miracle Rain and grew minds.”
“The city lord says they became spirits, clever as foxes.”
“Sadly, my broom didn't awaken.”
“I can only watch those punks flap everywhere like crows.”
The speaker was a youth in his twenties, shaking his head.
Luck sat cold on his shoulders like snow.
“And the clouds?”
“Clouds mutated too, able to carry people like ferries.”
“But clouds float up high; only flyers can snag them.”
“My next-door neighbor sprouted flight, zipped around the sky.”
“He bumped into a cloud you could ride, and that was that.”
By now, Jielinka had a clearer read on Miracle City's “miracles.”
Whether kids shaping water, flying brooms, or those clouds, all came from the Miracle Rain.
Inside the city, these were “daily life.” Elsewhere, they'd be miracles carved in stone.
No wonder people talk of nine hundred and ninety-nine miracles.
Judging by what we saw, nine hundred and ninety-nine is easy.
This is Miracle City.
Here, the everyday is miracle.
And it wasn't only humans.
Elves, dwarves, goblins, orcs, barbarians—bloodlines mixed like threads in a tapestry.
Humans were many, though; numbers rolled like wheat fields.
While everyone still reeled from Miracle City's miracles, an alarm rang.
It tolled through streets like a bronze bell.
Warning, warning.
Man-eating Flowers from the Inner District are swarming again.
Please take up arms and clear the Man-eating Flowers.
Warning, warning.
After a festival of oddities, Jielinka reached the Inner District.
Compared to the mortals' Outer District, the Demon Kings' Inner District felt plain.
Quiet streets, quiet city, calm as a lake at dawn.
No brooms wheeling overhead, no low clouds brushing rooftops.
Everything lay flat and ordinary, like paper without ink.
Jielinka couldn't help thinking the districts had swapped their faces.
Shouldn't the Inner District look like the Outer?
And the mortals' quarter be this calm instead?
Ahead, a rabbit in a black tailcoat strutted, leading the way.
Jade Rabbit looked proud, high top hat pressing down long ears.
“Mr. Rabbit, they said the Man-eating Flowers ran out of the Inner District.”
“What's going on?” someone in the group asked, nerves tight as strings.
“The swarm outside was terrifying.”
“But here, it's so quiet it feels eerie—no flowers, not even a bird.”
“Man-eating Flowers?” Jade Rabbit turned, round eyes bright as moons.
“That thing…” He blinked.
“Back there, did you see them eat anyone?”
Eat people?
Outside, residents showed their tricks and battled the flower army for hundreds of rounds.
The flowers were crushed, and the residents took zero losses.
“Those Man-eating Flowers don't eat meat.”
Jade Rabbit's answer left everyone speechless, like statues.
Not eating meat?
In Miracle City, odd things stop feeling odd.
“Those flowers used to barge into Lord Ouyang's castle and make a mess.”
“Angered, Lord Ouyang cursed them.”
“Every seven days, on a cycle, the grass-eating Flowers go mad and rush outward.”
“Then the mortals in the Outer District help Lord Ouyang clear them on schedule.”
“So the Lord doesn't have to bother the Wish Spirit with complaints.”
From Jade Rabbit's mouth, Jielinka and the others heard hints of deep secrets.
But they had no leisure to chew on it; they had urgent news for Ouyang.
Under Jade Rabbit's lead, Jielinka entered Ouyang's luxurious castle.
Her attendants waited outside; she brought only Quyas in.
“An Archangel?” Ouyang murmured after hearing the report.
“Grand Angel strike teams?” He stroked his chin, thoughtful as stone.
He cradled Loyin in his arms; for some reason she slept more and more lately.
Loyin blinked awake, rubbing tiny eyes with tiny hands.
“Angels? Brother, let's catch a few angels and play!”
The word felt like fireworks to her; sleep vanished, cheeks flushed red.
Catch angels to play?
Jielinka and Quyas stood thunderstruck.
To Loyin, angels were like pet critters to be caught.
A sadness welled for those angels, cold as rain.
They stormed the lower world with swagger, yet their opponent never saw them as opponents.
“Alright, enough.” Ouyang patted Loyin's head, smiling, easy as sunlight.
No pressure touched his face.
“Those guys… someone will deal with them.”
“They'll learn who really owns this world.”
“Eh…”
Jielinka stared, confused, thoughts circling like birds.
Other than these Demon Kings, who could stand against angels?
