It was a sad story—at least to Yulithilis, like winter rain soaking a paper lantern.

Saya stroked the black cat in her arms, fingers combing like reeds in a night breeze. “I’m apologizing to you on Ouyang’s behalf.”

“Ah… it’s… it’s fine. Ouyang is the cat’s name, right? A very cute cat.” Yulithilis pulled a mage robe from her pack, cloth fluttering like a swallow. She didn’t panic. To her, a cat was a cat, not worth a quarrel. And her back had been to the adventuring party, while the bit torn when Saya yanked Ouyang was only a small patch at her chest.

Those who saw were a girl and two beasts. A girl blushes; beasts forget. After the robe settled, warmth still bloomed on her cheeks like dawn on snow.

Ouyang poked out his head, eyes hazy, looking left and right like a boy just roused by a rooster’s crow.

“Um… miss, your cat seemed to talk just now…” one adventurer whispered, voice thin as a thread in wind. Ouyang had just cursed in the Source-world tongue. They didn’t understand a word, but it wasn’t meows. Cat-speak only goes meow.

Saya hugged Ouyang and turned away, her silence falling like a curtain of rain. She had zero interest in explaining.

The Flame Lizard bristled. This was its lair, the mountain’s throat, not a market street. These humans thought they could drift in and drift out like leaves on a stream?

It feared Ouyang. But pride burned hotter than fear. This was territory and banner, not win or lose. Even if it lost, it had to fight.

“Shorty, you plan to scamper off with your pet?” In its eyes, Saya was the black cat’s keeper. If it duelled the cat, the odds felt even. But a fragile human keeper in the field meant the cat must split its claws to shield her. That tipped the scales. The thought slid through its mind like a fox through grass.

To bait the hook, the Flame Lizard spoke human words, each syllable a spark. Let everyone hear. Even if the cat didn’t care, its human keeper did. For honor’s sake, the cat would accept.

The adventurers went pale, faces ashen as kiln-cooled clay. A beast that spoke human words—an omen like thunder on a clear day.

Riji, the captain, broke into a cold sweat, beads rolling like dew on a blade. How dare they dream of hunting such a creature?

Beasts fell into three ranks. First-rank beasts breathed odd powers, like sparks and lightning—fire, shock, storm. They had strength, but mind like wild deer—only instinct, no city inside.

Second-rank beasts were stronger and sharper. Their minds matched humans, eyes bright as knives. They led packs. Most beast tides had a second-rank mind behind them, directing like a drum in war.

Third-rank beasts grew stronger still. Their mark was human speech, not by tongue and teeth, but by spirit shaping sound, like wind playing reeds. People called them lords. They held land like banners—some a single forest, some a chain of green seas.

Third-rank beasts were less dangerous than seconds, oddly enough. They could talk. If you could talk, you could settle dust with words instead of blood.

Ouyang had planned to dust off his paws and leave. He’d found the key figure behind the split timeline, and the lizard had been a decent clown. He’d let it go. Then the lizard chose to provoke him, tossing embers on dry grass.

He slipped from Saya’s arms and sprang onto a boulder, a shadow like ink against granite.

“Ho, runt. Bold. Folks who dared provoke a Void Messenger like me are near extinct these last centuries.” He dropped the mystery and spoke the local tongue, each word a cold star.

The adventurers’ minds went blank, like candles snuffed. Another beast that spoke human words. Two lord-class beasts in one cave—such a sight hadn’t touched human lands in a hundred years.

The black cat stood on the rock on two legs, tail swaying like a metronome, one forepaw pointing like a judge’s gavel. The Flame Lizard slapped a massive claw on stone. Boom—the earth quivered like a drumhead.

“No wonder it’s lord-class. Terrifying,” someone breathed, voice thin as smoke.

Riji saw two lords about to clash and snapped orders, words whipping like a herder’s lash. They fled the cave mouth.

Outside, they clutched their chests and gulped air, lungs pumping like bellows. Yulithilis glanced around and stiffened, her gaze a needle. “No. The girl in the green skirt isn’t out!”

They’d been shocked by Saya’s sudden arrival. Then the two lord beasts swallowed all thought like a flood. A twelve-year-old girl caught between lords stood no chance.

“I’m going back in for her!”

Yulithilis headed into the Flame Lizard’s lair again, steps quick as a deer. The others traded looks, jaws tight.

“What are you staring at? Get back in there and guard the young lady,” Riji hissed, headache pounding like a drum. He regretted bringing her at all. She’d done fine so far, then chose this cliff edge to act up.

Little ancestor—those were two lord beasts.

He grit his teeth and followed, courage thin as paper.

When they returned, the black cat and the Flame Lizard still hadn’t struck. They glared, eyes like flint and steel.

“Little lizard, we’re both higher beings. Slashing and biting is crude. If we settle this, we do it civilized.” The black cat stood on a boulder, two-footed to meet the lizard’s height, tail drawing lazy commas.

Civilized?

They walked in on a beast lecturing about civilization. Their minds stuttered like carts in mud. Aren’t beasts all “life is cheap, fists do the talking”?

“Shorty, you make sense. Flame Dragon blood runs in this prince’s veins.” The lizard’s voice came smooth as hot iron. “How could I sully noble blood with crude brawls? We’ll settle it civilized.”

Everyone inhaled a sharp breath, cold as well-water. Flame Dragon bloodline…

Once, a single Flame Dragon ravaged a kingdom for a month, fire like a harvest of suns. The kingdom became ash and bone. They loved wood in that land—houses, halls, all timber—so a single breath meant ruin. Even so, the tale showed the dragon’s terror from another angle.

Shaking off her first shock, Yulithilis ran and took Saya’s hand, grip warm as a hearth. “Little sister, it’s dangerous here. Come back with us.” Before Saya could refuse, she gently pulled her away.

Saya felt no malice, like a cat feeling no thorn. She didn’t struggle.

“So, shorty, how do we duel?” The Flame Lizard’s mind was sharp, yet the word “civilized” still hung like mist.

“You said you’d make me guardian of your vault. So you’ve got a vault, right?” Ouyang’s eyes glinted like stars on black water. “Let’s play a game. Each round, we wager treasures.”

He meant a three-card bluffing game, simple as stones and wiles. If the lizard had wits, it would work. Teach a stump, and you only play the flute to a cow.

As for cards, easy. Ouyang had Youwen become a deck, paper blooming like white feathers. Youwen could be any tool. In real fights, Ouyang rarely used it. In life, it was delight.

Hearing the rules, the Flame Lizard’s eyes lit like coals catching wind.

“Hmm. Hard to hold cards…” Its claws were huge, moons instead of fingers. Red light rose on its scales like dawn on a ridge. Its massive body shrank, heat folding like silk. When the glow faded, a girl of eight or nine stood there.

Flame-red hair. A flame-red princess dress. A porcelain face carved like peach stone. She produced a heap of golden gleam from nowhere, treasure spilling like sunlight.

“Hmph, shorty, begin. Watch me clean you out till you’ve got not a trinket left.” The little girl’s confidence rang like a silver bell.

Ouyang watched, calm as a lake before storm. Even if she was a loli, he wouldn’t soften his claws. He could cheat; that was one knife in his sleeve. He understood card games on a level the lizard couldn’t see, a mountain beyond a hill. And the deck was Youwen. If he wished, every hand could bloom exactly as he desired.

The adventurers stared, throats dry as sand. “It can take human form… that’s a fourth-rank beast.” Their words fell like stones into a still well.