Zofikar, also called the Thunder-Roar Sword, was the blade once carried by Lance’s old comrade, the Thunderlight Knight, a weapon that sang with stormlight.

While Fulin was wearing Lance’s guise, he had a few chances to wield Zofikar. With it, he fought Daemon Knights like a hard counter, slicing them like wet bamboo, cutting down the ones shelling the “Emerald Firmament.”

The Deity of Wine spoke with a voice lazy as drifting smoke. “Yeah. Zofikar is a divine weapon of the Deity of Thunder, vassal to the Light Deity. What of it?”

Shelika thought for a beat, then let the words fall like a leaf. “Nothing~~ bye.”

He didn’t make a fuss. “Mm… farewell.”

Just like that, their mental link snapped, and the wine gourd in her bag went still, quiet as a pond after rain.

By then, strange gazes had already slid over from the street like windblown leaves.

They wondered why this Blood Clan beauty had suddenly frozen mid-step, a statue under frost.

Awareness pricked her first; shame bloomed hot. Then her feet sped up, shaking those stares off like rain from a cloak.

As she walked, her thoughts churned like storm clouds, weighing what a divine weapon meant to her.

No doubt—good work needs sharp tools. With a divine weapon, Shelika’s strength would climb a tier; faced with priestly foes, she wouldn’t have to scheme so hard. She could just charge straight in, like a hawk diving.

It’s fair to say, with such a weapon, whether the masters of the Dark Spirit Empire or the Heavenly Spirit Empire stood against them, Fulin could steer the fight with a steadier hand, like a helmsman with a true rudder.

No doubt, if the Deity of Wine wasn’t stringing her along, the quest was worth finishing. They might have to face the Wasteland Deity next; a divine weapon would be another roof tile against the storm.

She made her decision, crisp as a snapped twig: within seven days she’d fetch that tribute wine for the Deity of Wine.

But thinking more now was smoke on the wind. At this hour, Charlotte should’ve finished work.

So Shelika quickened her pace toward the inn to meet Charlotte, her steps tapping like drumbeats.

Shelika strode like a gust, turned the corner, and reached the Rose Traveler. A squad of knights had sealed the entrance and thrown up a no-passage cordon, a web of lines around the door.

A vice raid? The thought flicked up by reflex. The Rose Traveler was the sort of less-than-decorous inn that might get reported, and a squad would show up to sweep the place.

But the truth had more thorns than that.

A priest, likely the knights’ officer, faced the onlookers and rang out like a bell. “Report received: a spy of the Heavenly Spirit Empire is hiding inside this inn.”

The crowd rippled with unease, grass shivering in a rising wind.

“What, a Heavenly Spirit spy?!”

“They even slipped into the Holy City?!”

Pretty girls stand out like lanterns at dusk; Shelika quickly spotted Charlotte in the crowd.

Charlotte saw her too; a spark of eye contact, then she jogged over with a bubbly grin. “Big Sis~~!”

Charlotte tilted her head in, cute as a kitten. Shelika set a hand on it and stroked gently. “Charlotte, I’m glad you’re okay.”

Hee-hee~~

After soaking in the soft pats for a spell, Charlotte suddenly remembered. “Oh right~~ this is what I earned today!”

She lifted a pouch with both hands like offering fruit and handed it to Shelika.

Shelika stared at the weighty purse. Her eyes went wide, surprise popping like sparks.

Charlotte tilted her head, doe-eyed and a little ditzy. “What’s wrong, Big Sis?”

Disbelief came first, words after. “Unreal—did you not cause any trouble?!”

“Why do you always think I mess up?!” Charlotte puffed her cheeks, then brightened. “Aside from almost knocking over a shelf, I did great, okay~!”

Shelika remembered the afternoon shelf, lined with expensive, fragile goods that glittered like icicles.

Hearing she nearly toppled it, Shelika’s face shaded blue, stormy. “Isn’t that almost a disaster~~?!”

Charlotte tilted her head. “Is it~~?”

Looking at that adorably clueless face, Shelika’s anger dissolved like sugar in tea.

“Sigh… anyway, you’re fine, and that’s what matters.”

Hee-hee~~ Charlotte flashed that sweet, soothing smile, warm as sunlight on a window.

But just then, fighting erupted inside the Rose Traveler, sound rolling out like stones down a slope.

Thud—clang—!

Rumble——!

It was a jumble of fists, blades, and crashing furniture, loud enough to shake the street.

Many grew anxious, worries fluttering like startled sparrows. “Will our knights be okay?”

Clearly, the worry was extra. Soon the noise died, and the search party emerged, dragging an Earthfolk man, head bowed and body battered like a sack of thorns.

By the look of it, he was the “Heavenly Spirit Empire spy” the priest had named.

The scene moved fast. Shelika didn’t even catch his face before he was shoved onto a prison wagon and hauled off.

With the spy seized, the inn’s lockdown unraveled. Knights withdrew, the crowd thinned, and the street smoothed back to normal.

The two headed into the inn, their steps easing like water finding its course.

Because of the cordon and the scuffle, staff were still scrubbing the place, brooms whispering like reeds.

Guests had to wait a bit before returning to their rooms, like tea needing a proper steep.

So they sat on the lobby sofa, cushions giving a soft sigh.

Charlotte resumed her spoiled act about work, voice soft as candy. “Work was super tiring! If not for you, Big Sis, I wouldn’t want to work at all!”

Shelika soothed her like a mom. “Yes, yes, I know you don’t want to work~”

Then came a gurgle, Charlotte’s stomach singing. She blushed and ducked her head. “Charlotte is hungry.”

“I’ll go buy you something to eat.”

“Mm~~”

She left Charlotte waiting in the lobby and stepped out of the Rose Traveler. Before she even reached the nearest food stall, she ran into another squad of knights.

Shelika watched them pass, puzzled. “Is that the same squad as before?”

The Holy City kept order with constant knight patrols, so Shelika didn’t think much of it.

But when they noticed Shelika, they stopped. One knight stepped out, cutting the line like a blade through silk.

He was of the Demonic Human Race, young, already in dress uniform with medals. His face mingled masculine lines with gentle grace, his posture tall and carved—handsome like a wind-sculpted statue.

His aura was distinct; just his approach made Shelika feel as if a spring breeze washed over her.

He saw Shelika and burst with delight. “Shelika, it’s you?!”

“You are…” Shelika watched the handsome man draw closer, studied his face for a beat, then awkwardly let the name out. “Are you… Rex?”

Rex, the handsome Demonic Human, saw it truly was her, joy brightening on his face like dawn. “Sixty years without a word—it’s so good to have you back safe, my dear!”

He moved as if to embrace her. Shelika froze inside first, body second, hesitation hemming her in like fog.

It wasn’t Shelika going starry-eyed. It was that the man before her meant something special to the original owner of this body—the former “Shelika”—

Because this handsome Demonic Human named Rex was Shelika’s ex, her once-boyfriend.