The edgy rush burned out, and Ling settled like a still pond, but the swagger in her eyes stayed like a blade glinting under moonlight.

“First, a bath,” she murmured, voice soft as mist. “Let the water be a fresh start.”

She slipped off the clothes stained with god-blood, peeling them like night from skin, and tossed them into the lake like a faded banner.

Standing waist-deep in the lake, Ling finally faced her new body, the ripples a silver mirror, not just that hurried glance that said nothing but cute.

She studied the loli-sized frame like a porcelain doll on a velvet shelf; no one would guess a storm lived in that fragile shell.

Her skin was pudding-soft and springy like young bamboo, her tiny bun-like mounds held a teasing pull, and the whole look screamed doll—gold hair, blue eyes, a glass-eyed classic.

“This body’s pretty great,” she said, calm as drifting clouds. “Both in looks and in power.”

The memory of eighteen years of failed virgin life felt like dust on old armor, nothing beside Ling’s dawn-bright presence.

“Male, female—whatever,” the thought rose like a warm breeze. “I kinda like this.”

Heat climbed her cheeks like sunrise, betraying her shyness before her tongue could retreat like a tide.

A sudden urge snapped, and she ducked; water rose to her mouth, cool as river stone under fog.

The lake’s chill bit her loli frame like mountain wind, and the mind inside went clear as winter sky.

She soaked in bored silence, blowing a breath that turned to pearls, bubbles rising and popping like fragile lanterns.

After a long stretch of battle, the sudden lull felt like setting down a blade, limbs humming with comfort like hearth-warmth.

Crack.

“Who’s there!” Her voice cut the reeds like a thrown knife, ripples fanning out as if a drum had struck.

— POV shift —

I’m the Empire’s princess in name, but I’m no silk-draped orchid; I train magic and off-brand martial arts like steel under sun.

I came hunting today, feet sure on paths like old riverbeds, yet somehow got lost, which in this forest should be impossible.

Then things went sideways; the divine ward over the woods vanished like torn gauze, and beasts flooded in like storming waves.

I met one—just one—and figured I could drop it like a stag; it tore my weapon to scrap like paper in rain.

So I used my family’s killer move, the Moser Style Seventy-Two Arts—Escape, slipping like smoke through trees, legs fired like pistons.

It worked like a charm; I ran free like a deer, but the path unraveled like tangled thread, and I was lost again.

Around me, just a small lake like a polished coin, and in the water, nothing but lilies and the pale sky—until—

Wait!

Something moved, a yellow-haired thing like straw afloat; a low-tier Yokai, easy prey, perfect for venting this storm in my chest.

I stepped forward, light as a cat on a wall, ready to strike like lightning and be done with it.

Crack.

A movie-stupid moment bit me in the heel; I’d stepped on a branch, the sound loud as a snapped bowstring.

“Who’s there!” The voice came, sharp as frost over reed beds, not the groan of a beast but words like clear bells.

Eh? It talks? Not a monster? My pulse hiccuped like a bird startled off a branch.

— POV shift again —

“It’s me!” A girl’s voice drifted from the brush like a sparrow hopping out of shadow.

A woman? Ling’s muscles eased like thawing ice; the danger scent faded like smoke.

“Oh. Nothing to worry about,” Ling said, casual as a lazy breeze. “For a second I thought it was like last time, that pervert.” (God-King, somewhere in the dark: I’m not a pervert, I just want to be stronger!)

Alicia didn’t bite at the pervert line; her focus was a drawn bow, eyes fixed like stars in a clear well.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Her words were direct, like spears set in a row.

“Just call me Ling,” she said, voice flat as slate. “I’m bathing. Want to join?”

At that, Alicia noticed her own clothes were mud-stained like a battlefield cloak, and she glanced at the yellow-haired Yokai bobbing like a reed tuft.

“Emm… fine. A quick rinse.” She sighed, shoulders dropping like a released strap, and stepped to the water like a doe to a stream.

Rustle, rustle, rustle—the sound of fabric shedding like autumn leaves, but Ling didn’t turn; her thoughts drifted like mist toward the horizon.

The lake’s cold stung Alicia’s tired nerves like mint on the tongue; comfort spread like warm tea, but Ling’s silence hung like rain-soaked cloth.

“Uh—forgot to introduce myself. I’m Alicia Moser. Call me Alicia.” Her smile tried to lift like a new kite in still air.

She got a chilly reply, smooth as polished stone.

“Oh. I’m Ling. Yufan Ling.” The name fell like a seal on paper, no more, no less.

— Is she a topic killer? — Alicia’s mind grumbled like distant thunder, the urge to poke the silence twitching like a fox’s ear.

“So, why are you here, Ling?” The question landed again, soft as ash, hoping for a spark.

A thought flickered in Ling’s eyes like firefly light. She rose from the water, face to face, the lake clinging like silk.

Alicia blinked, shock bright as lightning; not a small beast after all, but a girl so cute it hurt, like sugar crystallizing on the tongue.

Motherly warmth welled up like spring water, a protective urge pressing like a hand on a sword hilt, heart thumping like festival drums.

Ling took in Alicia’s look: fire-red hair like a banner, little excess muscle but power coiled like a red bow, scarlet eyes catching like rubies.

Her skin was smooth as jade, but calluses dotted her palms like rough seeds; a warrior’s hands, worn by steel and time.

Ling wasn’t moved by the sight; pretty, sure, but her focus was a drawn wire. She feigned a cough, sound crisp as snapped twig.

“Ahem! I’m the one who slaughtered the gods!” Her words tried to boom like thunder, but they chimed like a bell in a toy shop.

The loli form murdered any majesty like rain dousing a torch; to Alicia, it was pure cute aggression, sugar with a tiny roar.

Damn it! Why so cute? Her heart bucked like a colt, and self-control frayed like silk under a blade.