Once she came down, Tangxue sought an open patch where the wind cut like a thin blade, ready to call Dreamsound’s pigeon—cough, the seagull.

She only had to set the letter in a fitting spot, like bait on still water; Dreamsound would notice and open a small portal, dropping the bird cleanly through.

Moving a gull was a drifting leaf in a stream, easier and steadier than hauling a live person like a boulder uphill.

Why send a bird? Dreamsound kept just that one pet, a lone feather in a quiet house.

So Tangxue wrote the letter, ink cool as night dew, and only needed to place it right.

The Duskmoon Empire’s City of Woe had its relay station on a mountaintop, ringed by a soot-dark forest that hung like heavy curtains.

Finding a deserted place was child's play, like stepping into untouched snow.

“Mm… I’ll dig a small pit here and bury the letter,” she said to an ancient tree whose roots coiled like sleeping serpents.

She planted a little white flag, a shy moon on a twig, to mark the spot.

That felt about right, a knot tied tight on a rope.

After checking her handiwork three times, like counting stars before sleep, Tangxue nodded, satisfied, and turned toward the City of Woe.

The city lay east of the forest, a sprawling shadow that swallowed nearly a third of the trees like a tide at dusk.

To find it, she only had to keep walking east, a straight arrow through the dark.

Because she’d visited before, she didn’t lose her way; confidence walked ahead like a lantern, and her feet followed.

This forest was dimmer than elsewhere, a perpetual twilight where the ground was a closed fist and light rarely slipped through the knuckles.

Ordinary plants and beasts struggled here like fish on dry land; only special creatures thrived, treating the dark like warm water.

“Good thing I’ve got a lamp. It’s really black in here,” she muttered, mood tight as a clenched jaw, Frostwhisper raised in her right hand like a pale moon.

There were no street lamps, only rough markers, like scars on bark; the path existed, but the night ate its edges.

Following those signs for a whole day, her steps drummed steady as rain, she reached the outskirts of the City of Woe.

She’d already eaten nearly a third of her stores, like mice nibbling grain; she’d need to buy more.

But food with a blood-scent turned her stomach like sour milk; the flavor wasn’t sharp, yet her heart balked.

Eat less if she could, like a sparrow tasting only clean seeds.

The city gate had no true guards, a mouth left open, because there was nothing worth protecting inside; the wealthy avoided this slum like cats avoid water.

Places with guards were the City Lord’s offices and such, islands of iron in a muddy sea.

She walked in with little trouble, but her expensive sweater drew eyes like hooks snagging silk.

Since waking, she’d started pairing sweaters with short skirts; the cold nipped like a fox, so she dressed warm and neat.

A sweater hid her exaggerated curves like clouds shade a mountain, sparing her from filthy stares.

Yet the gazes in the City of Woe were worse, greedy and naked as wolves under thin snow.

Picture it: a delicate girl without real strength carrying a fortune into a den where fists write the laws, her presence a lantern calling moths.

They’d rob wealth and body, then sell her like a trapped bird, their hearts black as coal.

The moment she crossed the gate, several men marked her, their looks like chalk lines around a prize.

If she hadn’t been carrying Frostwhisper, silver and cold as winter, they would’ve rushed her like crows to carrion.

There were soldiers in the City of Woe, but most were bully-thugs, their armor stained like old teeth.

They existed to press the weak like lids on jars; order required payment like a toll on a night bridge.

So Tangxue slipped a few gold coins into the hands of two gate soldiers, money glinting like fish scales.

“Big brothers,” she said, voice soft as felt, “my mom told me to train alone here for a while. Could you tell me a safe place to stay?”

The soldiers wore helmets that hid their faces like shuttered lanterns, their breaths fogging faintly in the chill.

Judging by tone and small motions, they seemed pleased, the coin-warmth sitting in their palms like ember.

“Little sister, your family let you come alone, and they’re not worried?” one asked, caution pricking like thorns.

“They’re worried,” she answered easily, heart steady as a pond. “But they still sent me. I’m strong and can care for myself. I just need a quiet place.”

“Oh… I see,” the soldier murmured, eyes flicking to the sword on her back like a moth to flame.

The other soldier spoke up, words marching like boots. “If you want something calm, try the Ruyue Inn a few kilometers ahead. Not great, but better than most.”

“Got it. Thank you, big brother.” Her smile was a crescent moon, brief and bright.

Unexpected, she thought, a little amazed, like finding a clean cup in a muddy kitchen. Or were they steering her to eat alone so others wouldn’t crowd?

By nightfall, anything was possible, suspicion coiling like smoke.

If she could, she wanted to settle things in one sweep, a single swing that cut the knot.

Just then, one soldier turned stern, his voice iron behind cloth. “Little sister, you’re not Blood Clan, are you?”

“I am Blood Clan,” Tangxue replied, letting her small fangs show like white thorns. “Do you need proof?”

“No, no,” the other said, smoothing the moment like a hand over creased silk. “We’re at war now. Even if no one wants to come here, we still have procedures.”

Compared to the stern one, he was more slippery, his tone light as oil on water.

“Mom told me to be careful too,” Tangxue said, polite as rain on tiles. “What do I need to do to prove it?”

“No need,” he answered, suggestive as pepper on the tongue. “Conversation tells the taste. Blood Clan meals leave a… flavor.”

Breath had a signature, like smoke after a fire.

“Mm.”

“Then goodbye, big brothers. I’ll find that inn you mentioned.” Her wave was casual, a drifting leaf, and she headed off.

“Hey—!” one soldier started, voice snagging like thread, but Tangxue had already gone.

“Eh…” The other shook his head, fatigue heavy as wet cloth. “You still want to meddle? Don’t forget, this is the City of Woe, and we’re at war.”

“I don’t. I just—”

“I don’t care,” he grumbled, leaning on the wall like a sagging beam. “I want to clock out and drink. Standing here is killing me.”

Silence hung between them like fog.

The helmeted man turned away, a slow blink that felt like an eye-roll behind steel.

In the City of Woe, the more you shone, the more danger you drew, like fire draws moths; yet Tangxue chose a loud, swaggering stride on purpose.

She wanted one-and-done, an end like a final bell.

Let them be foolish, she thought, hope tightening into a fist. Best if one “good night” sends them all off.

She clasped her small hand, knuckles pale as pebbles, breath even as she walked.

Last time here, she’d been swindled clean, rage simmering like tea left too long; she’d saved the city, yet got tricked until her meal money ran dry.

The more she recalled, the hotter it burned, anger a red thread; she’d helped, and they stole her purse in return.

She almost slept on the street, night biting like a stray dog, and only a familiar face kept her fed.

This time, no matter what, she wouldn’t lift a finger for them, her heart locked like a chest.

She reached the Ruyue Inn, a building tired as a worn shoe; the city was vast, but its structures felt like country towns with cracked paint.

Even the grand hotels in the so-called prosperous district looked shabby, patched like old quilts.

Still, you could sleep there, like tucking under thin blankets.

The City of Woe barely had daytime, seasons draped in night like endless velvet; even so, the Blood Clan rested.

Half the hours were declared “Deep Night,” a designated hush when they slept, silence pooling like ink.

Most residents were poor, bellies hollow as drums; those who could leave did so first chance, fleeing this “dump” like birds from a snare.

Compared to other cities’ Blood Clan, locals looked more human, ears less pointed, eyes a sharper red like embers.

Their presence cut sharper, hunters in the dark, and their gazes felt like claws on Tangxue’s skin.

But she had chosen to walk boldly, her own fault inviting crows.

She stepped to the front desk, her shadow pooling like spilled ink.

“Hi. How much for ten days?” Her tone was neutral, a steady breeze.

The clerk glanced at her, surprise quick as a spark, then smoothed it out. “One gold coin per day.”

“Alright. I’ll book a week.” Her hand moved like a clean stroke, placing ten gold coins on the counter.

“Little sister, you’re sure?” The clerk’s disbelief flickered like a candle.

“I’m sure. Please prepare a quiet single room. I prefer calm.” Her words were soft rain.

“Understood. Please wait.” The clerk nodded, efficient as a sewing needle, and soon found a room that fit.

“Here’s your key. Little sister, do you require any… special services?” Her smile was practiced, silk over wood.

What services? Tangxue’s lips parted, surprise like a bird’s blink.

The clerk had seen such things before; this looked like a noble’s daughter visiting “the people,” a cherry among thorns.

She couldn’t afford to offend a peach on a thin branch.

“Oh, please don’t misunderstand,” the clerk added, voice gentle as dust. “We can secure your belongings, but it costs extra.”

“No need,” Tangxue said, smile thin as paper. “I can protect my own things.”

She was fishing; she didn’t want the pond churned into mud.

“Alright…” The clerk seemed disappointed, a sigh that didn’t quite form, and stepped back.

Seeing the conversation was over, Tangxue took the key, metal cool as river water, and headed upstairs.

If nothing unexpected happened, plenty of trouble would come knocking tonight, footsteps like rain on tin.

Most faces would be new, masks on a stage; maybe those two soldiers would appear too—she almost hoped so, anticipation a bright thread.