After a long wait, the train still sat like a tired iron beast under the station lights. An employee, voice thick with apology, addressed the carriage like rain threading through leaves: “We’re terribly sorry, passengers. The route to the Forest Capital ran into an accident. Crews on the other end are working like ants on a broken bridge, but it may not be fixed until night. If you’re in a hurry, please head to the nearby transfer hub, take Line Two to the nearest town, then detour to the Forest Capital. Since this is our mistake, your transfer will be free.”

Tangxue’s mouth opened a little, her sigh a curl of fog in her chest. Complaints buzzed around her like bees leaving the hive, and most folks stood to go. She didn’t, because her sense of direction felt like a boat without a compass. After a few minutes of chewing the thought like stale bread, she decided to stay and wait for repairs.

Ten-odd minutes later, the carriage thinned out like a tide leaving pebbles behind. Maybe two passengers remained besides her: a golden-haired Forest Elf, and another figure in a hood, a strand of sakura-pink hair slipping out like a petal in wind.

Honestly, Tangxue was surprised anyone else chose to wait with her, like sparrows clinging to the same branch. Were they lost, too?

Boredom pooled like cooled tea. She yawned, eyes mist-soft, and let herself drift to sleep like a leaf settling on water.

Time flowed fast as mountain rain. When Tangxue woke, night had steeped into the sky like ink in a bowl.

“Haa—ugh… sleeping like this is rough,” she muttered, rubbing her brow that felt heavy as wet wool. The carriage was the same old shell, but outside, the world had darkened to a near-black river.

Strange… why am I going to the Elven Dominion? The question pricked like a thorn. She was supposed to find that Beastkin priest, wasn’t she? So why head into the Elven Dominion at all?

It felt like someone had thumbed her memories, smudging ink yet leaving the page legible. The Beastkin priest… he wouldn’t live in the Elven Dominion, would he? I should get off.

She glanced at the window, and her nerves folded like a quail in the brush. Better to reach the Forest Capital first, then transfer toward Beastkin lands. Night was a cloak; running blind under it was asking for wolves.

“Passengers, the route has resumed normal operation. Please fasten your seatbelts. The train is about to start.” The announcement fell like a bell through mist.

“Huh? That fast?” Instinct snapped her belt in place, and relief loosened like a knot unraveling.

Silence slid in, cool as a stream. What am I doing?

The train surged, the spatial jump skimming clean like a stone across water, and the next stop unfolded as the Forest Capital by night.

This city was a weave of wood and starlight, built on the ground beneath treetop crowns—a realm of the Elf Clan nestled under a green ocean. Two kinds of elves lived here: Wind Elves, faces like clear breezes, and Forest Elves, eyes like shaded moss. Their looks weren’t far apart, but anyone with a feel for mana could tell wind from grove, like tasting tea leaves from scent alone.

Near the station, Forest Elves flocked like sparrows in the branches, while Wind Elves drifted by now and then like stray swallows. A Harvest Festival unfurled under lanterns like ripe fields under moonlight. She saw the bustle but kept her feet light; freeloading wasn’t her plan.

Feed myself first, then talk. Hunger gnawed like a small fox; strength would hold, but an empty stomach was sand in the gears.

She headed for an open-air hotpot stand near the station. Fruit bobbed in the steaming broth like blossoms afloat, the presentation quirky as a painter’s palette—edible, right? Maybe it was an Elf Clan specialty steeped in forest lore.

She tasted, and the flavor rose like warmth through frost. Not bad at all.

The owner was a sturdy male elf, shoulders broad as timbers, with a temper smooth as still water. Even seeing an outsider share festival food, his expression didn’t ripple.

If not for the Harvest Festival, Tangxue would’ve paid; within Elf Clan customs, stalls during the festival were akin to open tables under autumn moons. Paying would feel like turning down a host’s cup.

The hotpot’s taste was truly fine; some ingredients were new as strange seeds, but hey—there was beast meat. Among elves, that was rare as a winter blossom.

Tangxue reached for the thin-cut meat slices, and her fingers bumped a furry forearm, soft as brush bristles. “Huh…? You?!”

“Whoa! Little friend!” The voice sprang like a startled cat.

“Little friend, my foot. Aren’t you a priest? Since when’d you turn into a street charlatan?” Her words flashed like a teasing spark.

The Beastkin priest—no, charlatan with a porcelain plate—sighed, breath heavy as a bell. “If life didn’t drive you, who would wear so many masks?”

Grumbling close to him like rain under an eave, Tangxue swept all the thin slices and flicked them into her pot like cards. “I came to find you for something. You said if I had questions, look you up. So, oh all-knowing, all-powerful pri—charlatan, I—”

“Eh, eh. Talk later. Eating is sacred, like the first bite of harvest. Don’t muddy it with business.”

“Huh…? Where’d the meat go?!”

“Eating is sacred. Mr. Charlatan, don’t shout like a crow over rice.”

She ate till warmth spread like lantern light, thanked the stall with a bow of words, cleaned up her scraps and the stained table like sweeping fallen leaves, then waved farewell and left the hotpot stand.

They walked to a quiet Beastkin chapel tucked in a side street of the Forest Capital, its doors dark as a forest hollow.

“Sigh… to speak plain, I came with the Priestess to the Forest Capital,” he said, voice steady as drumbeats in dust. “The Priestess is here to discuss matters with the Elf Clan’s chief. As a known representative, I came along like a banner in the wind. The road was calm, no big bumps.”

Male Beastkin in holy robes were rare as white crows; among Beastkin, priesthood and shamanry usually belonged to half-beast women. Tangxue didn’t know that, and the thought passed like a shadow across stone.

“Right then, little friend. What did you want from me?”

“Honored charlatan, tell me… what can raise mental power?”

“To raise mental power?” He drew a slow breath like mountain air. “Such things are rare birds. Only the ordained and healers usually hunt them. Why do you seek them? Are you secretly a priest?”

“…No.”

“Haha. I pry too much.” His tone softened like dusk. “If you want to strengthen your spirit, I recommend the Pure Blue Heart from the deep sea. A pearl with the ocean as its shell, qi gathered like dew—taken, it greatly boosts mental force.”

Deep-sea, pale-blue pearls… Tangxue rolled her eyes like a moon behind clouds. She’d eaten those—no taste, color near seawater, invisible in a palm underwater.

“I’ve eaten it. Useless.”

“Ah?!” He blinked, shock popping like a fish from a wave. That’s a treasure, worth hundreds of millions in gold. What kind of household eats those like beans?

“There’s also Cold-Drake Coreleaf, grown in the northern chill like frost on steel—”

“Ate it. Minty. No good.”

“Nine-Hued Glaze Coral Branch—”

“Ate it.”

“The evergreen fruit of the World Tree! You haven’t eaten that one, right?!”