Eee—agh!!!

Qianyue’s bite was razor-sharp, like an icicle driven into marrow; even iron-walled Tangxue felt pain bloom to the bone, shivered, then grabbed the girl’s back and flung her like a tossed branch.

Oww!!

Tangxue didn’t even put her back into it—just enough to rocket Qianyue into the side wall, head-first, a crater blooming like a smashed gourd. For a Vampire, that kind of crack heals like frost under sun.

Qianyue popped her head free and grinned, dopey as a moon-struck pup, a ruby bead of blood hanging at her lip like a cherry in snow.

Wariness rose first, cold as midnight wind. Tangxue pressed her bitten waist, and kept a good stretch of air between herself and the white-haired little biter.

“Huh? Why didn’t it work?!” Qianyue’s small mouth gaped like a startled sparrow. She glanced at Tangxue’s ready stance, gave a sheepish laugh. “Ahaha… Sister Tangxue, total misunderstanding… I just remembered I left the gas on at home! Bye!”

She tumbled and slid, melting into the shadow space like ink into water. Frost blossomed from Tangxue’s fingers like winter flowers, but the girl still slipped away like a fish into reeds.

“So fast… I actually missed.” Disbelief fogged Tangxue’s chest like mist on glass. She stared at her snow-pale right hand, stunned into stillness.

“Did I hold back?”

Back home, gloom sat on Tangxue’s heart like a damp blanket. She told no one, which was odd as a silent bell, and Huaruo Qingqing didn’t bring it up either.

It felt like new memories had slipped in like leaves through a window. That girl… I think I know her.

Can’t recall… forget it, sleep first. With her head full of cotton, Tangxue fell onto her bed and drifted like a feather.

Next day, nothing shifted; the old geezer still stared at a transparent screen like a frog at the moon, and Sister Eina was busy with city affairs, her time tight as a bowstring.

Lonely as a lone kite, Tangxue wandered the streets. The air felt different; faces were guarded like shields. The once-lively market lay quiet, like the sea before a storm.

Days passed, and still no ripples. The white-haired shorty never came back, and with the festival near, patrols swelled like a rising tide. Their serious faces damped even Tangxue’s joking mood like rain on a fire.

“So boring… no one to play with. It’s like everyone changed masks. Not a soul in the city comes to ask for my help…”

“Isn’t having nothing to do a good thing? Who likes picking fights with free time?” Flora Eina answered while sorting files, paper fluttering like wings.

“But… but…”

“This stretch matters. Our alliance with the Beastkin is almost here. Even if little Tangxue hadn’t found that mole, everyone would still be on edge now. Honestly, folks are grateful. You sniffed out the bad ones and kept the Elf Clan safe, right?”

“…”

“Alright, go have fun. If you really want to help, stroll the streets and see if there are any bad guys. If you spot one, beat them up. Then haul them to jail.”

“That… that counts as helping?” Tangxue blinked, surprise popping like a soap bubble.

“Of course it does. If there are no bad guys, life returns to how it was, quick as spring after frost. That’s exactly what the uncles and sisters guarding the city do.”

“Then…”

“But try not to disturb those uncles and sisters at work,” Flora Eina said with a hand-over-mouth laugh like a bell behind silk. “If little Tangxue catches them slacking, they’ll be so embarrassed.”

“Eh? Got it…” Tangxue nodded, half-understanding, and drifted toward the door like a leaf on a breeze.

But where would crooks still show their tails now? The grass got stirred long ago; the snake’s coiled deep in the roots. Flora Eina was just finding a gentle excuse to shoo the little one away.

Soon… tomorrow would be the formal alliance ceremony between the Beastkin and the Elf Clan.

Deep night. Daiya walked alone toward the stage where she’d stand to offer rites tomorrow, her steps steady as a metronome. She’d rehearsed the Beastkin’s alliance customs since childhood as a shrine maiden candidate; by now, they lived in her bones like carved runes.

“Eh? Miss Shrine Maiden, why come here so late?” The Elf guards on duty were surprised, their voices soft as leaves.

“I want to practice the ritual once more,” Daiya replied with a smile calm as moonlight.

“Alright, but don’t come out alone at night next time. The city’s dangerous; the chieftain said the cultists aren’t cleared.”

“I know.” Daiya’s smile was pale as a petal. “They won’t harm me. I’ve forecast my own future.”

“…” The guards didn’t get it; they chuckled like dry twigs and let her pass.

Daiya stepped onto the stage for tomorrow’s rite. She murmured under her breath, words like a bead-string in the dark: “Needed… a sky-horned steed’s broken horn, a snapped bough of the evergreen, a Fallen Angel’s black feather, god-blood… and a vessel for the god…”

She took them out one by one, each gleaming like a shard of fate. The last, she did not.

Then she tossed the items in front of her like petals into a stream, and they vanished, swallowed by air like stones into a lake.

After that, Daiya ran a light simulation of the Descent Ritual. The true rite must wait for tomorrow, so she only danced a few segments, steps flowing like water under stars.

Tomorrow mattered, heavy as thunderclouds. Hundreds of thousands of Beastkin would come to the Forest Capital to witness the alliance, and the celebration might last a full month like a long summer.

She glanced back at the boundless forest below, a dark sea under the World Tree. The plaza was immense—vast enough to hold tens of millions like sand on a shore.

The Elven Dominion’s city zones brimmed with a tech-bright air, a sheen like glass and chrome. At home, by custom, they disliked piling too much metal, but as a center for dealing with other races, the bustle was as rich as harvest. A mere slice of the Forest Capital’s commercial district dwarfed most nations’ capitals like an ancient whale beside minnows.

Daiya sighed, soft as a falling leaf, and stepped down from the stage.

“Miss Shrine Maiden, heading back?”

“Mm.”

“Need an escort?”

“No.” Daiya shook her head. “I can protect myself.” Her voice was a drawn bow, sure and quiet.

As a shrine maiden, her strength met the mark; otherwise the elders wouldn’t have let her come alone. Eina knew Daiya’s measure, so she’d arranged no extra shadows to tail her.

After Daiya left, Huaruo Qingqing stared at the glow on the screen, her face set like stone. She knew what Daiya had held were the real things—the exact materials for the Beastkin’s Descent Ritual. But tomorrow’s ceremony had no such step. On paper, it was just a symbolic act, going through the motions like wind through grass.

“Things are getting interesting.” Huaruo Qingqing’s mouth tilted up like a drawn petal. “Little Eina, you there? Tomorrow… watch the ritual. Double the hidden guards in the square. I’ll come in person.”