Neither Flora Eina nor Huaruo Qingqing were in the plaza; the square lay like a sunlit lake. Tangxue circled once, found no trace, scratched her head, then headed for the Evergreen Tree.

A prickle of doubt tugged her. If they’re not in the plaza, they must be inside the World Tree, right?

“Little Tangxue, heading up the Evergreen Tree?”

“Mm. Yes, sister guard—could you open a door for me?”

“No problem.” The guard lady smiled like a soft breeze and opened the barrier.

She knew this little wanderer well. She didn’t even think before letting her pass. As the clan chief said, you can’t stop that one—if even the Ancestor couldn’t, what can a doorkeeper use to block her?

With permission, Tangxue whooshed up to the crown like a swift sparrow. But the place was vast as a green sea. The World Tree held tens of thousands of rooms fit for living.

Before, to find Aunt Eina, she could just ping her. Now both were silent; Tangxue drifted alone, turning dizzy circles on the leaves like a moth.

“Dizzy, dizzy… don’t wanna move.” She flopped like a lazy cat, eyes spinning like mosquito coils, then tucked herself into a corner of a leaf.

Meanwhile, with hordes of Beastkin pouring in like a tide, the Forest Capital, quiet for days, swelled back into noise. Soldiers watched from shadowed roots; clergy clustered by the half-beastkin shrine maiden, readying what came next.

Seconds dripped from leaves like rain. Soon, the crucial moment arrived.

Delegates of the Elf Clan near Flora Eina stepped forward and spoke first, then smiled and passed the torch to Daiya—the day’s leading star.

Daiya wore a robe of pure white, untouched by dust, like new snow; only her face and two deft, cute hands showed beneath the flowing cloth.

Calm lay on her features like frost on stone. She walked up without a hint of nerves.

“Today marks the formal pact between my people and the Elf Clan. In the past, our two tribes clashed, and it wasn’t pretty. But as neighbors, we are all children of nature. I’m willing to set aside old grudges and renew a friendly pact with the elves, and face the dangers and trials ahead together…” She read from a script, yet her voice rang like clear bellwater; even Flora Eina almost fell under its spell.

As the speech ended, the festival began in earnest. Next came the Beastkin’s most sacred rite—the Invocation Dance, led by the miko herself.

The Invocation Dance retells the year’s great events in motion, informing the god who shelters the Beastkin; when big things happen, this tradition must be held.

The festival reached its razor’s edge. Everyone held their breath, eyes fixed on the stage, watching Ms. Daiya descend the steps, slow and steady. Thankfully, nothing happened.

Daiya faced the sky and offered a small bow, like a leaf tipping to the sun, then began the dance she had practiced since childhood.

Huaruo Qingqing murmured, memory washing over her, “It’s been ages since I saw a Beastkin miko’s Invocation Dance. Last time was… wait. Why is the sequence exactly the same as then?!”

Last time, a crisis threatened the plane’s survival, and the Beastkin invited their god for aid. In all these years, they did it only once. It’s easy to call a god; it’s hard to send one back. As miko, Daiya should know exactly what this implies.

Tension knotted in Huaruo Qingqing’s face; her heart beat like a trapped bird. Should she rush in and stop the rite now? Under a thousand eyes, the alliance would shatter like glass.

Fine… let’s see what she plans. If something wild happens, that little one can cover it. We’ll manage.

Midway through the dance, the sky shifted like a torn veil. Mana poured in from every side. The World Tree, a spring of magic, became a whirlpool; the world’s mana funneled here like rivers into a maelstrom.

Common folk can’t feel mana’s currents. Huaruo Qingqing could. Living at the World Tree’s core, she knew these omens. This was… the prelude to a god’s descent.

She couldn’t judge good or ill. By her reckoning, millennia have passed since the plane sealed. In all that time, no Old God descended. Newborn gods can’t compare; to mortals here they’re divine, but to the past they’re only stronger ants.

Huaruo Qingqing stands at that level herself; she knows the gulf between her and an Old God—a canyon under an unreachable sky.

The Beastkin worship the God of Heart Realm, master of True Word and Blazing Flame; even among myth’s pantheon, that one ranks near the top.

Daiya’s steps were graceful and opulent, sleeves like flowing water. Around her, tokens broke into drifting motes that circled like fireflies. Mana from every side surged into her body; anyone with eyes saw the miko was no longer quite right.

But the tide had passed the dam. There was no room for meddling now.

The Invocation had begun; no one could stop it.

Daiya’s aura spiked sharply, a wildfire climbing a mountain. Soon she overtook Flora Eina; within a few breaths, she matched Huaruo Qingqing.

Before the dance concluded, her presence eclipsed everyone present. Elf and Beastkin alike felt a crushing suffocation; the air’s pressure lay on every chest like a mountain.

No one dared to question anything. Before a god, words died in iron throats.

The dance ended. Daiya made a final closing gesture. She shut her eyes, drew her breath inward. When they opened again, her gaze was iridescent, pupils stark; stare long enough, and the past spread within like a woven tapestry.

The Authority of True Word lets Her see the thoughts in every heart. The Authority of Blazing Flame makes specters and fiends naked before Her.

It was the pride of heaven-and-earth supremacy, a crown above the sky—a presence that could disdain all living things, a true god.

Cold sweat streamed down Huaruo Qingqing; fear bit her bones like frost. Her legs quivered despite herself. Even if she fought with everything, would she make Her take her seriously?

The God of Heart Realm cast a sweeping glance, then slightly drew back Her divine might. In a heartbeat, Beastkin dropped to their knees; even most elves sank down by reflex, like grass under wind.

This was absolute dominance from above. The body’s instincts outran the mind, acting before thought.

Huaruo Qingqing barely held herself upright. She doesn’t worship the God of Heart Realm; a stubborn flame of pride kept her from bowing.

“You. You see a god—why do you not kneel?” The God of Heart Realm looked to Huaruo Qingqing and asked mildly. There was little anger in Her heart, only curiosity.