She hesitated, then resolve struck like flint, and she set off for the capital where Xuewei was. Because she’d lost her human status, her old papers were dead leaves at a city gate. But with space magic, distance was a breath; one thought and the world folded like silk. She held the Radiant Empire’s capital coordinates like a star pinned on a map. Tangxue slipped into an empty alley, eyes closing like shutters at dusk. She opened them, and the imperial city rose nearby like a battered crown.

Huh? Ruins jutted up like broken teeth in a jaw of streets, and Tangxue froze. She’d visited more than once—not intimate, but steady. A clearing this vast was a new scar, not an old street.

Disgust crawled up first like sour smoke. Strange, why’s that hateful stink here too? She pinched her nose with her right hand, then cupped her mouth with her palm. The air was rot blossoming in heat, a taste like death gnawing the tongue.

Her gaze swept outward like a cold wind, and her pupils tightened, frost-point small. What… is this?

The capital of the Radiant Empire lay in ruin, a sea of rubble under a gray sky. At the center, a seal sat like the one in the Forest Capital, a buried moon cracked open. The seal had been unbound, and that loathsome breath poured from its mouth like swamp fog. The city guard and Queen Bai Zhi fought at the threshold, bodies like flags in a storm, forcing monsters back. But Tangxue knew these were scraps—a scum of chaos—spilled by the opened prison. The real danger had slipped the net like a shadow in deep water.

Panic hit first, sharp as sleet. Queen… where’s Xuewei? Tangxue sprinted, feet skidding like loose gravel, and she stumbled hard mid-run. Dust kissed her face, and grey grit made her look foolish, but shock hammered her thoughts into static.

Cough—! A blast punched a nearby ruin, and a girl burst free like a scorched swallow, head snapping toward the voice.

I think I heard someone calling me…

Xuewei… Relief bloomed first like thawed sunlight, and then her eyes blurred like glass in rain.

Eh… Brother? Xuewei blinked, surprise fluttering like a moth, and she gave a helpless grin to dodge the moment.

I’m so glad you’re okay! The small frame of Qingsheng Tangxue wrapped her sister tight, though half of Xuewei’s body lay buried like a trapped root. Tangxue half-knelt to reach her, not caring, holding on as if warmth could stop the world from cracking.

Xuewei stared at her brother’s profile, eyes blinking like wet stars. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then patted the girl’s back, gentle as falling ash. I’m fine, Brother. Let’s handle what’s in front of us first.

…Right. Cold flashed first in Tangxue’s eyes like a line of winter steel. Then the sky shuddered as a cold wave rolled in, and mana crosswinds mangled the weather like torn sails. Frost grew like spears with true aim, magic riding them like thunder, and every monster spilling from the seal went still in a blink. The scene stunned everyone present, minds blank as snowfields.

What is this… this layer of ice mist? Queen Bai Zhi’s voice was calm water hiding a current. In a breath, she knew it—Ling Yehan’s signature, the Ice Deity’s print in the air. She knew the Ice Deity had left offspring in this world, but she’d barely weighed it, like a rumor carried on reeds. She’d only asked Xuewei to stay in the city and keep friendly terms with her brother. She hadn’t imagined power like this—winter falling like a guillotine.

I saw nothing like this months ago… Bai Zhi’s mouth curved in a bitter smile, a frost that wouldn’t melt. In the end, it was still her who saved us.

Lin— My name now is Qingsheng Tangxue, Your Majesty. Tangxue dipped her head, a snowflake’s bow.

Is that so… Bai Zhi’s thoughts drifted like mist, catching on the meaning of that name. But Tangxue had already taken Xuewei by the hand, feet turned to leave the front like a stream turning a bend.

Your Majesty, the crisis at this seal is handled, but what it held has escaped like smoke. Can you tell me what used to be imprisoned here? Tangxue’s face was ironed flat, and Xuewei’s focus sharpened beside her like twin blades.

Bai Zhi looked at the two sisters—shadows stitched together—and a strange ache rose like a knot in the throat. Xuewei only felt real in her “brother’s” orbit. She spoke, voice steady as old oaths. The Kelinweier clan wasn’t purely human. Our forebears were the ancient divine beast stationed here and its faithful. Then disasters rolled in like black tides, and the beast neared extinction. We intermarried with our ancestor and the divine beast, left a bloodline, and guarded this land for generations. As for what’s below… this was my first time seeing it. We only ever knew one rule—never let it out, or something worse than death would bloom.

Her face went pale, color draining like tide from sand. The fear etched in her blood made her shiver even to name it.

So what happened? What did you actually see come out of the seal, Your Majesty? Impatience pricked first like nettles, and Tangxue’s tone sharpened, a blade tapping the scabbard.

Bai Zhi didn’t mind the edge. She drew a breath that tasted of iron. A monster made of negative emotions. The instant it burst free, I felt a grudge that could level the world—like a storm pressed into a single breath. It looked like black mist with no body, maybe because I couldn’t see its core. In short, that thing is terrifying. We… can’t handle something like that.

Her head bowed, duty heavy as an anvil. Not knowing what comes next was the real torture, a slow drizzle that rots beams.

A monster made from negative emotions… Tangxue’s mind flashed to the thing beneath the Forest Capital, a shadow under old roots. She remembered refreezing that seal, a lid of winter slammed down—surely it hadn’t slipped out, right?

… Maybe it already has. The thought crawled cold, a film over the world—unreal, wrong, a smear of malice. Back then, that bull-headed fanatic hadn’t wanted to free the big serpent, but the evil will buried under it.

So these overflow monsters are just by-products of that malice? Tangxue clicked her tongue, a chip of ice against teeth, then looked to Bai Zhi. Your Majesty, do you know of any other seals like this?

I… don’t know. Bai Zhi shook her head, tired as dusk. She’d been holding this line for days, blind to the wider storm. If you mean similar places, I know the Elven Dominion has one.

…Any others? None…

All right. Got it. Tangxue nodded, a short arc like a falling petal. She traded a few clipped words with the queen, flints striking once and done. They looked over the ruins—an ocean of stone and splinters—and their faces went stiff as clay. Rebuilding the imperial city would take a long season, maybe several. Thankfully, she’d evacuated the people early, and the casualties were bound within a ring of control. For those soldiers who fell, ceremonies would rise like lanterns on a dark river, the highest honors laid out without stinginess. In this, Bai Zhi was never a miserly sovereign.