When the noise finally died, Bai Zhi stood in the open like ash after a wildfire—quiet, spent. In the end, she alone survived. She didn’t know when the breach began, but Western Garden City’s fall clung to her like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

…Was it because we broke that seal? Or a cadre from the “Flower of the Other Shore” cult?

She leaned toward the first. Yet why would that fleeing wraith choose an ordinary host? Its eerie power ranked among the strongest in the world. Snuffing out a nation would take it a single thought. So why linger in Western Garden City? Was it really here just to kill me?

She left without answers. Back in the capital, she summoned her Shadow Guards.

“Western Garden City has disappeared from the map,” she said, voice soft as dusk. “It suffered the same calamity as the imperial capital. Tell the engineering teams to drop any plan that waits on Western Garden City’s support.” She accepted a handkerchief and dabbed off blood like rain from a blade. Her wounds could knit on their own, but the mana she’d spent was too much. She chose not to heal—let a little misdirection bloom.

“Yes, Your Majesty!” The guard’s worry flickered like candlelight. He didn’t dare ask more. He melted back into the shade.

Her Shadow Guards operated across posts throughout the cities. Any message she loosed could sweep the nation by nightfall.

War’s fire has reached the Radiant Empire, she thought, a cold tide in her chest. Can I guard my country, Father, Mother?

By dawn, the engineering crews had worked through the night. The capital was nearly rebuilt. Tomorrow, people could move home. Next came the defensive wards. Two key cities ravaged in quick succession—economically, the blow was lethal. But Bai Zhi couldn’t spare a heartbeat for numbers. The continent would be turbulent soon. What mattered now was holding on to lives.

We still need archmages to lay wards at Western Garden City. It’s one of the Radiant Empire’s vital arteries. And we have to relocate people from other cities.

The mountain of tasks loomed until her vision went dark at the edges. What did I do to deserve this...

…

Beyond the Radiant Empire, other nations were hit by wraiths as well. The Blood Clan suffered worst of all.

In the Elven Dominion, Hualuo Jingqing sat in the clan leader’s chair, eyes on a map stippled with black points. The one who should be there—Flora Eina—had volunteered, out of guilt, to handle the aftermath. When the seal was broken, Qingsheng Tangxue trapped the most dangerous core. Even so, many wraiths slipped free. They didn’t fuse into one monstrous mass. They scattered like crows across the Elf Clan’s lands.

Now Flora Eina led the top elites of the Elf Clan to each disaster site. For the moment, things were stable.

I remember two or three seals like that still exist… One in the Radiant Empire. Another near the line between Demon and Blood territories. The Blood Clan has its queen and Demon King Jiuqi. That front should hold. The Radiant Empire has Tangxue’s younger sister, Xuewei, and a queen on the same tier—Bai Zhi. They won’t raise a tidal wave. So what’s the real purpose of the “Flower of the Other Shore”…?

From the World Tree, Hualuo Jingqing felt fear like frost on ancient bark. The last time she sensed anything like it was when the world almost froze. What could stand beside a crisis that threatens the gods themselves?

That was the ache—an ever-omniscient World Tree offered no answer. The world she could once observe was now pitch black.

…

“Mmm~ I slept so comfy last night. How about you, Xuewei?” Tangxue smiled, eyes curled like crescents, and glanced at the wardrobe—where Xuewei was tied like a zongzi rice dumpling.

“Mm-mm-mm!!”

She’d only been tied up at five in the morning, yet her face bristled with protest.

“It’s already ten.” Tangxue’s face went pale. She scrambled into clothes, dashed for the mirror, caught a blanket, and tumbled under the bed.

Whoosh—thud!

“Oww…” She rubbed the lump on her head, frustration sketching dark lines across her brow. A body that shrugs off magical bombardment, hurt by a blanket—what even.

It’s ten. Mom Linyue’s not going to come swinging a stick at me, right? The thought sent a shiver through her. Then she remembered she was grown. No one would scold her for something this small.

A little disappointment fell like drizzle. She slouched into the bathroom to wash up. Once the room was tidy, she undid the ice-silk ropes around Xuewei.

“Sis, you’re way too much!”

“What’s worse is you kept me up till five,” Tangxue said, a calm glance sharp as a needle.

“Please, we finally reunited. What’s wrong with staying up late?” Xuewei argued, puffed up.

A flick to the forehead answered her.

“Downstairs. Lunch. If we skip that too, Mom Linyue will come knocking.”

“…Okay.” At the mention of Mom Linyue, Xuewei’s bravado wilted like a leaf. She washed in a hurry and followed her sister down for lunch.

At the table, they sat among a swarm of kids, savoring a long-lost family meal. When they were small, they’d crowd around big tables like this. Mom Linyue would portion food, gentle as a river. Now they were grown. They had to shoulder that duty.

While everyone dug into the feast Xuewei had brought, Linyue Yao watched the news on the screen, brows faintly pinched. Tangxue nudged her, and only then did she notice the soup she’d served had gone cold.

“Western Garden City was destroyed.”

“Oh… huh!?” Xuewei and Tangxue jolted, startled birds. Most of the kids didn’t understand, but they mimicked their big sisters’ gaping faces.

“Xuewei, did you sense anything last night?” Linyue asked, voice calm as winter rain.

“Uh… sorry, Mom Linyue. I didn’t sense a thing…” Xuewei lowered her head, guilt dropping like a stone. She’d spent the night with her sister. The outside world didn’t exist—unless it hit her head-on.

“Tangxue, you?”

Tangxue shook her head.

“…Last night, a blast of power almost washed over East Mountain City. Even I felt it. I knew it was Her Majesty’s strike. And you two felt nothing?” Linyue’s eyes narrowed, an interrogator’s gaze flicking between them.

They ducked their heads like kids caught red-handed.

“Yesterday we really…”

“Slept like rocks.”

“Played way too hard.”

The answers collided in the air. They stared at each other, both stunned. Linyue’s smile went stiff—the kind that means she’s mad.

“You two… what exactly did you do last night?”