“No. Why would I take you as a disciple?”

Fear pricked Lingcai like cold rain under a cloak. Outside Alchemy, magic was a blind forest to her. One slip, one mask torn, and the wolves would smell blood.

But LilyBell stuck to her heels like burrs in a field, shameless and persistent, and it gave Lingcai a headache.

Scarlet Leaf didn’t mind gaining a little tagalong. She waved, smile soft as spring sunlight. “Little fox, come here. Can you help me figure out how to get to this church?”

LilyBell’s eyes flashed, clever as a sparrow turning mid-air. She cupped her hands and called, sweet as honey poured in the ear, “Greetings, Master’s wife!”

Those two words rang in Scarlet Leaf’s ears like silk on jade. She spun and stared at Lingcai. “Lingcai, why don’t you really take her?”

Lingcai saw Scarlet Leaf bought in a heartbeat and sighed like wind through reeds. “I already said no.”

In her chest, the thought thudded like a warning drum. It’s not that I don’t want to—this is inviting a wolf into the house. And what would I teach her? Beyond Alchemy, I know nothing.

She swallowed the rest and let it sink like a stone in a pond.

“Then, as your Master’s wife, here’s a task.” Scarlet Leaf seized the opening. She ruffled LilyBell’s hair, touch light as a feather, then traced the symbols on the map. “If you can find the church for us, I’ll persuade the Great Sage to take you in. Consider it earning merit to wash away your past. Deal?”

She and Lingcai were hopeless with directions, two leaves lost on every wind. Better to coax the little fox into being their guide.

Chance tossed a rope from the sky; LilyBell grabbed it like a kite string. She shot her hand up high, eyes bright as stars. “Leave it to me! Piece of cake!”

I haven’t agreed, and you’re already planting flags. Lingcai grumbled in her heart and cut Scarlet Leaf a look.

Didn’t you say the Great Sage named you heir? Scarlet Leaf’s eyes danced, mirroring the unspoken line.

That’s not the same thing. Lingcai’s glance answered like a quiet bell.

The wood was already a boat. At this point, let the current carry it; the boat would straighten when it met the bridge.

Scarlet Leaf’s curiosity rose like smoke; LilyBell’s clothes were too rare, too striking, like a pattern from a distant loom. “By the way, you’re from the Eastern Continent, right?”

LilyBell’s gaze fell into the map like a pebble, then lifted. “Yeah. My home is in Xifeng, in the East. A few years back, my clan started a civil war. To dodge the purge, I slipped onto a ferry and crossed the sea as a stowaway.”

She spoke like it was someone else’s story, voice calm as a pond, no ripple to show the storms she’d sailed.

Lingcai’s interest stirred, a moth to flame. “A civil war in your clan? How many of you are there?”

LilyBell led the way while her words flowed like a thread. “What you call ‘magic,’ we call the Yin-Yang Arts. The users are Yin-Yang Masters. My clan has worked that craft for generations, favored by Eastern royalty. Then the emperor of Xifeng died. Several princes fought for the throne. Factions split inside the clan, and blades finally sang.”

Lingcai couldn’t help a sigh, a tired cloud crossing sun. “All one family… why push it that far?”

Scarlet Leaf nodded, iron in her voice like a drawn blade. “If you ask me, you should’ve cut down all those princes. Why have an emperor at all? Slaving for them every day—doesn’t that grind you to dust?”

“Don’t say that!” Lingcai clapped a hand over Scarlet Leaf’s mouth, palm warm, urgency cold. Scarlet Leaf always disliked nobles; a loose tongue was a tinder spark waiting for a gust.

Scarlet Leaf felt no guilt, only heat rising like summer thunder. Hands on hips, she let the rant roll. “It’s true! If they want power, let them fight each other. Winner takes the throne, done. Why drag a crowd into it? They live uneasy and make everyone else lose home and kin. Sick.”

Lingcai half-laughed, half-cried, helpless as a cat in rain. “Enough. That’s their power struggle. If they want life-and-death feuds, that’s their choice. It doesn’t block your road—why are you worked up?”

Scarlet Leaf huffed, then scooped LilyBell’s head into her arms and stroked her fluffy ears, soft as lamb’s wool. “I’m worked up, so what? Look how pitiful she is—innocent and spotless, no fault at all, so young, crossing the sea alone, a stranger in a strange land, lonely as a winter sparrow. Why else would she become a witch? It’s the selfish ones who drove her here!”

LilyBell flushed, shy as a bud about to open, and coughed out the truth. “Uh, well… I was sent by the second prince’s faction to assassinate the crown prince… I failed, got grief from both sides… so I ran… heh.”

So much for being pitiful; pity often hides a thorn. Lingcai pointed at LilyBell, wry smile sharp as a paper cut. “You call her pure and spotless? She’s black-hearted coal wrapped in tissue. Open it, black; slice it, still black. And did you forget? Her clan makes lovers into puppets. I can believe other people are pure. Saying she’s pure is nonsense.”

“Huh?” LilyBell blinked, stunned like a deer in lantern-light. “That’s not true. Where’d you hear that?”

…Huh?

Her quick denial hit Lingcai like a stray gust. “Not…? Then what about those creepy letters…?”

“Creepy letters?” LilyBell’s brow wrinkled, a small wave in a calm lake.

“You stuffed them with those weird paper hairs. Why?”

LilyBell’s face lit with realization, sunrise chasing fog. “Those were mailing shikigami—paper familiars. Maybe the letters sat too long unopened. The shikigami got damp and fell apart.”

Lingcai slapped her forehead, a clap of thunder on a clear day.

A thought rose in her chest like mist. Maybe everything before… was a giant misunderstanding.

“Then… why talisman paper and red ink—never mind, you’re a Yin-Yang Master. It’s your kit.”

Once she remembered LilyBell’s craft, the puzzle pieces fell into place like stones in a wall.

But one piece still stuck. “If those were love letters, couldn’t you write richer content?”

LilyBell looked honestly puzzled, eyes clear as spring water. “They were rich. I filled the whole page with the word ‘like.’ No space left.”

That’s exactly why it’s terrifying!

This child might be truly a bit simple.

Seeing Lingcai rub her brow, sigh dragging like a long winter wind, LilyBell felt a chill, timid as a kitten. “Great Sage… did I do something wrong?”

Lingcai drew a deep breath, then gently patted LilyBell’s head, hand warm as sun on snow. “It’s fine. I suggest you turn it up.”

“Turn it up?”

Lingcai began to spin the tale, silver tongue like a fishhook. “Keep sending letters. Threaten Xueyu—if she falls for another woman, tell her you’ll die with her. Snip some of your hair and tuck it inside. Xueyu loves eerie, haunted things. Go play ghost whenever you can. The scarier, the happier. Got it?”

“Got it! Thank you for the guidance, Great Sage!”

LilyBell never saw the thorns under the roses. She seriously pondered which tricks would be the most frightening, thoughts fluttering like bats at dusk.

So mean, this one.

Scarlet Leaf poked Lingcai and whispered at her ear, breath soft as a reed flute. “Aren’t you afraid karma will bite you for being this mean?”

Lingcai hummed low, a smile curling like smoke, the taste of payback sweet as ripe fruit. “Please. In the palace, Xueyu bullied me plenty. Every cause has its fruit. I’m her retribution.”

Heh heh—what a wicked little heart.