Ever since Lingchen Yao came home from Jiuqiong University, a new worry perched on his mind like a crow on a cold branch.

He could turn into a Magic Maiden now, so maybe he didn’t have to cancel his lease. The school had dorms, and the yearly fee sat within reach, like grain measured out by a careful hand. But campus didn’t feel safe, like a lantern set in a gusty alley.

After he transformed, an Abyssal Aura clung to him like damp fog on reeds. And at Jiuqiong University, even a mentor was a Magic Maiden of Cantata Two. That meant a transformed boy carrying Abyssal scent would draw suspicion like flies to raw meat, unless the Eye Orb recovered enough to swallow more of the taint. He didn’t trust that slow recovery; he feared the Eye Orb would trip him in the shadows like a hidden root.

If he didn’t end the lease, he could make excuses and lie low outside. He’d wait till the Abyssal Aura thinned like mist at dawn, then return to class as a face in the crowd. That meant extra money each month, coin dripping away like water from a cracked jar. He had no idea how long he’d need to live like that.

He gritted his teeth, reached into a drawer, and pulled out two thick stacks of envelopes, heavy as bricks. That was every saving, pinched from meals and nights, meant to pave his future like stones on a narrow path.

It was still for his future, he told himself, a dry smile like old tea on his lips.

“Hey, kid. You strapped for cash?”

The Eye Orb’s mechanical voice poked his heart like a cold finger. Lingchen set down his bag, tapped his bracelet, and the Eye Orb popped off with a flick, bounced twice across the desk, then latched back on like a limpet.

“You tell me.”

He sat, shut the window against the evening draft, lit the lamp, and picked up the blade. Tonight, he planned to challenge the Dreadwolf again, like a hunter testing his spear’s edge.

“I can give you a way to make money. Not safe yet, though.”

At the word money, Lingchen perked up like a starving cat catching the scent of fish. Who hates more coin, especially someone as broke as him, pockets thin as paper?

“The black market. Magic Maidens refill Mana in two ways: draw it from the air, or from Magic Stones. Magic Stones carry Abyssal Aura mixed in like grit in rice, but you can grind the taint off and keep the pure Mana. So Magic Maidens crave stones like winter craves firewood.”

“You can hunt Monsters that carry stones and sell them on the black market. Even the worst Magic Stone starts at ten thousand and climbs.”

The Eye Orb spoke like a veteran of back alleys. Its work had always kept to moonless paths, collecting illegal materials and tools like a magpie with dirty treasures.

“Aren’t they cracking down now? The black market still running?”

“Strict doesn’t mean they want it gone. There’s more than one, anyway. Ordinary folk don’t buy everything from official stalls. Barter still happens like rivers crossing fields. Once the officials dip their hands in, the black market turns into a third-party platform. Prices and trust? Hard to guarantee, like weather on the coast.”

“Got it. Then… those two Dreadwolf Magic Stones?”

“The small one’s the worst. The big one’s decent. You could sell it for a clean hundred-plus thousand.”

Lingchen’s heart leapt like a fish. He wanted to hawk that stone right now, buy himself breathing room, even upgrade his meals from gruel to meat. He glanced at the Eye Orb clinging to his bracelet, and drool pooled at the corner of his mouth like a lazy spring.

“I’ll say this upfront. I ate a lot of the big stone. It won’t fetch much. If you’re really broke, I’ll leave the small one for you…”

His hand jerked. The sharp blade kissed his finger, and a faint thread of Mana slipped out, knitting the cut like needle and silk. Blood stained the carved wood, shaving curls scattered like withered petals.

Lingchen’s eyes went wide. The Eye Orb clearly saw anger gather there like stormclouds. His face said, Why didn’t you say that earlier, loud as thunder.

“Look, the small one’s still worth good money. The big one helps me recover, so I can help you more, right?”

“Yeah… my ass.”

Fire filled his gaze like coals fanned by wind. Thin Mana spilled from him like steam from a kettle. He threw the blade aside and thumped the desk, hard enough to leave a hairline crack, thin as a spiderweb.

The Eye Orb lost its cool. For a heartbeat, Lingchen had actually externalized Mana—very little, but real, like the first spark. This kid might truly have the makings of a Magic Maiden, talent humming like a hidden string.

“You just let some Mana out. Use that to scrub the Abyssal Aura off your body. I’ll catch the spill for you. Go, now!”

Lingchen blinked. The Mana around him weakened like embers fading.

“Keep the anger up, hurry! Find where the Mana rises, then ride it like a wave and grip the reins!”

He took a long breath. The fire died like rain on charcoal. He stared at the dim-silver bracelet in the lamp’s amber glow and the Eye Orb crouched atop it.

“With you butting in, I can’t get mad anymore.”

“Then picture this: you had a stone worth tens of thousands, I eat it, and you’re still dirt-poor. Or better— you poor f**—” stars omitted by the dozen.

It worked like pepper thrown on coals. Lingchen’s face sank into shadow, black lines crowding his brow like tangled bamboo. The Eye Orb could see killing intent thicken around him like frost.

He longed for another Blade to slice the Eye Orb into ribbons, but he clenched his jaw, followed its guidance, and endured. The Mana around him grew richer, like broth simmered to glaze.

“Now try to control it. It’s yours by right.”

Thin nerve filaments from the Eye Orb brushed his head without warning, tugging at the tangled mass of Mana like fingers teasing knots. Every few moments, it retracted with tips smoking, like incense burned too close.

“Kid, even if that bracelet’s not ordinary… your Mana’s too much. It’s like standing naked in a rapid river, and the water’s boiling.”

The Eye Orb glanced at its reddened tail tip and hoped it wouldn’t end up cooked like a shrimp.

With the Eye Orb’s help, control came without breaking bones. Under the lamp’s dull gold, Lingchen’s cheeks reddened toward charcoal. His heart pumped boiling Blood, flooding one chamber then another, washing his limbs and thirty-six bones like a scouring tide.

A chorus of crisp pops sang from deep in his skeleton, like bamboo cracking in frost. He snapped his eyes open and flexed stiff, burning limbs, joints trembling like strings under strain.

The Eye Orb stopped guiding. Phase one was complete—basic Mana mastery. Next came practice and true control.

In his male body, Lingchen had learned how to hold Mana steady. Give him a bit more time, and even without transforming, he could shield himself like a tree in strong wind.

“Whew. Finally done.”

“But we’re not done, are we? What did you call me just now? I remember every word~”

The Eye Orb felt killing intent bloom, thick and heady, like wine left to deepen.

Lingchen drew back his fist. Stray motes of Mana gathered to it like sparks to tinder. The Eye Orb bolted, because the Mana around that fist tasted dangerous, a pressure like a storm’s edge. He might actually swat it dead with a single slap.

As long as it didn’t take a high-intensity Mana hit, it would live, it told itself, a bug dodging a boot.

“Fine. I’ll let you off. You helped me. That punch was just a warning.”

He dropped flat to the floor. Everywhere the scalding Blood had rushed, pain tore at him, sharp as glass under skin. His meridians felt knotted together, jerking stiffly like trapped vines.

At the rim of his brown-black eyes, flecks of gold flashed like dawn on water, then slid back into shadow.

…

Because an unknown Abyss creature had appeared, and because Moon Owl marked Lingchen Yao as a victim—and because his Abyssal Aura had almost completely dispersed—the Order Keeper stopped watching his every move. Freedom opened like a night road without patrols.

Lingchen had ample time to adapt, to transform, to practice magic till sweat cooled on his neck.

A dress of Crimson and black streamed in the night wind, silk like flowing dusk. Deep in the park, the girl snapped her fingers, and flame poured from the pale center of her palm like a spring erupting. Her dark-gold eyes shone clear as a mountain pool, narrowing as twisted shapes writhed in the black mist like snakes under reeds.

Before her, an Abyss gate split open with a fresh seam, a mouth in reality’s wall.

This was her first real fight after grasping Mana, a test like stepping onto ice to hear it sing.

Cold moonlight spilled down, silvering the ground and the lamp-lit paths, and not a ray was swallowed by the black fog—yet. Around the park, light warped, thin and eerie as paper lanterns in wind.

Crack!

The sound was glass over-stretched, a vessel breaking under pressure. But what spilled here wasn’t wine; it was Monsters from the Abyss, breath like mildew.

She knew the barrier between the Abyss and reality had fractured like old bone.

Abyssal Aura gushed out like smoke from a chasm, but it didn’t touch her, slipping past like water around stone.

A cat-shaped Monster poked through, bearing two heads, one upside-down over the other, eyes wrong as broken mirrors.

She flicked her hand. Scattered flames tightened like a clenched fist and shot toward where her finger pointed. Wind pressure rode the fire, and the fresh-born cat-thing bristled, fur standing like needles.

The fireball burst beside it, and the shock flung the Monster out of the gate like trash from a chute. One head shattered under the blast, pulp and bone bright as a smashed gourd. Foul black-red Blood sprayed from the torn neck, each plume curling into black mist.

It retreated step by step, paws sliding like a cornered rat. She didn’t give it a chance. She crouched like a hunter cat, then drove her right foot—the boot a neat black blade—into the ground. Her body shot forward like a cannon shell.

The Monster couldn’t react. She skimmed behind it, and two bands of flame flared front and back, penning it like a corral.

Twin flames, dazzling as festival ribbons, punched through the fog and slammed together. The Monster caught fire in Crimson light, and its wails tore the air like sobbing strings. It burned down to ash. A fingernail-sized Magic Stone clicked and rolled to her toes.

“Thanks for the tip, dear Monster-san~”

She scooped the stone up, not caring about Blood staining her fingers like ink.

“But this lot feels… so weak.”

Her tone held mild disgust, like finding watered wine.

“Monsters that even First Symphony can handle. And you’re Cantata Two in raw body strength.”

The Eye Orb settled on her shoulder like a moth and sighed.

“True.”

She was just about to slip away when a light orb dropped from above, a pale moon-pearl smashing down through the night.