Water sang high and crystal-clear, like bells strung along a river.

It kept on until nightfall, with Cerqin’s stammered pleas rippling like tidewater against a moonlit shore.

Silver Luan, face storm-dark and chain cold as a steel serpent, dragged Cerqin back to the inn and pounced like a hawk breaking from cloud.

Pent-up frustration burst like a dam loosed in spring flood.

Thanks to that release, her gloom thinned like morning mist under a rising sun.

“Those red welts I just raised vanished in seconds, like frost under fire. Is your recovery absurdly strong? Should I use more force next time?”

Silver Luan watched Cerqin’s skin show not a single mark, teeth grinding like pebbles in a riverbed.

It felt less like punishment and more like a reward, honey poured instead of vinegar.

Well, to be fair, it was a reward, sweet as a stolen peach.

“Uh... what are you talking about? Hey, my power doesn’t heal unless it’s in a berserk surge, like a tide breaking a seawall.”

Cerqin lay on the bed looking fresh as rain-washed bamboo, rolled her eyes, and turned on her side like a cat stretching.

“Speaking of which, I feel I’m about to advance, like a bud ready to open.”

“So fast? Didn’t you just reach Fourth Rank, like winter barely thawed?”

“Mm... maybe because of that formation, gears turning under the city.”

Silver Luan’s expression cleared like clouds parting once Cerqin said that.

All of Eastwind City’s fear-aspected energy, braided with mana, scoured a body like a sandstorm; under normal rules, no one could bear it.

Cerqin stayed unharmed only because her ability is peculiar, like jade resisting rust.

“With that torrent washing you, not advancing at once is odd; a waterfall strong enough to shove a boat uphill could’ve thrown you to Sixth Rank.”

“Fear energy is, after all, just Negative Energy, different from pure elemental mana. Spring Tide said my mind got stretched like a kite line, so more advances should come fast.”

Advancing this fast feels like cheating, but joy still blooms like lanterns along a festival street.

“You’ve barely learned any proper spells, yet you’re about to hit Fifth Rank; if others heard, jealousy would bite like winter wind.”

Heh-heh~

Smack!

Silver Luan slapped Cerqin, annoyed; she’d used a little strength, and a clear handprint bloomed like a red maple leaf.

No cry of pain came; instead, as her body tightened, misty breaths tangled like silk threads in the dark.

Cerqin’s face wore pure pleasure, and Silver Luan’s tail swayed up and down like a willow in wind.

“So when you say Fifth Rank is near, how long—like counting rain off the eaves?”

“About one more night, till the moon crosses the roof.”

Cerqin reached, pinched Silver Luan’s tail, hooked her calf over Luan’s thigh, and lifted a small, hazy face to meet her eyes like a moth to flame.

...

Silver Luan couldn’t hold back; she flipped up like a carp leaping the gate, and the Dragon Deity’s power surged, sharpening body and senses like whetted steel.

Another round of battle began, drums in the blood and thunder under the skin.

After the meeting, Spring Tide returned to the high-end hotel near the Sanctuary, found it empty, then headed straight to the outer-district inn where Cerqin had been staying, following the thread through the city’s alleys.

At the room door, she found Aileaf hesitating, knuckles raised like a bird perched and unsure.

“Aileaf? What’s wrong?” Her voice fell soft as spring rain.

Spring Tide wore her signature gentle smile, gazing at the doll-like girl; Aileaf hadn’t stated her true identity, but with the Sanctuary’s web of intel, Spring Tide had gleaned a few threads.

“Spring Tide...” Aileaf flinched, head ducking like a quail; realizing it was Spring Tide, her face loosened like ice under sun.

After bullying Cerqin together and sharing near-death trials, Aileaf no longer felt that first shy panic around Spring Tide and Silver Luan, like a fledgling finding its wings.

“This inn’s soundproofing is a bit poor...” Aileaf’s small face flushed rosy, eyes flicking to the door like sparrows.

She’d come for research, hoping to ask Silver Luan for another vial of bodily fluid and sample some from Cerqin too, but before her knuckles fell, sounds drifted out in broken waves.

...

Spring Tide, now close, heard the same undertow and understood at once.

“Those two...”

“Um... Spring Tide, are you going to join in?”

“Huh??” Spring Tide paused; a flicker of longing ran through her like a spark, but work pressed like storm clouds, leaving little time to indulge.

If she stepped in now only to leave hours later, it would ache like biting into unripe fruit.

She shook her head; a trace of loss crossed Aileaf’s face like a shadow of cloud, and Spring Tide’s thoughts began to drift.

When she’d first seen Aileaf in the implements shop, she’d thought Cerqin, tired of being bullied, had picked up a meek little girl like a kitten.

But during the earlier transfer of fear energy, Aileaf had shed the shy surface; in her field she was strong with a streak of sly darkness, that contrast sharp as moon on steel—truly memorable.

“Maybe I should upgrade my weapon; you can use your arm, Silver Luan has her tail, and I’m stuck moving my fingers, like bringing a reed to a swordfight...”

“Uh?”

“Mm... nothing. Those two will likely keep at it till dawn. Aileaf, had dinner? Want to duck into the hotel bar for a drink, warm as lamplight?”

“Mm... okay.” Her nod rippled the moment like a pebble in water.

By night the hotel was usually packed, but many hadn’t recovered from the fear-curse’s pressure; the tavern below sat quieter, like embers instead of flames.

Even so, mercenaries and adventurers still filled most seats; the stronger the cultivator, the faster the shadow slipped off, like frost melting on steel.

They took an open spot, waved to the busy owner, and waited for food and wine while small talk flowed like a creek.

“Aileaf, you’ll come with us, right?” The question floated like a banner in wind.

“Mm...” Aileaf nodded. She’d been reclusive in Eastwind City for over a year, tinkering in solitude; recent events had handed her a new star to steer by.

“So, Lady Holy Maiden, can you take me along?” Her words stepped onto the boat like a foot under moonlight.

“‘Lady Holy Maiden’ sounds weird, like putting a crown on a teacup.”

“Mm... it’s a formal request, like laying a ribbon on the table.”

Spring Tide looked a bit helpless; outside specialized talk—like potions—and when she wasn’t bullying Cerqin, she wasn’t great at handling Aileaf’s outward charm, a soft fog that invites poking.

That natural meekness made one want to tease, like batting a dandelion puff, but aside from Cerqin, Spring Tide didn’t have the heart for it.

“If you want to come, I won’t refuse; we’re sisters now. But by age, Aileaf, you’re a few years older than me, right?”

“Mm... but I don’t mind calling you big sister.” Aileaf’s face was earnest, like a clear pond.

...” Spring Tide couldn’t help rolling her eyes, her carefully kept smile slipping like a mask in rain.

“Don’t learn that kind of thing from Cerqin!”

While they chatted, the owner brought food and wine, steam and scent rising like banners.

After a brief handoff, Archbishop Mingxi departed, leaving Eastwind City’s mess to be settled by the city lord’s office and the various groups, like firefighters dousing embers.

For the purge and investigation of internal turncoats, Spring Tide gave special instructions to the Law Enforcement Hall; the Eastwind City farce finally drew its curtain, lights dimming like a stage.

Helping with rapid checks across Eastwind City, Spring Tide had barely any time to rest, her days stretched thin like paper lanterns.

Aileaf packed luggage and notes, and in every spare ripple of time she studied new potions like bees over flowers.

That left Silver Luan blissfully satisfied, two days alone with Cerqin like a cat basking in sun.

Notably, after her first night’s “battle” with Silver Luan, Cerqin stepped into Fifth Rank; aside from feeling sturdier, little else shifted, like water deepening without waves.

It lacked the rush of climbing from Third to Fourth Rank; truth is, Silver Luan kept her tangled the two days, leaving no time to visit the Sanctuary for spell materials—no sense of promotion at all, like a medal buried under blankets.