Ryosuke nodded thoughtfully, but his gaze snagged on the translucent, exquisitely ancient ring adorning the loli’s finger. His eyes instantly blazed with fire.
“Hold on! Is that a spatial ring on your hand?!”
“Uh… yes, sir.”
“What grade?!”
“Ah… B.”
Ryosuke gave a meaningful nod, then let his gaze slide with wicked intent over the loli’s slightly swollen chest.
“Hmph. Seems to match your cup size.”
Fan Qiandai let out an “Ah?!”—her face blank with innocent confusion—before her expression twisted into sheer terror.
“No, sir! This is…”
Ryosuke brazenly reached to yank the ring off. Fan Qiandai’s feeble resistance only stoked his beastly urges.
“Nonsense. Anything I want, I take.”
“Sir! This was my mother’s keepsake!” Her voice trembled, tears welling in her eyes.
Ryosuke’s icy stare froze his hand mid-motion.
“Since you’ve started calling me ‘sir’… I’ll ask sincerely: Are you lying?”
“Would I joke about this?!” Fan Qiandai flushed crimson, flailing her arms.
“Fine. Pack everything up. Move sharp—this is all money.” Ryosuke shrugged helplessly, radiating pure villainy.
“Sir…”
“Call me ‘sir’!”
“Yes, sir! I mean—sir! It’s all packed. S-should I return it to the Crimson Mercenary Corps?”
“Are you mocking me?” Ryosuke suddenly smiled—a warm, sunlit grin that made Fan Qiandai feel like she’d plunged into an ice cellar.
The temperature plummeted. Snowflakes swirled around them.
Fan Qiandai shivered, speechless. *This Purple Division ‘sir’ is terrifying!*
Ryosuke chuckled at the adorable loli, then flicked her forehead—
*Knock!*
“What did I just call this stuff?”
“Wah! M-money…” Fan Qiandai clutched her throbbing head.
“Exactly! Does the Crimson Mercenary Corps lack money?”
“N-no… but they lack gear…” Her voice faded.
“Hah?! Did I say this was gear?!”
“It’s money!”
“So what use is money to them?”
“N-none…”
Ryosuke exhaled slowly, looking away. The snowflakes scattered like fireworks.
The chill lifted. Fan Qiandai secretly sighed. *Sister was right—Purple Division adults are all weird!*
“Got clean clothes in that ring? Hand me a large set.”
“Y-yes! My sister left one here last time she… slept over. You should fit her dress, sir.”
“Hurry up. This precious scroll strapped to my ‘treasure’ needs selling too.”
“Huh?” Fan Qiandai glanced at said ‘treasure’—*thump!*—her cheeks burned crimson.
“H-here!” She fumbled a women’s dress from her ring, head bowed low.
“Good. While I change, spill everything you know about Lucifer. And why the Tomato Mercenary Corps came here. Not a word missed—that guy drops Z-grade demon artifacts.”
Ryosuke wrestled with the dress. *What even is this thing?! How do you wear it?!*
“Ahem! According to my sister, Demon King Lucifer rules a foreign continent. Beyond Reno Continent lies the Northern Continent, home to inhuman Demon Kind under his command. Recently, demons have appeared in Reno’s northern regions—clear signs of Northern Continent aggression. Frostbound Dragon Valley, also in the north, houses the Evil God Dragon. To prevent an alliance between the valley and Northern demons, the Imperial Capital dispatched the S-rank Crimson Mercenary Corps as scouts—to assess Iceflower Evil God Dragon’s strength. That’s all I know.”
“Not bad. No stuttering this time.”
“Sh-shut up…” Fan Qiandai muttered. Oblivious, Ryosuke struggled with the dress.
She finally took pity and helped him squeeze into it.
“What garbage! Wasted my strength!” Ryosuke grumbled, feeling drafty below.
Fan Qiandai stood frozen, mouth agape, utterly dazed by the cross-dressing Evil God Dragon.
“Hey! Never seen a handsome guy before? Stop gawking!” Ryosuke flashed a dazzling smile—making Fan Qiandai swoon.
“Sir…”
“Hmm?”
“You’re… so… beautiful!”
Ryosuke’s eyes bulged. He barely restrained the urge to freeze her solid, instead tossing his loincloth at her.
“Pack it.”
“Y-yes!” She scrambled to stash it in a special corner of her ring.
“Ice…?” Ryosuke muttered, scratching his head as a thought slipped away.
“S-sir?” Fan Qiandai asked hesitantly.
“ICE!” Ryosuke roared. Fan Qiandai jumped; snow crows fled the maple trees.
“Those losers! They must have spatial rings! Gear hidden everywhere! Can’t waste it!”
“Ah?” Fan Qiandai sighed inwardly. *Does he think spatial rings grow on trees?*
Ignoring her, Ryosuke scanned the ground. Different height, different view.
Fan Qiandai watched him sketch a triangle. “S-sir? What are you doing?”
“Similar triangles. Stand aside!”
“Okay…” She obeyed, sneaking glances at the cross-dressing dragon god.
“Solved it!” Ryosuke leapt up, pointing southwest. “Fan Qiandai! Check twenty meters that way. Report back immediately!”
“F-Fan Qiandai? Oh!” She bit her tongue—*it’s Qiandai*—but sprinted off, counting steps.
Twenty meters! *Thud!*
“Ow!” She rubbed her head, having stared at the ground.
Before her stood a flawless ice sculpture, surrounded by shattered limbs and frozen debris—all shielding the figure within.
The loli ignored the carnage, tears streaming silently as she stared at the trapped redhead.
Ryosuke’s smug pride faded. He slapped his forehead.
“Damn! That ring’s still on her! What if she runs?!”
He became a gust of icy wind.
Twenty meters vanished in blinks.
Seeing Fan Qiandai hadn’t fled—but stood weeping before the ice—Ryosuke’s anger cooled.
“Fan Qiandai! What did I order?!” he snapped.
She turned slowly, tear-streaked face making his chest tighten.
His sharp eyes saw it instantly: his frost breath had frozen nearly a hundred men. Only the redhead survived—others had thrown themselves over him in their final moments, shielding him from the killing chill.
*An S-rank corps shouldn’t crumble like this. Why was their captain on the frontlines with barely a hundred guards? Why did the survivors flee instead of avenging him?*
Complicated politics, no doubt.
“Sir… H-his Highness… he…” Fan Qiandai sobbed.
Ryosuke’s heart softened. *So the redhead was her prince. I ruined them…*
*Wait—*
“What did you call him?!” Ryosuke’s sudden snarl made her flinch.
“H-his Highness…”
“Is Reno’s current king Zhanma Mariano?!” Ryosuke’s face twisted viciously.
Terrified, Fan Qiandai stepped back, wiping tears. “C-current king is Zhanma IX Silse, sir. Zhanma Mariano is… the one in the ice…”
“What?! You mean this redhead is Zhanma X Mariano?! The harem king who hires only beauties—even for sweeping floors and shoveling manure?! Is that him?!”
“I-I don’t understand, sir, but… probably yes.”
Watching Ryosuke’s grief eclipse her own, Fan Qiandai wondered: *Has he been hiding in Frostbound Dragon Valley so long he forgot the king’s name?*
*That must be it!* Her worry eased.
The Iceflower Evil God Dragon, however, clutched his chest, stomping in despair.
*Words can’t express this agony!*
Ryosuke screamed silently to the heavens—
*I just killed off my cult favorite idol!*
