Around 7 PM, Yichen and Zixuan returned home. The moment they stepped into the hall, Zixuan’s phone rang.

“…Understood. I’ll be there shortly… Yichen, I have to leave now.”

Regret filled Zixuan’s voice.

“So sudden? What’s happened?”

“A rebellion at the Middle East branch. I need to suppress it.”

In the past, Zixuan would’ve brushed it off vaguely.

“Huh?! Soul Force Wielders rebelling? Why send you?”

Zixuan chuckled softly.

“It’s part of my job.”

“But… aren’t you the chairwoman of Skyvoid Group?”

“That identity is convenient for certain situations. If you’re curious… I’ll explain everything later.”

Yichen nodded slowly, silent for a moment.

“Sis… why take on such dangerous work?”

Zixuan paused, surprised by the question. After a thoughtful silence, she replied gently:

“Yichen, what do you think of this era?”

Baffled, Yichen fumbled for words.

“It’s… pretty good?”

Zixuan nodded.

“This era has fewer wars than any in history. Why do you think that is?”

Yichen vaguely recalled his history class.

“Because of nukes? And global trade… democracy?” He’d never paid much attention—those details weren’t on exams.

“First point’s wrong. Every era had weapons of mass destruction.”

“Huh? What did ancient times have?”

“The strongest Soul Force Wielders could unleash devastation rivaling nuclear arms.”

“But teachers said top-tier wielders can only deflect bullets!”

“That’s just this country’s way to prevent panic among ordinary people.”

A chill shot down Yichen’s spine. He remembered Zixuan’s battle that night—deflecting bullets was a laughable understatement.

Zixuan continued:

“This era’s peace and prosperity stem not just from industrialization, but from rules forged after the World Wars. Laws. But rules have no teeth. To enforce them, absolute power is needed.”

“National armies?”

Zixuan shook her head. “They’d crumble before the strongest Soul Force Wielders.”

“So… you mean the absolute power is the strongest wielders?”

“Yes. And I wield that power.”

Her calm tone felt unreal to Yichen. Could her full strength truly match a nuke? Even her display that night seemed insignificant compared to such power.

*“That was just the tip of Sister’s strength!”*

Claire’s words echoed in his mind.

*(Could Sis really…?)*

Zixuan smiled at Yichen’s dazed expression, stepped forward, and kissed his cheek.

“I’m off.”

“…Be careful.”

Yichen’s reply came half a beat too late.

“Don’t worry. You’ve seen my strength.”

***

After Zixuan left, Yichen couldn’t settle. He recalled her teasing him about imitating Ultraman Tiga and treating her like a monster. He’d been spanked over her lap… Being disciplined by a teenage beauty still made his face burn. Suddenly, he froze. Zixuan had grown up with him—so why did his memory of her spanking him show her *exactly* as she looked now? Her face unchanged for over a decade.

His head spun. He pressed a hand to his forehead.

This was the same distortion as in the hospital—childhood memories of Zixuan always showed her adult face.

Yichen forced a wry smile. *What’s going on? Who knows? I’ll ask Zixuan later.*

Strangely, he wasn’t overly concerned. No—he *was* concerned, but another thought drowned it out: he was stepping into Zixuan’s world. He craved it. Yearned to stand beside her someday. And now, he’d take the first step.

Driven by restless heat, Yichen strode to the courtyard’s center. He closed his eyes, focusing on that night’s sensation—the power surging from his core.

A searing heat stirred within him. *This must be Soul Power.* He concentrated harder, chasing the warmth.

If this was truly Soul Power, how could he wield it like that night? How to make his body thrum with strength again?

He remembered the sword materializing in his hand—identical to Zixuan’s.

Yichen took two deep breaths, calming his racing heart. He focused on his right hand, visualizing the sword’s outline.

Then—a shift. Heat coalesced in his palm.

Yichen’s eyes snapped open.

“Success!”

The deep-blue longsword from that night gleamed in his grip. Its blade shimmered like sapphire, radiating icy sharpness. The hilt curved elegantly, a shade lighter.

Yichen raised it triumphantly, grinning. He swung it experimentally—the weight and length felt perfectly natural. His heart hammered with excitement.

“Nice to meet you, Stellar Blade… Huh? Stellar Blade?”

The name surfaced unbidden. The sword felt intimately familiar, like an extension of his own limb.

Gripping the hilt tightly, Yichen began to swing it freely across the courtyard.

***

That evening, Shiyue ate dinner with her family at their small wooden table. Her mother, Zhou Pingxia, sat with her younger siblings—first-graders Zhao Jiahe and Zhao Xiaomei. Years of toil had streaked Zhou’s hair with white.

“Sis! More rice!” Jiahe thrust his bowl forward, rice grains clinging to his lips. Shiyue smiled, refilling it.

“Don’t gulp it down… Xiaomei! No picking at your greens.”

Xiaomei was sneaking vegetables back onto the shared plate. Chastised, she pouted but returned them reluctantly.

“Good girls who eat their greens grow up beautiful.”

Xiaomei’s eyes lit up. “Really? Will I be as pretty as you?”

“Absolutely!”

Xiaomei steeled herself, squeezed her eyes shut, and swallowed the greens whole.

“Sis! Soup!”

“Alright, alright—”

“Jiahe! Don’t order your sister around!” Zhou’s scolding made him shrink back.

“It’s fine, Ma. Here you go.”

“Th-thanks, Sis.”

“Shiyue, let him serve himself. Don’t spoil him.”

“No trouble—I’m closest anyway.”

After dinner, Shiyue rose to clear the dishes.

“Shiyue, wait.” Zhou’s stern gaze pinned Jiahe and Xiaomei mid-sprint toward the game console. “Remember your promise?”

They shuffled guiltily. “We wash the dishes tonight.”

“Then get to it. Must your sister do everything?”

“Yes, Ma!” They scrambled back to the table.

Zhou turned to Shiyue, softening. “Let them help more. Don’t exhaust yourself studying, working at the Yichens’, *and* caring for them.”

“I don’t mind. They’re good kids.”

“You never listen… Your father left us too soon.”

“Ma, don’t say that. He’ll hear you—and visit tonight!”

“Hah! I’d greet him with a broom!”

Shiyue giggled. “I’m heading to my room.”

Back in her room, Shiyue studied hard. With weekday evenings spent working at Yichen’s, every spare minute counted. Muffled scolding and sibling squabbles drifted from the living room. Shiyue smiled. Life wasn’t easy—but she cherished her caring mother and lively siblings. Her greatest wish was for them to grow up quickly, easing her mother’s burden.

After hours of studying, Shiyue stretched and checked her small desk clock.

9:30 PM.

She decided to stretch her legs and check on her siblings. Just then, Xiaomei’s voice called from outside her door:

“Sis! A pretty lady’s here for you!”

Shiyue stepped out to see Xiaomei pointing at the entrance. Jiahe hovered near the door, while a white-haired girl stood outside.

“Miss Claire!”

Shiyue gasped. Memories of her severed arm flooded back. She stumbled backward, fear flashing across her face.

“Come out. I need to talk.” Claire’s expression was unreadable.

“About what?”

“Yichen.”

Claire turned and walked away. After a hesitant pause, Shiyue followed.

The moment she left, Jiahe sidled up to Xiaomei.

“Hey… that white-haired lady’s prettier than Sis, right?”

“Nonsense! Sis is prettiest. That lady’s trouble—I saw a drama, *White-Haired Witch*. Her nails grow super long! She’s just like that!”

At the stairwell, Shiyue kept a wary distance from Claire.

“What do you want?”

“Yichen might leave this city in a week.”

“Huh?!” Shiyue’s eyes widened.

"He's going to a specialized school for Soul Force Wielders. He probably won't be coming back after that. You're a Soul Force Wielder too, and I want you to go with him."

Zixuan's words left Shiyue momentarily stunned. Zixuan paused, then continued:

"If you decide to go, you likely won't get to return either. I'll provide ample funds for your family and assign guards to protect them. I won't force you—give me your answer next Saturday. We might depart as early as Sunday. Here's my contact."

Zixuan handed Shiyue a slip of paper.

Shiyue took it, staring blankly at the number written on it.

"Help me protect him."

Shiyue snapped her head up.

She saw Zixuan's eyes shimmering with unshed tears. A raw sincerity radiated from them, convincing Shiyue those words were genuine—but she still didn't understand.

"Why... why me?"

"I can't always stay by his side... You'll protect him in my place."

Shiyue sensed reluctance in Zixuan's expression.

"Why?"

"Because I'm fulfilling his wish."

"What wish?"

Zixuan didn't answer, but her gaze held firm resolve.

"How can I protect Yichen?"

Shiyue asked not out of refusal, but because she feared becoming a burden—like that night they faced the Monsters.

"Through combat. You have exceptional potential. Once you go, you'll gain the strength to match it."

Shiyue stayed silent. Zixuan's words felt unreal, leaving her tongue-tied.

"Think it over. I won't pressure you. If you refuse, I have no reason to ask you to guard Yichen."

Zixuan turned and left.

Back inside, Zhao Jiahe chased after Shiyue.

"Sister, sister! What did that white-haired lady tell you?"

Zixuan's words kept echoing in Shiyue's mind, muddling her thoughts.

She shook her head gently.

"Nothing."

Then she walked straight into her room.