Sure enough, it had been withdrawn.

Hiding behind Nainai, Fusiming felt the overwhelming killing intent that had flooded the space vanish as swiftly as time rewinding.

His gamble had paid off.

The black cat’s "Crimson Sacred Eye" couldn’t yet distinguish individual silhouettes with perfect precision.

Its special ability couldn’t shrink its range of effect or alter its direction.

That wave of killing intent could only radiate outward like straight beams of light from the cat itself.

To strike a specific target, nothing could block the path—every living thing in its way would be swept up.

So when Fusiming shielded Nainai behind himself, the cat couldn’t attack him without engulfing her too.

It had never wanted to drag Nainai—who looked so much like its master—into its killing gaze.

From the start, it couldn’t bring itself to harm her.

And Fusiming had bet on exactly that.

He’d won… or rather—

*Drip… drip…*

*Drip-drip-drip-drip… pitter-patter-pitter-patter… chirp-chirp-chirp…*

Summer thunderstorms came and went in a flash.

At some point, the thunder had stopped. Only the fading rain remained.

Amidst the chaotic downpour outside… Fusiming still heard it clearly: an unnatural trickle of liquid.

Thin streams flowed down the Little Succubus’s plump, youthful legs—smooth and milky-white.

They dripped from her dangling shoe tips, splashing into a small puddle already forming on the grimy floor.

A pale lemon-tea hue.

Crystal-clear. Warmly inviting. Like luminous pearls shimmering with divine radiance.

One’s mouth would water just looking at it, yearning to catch this heavenly nectar.

Such sacred grace… wasted on filthy ground. What a pity.

A faint, strange odor—bitter and acrid—slowly mingled with Nainai’s ever-present peach-sweet scent.

Fusiming, pressed tightly against her back… caught it instantly.

His face stiffened, frozen in awkwardness.

Silently, he set the Little Succubus down.

But Nainai, still dazed with terror, had no strength left to stand.

Her legs buckled. *Plop.* She landed squarely in the puddle she’d created.

The black cat had canceled its attack the moment it realized it might hurt Nainai—even at the cost of severe backlash to itself.

But it had been a fraction too slow.

That killing intent, enough to scare an ordinary person to death and back… hadn’t fully struck Nainai.

Yet the Little Succubus still tasted its lingering echo.

Roughly equivalent to being strapped to a chair and forced to watch Miss Le Zhi’s entire "execution" show in one second.

Nainai hadn’t relieved herself for hours since leaving home.

Then came that sudden fright…

A shameful little accident.

Her last clean pair of panties was now utterly ruined.

Luckily, Nainai seemed unaware she’d lost control.

Her heart and mind were still reeling from that brutal emotional rollercoaster.

Her pink lips stayed parted. Her gaze remained fixed on the spiderweb-less ceiling.

Her pupils still swam with thick terror.

…

*"Mew… hnn… mew…"*

The three-eyed, double-tailed black cat clung weakly to the steel frame, whimpering softly.

Where was the regal arrogance of a king? Where was the world-scouring fury?

Its "Crimson Sacred Eye" was tightly shut.

Blood streamed from the slit of its closed third eye and the corners of its half-lidded feline eyes.

Recoil and extreme output had ravaged its eyes and brain.

Forcing a full-power recall of its killing intent was like slamming the brakes on a high-speed train—suicidal.

Like yanking out a PC’s RAM while it’s running. Its "motherboard" brain had nearly fried into soup.

That it still clung to consciousness was a miracle.

Only years of meticulous training with the "Crimson Sacred Eye" had spared it worse damage.

But its third eye—its special ability—was now unusable.

Its body trembled, paralyzed by neural strain.

The black cat was now helpless prey. No match for the fully intact Fusiming.

By combat’s end, it had lost.

Not to Fusiming…

But to the priceless memory it cherished.

Exhausted, it forced its eyes open. With its last strength, it gazed at the tiny succubus before the young man.

Beautiful… warm… pink…

Such a nostalgic color…

Blood blurred its vision.

But that fading pink slowly morphed into another figure.

So beloved… so reluctant to let go…

Same petite frame. Same sakura-pink hue. Same delicate, doll-like face.

Only this one’s lips always held a shy, spring-warm smile—childlike and tender.

*"Momo… come play…"*

She’d crept close, timidly extending her chubby little hand. Timidly calling the name forever etched in its heart.

And it had obediently lowered its head, closed its eyes… basking in the warmth of her touch…

*Don’t… leave me…*

It wished this moment could last forever.

But it was all an illusion.

*She* had been stolen by a filthy bastard.

A pitch-black night. A shadowed alley. Torn skirt revealing porcelain skin…

The man’s lecherous grin. The girl’s terrified sobs. A nauseating mix.

He killed her.

After defiling her, that bastard crushed her ribcage bare-handed—gripping both sides like—

*Like that black-haired biped holding Nainai under his arms—*

That sight had ignited endless fury.

Back then, one kick from that monster had left it gasping in a corner.

It couldn’t protect its master.

Just a weak, laughable black cat.

It hated its powerlessness. Craved to tear that man apart with its fangs.

So furious… so full of killing intent…

Its third eye had awakened.

It killed him.

Dismembered him alive—starting from his fingertips, stripping flesh and skin with its double-serrated fangs until only bone remained.

But it didn’t eat him.

Scum like him only deserved to rot in sewers as maggot feed.

It had "avenged" her… yet felt no satisfaction.

Only heart-wrenching grief. Only hollow, endless emptiness.

Powerless, it watched her die.

Powerful…

*She*—that eternally gentle girl who’d softly called it "Momo"—was gone forever.

So young. So full of promise…

In its agony, it scoured newspapers for news of her, dragging them back here.

The papers had rotted. But her image lived on in its memory.

Once, it had considered ending its life—to join her beyond the grave.

But it couldn’t.

Not from fear of death.

It simply refused to waste the life *she* had given it.

Even now, her voice echoed in its mind: holding its dying body at her sickbed, sobbing *"Don’t die…"* over and over.

Those words were the only thread tethering it to life.

So it couldn’t die… not yet…

…

*Thud.*

The black cat could no longer cling to its steel-and-iron "throne."

Like a kite with severed strings, it plummeted.

The king crashed onto the ground from nearly two meters up, kicking up a cloud of dust.

All three eyes shut tight. Body limp. Jaw slack. Even its twin tails lay lifeless on the floor.

Blood seeped from its closed eyes, staining its black fur, mixing with grime on the ground.

Only its faintly rising chest and twitching black nostrils hinted at life.

Then—"change" struck.

*"Mew… mew…"*

A soft meow echoed first, weaving through the rain’s rhythm in the empty room.

*"Mew-mew… hnn-mew…"*

*"Mew-hnn… hnn-hnn-mew…"*

*"Mew…"*

Soon, a mournful chorus of meows swelled.

From under steel frames. Along rafters. Through wall cracks. From shadowed corners…

Black. White. Calico. Tabby. Ginger. Leopard-spotted…

About twenty cats of every kind surged like a tide from the darkness, gathering around their fallen three-eyed king.

The black cat was a "king."

These were its "subjects."

They licked its fur. Nudged its body with wet noses. Wailed in heartbroken meows.

The cat colony wept.

Mourning their defeated sovereign.

…

Fusiming stared numbly at the gathering felines.

Only when their chorus of grief rose did he jolt awake—realizing the monstrous thing he’d just done.

*—What have I done?!*

He raged at himself.

Using a defenseless little girl as a shield—what kind of scum does that?

Nainai was in this mess because of him…

And he’d shamelessly shoved the innocent Little Succubus in front of himself, ignoring her safety?

If the black cat hadn’t retracted its tripled killing intent in time…

Nainai—her fragile mind—would never have survived that assault.

In an instant... Nainai’s soul would be shredded to pieces by that colossal force on the mental plane.

Her mind would be utterly convinced she had already died.

And if this manifested physically...

The little succubus’s brain would wither and perish in a heartbeat, beyond any hope of salvation.

Fusiming had actually gambled with her life?

You—scum!

Humiliation, self-reproach, and utter contempt for himself made Fusiming grind his teeth in agony and seething fury.

He lashed his own thoughts... his own soul.

Again and again, he demanded inside his heart: *What right do you have to even approach Nainai, you bastard?*

No matter how many times he asked, the answer remained three words—

*You deserve this!*

He raised his right hand, clenching it into a fist so tight the veins bulged fiercely on his forearm.

The next second, he slammed it hard into his own cheek.

CRUNCH!

Bone met fist with a sickening, muffled crack.

The horrifying sound snapped the cats’ attention—and jolted Nainai out of her daze.

Blood sprayed wildly.

A twisting force exploded at the center of Fusiming’s cheek, shattering the entire right side of his face.