"Impossible! How could I lose to a newcomer?!" Mo Feng panicked, his movements turning flustered and clumsy.

Rubble and debris, guided by his magic, surged toward Ling Yu in heaps. Yet Ling Yu never slowed his pace—the blade in his hand danced with the fluid grace of his own limbs.

In a single flash of steel, the crashing rubble shattered into harmless dust. All the while, Mo Feng watched Ling Yu’s motions.

A familiar silhouette suddenly surfaced in Mo Feng’s vision—overlapping perfectly with Ling Yu, stirring a haunting sense of déjà vu.

As that eerie familiarity washed over him, his already frayed nerves snapped further. But before he could react—

—the Twin Xu in Ling Yu’s grip blurred mid-swing, then split cleanly into two blades.

With a reverse grip on both swords, Ling Yu spun in a flawless arc. Swirling sword aura swept every speck of dust from around him.

One Twin Xu halted mere inches from Mo Feng’s throat. Mo Feng stood frozen, dazed, his own hands stilled.

"I’ll stop here. I’ve won this trial!"

"H-how… impossible!" Refusing to believe he’d lost to a newcomer, Mo Feng slumped against the trial barrier, his body slowly sinking until he knelt weakly on the ground.

"Whoa! He actually beat Teacher Mo Feng? So cool!"

"I kinda wanna ask him to teach me swordsmanship!"

"Woo-hoo~!"

Cheers for Ling Yu erupted across the arena—deafening, thunderous, beyond words.

…

That night, before a pitch-black window, lamplight traced the silhouette of a young man in the glass.

Still lost in the memory of defeating Mo Feng and the crowd’s roaring praise, Ling Yu stood grinning foolishly at the pane.

Beside him, Tongxi—already in her nightgown—tugged gently at his hand, eager to burrow under the covers together.

But Ling Yu kept staring at his own reflection, smiling like a fool.

*Hehe… Finally. After all these years, I gave that guy the beating he deserved. What a rush!*

"Ah~"

A soft weight climbed his leg. Ling Yu blinked, glancing down.

Tongxi clung to his thigh, her ruby-red eyes sparkling with faint white luminescence blinking gently within them.

"Do you really love clinging to me this much, huh~?" Ling Yu murmured, stroking her head. She looked even more docile and sweet than a tamed pet.

But then—

Gurgle… gurgle~

His stomach growled again. Hunger surged, sharp and relentless.

"How am I hungry *again*?! Ugh, not good!" Ling Yu groaned, clutching his belly.

Tongxi glanced up at him, concern flickering in her eyes.

"Haha, it’s fine! Not hungry—just my stomach’s been weird lately! Totally fine! Sleep fixes everything!" Ling Yu laughed awkwardly, patting her head.

They slipped beneath the thick blankets together, shielding themselves from winter’s bite.

Minutes ticked by. Hunger gnawed on. Gurgle… gurgle…

*I’m not hungry. I’m not hungry. I’m not hungry~ Really not hungry~*

Battling the ache, Ling Yu nearly turned "I’m not hungry" into his personal sheep-counting mantra.

*I’m not hungry! I really am not!*

Unnoticed, the darkness before him melted into a dreamy violet haze.

"Where… is this?"

As she realized the world had shifted, she heard her own voice—changed. Tender. Childlike. Laced with unnatural allure.

Zila lowered her head.

She was back in her succubus loli form. Two light-purple twin-drill braids cascaded over her shoulders, resting against her small chest. Propped up by her budding curves, the braids—once ankle-length—now dangled just past her calves, swaying freely.

She wore the elegant purple-and-white Lolita dress from before her escape: the very gown Demon Empress Zili had given her.

"Why would I…"

"Zila, my dear granddaughter… come back to this Empress."

A tender, hypnotic voice whispered behind her. Before Zila could turn, delicate arms wrapped around her waist. Slender fingers gleamed like unearthed treasure.

Recognizing Zi Li, Zila tensed—but the embrace held firm, soft pressure pressing into her lower back.

Flustered, cheeks burning, she recoiled inwardly. *This is the one who killed my comrades…* Disgust and hatred twisted with unwanted intimacy, coiling into nausea.

"Come back to Grandma, sweet girl. No more mischief, okay?"

The whisper was velvet-soft, lulling yet addictive. For a heartbeat, Zila almost surrendered to its warmth.

Then—*my brothers*.

She seized the slender hands clutching her and shoved them away. Spinning back, she stumbled several steps, pointing a trembling finger.

"Y-you! How are you *here*?!"

"Grandma will always be with Zila. Grandma is your only family," Zi Li cooed, stepping closer.

"I said *no*!" Zila shouted, arms raised in refusal. "I’m not your granddaughter! I’m human—not a succubus, not a demon!"

"Are you still angry about the stab? I’m sorry, my dear…" Zi Li’s eyes shimmered with feigned remorse.

"It’s not *just* the stab! It’s what you turned me *into*!" Zila stomped her foot, fury blazing.

"You *are* my granddaughter. Deny it all you want. Come home—plenty of food waits for you…"

"I *refuse*! I’m not your princess! Not your granddaughter!" Zila’s voice cracked. Her gaze locked onto Zi Li’s chest.

"The necklace!"

Zi Li’s smirk widened.

The necklace *should* have been on Zila—clinging stubbornly, impossible to remove. Yet here it was… on *her*.

"This isn’t Zi Li… You’re that demonic blade! The one that slaughtered my comrades!" Zila’s eyes sharpened to blades.

"What nonsense, Zila?"

"You’re the fake! The blade wearing her face!"

"Hehe… As expected of the Demon God Bloodline’s heir, scion of the Belanite Clan—so sharp!" The imposter Zi Li laughed, voice dripping with mock admiration.

"I don’t care about bloodlines or clans! Change me back! *Now*!" Zila lunged, grabbing the taller figure’s collar—but her tiny frame only created a absurdly cute tug-of-war.

The fake Zi Li chuckled. "Adorably foolish, just like your former master. I admire you… *my new master*."

Her form dissolved. The violet dreamscape crumbled around Zila.

As the ground vanished beneath her feet, she tumbled into the void, shouting through the fall:

"I am *not* your master! Change me back—or I’ll carve you into a thousand pieces!"