Li Wei didn’t want his daughter setting unrealistic goals. For now, he’d have her focus solely on mastering the Fireball spell.

Yue Lin’s Level 1 Fireball still had plenty of room for improvement. The mana she could channel was merely one of the simplest factors affecting its power. Beyond that, she could refine casting speed, mana efficiency, even the spell’s core structure.

Even without comparing her to Li Wei or Tsukika, Yue Lin learned basic magic slower than other practitioners with a status panel. But that didn’t mean she lacked talent—the panel itself was essentially a shortcut.

Think of it this way: cultivation with a status panel resembled rote exam prep. Master template methods through repetition, score decently—but hit a ceiling. Practitioners rarely questioned skill mechanics. Few dared attempt techniques the panel marked “unlearnable.” Convenience came at a cost: confinement within the panel’s framework.

Only the rare few who shattered those bounds earned the title “Limit Break.”

Li Wei had once been trapped too. But the “Limit Break” he now wielded had quietly diverged from what other top-tier Chosen Heroes possessed.

His training for Yue Lin? Rooted in fundamentals—boundless by nature. Understanding formulas, deriving principles. Progress might feel slow at first. But once the path cleared, she’d grasp advanced spells in a glance… or even create her own.

This insight deepened Li Wei’s understanding of the world—and stirred new doubts. What *was* this panel? Who created it, and why?

He’d once charged blindly toward his mission to slay the Demon Lord. How many secrets had he missed along the way?

…And how much did *this* Demon Lord truly know?

Li Wei glanced at Tsukika. Catching his gaze, she tilted her head and met his eyes.

Before she could speak—*knock knock*.

“My, the Chosen Hero is popular,” Tsukika remarked leisurely. “Guests keep dropping by.”

The recent unrest hadn’t left Li Wei untouched. Some had approached him about demon-corrupted corpses, urging: “As Chosen Hero, stand against injustice!”—subtly nudging him to act. Whether their motives were pure or self-serving remained unclear.

Li Wei declined all requests. He’d tasked Tsukika with “disposing of bodies” precisely to stay hands-off. Why step back into the fray? The world wouldn’t stop turning without him.

“Yue Lin, mind answering the door?”

Li Wei ignored Tsukika’s tease and looked to his daughter.

Her tiny ahoge twitched. Only after her mother nodded did she reluctantly rise.

Both saw her reluctance. But to thrive here, some contact was unavoidable. Answering the door was a small step.

“I thought quiet life would unsettle you,” Tsukika said after Yue Lin left, sipping the water left in the cup.

Li Wei almost protested—*That’s my cup*—then let it go. *After all we’ve shared…* “My quick adaptation owes much to you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Without the role you play, I wouldn’t have settled in so fast.”

“‘Role’? You don’t think… my role as a mother is just acting?” Her gaze sharpened.

“I meant another role.”

“Not that one…?” The chill in Tsukika’s crimson eyes melted. A flicker of emotion trembled in their glow. She pursed her lips, feigning casual curiosity: “Could it be… you find my *wife* role convincing?”

Beneath her skirt, slender legs sheathed in black stockings pressed together. Her delicate toes curled upward, smug.

“Is it possible,” Li Wei paused, “I meant *rival*?”

He’d once imagined retirement as fishing and bird-watching. But true idleness would’ve grown dull fast. With Tsukika? A delicate balance. No blades drawn—but constant clashes of wit, subtle battles. His pace slowed, yet each day felt vividly full.

Tsukika studied him. “…Hmph. I see.”

“I’d almost thought you were starting to fall for me.” Her voice turned wistful.

Footsteps approached. Both fell silent.

Yue Lin stood at the doorway, ahoge swaying. Her little face was oddly stern.

“Yue Lin, where’s the guest?” Li Wei asked.

“Gone.” She mumbled.

“Did he say anything?”

“Nothing.” She glanced between them, expression tightening.

Tsukika smiled. “Truly no message for Daddy?”

“…No.”

“No item either?”

“N-no.”

“Hmm~” Tsukika pouted playfully. “Strange… Didn’t Yue Lin skip saying ‘He’s *not* my dad’ just now?”

Yue Lin: “…”

“He’s *not* my dad!” she blurted.

Li Wei watched her guiltily swaying ahoge. *Uh-oh.*

Unable to endure her mother’s teasing gaze, Yue Lin shot Li Wei an exasperated look and pulled a letter from behind her back.

The courier had only asked if Mr. Li Wei was home… but the envelope carried a faint, sweet scent.

*Another woman’s perfume!*

Alert Level One!

After finally tasting family warmth these past days—however casually the man acted—Yue Lin refused to lose it. Vigilance kicked in. Her secretly read demonic-script fairy tales had shifted to:

*Black Snow Princess and the Seven Wicked Stepmothers*

*Cinderella of the Demon Clan: No Glass Slipper*

*The Genie’s Stepmother*

*The Stepmother’s New Clothes*

…All grim retellings.

Heartbreaking. Tear-jerking. She’d cried under the covers multiple times. *Happy families shattered by stepmothers!* Children abused, bullied, even kicked by the family dog. After reading, she’d glare at Li Wei with righteous fury—leaving him utterly baffled.

That fear drove her now. *When will this unreliable adult grow up?* She felt so burdened.

Avoiding her mother’s eyes, she huffed at Li Wei: “You…”

“Never mind.” She shook her head, placed the letter in Tsukika’s hand.

After a gentle head pat: “You… won’t fight, right?”

“Of course not~” Tsukika chirped. “Daddy and I are the model couple!” She ushered the hesitant girl out and closed the door.

Leaning against it, the Demon Lord in her slender maiden form held the letter, lips curved. “Nothing to say, Chosen Hero?”

“Should I?” Li Wei replied calmly. He assumed Yue Lin had misunderstood.

Tsukika’s eyebrow lifted—surprised by his ease. Her tension softened. *A misunderstanding?* She tilted the envelope:

“Sender: Inona.”

“—Mailing Address: Holy City of Caveria.”

Li Wei: “?”

…

Inona. The Sword Empress.

One of humanity’s top Chosen Heroes. A veteran of the Demon Lord expedition that slew “Annihilation.”

Tsukika’s expression shifted. This “acquaintance” mattered not for titles—but for her history with Li Wei.

Childhood friends. Fellow Chosen Heroes. Raised side by side.

“So… a letter from the Chosen Hero’s old friend?” Tsukika flicked the envelope, studied him, then handed it over. “Shall we open it?”

Li Wei took it and tore it open without hesitation. He *was* surprised Inona wrote—but had nothing to hide from *this* Demon Lord.

Seeing his openness, Tsukika’s hidden unease faded. When he laid the letter flat on the table, her full attention locked onto the words.

After reading just the first sentence, Tsukika froze for a moment. She turned to Li Wei, her expression unreadable. “When did you write her a letter?”

The letter’s opening line roughly said: *“Long time no see. I’ve received your letter and read every word carefully.”*

“Before jumping to conclusions,” Li Wei replied calmly, “why not read a little further?” Having skimmed half the letter himself, he already knew its origin.

Tsukika pressed her lips together slightly. Her crimson eyes lingered on the boy’s profile for a heartbeat before she lowered her gaze and continued reading.

The rest detailed the recent commotion caused by demon-corrupted corpses near Li Wei’s location. Inona stated she was occupied with a critical assault on a certain Demon King Citadel and couldn’t handle such trivial matters. Due to confidentiality, she didn’t specify which citadel—but confirmed investigators were already en route and would arrive shortly. She advised him to act within his limits, avoid meddling in everything or acting childishly. After all, he was no longer who he once was, and far from the Holy City, no one could guarantee his safety. The tone felt official, yet carried a faint hint of pity.

Tsukika suddenly looked up at Li Wei. His handsome face revealed nothing.

Noticing the Demon Lord’s gaze, Li Wei met her eyes and murmured, “Now do you understand?”

*Understand what?*

She blinked once—then realized his meaning. *But is this really the time to dwell on such trivialities…?*

Composing herself, she said flatly, “You mean… someone from Dawn wrote to her—using your name—to push the investigation forward?”

“Not necessarily *my* name. Just Dawn’s banner. But seeing Dawn’s seal, she likely assumed *I* sent it.” Li Wei mused.

He knew Vivian and Inona didn’t get along. The unsigned plea was probably intentional. Which also suggested… Vivian hadn’t disclosed his connection to Tsukika? Inona’s letter showed no reaction—though she might simply not care. Either way, Li Wei didn’t mind.

He held Tsukika’s gaze. “I thought you’d trust your own eyes before making judgments.”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you been with me these past few days? How could you think *I* sent it?” Li Wei found it odd. This Demon Lord had always been so composed—why slip up now?

Tsukika’s eyes faltered for a split second, then steadied. “Who knows what tricks the Chosen Hero might’ve developed to deceive me as his power returns?”

*…I sounded too hasty.*

Li Wei stiffened slightly, sitting up straighter. Tsukika, gaze lowered, didn’t notice. She muttered coldly, “And saying that about me… aren’t *you* also fooled by surface appearances?”

Seeing his confusion, she offered no explanation and kept reading.

Beyond the report reply, the woman added nostalgic pleasantries: *That incident is long past. No one holds a grudge. Let go of resentment. Return to the Holy City.*

Tsukika distilled the core: *“Ignoring our issues—we’ve forgiven you. Apologize, and things might go back to how they were.”*

“How utterly sanctimonious.”

A flush of heat rose in her chest. As one who witnessed the final battle of Annihilation, *she* knew the truth.

“Are you angry… on my behalf?” Li Wei watched her expression shift.

“Angry? More like pleased.” Tsukika’s irritation melted into mocking amusement. Smiling sweetly, she said, “Thanks to them for *escorting* the Chosen Hero out of the Holy City.”

“Without them… would you have fallen so neatly into my hands?”

Her emotions settled. Her gaze locked onto the letter’s final character—

where a faint magical sigil was imprinted.