Mulan had just stepped out of the basement when she nearly collided with Mirophiel walking straight toward her.

The witch’s eyes flickered with an unreadable glimmer; her mysterious smile left Mulan utterly baffled.

“Little Mulan, do you like that fox?”

Mulan kept her face stern, refusing to offer Mirophiel even a hint of warmth.

“Witch, trying to use your charms on me? Dream on. My will is unshakable. Go wash up and get some sleep.”

“Oh dear,” Mirophiel sighed theatrically, her voice dripping with faux regret. “If the Starplucking Princess won’t cooperate… I’ll have to toss the rest of the Violet Crystal Grapes.”

Even Mulan saw right through that act.

This scheming witch was definitely plotting something.

No way she’d fall for it.

But she couldn’t ignore the last part.

*Throw away the remaining Violet Crystal Grapes?*

What a sinful waste!

Mulan would never allow such recklessness.

After all, she hadn’t finished the grapes earned at the cost of her dignity—she’d shared half with that rude fox girl.

How could she let them be discarded before she’d even had her fill?

“Damn it…”

She saw it clearly: a blatant, open provocation.

Mirophiel watched the pink-haired girl grit her teeth, waiting for her next undignified move.

“Respected Lady Mirophiel… please hand over the remaining Violet Crystal Grapes.”

Swallowing her shame, Mulan’s body trembled slightly, as if she could be cut out along dotted lines.

“There we go.”

Mirophiel couldn’t resist stroking her silky hair.

What’s more fun than teasing an underdeveloped Starplucking Princess?

“Mmm, good girl. Since you tried so hard, I’ll give you a drink.”

From nowhere, Mirophiel produced a mysterious vial filled with blood-red liquid, its eerie aura sending a chill down the spine.

Mulan shoved her back instantly.

“Too far, witch! Testing potions on your leader? I’ll never surrender!”

Mirophiel feigned distress. “Oh dear… disobedient again? You were so cooperative just now.”

“Hmph. Just playing along.”

Mulan’s principles were flexible—unless food was involved, she couldn’t care less.

Mirophiel didn’t seem offended. “What if I said this potion could make you stronger?”

“Huh?”

Mulan’s golden eyes lit up. Her gaze locked onto the liquid, hunger flashing in them.

Mirophiel handed it over without hesitation, curious what would happen.

“By the way… I have no idea what it actually does.”

Mulan took the vial, eyeing her suspiciously. “I’ve every reason to think you’re using me as a test subject.”

“Of course you can think that. Power always carries risk, doesn’t it?”

“In other factions, this’d get you executed for treason.”

Mulan longed to surpass Mirophiel—but she wasn’t naive.

A faint smirk touched Mirophiel’s lips. “Scared? Even if it fails, I can save you. You *are* our Starplucking Princess.”

“Huh? Who’s scared? Bring it!”

Mulan gulped it down, smacked her lips, then wrinkled her nose.

“Weird taste.”

Minutes passed.

Mirophiel’s hopeful expression faded. “Seems like it failed.”

The potion wasn’t refined. Just harmless fruit juice… and one drop of blood from a fox.

Blood of a Nine-Tailed Fox from the Azure Fox Realm was a prized alchemical ingredient—but required complex processing. Mirophiel had used raw blood purely to test a theory.

No reaction yet. Failure? Or just delayed?

Mulan’s lip twitched. She swung a punch at Mirophiel.

“Magnetic Field Spin! Power of One Million Horses! Sea Cat Explosive Fist! Ha!”

*Thud.*

“Hmm?”

Mirophiel felt the feeble blow, then gently stroked Mulan’s hair with her black-lace-gloved hand. “Trying to give me a massage, Little Mulan?”

“Enough! I did what you asked. Hand over the grapes.”

She’d been happy for a chance to grow stronger.

Now? Unhappy.

Only food could soothe this mood.

“Mmm… kidding. There are no more. Those were the last bunch. Witches lie—it’s normal, right?”

Mirophiel grinned, pinched Mulan’s cheek, and turned away as Mulan’s fury threatened to make her fur stand on end.

“Damn.”

Teeth gritted, helpless against the infuriating woman.

“Just wait. I, Mulan, *will* get my revenge.”

Night fell.

Mulan slept deeply.

She drifted into a strange dream.

She *was* Qingqiu Zili—viewing the Azure Fox Realm through her eyes.

Yet Mulan had no control. A silent passenger in Zili’s memories.

This wasn’t a dream. It was memory-walking.

Among fox clans, fur color signaled nobility and strength limits:

red, white, black, blue foxes… and the noblest of all, the Golden Nine Tails.

In this era, no Golden Nine Tails had been born. Blue foxes reigned highest.

As a rare blue fox—and a princess—Qingqiu Zili was adored from birth.

Foxes doted on her.

She lived a life others envied: Violet Crystal Grapes, a delicacy even black foxes spared, were served at every meal.

Yet freedom remained out of reach.

Confined strictly within the Azure Fox Realm, elders feared their precious blue-furred princess might perish beyond its borders.

But Qingqiu Zili craved freedom.

She attempted escape again and again—only to be dragged back by powerful elders.

She didn’t want coddling. Didn’t want suffocating protection. Didn’t want power.

She wanted only to roam free.

A gilded cage was no home, even wrapped in love.

That was why she chose to follow the fearsome witch Mirophiel.

She believed—only beside her could true freedom be found.