“Personally, I believe Lady Xuehua’s concerns hold merit,” Yueji murmured, watching her mistress’s expression through the rain.
Yurou Jiushuang gazed silently at the torrential downpour—whether observing the rain or lost in thought, none could tell.
No matter what occurred, this millennium-old fox demon always wore the same inscrutable calm. No one could fathom the depth of her mind or what truly stirred within.
“After all… that child is still your only…”
“Enough.” Her flat, emotionless tone cut Yueji off mid-sentence.
Yueji wisely fell silent. Though nearly imperceptible, having served Yurou Jiushuang for centuries, she detected a faint chill in the tone.
To the outside world, Yurou Jiushuang was leader of the Fox Demon Clan, one of the last surviving members of the ancient Divine Race—a peerless great demon whose power defied heaven. Dignified and awe-inspiring: tranquil until provoked, and when angered, blood flowed for a thousand miles. Thus, all regarded the Fox Demon Clan with wary distance.
Yet only those who served closely beside her, like Yueji, knew the Heavenly Maiden’s life was far more leisurely than outsiders imagined.
This Nine-Tailed Heavenly Maiden carried herself with lazy nonchalance. When matters arose, she’d slack off whenever possible, avoid responsibility, and dump every task—big or small—onto juniors. All day, she did nothing but curl up in her den and sleep.
Only when the Fox Clan faced insurmountable crises would she flick her tail and intervene.
Without knowing her identity, no one would ever mistake her for the Heavenly Maiden Yurou Jiushuang.
Still, the entire Fox Clan revered her deeply. None dared underestimate her for her laid-back nature.
For once she acted, even the gravest troubles vanished in an instant.
Though she shunned hassle daily, when she turned serious, trouble itself fled her presence.
Perhaps this lazy indifference was merely Yurou Jiushuang’s mask—a facade misleading the world, even her own people, into misjudging her.
Upon reflection, she was truly terrifying. She had never revealed her true face to anyone. Emotions never surfaced. No one knew which words were truth, which were lies.
Every sentence could be true; every sentence could be false.
Truths laced with deception, lies tinged with genuine feeling—no one could decipher which word, which pause, held sincerity.
After all, as a genuine millennium-old fox demon, deception was her greatest art.
She had never once shown raw emotion to anyone—not sorrow, joy, anger, nor loss. She seemed utterly devoid of mortal feeling.
What cannot be seen breeds mystery. And mystery is what makes the unknown most fearsome.
At first, Yueji saw her as a true monster—lacking mortal emotions entirely.
Only in recent decades did she faintly sense: the Heavenly Maiden *did* possess feeling. She simply concealed it so perfectly even Yueji, her personal bodyguard, nearly missed it.
But no concealment is flawless.
Yurou Jiushuang, indifferent to all things, likely never noticed it herself: only when *that child* was mentioned did her composure waver—a barely perceptible slip in her otherwise flawless tone.
The thought flashed through Yueji’s mind. She dared not let Yurou Jiushuang read it.
You don’t tug a tiger’s tail—and you *certainly* don’t tug a millennium-old fox demon’s.
“What Lady Xuehua wished to convey likely relates to this,” Yueji added softly, then fell silent.
Ahead, the silver-haired fox girl said nothing. She trailed the hem of her lavish gown, bare feet smooth and pale as mutton-fat jade, making no sound on the wooden floor.
From nowhere, the Heavenly Maiden produced a piece of aburaage and popped it into her mouth.
“Let’s go. The court assembly begins.”
“As you wish.” Sensing her mistress’s clear reluctance to continue, Yueji retrieved a paper umbrella.
Though Lady Yurou Xuehua had prompted the topic, Yueji dared not press further and risk provoking her.
She had never seen Yurou Jiushuang angry—and had no wish to.
Perhaps only blood kin could truly stir wrath in this seemingly emotionless being. Lady Xuehua once mentioned the child often angered the Heavenly Maiden…
Whether true or not, Yueji couldn’t imagine it.
*Forget it.*
Not her place to ponder her mistress’s family affairs.
Shaking her head, umbrella raised, Yueji followed silently.
Maybe the rain was too loud. Maybe she’d misheard.
“If she dies, it only proves she is unworthy of this bloodline.”
Through the pouring rain, Yueji faintly caught Yurou Jiushuang’s words ahead.
Unsure, she dared not ask. She simply followed her mistress down Tianyue Peak toward the assembly hall.
————
“Mr. Fate?”
“…Hm?” Fate had resecured his arm guards. He glanced at Loraine beside him. “What is it?”
“Are you… truly all right? You look unwell.”
“Can you even see my face, Miss Loraine?” He tapped his iron helmet with a teasing grin.
“…I just noticed you’ve been clutching your wrist. You seem pained.” His teasing irked her slightly—but her worry was genuine. She feared he’d been hurt fighting the monster.
“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
“…I hope so.” Loraine sighed softly and returned to her post.
Watching her go, Fate straightened up.
Slacking-off time was over. He liked loafing, but not endlessly—otherwise, the pay wouldn’t sit right.
A post carried duty.
He glanced at his arm, thoughts turning inward.
*Is the Fox Demon Bloodline stirring again?*
Even the sigil had surfaced—an unprecedented sign.
Instinctively, his fingers tightened around the pendant.
It held no power to suppress the blood—only to alter appearance. If the unrest continued, he’d need another solution.
Returning to his post, setting aside the ache, Fate stood outside the church, sword in hand, gazing upward.
Evening had crept in unnoticed. Sunset hues climbed the sky, staining half the mountainside crimson.
These were perilous times. Few would come to pray. *Because* of these times, he stood guard—warding off threats like stray monsters breaching the church.
After all, he was the only one here with combat capability.
