"Damn it!" one of the Wu Clan elders roared, his voice trembling with rage as the flames devoured the warehouse. The acrid smoke rose high into the night sky, carrying with it the scent of charred flesh. Nearly a dozen men had perished, their screams drowned beneath the crackle of fire.
The elder's hands shook as he watched the inferno consume more than lives—it burned their precious stock of white-masked pills to ash. In the distance, another thunderous blast echoed, rattling the island. The frontal base's entire stock of explosives had detonated overnight, annihilating the compound and every man inside.
"How could this happen?!" he bellowed, his voice breaking as panic spread among the remaining clansmen.
Scattered corpses told a darker story. Not all had died in fire—many bore precise, deadly wounds, small holes bored through skulls and chests. Killed cleanly, with impossible efficiency.
"This… this can't be!" another elder gasped. "No intruder could have set foot on the island without us knowing. The formations—our barriers—they should have sensed them long before they got near!"
"Impossible!" another snapped. "Whether by sea or by sky, even Monarchs would be detected! How did they bypass everything?"
Liu Wuyan stood apart, his face grim as he surveyed the ruins. His stomach twisted. This warehouse had also been the prison for their captives—including the Jin family's loyal attendant they had stolen away. Now, all he saw was fire and death. No survivors.
But what rattled him most wasn't the destruction. It was the precision.
Those corpses—they weren't killed by blades, nor poisoned, nor burned by profound flames. They were executed. Silent and unseen.
His mind turned over the impossibility. The sea was bound with arrays. The air woven with alarms. Even the ground was sealed. Nothing—nothing—should have allowed an outsider in.
And yet someone had come. They had come, struck with terrifying precision, and vanished as if they had never existed.
Liu Wuyan's face darkened. Monsters… or ghosts?
Above the burning island, the sky darkened as several profound arks tore through the clouds, their banners whipping violently in the sea wind. Their shadows loomed over the destruction below, and one ark descended lower, its decks lined with armored cultivators.
A middle-aged man stepped off the bow, descending with effortless grace. His profound energy rippled like an invisible tide, pressing against the island. His mere presence silenced the chaos for a moment. Fifth Level of the Emperor Profound Realm. Elder Fang had arrived.
The surviving elders immediately rushed to him.
"Elder Fang! You finally came."
Fang's sharp eyes swept over the flames and corpses, his expression unreadable. "What happened here?" His tone was calm, but it carried the weight of authority that demanded nothing less than truth.
The lead elder bowed, frustration etched across his soot-stained face.
"It is still unknown. Whether it was an attack… or sabotage. The assailants struck unseen, undetected. It is even possible they remain hidden somewhere on the island."
Fang's gaze hardened. "Then search." His voice cracked like a whip. "Scour every inch of soil, every shadow, every tidepool. Tear apart the formations if you must. If they escaped by air, sea, or earth, they will leave a trace. And if they still lurk here…" His aura flared briefly, murderous. "…I will drag them out myself."
The other elders barked orders, and men scrambled to suppress the flames while search parties began sweeping the island.
But before Fang could leave, the lead elder stepped forward, lowering his voice. "I know you just arrived, but we have… another mission for you."
Fang arched a brow, his aura dimming just enough to listen.
"A mission?"
"Yes," the elder said grimly. "Princess Cang Yue of the Blue Wind Imperial Family has arrived in this city. She is not alone—she is protected."
"Protected? By whom?" Elder Fang asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Do you know the name… Xue Ling?"
Fang frowned in thought. "Xue Ling… from the Heavenly Sword Villa? A mere disciple, wasn't she? The only female among their higher ranks. Last I heard, she was a mid-stage Sky Profound Realm. Hardly worth remembering. Why mention her now?"
The elder's lips thinned. "Because she now stands in the Fourth Level of the Emperor Profound Realm. She has become the Princess's shadow—her guardian. And because of her, the Jin Family is untouchable."
"What?!" Fang's voice cut through the air, cold and sharp. "That's impossible. Without the serum we developed, no one could ascend to Emperor Profound that quickly."
"Yet she did," the elder replied darkly. "And now she's a thorn in our throats."
A silence fell, broken only by the crackle of the burning ruins behind them. Fang's aura stirred like a storm barely contained.
"So… what is it you expect of me?"
The elder leaned closer, his voice venomous. "We need you to defeat her—and annihilate the Princess. Cang Yue's presence has tipped the balance. With her around, the Imperial Family's support of Jin Zhuo is unshakable. Eliminate her, and the rest falls apart."
"Kill the Princess?" Fang's tone was low, dangerous.
"Yes. Kill her. Kill her guardian. And kill Jin Zhuo's daughter—Jin Mulan. Her cultivation already surpasses Zhu Lin, general of the Zhu Family. If she is allowed to grow, she will become another throne against us."
"And the rest?"
"Leave Jin Zhuo alive. Let him live long enough to bear the blame. When the city believes he betrayed the Princess and her allies, the reinstatement of his title will be revoked. His own people will tear him down for us."
Fang's expression shifted into something cruel, almost amused. Slowly, he nodded.
"Very well. If that is your will, then tonight, blood will run in the Jin Family estate."
He raised his hand, and dozens of men dressed in black profound uniforms stepped forward, silent as shadows. Killing intent rolled from them like a tide.
"The Princess. The guardian. Jin Mulan. Her mother, Jin Yuelian." Fang's lips curled into a smile devoid of warmth. "By the time the sun rises… none of them will remain."
Their flight brought them down to the outskirts of the beach that approach the outer Xuanwu City. Sand crunched beneath their boots as Elder Fang led the dozen men cloaked in black toward the Jin Family estate.
Suddenly—
"Hehe… hehe…"
The childish laughter drifted across the shore like a ghostly chime, sweet yet unsettling.
The assassins froze mid-step. Even Elder Fang's gaze sharpened. "Who's there?!"
The laughter didn't stop. It echoed all around them, bouncing between the rocks and waves.
"Hehe… what weird uncles…"
A childish voice teased them, playful, mocking.
The men turned sharply, weapons drawn, scanning every shadow. Then they saw her.
A small girl stood a short distance away—floating a few feet above the sand.
She looked no older than five. She wore an oversized, oddly styled pink kimono that swallowed her small frame, her black with fuchsia hair tipped, swaying lightly in the sea breeze. Her wide pink eyes gleamed unnaturally bright, and between her lips, she bit down on a strip of bamboo as though it were a toy.
One of the assassins blinked, lowering his weapon slightly. "A… a child?"
"She's floating…" another whispered, suddenly uneasy.
The girl tilted her head, blinking innocently at them. Her gaze swept over their black uniforms, their weapons, their killing intent. Then she giggled again.
"Hehe… weird uncles playing dress-up…"
The men stiffened. There was no profound fluctuation from her, no aura, nothing to mark her as a cultivator. Yet the sight of her hovering in the air made their scalps crawl.
Elder Fang narrowed his eyes, his instinct screaming at him that this was no ordinary child.
The air grew heavier.
"Weird uncles with hoodies."
"Hoodies."
The voice repeated again, but this time—from three different directions.
The assassins snapped their heads around, and their eyes widened.
Not one… but three identical little girls floated around them. Same pink-tipped hair. Same oversized pink clothes. Same wide pink eyes biting down on the bamboo strip.
One hovered near the beach's tide, her reflection rippling on the water.
Another hung upside down from midair like a dangling bat.
The third simply drifted a few steps behind Elder Fang, as though she had been there the whole time.
"Triplets?!" one of the men hissed.
"No… no, this must be some illusion!" another barked, clutching his blade tighter.
But the laughter didn't stop. It overlapped. It echoed. It drilled into their ears.
"Hehe… hehe…"
Elder Fang's brows furrowed, his instincts screaming. He drew his weapon, profound energy flaring to life in a sharp wave.
"This is no illusion. Keep your guard up!"
The three little girls tilted their heads at the same time, eerily synchronized. Their pink eyes glimmered under the moonlight, too sharp, too knowing, for children.
And then—like a chorus—
"Weird uncles… playing killers."
"What in the…!" Elder Fang muttered, his voice half-snarl, half-disbelief.
The three little girls darted around them like drifting fireflies, their movements childlike yet too precise, too fluid. Each giggle echoed unnaturally, bouncing off the waves and trees until the assassins could no longer tell where it came from.
One of the black-clad men snarled. "I'll end this nonsense!" He flared his profound energy, unleashing a burst of dark arts that swallowed the area in shadowy tendrils.
The little girls… simply twirled aside. Giggling. Spinning. Their tiny feet never touched the ground. The shadows bent uselessly, like children's toys failing to catch butterflies.
"Hehe… slow uncle."
One of them stopped mid-air. Her small pink eyes locked onto the assassin, and without warning—
a blade of pure radiant light formed in her tiny hand.
Elder Fang's heart jolted.
She tossed it. Not with martial discipline, but with the carefree motion of a child skipping a stone.
The sword of light cut through the man's chest in an instant. His body spasmed before collapsing into ash, the glowing wound eating him alive from the inside.
"That's—!" another assassin shouted, his face blanching. "The Radiant Sword! That's a Heavenly Sword Villa technique—only the top elders and disciples can use it!"
"But she's—she's a child!"
The three girls tilted their heads in unison. The one who had thrown the sword giggled again, bamboo shifting in her mouth.
"Not… children."
And then, as though to mock them further—two more radiant blades flickered into existence, one in each of the other girls' hands.
Elder Fang felt a bead of sweat slide down his temple.
Dozens of Sky Profound Realm assassins flared their auras, weapons drawn, dark arts flickering around them like hungry flames. Any other opponent would have been crushed by their combined pressure.
But the three little girls… only giggled.
"Uncles are loud."
"Too loud."
"Shhh~"
They weaved between sword strikes and waves of profound energy as if strolling through falling petals. Blades missed them by hairsbreadth, spears pierced empty air, and every formation technique collapsed before it even touched them.
One assassin roared and tried to snatch one of them by the arm—only for her body to dissolve into motes of light, reappearing behind him with her tiny finger poking his back.
"Bang."
His chest exploded outward in a spray of blood before he even screamed.
The other two girls clapped in eerie delight. "Hehe… uncle go boom~"
"Damn it! They're just children!" another shouted, his voice shaking with forced bravado. But his eyes betrayed him—fear had already settled in.
"Children? No… demons." whispered a third, backing away as two of the pink-haired girls spun around him, faster than his eyes could follow. Their giggles overlapped, mocking, almost sing-song.
Slash.
A radiant cut bloomed across his chest.
Thrust.
Another pierced through his shoulder.
By the time he realized what had happened, his body was already collapsing, life pouring out of him like a broken wineskin.
The assassins regrouped, back to back, panting heavily. Dozens of them—yet they looked like prey trapped in a cage. The girls circled them lazily, eyes glowing, pink hair floating as if carried by an unseen current.
Elder Fang's knuckles whitened around his sword hilt. They weren't just coordinated. Their movements were too deliberate—three minds acting as one, weaving around the men like wolves corralling sheep.
They weren't fighting.
They were playing.
And predators that played with their food never left survivors.
"Damn brats!" Elder Fang roared, his profound energy surging as he slashed at the darting figures. But the little girl was too fast—her giggles danced around him like a mocking bell. His strikes tore through nothing but air.
And then—he realized too late. One of them had been floating right at his side the whole time, silent, smiling, as if enjoying his futile effort.
"Hehe… uncle swings too slow."
His heart jolted. He leapt back, sweat beading his brow.
A soft, calm voice cut through the chaos.
"Yoruko. Enough. Stop playing."
"Hai!" the three girls chimed in unison, abandoning their game. Like obedient sisters, they zipped through the air and assembled neatly in front of a new figure who had appeared out of nowhere.
Every assassin froze.
A woman stood before them. She had approached without a ripple of presence, not a whisper of aura, as if she had simply stepped into existence. Her wide-brimmed veiled sunhat obscured her face, and her strange Victorian dress was unlike anything in the Profound Sky Continent.
But the true horror was not her presence—
It was the fourth child drifting to her side.
Another black-haired with fuchsia tips little girl, identical to the others, hovered beside the veiled woman.
Four. Not one. Not two. Not three.
Four of those little monsters.
The assassins' bravado shattered. Elder Fang's fingers trembled around his sword hilt as he tried to steady his breathing. His men muttered in panic:
"Four…? There were only three…"
"This can't be real…"
The veiled woman lifted her head slightly. Beneath the shade of her hat, they caught the faintest glimpse of her lips—curved into a knowing smile.
And for the first time that night, Elder Fang felt it in his bones.
The four children circled her like phantom fireflies, their giggles fading into silence as the veiled woman advanced. She walked on air as if it were solid ground, each step echoing with a faint, unnatural sound—like heels clicking on a marble floor that did not exist.
The little ones trailed behind her, their pink eyes glowing faintly, drifting around her in an orbit that felt less like play and more like a predator's dance. Their presence wasn't innocent—it was menacing, deliberate, a reminder that these were no ordinary children.
The woman stopped, her wide-brimmed sunhat tilting ever so slightly as her unseen gaze fell upon the assassins. Her voice was calm, low, yet it carried with it a weight that pressed on their chests like a mountain.
"This is as far as you go."
Elder Fang's grip tightened on his sword. His men shifted uneasily, their breaths ragged, sweat dripping down their temples. He ground his teeth, forcing down the fear creeping into his veins.
They hadn't been told of this. Not another guardian. Not this woman. And certainly not these… creatures.
Who was she?
Who were these children?
And why did it feel like they had walked straight into the jaws of something they couldn't understand?
The woman lifted her hand ever so slightly. Shadows gathered like ink in water, condensing into the shape of a weapon. Within moments, a tall, ornate sword emerged—its single-edged black blade curved like a crescent of midnight, the air around it vibrating faintly with a chill that sank into bone.
Her voice was calm, flat, yet inarguable.
"Go back to your masters. You will not receive another warning."
"Go away, desu!"
"Away, desu!"
"Desu!"
"Desu!"
The four little ones chimed in cheerfully, circling her with claps and giggles, as though the whole confrontation was nothing more than an annoying interruption to their game.
But the assassins did not laugh. They could not.
There was no aura. No profound pressure. Not a trace of spiritual presence from either the woman or the children—as if they weren't even living beings at all. And yet every instinct screamed that the slightest step forward would mean their deaths.
Elder Fang's jaw tightened, his pride burning hotter than the flames that had destroyed their warehouse. A Fifth Level Emperor Profound Realm cultivator. Even Ling Tianni of Heavenly Sword Villa would hesitate before crossing him. The so-called Four Great Sects? Mere insects before the backing of the Sacred Ground. And now, this veiled woman dared to stand in his way with nothing but eerie silence and four little wraiths circling her heels.
His voice came out as a growl, heavy with killing intent.
"Watch your tone, woman."
Dark energy surged from his body like a tide, unfurling into a suffocating domain. Black mist hissed across the air, corroding even the light itself as he attempted to drown her in his power.
The woman sighed, as though already bored.
"Consider this your warning."
Her eyes flicked toward the children.
"Yoruko. Deal with the pests. Leave this one to me."
"Hai!" the four little ones chimed together, their childish voices sharp with excitement. With peals of laughter, they darted forward, ignoring Elder Fang entirely, turning their game into a slaughter as they descended upon the black-clad assassins.
"Brats!" Elder Fang roared, stepping forward—
But a flash of viridian light split the air. A curved slash of green energy hissed past his cheek, so close it cut a strand of his hair before dissipating harmlessly in the distance.
His eyes snapped toward her.
The woman stood unmoved, her black blade humming faintly as though alive.
"An elder of your stature… lowering himself to strike at children?" Her tone was quiet, almost pitying. "How pitiful."
The assassins braced themselves against the tide of giggles—then the world blurred.
The four little girls scattered like petals in the wind, slipping between spears and blades with impossible grace. One blinked behind a Sky Profound assassin, tugged playfully at his cloak like a mischievous child, then drove a glowing claw straight through his spine. He gasped, eyes wide, but the girl was already gone—vanishing in a streak of pink light.
"Tag! You're it, desu~!" another chimed, her tiny fist slamming into a man's gut with bone-crushing force. He coughed blood and crumpled to his knees in midair as she twirled with delight, clapping like she had won a game.
Two assassins coordinated, blades flashing as they struck at one girl from opposite sides. Their attacks cut cleanly—through nothing. She fractured into a ring of afterimages, each illusion giggling louder, the sound rattling inside their skulls. By the time they realized which one was real, it was already far too late.
The four little demons moved as if they shared a single mind. If one was targeted, another shielded her; if one defended, the next was already counterattacking. Their coordination was terrifying, unnatural.
The assassins tried to unleash their energy weapons in desperation, but Yoruko met them head-on. She didn't dodge—she punched. A single blow shattered their constructs, the recoil tearing through their profound cores and leaving them coughing blood.
They stared in horror. Forget facing four of these children—against even one, they couldn't land a hit. The Nezukos danced around them, swift and merciless, protecting, attacking, dismantling. Every move was a trap. Every laugh a death knell.
"This… these things aren't human!" one survivor shrieked, his voice breaking into panic.
The Nezukos only circled tighter, eyes glowing, their laughter building into a chorus of innocent cruelty. Predators in the guise of children. The stench of blood filled the air, but they smiled as though playing a festival game.
"Hehehehe…" the four giggled in unison, darting around their prey. Their small forms blurred, weaving between strikes and nudging blades off-course. Each time the assassins unleashed their profound techniques, the girls redirected them with a tap or feint—making the men's attacks crash into one another.
The assassins shouted in panic as their own allies were cut down by their own hands, while the Nezukos clapped and cheered as if watching fireworks.
Meanwhile, Elder Fang locked his glare on the woman before him. The viridian slash still hummed in his memory—its power enough to split mountains, yet delivered with the restraint of a warning.
"You dare mock me?" he growled, darkness swelling around him like a storm. He launched forward, his black domain collapsing into a spear thrust meant to crush her entirely.
The veiled woman didn't flinch. She stepped once, air ringing beneath her heel like struck glass, and her black blade swept out lazily.
Clang.
Elder Fang's spear shattered on contact. The shockwave blew back his robes and sent cracks racing through the earth below them.
His heart lurched. Impossible…!
Elder Fang roared, summoning a storm of dark spears that filled the sky. With a snap of his wrist, they shot forward in a relentless tide, tearing the air apart as they converged on the veiled woman.
The impact shook the heavens. Explosions rippled through the air, blasting craters into the very fabric of the floating island. Dust and debris swirled in a violent tempest, the echo of destruction rolling like thunder.
"Hmph…" Elder Fang sneered, catching his breath. "It's over. Not even that wench could survive—"
His words froze in his throat.
Through the haze of dust, a figure still stood where she had been all along. The woman hadn't moved an inch. Her veil fluttered softly, her ornate black blade still in hand. Around her, fragments of glowing shards dissolved—the remnants of a translucent barrier of swords that had quietly absorbed the storm.
With a flick of her wrist, the barrier shattered like glass, fading into motes of green light. She tilted her head slightly, not the least bit threatened—if anything, she looked amused.
"That's it?" her calm voice cut through the silence like a blade. "I was hoping a bit more."
Elder Fang roared and slammed his halberd down with enough force to split mountains. The veiled woman merely lifted her black blade, steel ringing against steel. Sparks flew, but her arm didn't so much as tremble. She exhaled softly, then raised one heel and drove her foot into his abdomen.
CRACK!
The Elder was hurled backwards, his body smashing through the jagged beach rock formations like brittle glass. Blood sprayed from his lips as he struggled to catch his breath, his pride crushed more than his ribs.
"This is… oddly disappointing." The woman lowered her blade, voice heavy with disinterest. "Are so-called Profound Emperors… only this much?"
Her words stung worse than her kick. Elder Fang staggered back into view, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. His eyes burned with rage.
"You wench… who the hell are you?"
"No one," she replied, sighing as though bored with the very question. "I am just here to kill some time… and let my sisters play."
At the mention, Fang's gaze flickered toward the four pink-haired demons giggling as they played around his men. His stomach churned with unease. "Those… things. They aren't human. No matter. After I kill you, they'll be next!"
His aura surged, choking the air with dread. "Wallow in darkness you can never escape!"
The world around them shifted as his domain erupted, plunging everything into absolute black. Sight, sound, even the faintest sensation of space dissolved into suffocating nothingness. In here, Elder Fang was God, and his prey was blind.
"Now… let's see you sneer!" he spat, striking from the void.
CLANG!
His weapon missed. Somehow, she had sidestepped the blow. Again and again, he struck—each attack faster, deadlier—but she evaded with unnatural ease, her movements soundless, her presence impossible to grasp.
"This—impossible!" Elder Fang snarled, panic creeping into his voice. "My domain strips away every sense! How can you react?!"
The woman's voice was calm, almost amused, echoing through the abyss.
"Do I have to explain?"
Her blade pulsed with eerie green light. She slammed it down, and a crescent slash of raw energy tore through the void. Fang barely rolled aside as the domain itself shuddered, his confidence splintering.
She could hear him.
Every word he spoke. Every breath he took.
And she was letting him know.
Elder Fang lunged from the suffocating dark, blade aimed for her heart. At last, his strike connected—
CLANG!
His eyes widened in disbelief. The veiled woman had caught the edge of his weapon… with her bare hand. Not a drop of blood spilled, not even a scratch marred her pale skin. She held it effortlessly, as though his full might were nothing more than a child's tantrum.
Before he could react, her black sword pulsed. With a single swing, she unleashed a storm of emerald sword-light that devoured the void before her. The blast ripped through the domain, obliterating everything in its path and leaving behind only trembling silence.
Elder Fang gritted his teeth and, in desperation, twisted his wrist with a hidden art. A jagged shockwave tore her grip loose just long enough for him to wrench his blade free. He spun with the momentum and lashed out again—not at her flesh, but at her hat.
The veiled sunhat snapped away, spinning into the darkness.
His breath caught in his throat.
From beneath the brim spilled a waterfall of raven-black hair, silken and impossibly long, cascading down past her knees. Her face emerged in the faint emerald glow of her swordlight—features so flawless, so divinely sculpted, that the world itself seemed to falter. Her eyes, fathomless pools of onyx, gazed at him with detached indifference… as though beauty itself had chosen to mock him by wearing a human form.
An unbearably beautiful swordswoman.
The kind of beauty men would slaughter kingdoms to possess. The kind that poets would die chasing. Yet for him—she stood not as dream, but as executioner.
Elder Fang's grip trembled. His weapon, his cultivation, his pride—all of it felt like ash before that unearthly face. For the first time in centuries, no words could leave his mouth.
The woman tilted her head ever so slightly, as if mildly curious at his paralysis. Her expression remained unreadable.
"...Is staring all you can do?"
With a faint sigh, she raised her hand. The sunhat reformed in a swirl of black mist, settling neatly back atop her head. Her radiance vanished beneath its shadow, as though the heavens themselves had been hidden away once more.
With a flick of her wrist, the veiled woman sliced the air. A crescent of green light erupted forward, sharp and merciless.
Elder Fang twisted aside, his smirk curling as he sneered. Too slow.
But his grin froze.
The attack wasn't meant for him.
Behind him, the slash carved through the battlefield like judgment itself, tearing across the cluster of black-clad men who were still being toyed with by the four little girls. Screams rang out as bodies were hurled aside, cut clean through by the shimmering arc of power. In an instant, several of his men were reduced to nothing more than lifeless husks falling into the waves below.
The children—Nezukos, each one giggling in eerie unison—didn't even flinch. They weaved around the chaos, eyes gleaming as if this slaughter were merely part of their game. The survivors scrambled, realizing too late that they weren't being hunted by the children at all. They were being herded.
And Yoru's attack had wiped them out with chilling precision.
"You bitch!" Elder Fang roared, his blade flashing as he launched a flurry of strikes at the veiled woman.
But Yoru merely sighed, lifting her massive black sword with one hand. To her, the weight was nothing—she wielded it as effortlessly as a pair of chopsticks, each clash ringing with a dull finality that mocked his desperation.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Every strike he unleashed was parried with casual grace, her eyes never once betraying strain.
"Could you hurry this up?" she exhaled, her tone as calm as falling snow. "I wish to have my tea."
The words struck deeper than any blade. A Fifth Level Emperor Profound Realm expert… being toyed with.
Her wrist flicked again, and another emerald slash howled forth. Elder Fang barely intercepted it, his arms trembling from the sheer force. For one chilling heartbeat, he thought he had managed to stop it.
Then the power overwhelmed his guard.
The crescent tore past his defense, forcing him to step back at the last instant as it arced wide. Behind him, screams erupted. Another swath of his men were annihilated in a single stroke, their bodies scattering like broken dolls across the flaming ruins.
Yoru lowered her blade with a lazy grace. The four little Nezukos circled around her like wolves, giggling as if they were enjoying a game.
And Elder Fang, once so certain of his superiority, felt the first cold bite of dread sink deep into his bones. Snarling, he poured every ounce of his profound energy into a final, desperate strike, the air shattering under the force of his swing.
Yoru met it with a single motion.
Her black sword rose effortlessly, intercepting the blow as though swatting aside a child's tantrum. Sparks screamed across the sky—then her blade shifted, cutting through his weapon like paper. The broken fragments scattered uselessly to the ground.
Before Elder Fang could comprehend his failure, a searing pain split him from shoulder to stomach. Blood sprayed as her strike carved a merciless path through his body.
The Nezukos moved as streaks of pink light, their giggles lacing the night like a haunting melody. With each sweep of their tiny hands, radiant sword-lights burst forth—arcs of brilliance that carved through the assassins faster than eyes could follow.
The men tried to rally, shouting orders, forming lines, unleashing arts meant to crush their foes. But against the four little monsters, it was meaningless. The Nezukos danced through them like playful shadows, their speed inhuman, their coordination flawless. Each strike left nothing behind—no body, no blood—only the sharp tang of ozone where existence itself had been carved away.
Around Yoru, the hunt ended swiftly. The battlefield fell quiet, broken only by the soft flutter of the girls' oversized sleeves and their delighted, childish laughter. The assassins had never stood a chance.
Against half-step Origin Realm sword spirits, they stood no chance.
"I am sorry for this," Yoru's voice was soft, almost gentle, as her veil fluttered in the wind.
"You… how strong are you…?" Elder Fang gasped, clutching the remains of his broken spear. One strike—just one—had been enough to dismantle a Profound Emperor like him.
"Does it matter?" Yoru exhaled softly, resting her massive black sword on her shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all. Around them, the Yorukos dismantled the assassins with cruel efficiency—shattering profound weapons with their bare hands, forcing the backlash to devour their owners from within. One by one, bodies fell, lives snuffed out in silence.
And Yoru never moved to help them. She didn't need to. Her entire focus was on Elder Fang, who stood trembling before her. It wasn't a duel. It wasn't even a battle. From the beginning, it had never been a fair match.
"You… why…" Elder Fang choked on his own blood, his knees buckling. "We… never offended you…"
"You didn't," she admitted, her tone even. "But you would have slaughtered the Jin Family… and the Imperial Princess. I was tasked to protect them. That is enough."
His vision dimmed, but defiance flickered in his eyes as he spat blood at her feet. "In a week's time… my comrades will be here. Even if you beg… they won't leave you alive…"
"I will be waiting."
Her blade shimmered, and with a single sweep of green light, Elder Fang was no more—vaporized, erased from existence like dust scattered by the wind.
The Nezukos immediately gathered around Yoru, their pink eyes gleaming, their giggles echoing faintly in the smoke-filled air.
"Hehehe… I'm going to ask Master for headpats," one chirped, twirling in the air as if the massacre had been no more than a game.
"I am sure he will give you," Yoru replied, her tone steady as ever, though her hand briefly adjusted the veil of her sunhat.
"Onee-chan should ask for one too!" another insisted, floating beside her with a mischievous grin.
"I will, Yoruko," Yoru answered softly. "For now, let's find the Jin Family's watchkeep. Master will be glad to see us again."
"Hai!" the Nezukos chimed in unison, their laughter ringing with an unsettling blend of innocence and menace. With that, the four little figures fluttered around Yoru like guardian spirits as she walked through the air, each step echoing faintly, and together they drifted toward the inner lands of Jin Province.
------------------------
Yun Che woke before the sun, and the scene that greeted him was exactly what he both expected—and dreaded.
On his right, Mulan was curled against him, her breathing soft and even. On his left, Retsu had claimed her place, with Nemu clinging to her like a little sister and Mio nestled comfortably beside them.
At his feet, Cang Yue had taken up residence with Lin Yueru and Xue Ling, the three of them arranged as if they were guarding his legs.
But the real surprise was above his head.
Qingyue had somehow drifted there in the night, her silken hair spilling like a veil across the pillow. On either side of her lay Little Fairy and Chu Yueli, both sleeping soundly, forming an almost protective arc around her.
All in all… eleven people, one room. Mulan's chambers had always been spacious, but Yun Che couldn't help thinking they might as well rename it the "Harem Dormitory." And, of course, he was smack in the middle—the undeniable center of their universe, whether he wanted the role or not.
He carefully shifted, trying to rise without waking anyone. But just as he braced his arm, Mulan's lashes fluttered. Her eyes opened, still soft with sleep, and the first thing she saw was him gazing down at her. Her cheeks heated instantly.
Then her gaze drifted past him—and froze.
All of the others. Retsu, Mio, Nemu, Cang Yue, Qingyue, Little Fairy, Chu Yueli, Lin Yueru, even Xue Ling. Every single one had gathered into her room, tangled into some chaotic yet harmonious sprawl around him.
"…How…?" Mulan whispered.
Yun Che smirked lightly. "Told you. They'd sneak in eventually. That perk of mine isn't something they'll let slip. Retsu, Mio, Nemu, Little Yue—they rely on it daily. The rest just follow to keep the balance, so no one misses out."
He didn't add Little Fairy's name aloud, but he knew. She had gone months without that fully rested glow. Of course she wouldn't miss her chance. Chu Yueli and Xue Ling likely followed for their own reasons… and Lin Yueru? She always shadowed Cang Yue.
But then Yun Che's eyes widened.
Mulan was… glowing.
She was glowing—literally, that faint refreshed radiance that came with the perk every morning. However, the glow only visible to Haki users.
She blinked, touching her cheek. "Strange… I feel refreshed. Completely. It's like I've slept for days. This… is the perk you mentioned?"
His expression hardened, serious now. "How did you get it if you don't… feel for me?"
"I do have feelings for you…" she said quickly.
He looked at her for a long moment, before sighing. "…No. You're still pinning for Mu Che. But somehow… you directed it at me."
Mulan's lips trembled before she found her voice again. "Maybe… it's not too late to change that. Maybe I can move on… accept you as you are. If that's true… then maybe that's why I have it now."
"Ara… you two are lively in the morning," Retsu's soft voice carried as she sat up, her lips curved in a knowing smile. Yun Che's eyes flicked between her and Mulan. Both of them were shining the same way.
"You're awake." He reached over and gently patted her head.
"Ufuuu… ohayō (Good morning), Yuu-kun~" Retsu greeted sweetly, her tone like silk.
At her waist, Nemu squirmed tighter against her, refusing to let go. Though her eyes remained shut, the soft glow on her skin betrayed the truth—she had the perk too. She simply wanted to cuddle her sister longer. "Nee-chan… don't move."
"Ret-chan… cuddles…" Mio mumbled, half-burying her face into Retsu's shoulder. She was glowing as well, basking in the same radiance.
"Ara…" Retsu gave a sheepish smile, trapped under the affection of her clingy sisters.
Yun Che chuckled, leaning back against his pillow. "Perks of being the alpha," he teased.
"Arent we lively…" Cang Yue stirred awake, her voice smooth yet amused. She sat up with a graceful stretch, her skin glowing faintly. "And refreshed as well."
Mulan blinked, watching her. It was unmistakable—Cang Yue radiated the same brilliance as Retsu and Mio. Her heart tightened. Yun Che had been right. This "perk" wasn't just words. It truly made them look more alive, more beautiful, more untouchable. If even she felt it, then perhaps… perhaps she had begun shifting her feelings, redirecting what she once reserved for Mu Che onto the man before her. Not fully, not yet—but the possibility was there.
Xue Ling's soft voice broke the silence. "Every time you sneak into his room… can't you just stay?" She sat up elegantly, her long hair cascading, and Yun Che froze. She too was glowing.
His eyes widened slightly. Wait… she got it too?
That meant her feelings, however complicated, were strong enough for the system to recognize. But Yun Che knew where her heart leaned—toward Mihawk. Yet since Mihawk was also him, those emotions translated all the same.
As if on cue, Xue Ling looked at her hands and strangely felt refreshed for some reason.
He glanced toward the still-sleeping Chu Yueli, her chest rising and falling softly. "Must've applied to her as well," he muttered under his breath.
Cang Yue caught on, smiling knowingly as she turned to Xue Ling. "Nope," she said with a little shake of her head, "sleeping in the same room as him made me feel even more refreshed than an entire day of rest."
Her lips curved into a playful smirk as her gaze flicked between Xue Ling and Yun Che, noting the glow on her sister's skin. "My… looks like I'm not the only one."
Xue Ling looked at her with a confused expression, but Yun Che only raised his hands in mock surrender. "Don't look at me—I just exist here."
"Refreshed?" Lin Yueru's voice broke the quiet as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Unlike the others, her skin held no glow, her expression still slightly groggy.
"It's like you woke up with the best rest ever," Cang Yue explained lightly, her tone playful but her eyes sharp.
"How do you get that kind of rest?" Lin Yueru sighed, stretching. "I feel like I barely slept at all."
"I feel refreshed as well," Xue Ling admitted, her glow faint but undeniable.
Not long after, Little Fairy stirred, blinking as she sat up beside Chu Yueli. The glow was evident on her too, soft and pure, as though she had been wrapped in serenity all night.
And then—Xia Qingyue.
She opened her eyes, her expression calm as ever, but Yun Che's gaze froze. She was glowing like the rest of them.
He masked his reaction quickly, but inside his thoughts raced. Since when?
For Yueli, it made sense—her bond leaned toward Mihawk, yet still recognized through him. For Little Fairy, it was expected; her quiet attachment to him naturally granted her this "perk."
But Qingyue?
For her to carry this glow, it meant her feelings weren't shallow, weren't fleeting. They had to be deep-rooted, lasting… nurtured quietly over years.
Since when did she have feelings this strong?
His mind sifted through memories. Was it since their wedding night, when she bound herself to him despite her cold exterior? Or perhaps even earlier—during the tournament, when she stood as both untouchable and yet oddly fragile before him?
He exhaled softly, choosing silence. If Qingyue had hidden this in her heart all this time, then she had her reasons. Pressing her now would only wound her pride.
So he said nothing—just smiled faintly, pretending not to notice.
"May I ask," Yun Che's voice was calm but laced with curiosity, "what are all of you doing in Mulan's room?"
"To ensure you didn't sully her," Little Fairy said bluntly, crossing her arms.
Qingyue followed with her usual coolness. "Do not forget—I am your wife. This is merely an arrangement."
Yun Che raised a brow, half-smirking. Since when was the little missy this protective? He thought to himself before speaking aloud, "I had no reason to sully her."
"I just wanted a sleepover," Mio said cheerfully, hugging Retsu's arm like an excuse wrapped in innocence.
Retsu chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. Yun Che clearly knows their intention.
Cang Yue looked away, her cheeks faintly pink. She didn't bother explaining further; her intent was obvious enough. Like the others, she wanted the perk, even if her pride wouldn't allow her to admit it outright.
"We just followed Little Yue," Xue Ling said flatly, jerking her chin at Cang Yue. "She tends to sneak around."
Lin Yueru gave a little sigh but didn't deny it.
As for Qingyue, she avoided Yun Che's gaze. She had seen Retsu and the others slipping into the room last night. Against her own will, her feet had carried her in as well—caught between her mind's reason and a willing heart.
However, the heart won.
"Same," Little Fairy muttered, though her tone betrayed her. Chu Yueli beside her lowered her head but nodded, echoing her sister's excuse.
Yun Che swept his eyes over the group, lips curving into a half-smile. "So in short—you all conspired against me, invaded Mulan's room, and justified it with flimsy excuses."
No one spoke. But the glowing cheeks, the subtle averted gazes, and the undeniable refreshment on their faces told him everything he needed to know.
"Anyway, just take your morning baths if you want your hair treated. Come on, ladies, we have a big day today."
At those words, the group visibly perked up, almost childlike in how quickly their thoughts shifted toward having their hair tended to again.
"Well… get yourselves sorted out. I'll wait outside." Yun Che stretched, rose from the middle of the room, and walked out with a casual wave.
Lin Yueru blinked at his back. "Somehow… I don't mind him talking to us like that. You girls don't mind?" she asked the Asgardian fairies.
"Somehow, I don't," Chu Yueli admitted, a small frown tugging at her lips. "We never really listened to men before, but…." Even she found herself puzzled by her own admission.
Little Fairy tilted her head but said nothing—she had long accepted that truth for herself. Qingyue only folded her arms lightly. He is my husband. Whatever he asks, I should obey if I wanted to walk by his side.
"Don't tell me he's controlling our minds somehow," Lin Yueru said suddenly, a hint of panic rising in her voice. "Forcing us to do perverted things?"
"You have a very odd imagination," Xue Ling sighed. Still, deep inside, she couldn't help but compare—he had the same quiet, magnetic pull as Mihawk. If Mihawk asked her to do something, she would obey without hesitation just like when they last met. Somehow, Yun Che drew the same instinct.
"Nothing of the sort," Retsu said gently, her voice carrying an unshakable conviction. "We knew him during our time in the Dead Spirit Realm. We entrusted him with our lives then, and that hasn't changed. Whatever he tells us to do, we would follow. If he asked us to veil ourselves, we would."
Mio and Nemu both nodded firmly, their trust clear in their eyes. Cang Yue agreed as well.
The other girls fell into silence, their gazes heavy with awe.
Lin Yueru swallowed and then asked quietly, "How much faith do you have in him?"
Retsu's lips curved into a soft smile. "With our lives."
That weight settled over the room. Even Qingyue, who kept her expression carefully guarded, found herself nodding slightly. Maybe one day, she thought, I too will learn to trust him with my life.
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"Haha!" "Mama!"
Both Chu Yueli and Xue Ling froze as not one, not two, but four Nezukos flew straight toward them—each pair latching onto them with tight hugs. The two women exchanged a bewildered glance, unsure which was the real one. But with four identical girls clinging to them and giggling, the moment felt strangely warm, almost blessed.
Yoru followed quietly, her serene aura flowing into the room like cool mist. Her presence alone was enough to calm the lingering chatter of the other women.
"Nezuko?" Xue Ling's eyes widened in shock.
Chu Yueli blinked rapidly, confusion in her voice. "How…? I thought—"
Yoru stopped just inside the doorway, bowing slightly with a grace that was almost otherworldly. "Greetings, dear ladies… Master sends his regards. Or rather…" her tone softened, but the weight of it lingered, "…he has dropped these girls to you two, since he was nearby."
That left them all staring.
"Then—where is he?" Chu Yueli asked quickly, a hopeful spark in her eyes she couldn't quite hide.
Yoru lifted her face slightly, the edge of her veiled sunhat catching the morning light. Her eyes, calm yet unreadable, swept over them. "He is long gone."
Cang Yue could only sigh, her hand at her forehead as she came out after her usual morning hair rebonding session. If I show up as Nezuko again, how am I supposed to compete with this?
Her Nine Sword Style illusions weren't even flawless—let alone capable of producing four convincing clones. Maybe I should ask Yoruko for help. Otherwise, I'll never keep up with this madness…
"Nezuko, did your father drop you off?" Chu Yueli asked, still holding two of them close, her voice soft but uncertain. Secretly hoping to even meet him.
Xue Ling huffed, though her hand gently stroked the hair of the Nezuko clinging to her. "Sigh… he could at least say hello first. Dropping his daughter on us like we're babysitters." Her tone was annoyed, but her smile betrayed her affection. "Not that I really mind."
"Nope!" one of the Nezukos chirped. "I came with Yoru Nee-chan!"
Yoru only gave a faint nod, confirming it with a mysterious little smile.
Chu Yueli let out a faint sigh, her fingers gently brushing through Nezuko's silky hair. She had been secretly hoping to see him. Not only her—Xue Ling as well. Even if it was just a fleeting moment, even if all they could do was stand in silence, the thought of meeting Mihawk still lingered like a secret wish neither dared to voice aloud.
Perhaps… to catch his eye, to earn the faintest reaction, even if only by letting their long, beautiful hair flow proudly in the morning light after Yun Che rebond them. It was a childish thought, but it was theirs.
That hope would have to wait.
For now, four Nezukos were more than enough to fill the courtyard with laughter and affection. Their embraces and bright voices dispelled any lingering gloom, leaving the two women smiling despite themselves.
And strangely, when Yueli and Xue Ling woke earlier that morning, both had felt a lightness in their bodies—refreshed, as if they had shaken off layers of exhaustion without realizing it. No cultivation, no pills, no profound technique could explain it. A mysterious blessing… but whatever the source, they were quietly grateful.
The day would go on, brighter and easier, simply because four little Nezukos had chosen to hug them like family.
Even though Chu Yueli and Xue Ling still wondered how Nezuko and Yoru had arrived—did they truly fly here, or travel through some mysterious means?—their thoughts were cut short when the main room's doors slid open.
Yun Che emerged, his expression relaxed after finishing his morning rebonding session with his girls. The courtyard brightened instantly as four voices rang out together:
"Onii-chan!"
The four Nezukos leapt into his arms, giggling. Without hesitation, he scooped them up, rubbing the head of the true one with a knowing smile.
"Little runts…" he teased warmly, though the fondness in his eyes betrayed him.
Then his gaze shifted, settling on Yoru who stood with quiet composure at the edge. "How did last night go?"
Yoru bowed slightly, her voice calm yet edged with pride. "It went well, Yun-sama. He really did bring dozens of men, just like you predicted."
Yun Che nodded, satisfied. "Well, at least you two dealt with it." His tone was casual, as if brushing off a storm that would terrify anyone else.
"I did. Thoroughly," Yoru replied, her words carrying the faint weight of finality.
"Good. Stick around for a while."
Her lips curved into a faint smile. "Hai… I was planning to."
==========================
"What's going on here?"
Jin Yuelian's voice cut through the dining hall as she entered with Jin Zhuo. Both stopped in their tracks, staring at the breakfast table… where four eerily similar girls sat alongside a tall, veiled young lady.
"Ah, mother…" Mulan quickly stood, trying to smooth things over. "This is… Yoru, the disciple of the legendary swordsman Mihawk. And, um… Nezuko. Or… Nezukos? They're kind of siblings. Last time we had triplets show up, and now it's four of them."
"Wait." Jin Zhuo's gaze snapped toward the lively girl fluttering around Chu Yueli and Xue Ling. His expression froze. "She… she isn't the Heaven's Child Nezuko, is she?"
Mulan hesitated, then sighed. "…She is."
"Heaven's Child Nezuko?!" Jin Zhuo's voice nearly cracked. His eyes went wide, the weight of her name heavy in the air. "She's here as well? Why?!"
Nezuko only tilted her head, continuing to tease Chu Yueli like an affectionate daughter.
Mulan rubbed her temples. "Those two over there? They're her mother. Or… mothers?" She pointed at Chu Yueli and Xue Ling, who both stiffened slightly at the sudden attention.
Jin Yuelian narrowed her eyes. "Which one is the real mother?" Then, lowering her voice as if probing a scandal, "And is the rumor true—that they're both… spouses to the legendary swordsman?"
Mulan raised her hands in surrender. "No idea. None of them have ever said anything. But… Nezuko seems to have Chu Yueli's potential… and Xue Ling's beauty. The rumor is just… floating around."
Nezuko, as if guided by instinct, drifted toward Jin Yuelian and her husband. The four little figures circled around them like glowing butterflies, and in the next moment, two were tugging at Yuelian's sleeves while the other two hovered playfully around her husband.
Jin Yuelian's face lit up with pure delight. For all her years of composure and authority, there was no mistaking the joy in her expression now. She gathered two Nezukos in her arms as if they were her own grandchildren and laughed softly.
"Call me grandma… dearies," she coaxed, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.
"Oba-chan!" the four voices chimed together, crisp and cheerful.
"That's how she calls grandma in her language. Right now, only the Asgard Mistress she blessed with such title." Chu Yueli sighs. Now, Jin Yuelian has one.
Yuelian's heart swelled as she nodded proudly, glancing at her husband with a sparkle in her eyes. "See? Even Heaven's Child Nezuko recognizes me as family."
Her husband chuckled, shaking his head, though the corners of his mouth softened. "Hah, you're far too pleased with yourself. But… I suppose having the Heaven's Child buzzing around our house like this isn't so bad."
Meanwhile, Chu Yueli and Xue Ling stood a little apart, their smiles sheepish but undeniably tender. Watching Nezuko pressed so close to another woman might have stung if it were anyone else—but with Jin Yuelian, the feeling was different.
She wasn't a rival, nor was she a threat. She was simply grandmother.
The title of Mama and Haha still rested securely with them, untouchable and irreplaceable.
During breakfast, Jin Yuelian excused herself with a cheerful smile, happily swept away by the quadruplet Nezukos who clamored for her attention. Jin Zhuo, on the other hand, returned to his duties, already reorganizing the family's accounts with the new funds Cang Yue had provided. His mind spun with plans—stabilizing the clan, rebuilding influence, and preparing to resume governance of the city after it was returned to him by Cang Yue.
At the main table, a quiet moment passed until Mulan reached into her sleeve and pulled out a thin, weathered book. She placed it carefully on the table, sliding it toward Yun Che.
"Here."
Yun Che arched a brow, his hand hovering over the small tome. "And what's this supposed to be?"
Mulan's lips curved faintly, though her voice was low, deliberate. "It's the one you asked for… the cultivation method for Domain Expansion."
The words struck like lightning. Every girl at the table nearly choked on their tea, cups clattering as wide eyes turned toward Mulan.
"Domain Expansion?!" Cang Yue's voice was sharp with disbelief.
Little Fairy's hand trembled as she set her cup down. "That… that shouldn't exist. We heard about it but.... to think there's a manual." Her usually calm eyes shimmered with intensity, her sister equally stunned.
Domains were already the exclusive mark of Thrones—absolute territories of will and power. But Domain Expansion… that was the stuff of Monarchs, a legendary progression whispered of in texts, yet with no method to awaken it. For one to simply present a guide… it was unthinkable.
Mulan exhaled softly and passed the book to Little Fairy. "But I'll warn you… it's nothing but gibberish. No one in this world can read it. No one but Mu Che."
The sisters opened the book together, flipping through pages filled with indecipherable scrawls—symbols that looked like words but danced with no meaning. They studied harder, but the disappointment on their faces was plain. Even Qingyue, who had devoured thousands of texts and scriptures, leaned over and frowned.
"This… is useless." Qingyue closed the book gently, her disappointment clear. "I can't even discern the language."
Yun Che narrowed his eyes, tapping the cover with a finger. "Mu Che?" His tone was deceptively light. "And what's he got to do with this?"
Mulan's voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "Because… he's the one who wrote it. This guide—it was created by Mu Che himself."
"Wait… what?" Yun Che's voice was sharper than he intended, his eyes narrowing at Mulan. "You're saying he made this?"
"Yes…" Mulan's shoulders lowered, her gaze falling to her plate. "He always told me… no one could read it except him. But the day he gave it to me… was also the last day I saw him." Her voice trembled. "He said that someday, someone else would be able to read it."
Her fingers clenched faintly at her chopsticks. "That was the day he died."
The table fell into silence, sensing the weight in Mulan's words.
Yun Che tapped the closed book with a knuckle, his tone softer now. "This was meant for you. Why give it to me?"
Mulan shook her head. "Because it's nonsense. Nothing but gibberish. If you're not Mu Che… you can't read it."
Qingyue, sitting closest to Yun Che, passed the book into his hands. The others leaned in—Retsu, Mio, Nemu, and Cang Yue—all silently pressing behind him. They knew better than anyone: Yun Che wasn't merely a man of strength, but of vast, inexplicable knowledge. If anyone in this world could unravel the mystery, it would be him.
The moment Yun Che flipped open the cover, his breath caught. His eyes widened like saucers, pupils dilating as if the text itself came alive before him. Symbols and runes that were gibberish to all others shone with perfect clarity in his vision.
"Yuu-kun…?" Retsu asked softly, sensing his shock.
Even Nemu, calm as she always was, blinked in surprise seeing the contents of the book.
Mio tilted her head. "Can… you actually read it?"
Yun Che's grip on the book tightened, knuckles whitening. His voice came out low, but filled with disbelief.
"…He wrote this?!"
"Yes? Is it really that surprising?" Mulan tilted her head, confusion mixing with curiosity. Then her eyes widened as the realization struck. "Wait… you can read it?"
The entire table froze.
"Rascal… you can read the manual?!" Little Fairy nearly leapt from her seat, her usually calm expression cracking in disbelief. Beside her, Chu Yueli and Qingyue exchanged stunned glances, their composure faltering.
Yun Che kept staring at the book, his voice tight. "He wrote this? Are you absolutely certain?"
"Yes," Mulan said firmly. "I am sure. I saw it with my own eyes. Why? What are you not telling me?"
Yun Che finally looked up, his expression unreadable. "Because this isn't gibberish. It was never gibberish. It's written in a language no one in this world should be able to comprehend."
The room grew colder. Everyone leaned in, their hearts racing.
"Except me," Yun Che continued slowly, "and… Nemu."
Heads turned toward the quiet girl. Nemu, as usual, said nothing—just gave the faintest nod, confirming his words.
"Ara…You taught her? When?" Retsu asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Yes. I taught her this language so she could understand the terminology I use whenever I introduce… things from outside this world. That way she can explain it in simpler terms to all of you. I promised to teach you and Mio if we're not focusing on cultivation. Besides, knowing it isn't that important since our Japanese is quite foreign in this world."
"To think he used this language."
Cang Yue frowned, her scholarly mind trying to make sense of it. "What kind of language could that be? It's not like any ancient script, and I didn't see Japanese words in it either…"
Yun Che let out a long breath, as if reluctant to say it aloud. Then, with quiet finality:
"Because it wasn't written in Japanese… It's written in English."