Caught between paralysis and exposure, Xio faces the wrath of a Grandmaster whose pride burns brighter than his blade.
As clones burst into the night and Wùji uncovers the touch of a special-grade yokai, the Dark Voice stirs with dangerous amusement. In this chapter, masks fall, shadows split, and a single mistake ignites a chase that none of them can escape.
"No, he's coming! God damn it, why can't I move!?" Xio hissed urgently, struggling fiercely against the invisible bond holding his legs.
The crowd was a blur of faces, but one man, standing near the front, suddenly blinked, his eyes darting between Xio (still wearing Suji's face) and the genuine Lan Suji. A loud, echoing realization ripped through the sudden quiet of the market.
"If you're Lan Suji," the man's voice boomed, slicing through the tension, "then a double is among us!?"
Xio froze again, his eyes snapping in a panic toward the man and then behind him. "Damn it, was that really necessary right now?" he muttered through gritted teeth, anxiety clawing at his throat. He strained, but his legs were lead weights, his toes bound by the sudden, terrifying paralysis.
Lan Suji, the real one, heard the man's cry, and a hungry gleam entered his eyes—a clear path to action. "Finally, something!" he declared, his voice tight with anticipation, like a starving predator sighting prey.
Wùji, nearby, paused his work for a fraction of a second, his gaze flickering toward the commotion. "A clone?" he murmured to himself, his expression unreadable. But he didn't intervene, almost as if granting his perpetually struggling brother a small, necessary opening.
The Lan clan members, who had arrived and were silently observing the entire bizarre situation, now spoke up. "Làrà Kùmsūn, we have records of someone roaming here with your face," one of them confirmed, officially validating the man's shocking announcement.
A cold smirk spread across Suji's lips now that the situation was confirmed. He was in his element. "Where is he? Find him!" he demanded, moving forward with the predatory grace of a silver-blue angel looking like a devil. He glanced back at Wùji, a silent boast in his eyes: See? I am not less than you, either.
Wùji, however, said nothing aloud, busy attending to the bitten man. His expression remained placid. Go and catch him, he thought internally. I've already earned enough for my whole life; take a little bit of glory now. Your empty bags make me embarrassed.
Meanwhile, Xio was in a desperate internal battle. "I can't. Get. Captured!!!" he rasped, pushing himself backward with all his might. His heart hammered like a war drum against his ribs, and cold, fresh sweat beaded on his wet eyelids.
"No, butterfly in trouble! Voice! Do something! Wèi could feel his heart coming out of his chest!" Kirihito pleaded urgently to the dark entity within him, whom he currently referred to only as 'Voice.'
The Dark Voice yawned, a deep, resonant sound, and lazily snapped a finger. The ribbon tied across Kirihito's eyes fluttered. "Happy? Now don't overreact, or I'll get caught," the Dark Voice replied, his tone dry and adult.
Kirihito internally sagged with relief. He watched silently as Xio, the planned target for the ribbon, suddenly got free—so abruptly that he nearly tumbled onto the ground. Xio steadied himself, looking directly at Kirihito, or rather, at the Dark Voice sitting there, seemingly innocent.
Xio decided against approaching him, not with two dangerous Dàozǔ present—especially Wùji, who remained sharp and active despite being preoccupied.
"No common person is to move from their places!" Suji bellowed, his voice carrying the full authority of the Lan Clan Grandmaster.
The market immediately went silent, people freezing in place, exchanging confused, hushed whispers about which one of them could be walking around with Suji's face.
Xio, however, knew he couldn't obey. The order worked for a commoner, but he was currently disguised as the Yin Lan Dàozǔ himself. Quick as a striking viper, he moved backward through the crowd toward the stage.
As he moved, he seamlessly changed his face back to his own, discarded the Yin Lan robe which folded back into his own garments, and quickly donned the familiar owl mask—the one Kuradome was undoubtedly growing to despise.He tied his long hair into a practical ponytail and ducked behind a house near the stage's edge.
"Suji Kùmsūn, someone still ran out of the crowd!"
"We suspect he's the face shifter of yours!"
Then, the man who had first encountered Xio in Suji's face piped up confusedly, "Isn't that dancer your pen friend?"
Suji rounded on the man, his eyes wide with genuine fury. "Never! I don't have time to have a pen friend! How could you believe that fool was me?!" His voice trembled with indignant anger.
The man quickly bowed and scurried away, realizing he had made a grave error in judgment.
Suji took a deep, shaky breath, his gaze sweeping the area. He caught a glimpse of a figure in black and gold—the symbol wasn't clear—running away, looking suspicious. People parted like the sea for him.
Suji flipped his sword out of its cover, grabbing the hilt and raising the polished blade high enough to catch the sunlight in a blinding flash.
"Cheap body shifter, or any demonic cultivator... no matter what you are... I'm going to capture you," Suji vowed to himself, his eyes sharp and hard.
"How did it dare to take my face?! Lan Suji's face!?" His rage boiled, mostly because Xio's theft of his identity was heating up his already anxious head, full of worry, responsibility, and the constant need to outshine Wùji.
"Boys! Cover up the whole market and call more men!" he yelled.
"On it!" the Yin Lan members responded crisply, two of them immediately blocking the most likely escape routes for Xio.
others went to call others . one of them flew a floating scroll which headed to Yin Lan Clan . Then they joined the others with the task on hand .
Meanwhile, Xio's eyes, narrowed behind his mask, snapped toward Kirihito, silently asking: What crime did you commit again while dancing? And why are there no witnesses this time?
The Dark Voice mimicked Kirihito's usual behavior, cupping his own cheek with one hand and pouting. "Wèi is sad for not being able to dance... I hate all the insects here..."
he sighed dramatically, pulling a tiny, exotic dragon fruit from some unseen pocket in his robe—the kind Xio had once given Kirihito before coming here .
Xio tightened his jaw inside his mask. He couldn't even blame Kirihito yet; the entity looked far too innocently involved in the act of dancing since Kirihito promised not to do it here.
but Still, the four new dancers were now at the top of his suspicion list.
He spoke under his breath, a calculation returning to his tone, the voice of the Second Grandmaster of Lanxie once more. his earlier softeness gone due to the situation. "I also own that title 'Lan,' so I will not lose for what I've promised to myself." He slipped behind the stage's curtains.
The Dark Voice watched him go, and the red ribbon over his eyes shifted lightly. His gaze seemed to soften, though with a sadistic undertone. No worries, just chill and watch the drama unfold, the Dark Voice thought, satisfied.
Suji spotted the movement behind the stage and immediately followed, his feet eating up the distance in a blur.
"Seriously... no dead bodies of those dancers?" Xio breathed, momentarily stunned. The human dancers were simply gone, as if they had never existed. All that remained were a few musical instruments—a guqin, drums, and a flute—laying haphazardly on the floor.
Hearing the rapid footsteps approaching, Xio quickly used the Kagetsu Jutsu technique, exactly as before, making five perfect clones that darted out in six different directions.
Wùji, who was finishing his work, saw one black-robed man disappear behind the curtain, and then six same looking figures immediately scatter from the same spot. He blinked, an unusual show of surprise. "Kagetsu Jutsu... a Japanese technique?" he mused thoughtfully. He would need to check the records of all existing clan histories; no current clan had this exact technique, nor did any produce that golden-black mist as smoke.
"Did you... find something, Làrà Kùmsūn?" the fat man Wùji was tending to asked, his tone trembling with fear.
Wùji quickly nodded, returning to the immediate reality. "The bite is... indeed from a special-grade yokai, but something more twisted," he confirmed with a serious expression.
People around them let out a dramatic, collective gasp.
"I won't die, will I, Wùji Kùmsūn?!" the fat man cried.
"No," Wùji reassured him, though his voice was barely comforting. "The yokai has just tortured you, not really injected enough venom to kill."
The fat man let out the breath he'd been holding, then asked, "Will those... heal? It still aches..."
Wùji nodded, his violet spiritual energy already firming in his palm. "Indeed, they will," he said, and quickly channeled the energy to heal the wounds.
"Thank you so much, Wùji Kùmsūn! You're the best! You don't know how much my whole body was hurting!" The fat man bowed low, showering him in exaggerated praise.
"Hm... I know," Wùji said smoothly, his chest swelling with familiar pride, though he hid it well. He then added a warning, "Just... try not to body-shame the people around, especially... those who look more perfect than they should— they have possibilitiesto be a specialgrade . Those actions make cursed, first-class special-grades angry."
He delivered the advice as if he knew exactly what the man had done to end up in this predicament. "They mostly kill, but thankfully, you were lucky enough to only be tortured."
The man gulped and nodded quickly. He remembered the black-haired dancer had glared at him with dangerous intensity—that was it. He had a strong feeling that Kirihito was that yokai; all the points matched too well.
"Wùji Kùmsūn... you should... keep an eye on this... dancer. He's... weird," the fat man whispered to Wùji, clearly terrified that Kirihito would hear them.
Wùji stole a light glance at Kirihito ,who was currently chilling with his friends. He then looked back at the man. "I will... but I can't capture someone without proof. That is my clan's strict rule."
"And I'll not leave any proof... just yet," the Dark Voice replied from across the market, his voice an unnerving, clear whisper that seemed to speak only to Wùji. It was a chilling promise that the chase had only just begun.