Yuanling could feel his breath brushing against her ear. His grip was so tight that it seemed even if they were torn apart, his hands would still cling to her. For a fleeting moment, she felt compelled to return the embrace — the tears of a man who longed for her, even though she was not the one he believed her to be, were too genuine, too tender.
But in the end, she didn't.
With sudden force, Yuanling pushed him away as if he were a plague. Her fox ears folded back, a clear sign of her anger, and her tails lashed high, restless and sharp.
— Please… please don't reject me again… — His voice cracked as he begged. — I beg of you…
If she claimed she didn't feel guilty at that moment, she would be lying. Yet his sorrow wasn't hers to carry. So why did her chest ache as though the plea had been directed at her? Why did her heart feel as though it were splitting open?
Something deep inside whispered for her to comfort him, but she didn't know how. That wasn't who she was. In all her years as an exorcist, Yuanling had witnessed countless tragedies, heartbreaks that shattered lives. Yet not once had her frozen heart stirred. Now, standing before a man she had never seen until this very day, she felt it break as if it were her own story.
— I'm… I'm not who you think I—
Her words were cut short by a scream.
The man, who had been standing tall, now fell to his knees, his cry sharp and guttural, echoing with the weight of unbearable agony. Yuanling froze as before her very eyes his body began to change — slowly, painfully, into something… or someone else.
Her pulse thundered in her chest, so loud she thought her ribs might shatter from it. Panic clawed at her throat, yet she forced her hands to move subtly, inching toward her waist where her last hope rested: a single feather. Her escape ticket.
Then it came.
A wave of power — immense, suffocating — burst outward, swallowing the clearing whole. The air crackled, the ground trembled, and Yuanling finally understood why no spirits lingered in this place.
Whatever this being was, it was terrifying to the very core. Her soul screamed at her to run, to flee before it was too late… but her body would not obey. She stood frozen, paralyzed by fear as that overwhelming force wrapped around her like chains.
The man's scream tore through the night, his body convulsing as if it were being ripped apart from the inside. His amber eyes — those gentle, sorrowful eyes — burned away into something else entirely. When he lifted his head again, they glowed with an unnatural brilliance, a haunting swirl of crimson and storm-gray.
His hair, once a soft brown that shimmered under the fading daylight, deepened into a cascade of black silk that spilled down his back, darker than the night itself. His face sharpened — not monstrous, but impossibly striking. A beauty so dangerous it felt carved to tempt ruin, the kind of face that could topple kingdoms with a single glance.
Yuanling's breath caught.
Shizuma.
The name seared into her mind like fire, undeniable. His aura spilled outward, thick and suffocating, forcing even both barriers to tremble under its weight.
The crimson-gray glow of his eyes flickered as he finally looked down, noticing the faint shimmer of the circle beneath his feet. His steps slowed, his long black hair sliding over his shoulders as he tilted his head, studying the intricate lines drawn in ink and blood.
— …A barrier? — His voice was soft now, low and edged with intrigue rather than fury. A smile tugged at his lips, though it held none of the warmth Ling Hao's had carried. This one was sharper, thoughtful. — You prepared this for me?
Yuanling's hand tightened around her sword. She forced herself to meet his gaze, tails bristling high, ears flattened back in warning.
— This is no ordinary barrier. It was made for you, Shizuma.
Silence stretched between them, the kind that made even the forest hold its breath.
And then he laughed — smooth, velvet-like, with a trace of genuine amusement this time. He took a slow step closer, letting his beauty and his presence weigh down on her like chains.
— Fascinating — he murmured, eyes glinting as they roamed over her. — Not just anyone could have done this. And you… you are no ordinary mortal, are you? — His gaze lingered on her tails, the delicate twitch of her ears. — A húli jīng… of all things.
The way he said it wasn't scornful — it was almost reverent, laced with a dark hunger.
— I have always admired your kind — Shizuma continued, his tone patient, coaxing, as though speaking to someone he intended to savor rather than destroy. — So cunning. So beautiful. So very dangerous when cornered.
Yuanling's ears twitched nervously, and a warmth rushed to her cheeks, coloring her face a deep, telling red. Her heart beat faster, betraying the smallest flicker of flustered awareness despite her training and composure.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to remember the purpose of the circle. His words wrapped around her like silk, tempting her to lower her guard. But she couldn't — she knew better. The way to the underworld was full of sweet words.
Her mind raced. The circle — the ritual — should have affected him. It should have restrained him. But… nothing.
Panic prickled at her spine. She had been wrong. Shizuma was not a spirit. He was real. Flesh and blood.
Yuanling's grip on her sword tightened again, knuckles whitening. Every instinct screamed at her to strike, to defend, to run — but she couldn't take her eyes off him. Shizuma's gaze held her in a way that felt like being both studied and hunted, like a predator measuring a prey that could, at any moment, turn the tables.
— You are clever, little fox — he said, voice low and teasing, yet threaded with something sharper. — But cleverness alone cannot protect you. Not from me.
Her tails flicked sharply, a warning more to herself than to him.
— I'm not here to fight you — she said, forcing calm into her voice. — But I will if I must.
He tilted his head slightly, studying her expression with those unsettling crimson-gray eyes.
— Not fight? — His lips curved into that dangerous, almost hypnotic smile. — Curious. Most would cower or attack. You… hesitate. You weigh your options. That is… rare.
Yuanling swallowed hard, her heart thundering. He was unnervingly calm, yet every word carried weight, every movement radiated power. The hairs on her arms lifted instinctively, the forest around them seeming to lean in, waiting.
— You underestimate me — she said finally, the faintest edge of steel in her voice. — I've faced spirits far older and crueler than you.
Shizuma's laugh was soft, almost approving.
— Ah… but you are a húli jīng. You feel things humans rarely do… fascination for certain things, curiosity, even desire. All mixed together.
Yuanling felt her ears twitch involuntarily, her face warming further despite herself. She cursed silently, glaring at him through her lashes.
— Keep your thoughts to yourself — she muttered, though the tremor in her voice betrayed how much his words affected her.
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact.
— Oh, I intend to — he said, voice a low purr. — But thoughts cannot always be contained. Not when someone like you provokes them.
Yuanling braced herself, sword at the ready, but she didn't move. She knew this wasn't yet a fight she could win. And yet, she couldn't let him see her fear — or how unsettlingly aware of him she had become.
The forest around them held its breath, and in that moment, it seemed as if time itself had paused, leaving only the two of them in a dangerous, intoxicating silence. In that glimpsy of a moment she formed her plan. All she had to do was put it to action.
Yuanling let herself lean slightly forward, a teasing glint in her eyes. Her fox ears twitched delicately, each flick a silent invitation, and her tails swayed with a languid, almost hypnotic rhythm. Every movement was measured — soft, deliberate, fluid — like a dance that drew attention to every corner of her body.
She let her gaze linger on Shizuma, lips parting just enough to give him a taste of her playful curiosity.
— You think you know me… — she whispered, her voice silk over steel, a tone that hinted at mischief and promise at once. — But I think you just wish to know me…
Shizuma's crimson-gray eyes narrowed, intrigue flickering through the storm. He took a deliberate step closer, drawn in by the subtle sway of her movements, the faint blush that colored her cheeks, the sharp intelligence glimmering behind the playful mask. That was what he loved about the húli jīng. They had a way of playing with his mind that was out of this world.
Yuanling let a slow, calculated smile curve her lips, leaning forward as if drawn to him, letting just the slightest part of her shoulders tilt suggestively. Her tails flicked with grace, brushing the air, teasing him subtly. Every flick, every twitch, was a silent message: come closer.
— I can see your soul… Shizuma — she murmured softly, letting her voice trail over his name like a gentle caress. — But can you handle the games of a fox? The kind of mischief that can turn hunters into prey?
Shizuma's lips curved into a dark, approving smile, his eyes glinting with dangerous curiosity.
— Ah… a kitsune indeed. Bold, clever… and dangerously enticing — he said, his tone low, almost reverent. — You weave charm and cunning so effortlessly. Very few can resist… and yet, I am drawn to you anyway.
For a brief moment she almost let her mask slip. Kitsune. That was a word that very few people in her country would know, because it wasn't from her country to begin with — it was from the Kurogane (黒金) nation — a very far away place from there.
Yuanling didn't have time to think too much about that, so she let her body sway slightly, a motion so natural it seemed unintentional, yet every inch was calculated. She was giving him just enough to provoke, just enough to lure — but all the while, her mind mapped escape routes, the positioning of her sword, and the weaknesses in his awareness. She just needed a moment to use her feather.
Her voice softened, sultry but teasing.
— Perhaps… if you are clever, you might survive this encounter — A faint laugh, melodic and hypnotic, danced at the edge of her words. — But only if you can catch me.
The forest seemed to lean in, the wind holding its breath, as the two stood locked in words. For him it was just an amusement, for her it was a matter of surviving. Yuanling's outward allure masked a razor-sharp mind, every gesture a trap, every glance a calculated enticement — a true húli jīng playing her part, ready to strike at the perfect moment.