Luofu - Divination Commission
"Lady Fu Xuan, I've brought the documents you requested—Eek!"
With an earth-shaking crack, the ancient Five Divination Table—a relic of the Commission's history—was split cleanly in two by a single sword stroke. The blade, Wuming, pulsed with an eerie violet glow.
Huohuo let out a terrified squeak, stumbling backward before landing unceremoniously on her fluffy green tail, which cushioned her fall.
The sword embedded itself deep into the floor, leaving a jagged scar in the wood. Fu Xuan's crystal-like eyes flickered with a fleeting crimson hue before she took a slow breath, her expression smoothing back into its usual composure.
She tossed the shattered remains of her phone aside and approached Huohuo, extending a hand.
"Apologies. I didn't mean to startle you."
Huohuo instinctively reached out—then froze.
The girl recoiled, scooting backward on the floor, her voice trembling.
"L-Lady Fu Xuan, you're..."
Her tail materialized into a spectral green figure, its eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Careful, kid! This one's dangerous! Let me handle it!"
Wuming flew back into Fu Xuan's grasp in an instant. With a flick of her wrist, an invisible barrier sliced through the air, cutting off the tail's advance.
A faint smile curled at Fu Xuan's lips as she crouched down, tilting Huohuo's chin up with a gentle finger.
"This is a secret."
The third eye on her forehead shimmered with a soft violet light. Within moments, Fu Xuan's demeanor returned to its usual calm.
"Good girl. The Ten-Lords Commission's archives still need sorting. Would you mind continuing?"
Huohuo, her eyes still brimming with tears, gave a tiny nod against Fu Xuan's palm before being released. She gasped for breath, her small frame shaking.
Fu Xuan retrieved Wuming, prompting the tail to bristle defensively in front of Huohuo.
"I have no interest in harming her," Fu Xuan said coolly, settling back into her seat as the Master Diviner. She rested her chin on her hand, studying the tail with an unreadable gaze.
"How about a deal? Nothing troublesome, I assure you."
"You've lost your mind, Master Diviner," the tail growled, its voice laced with disbelief.
"Lost?"
Fu Xuan shook her head, her fingers brushing against the red tassel tied to Wuming.
"This is simply love."
She had always known what she was doing.
Fate had only one path—the one she chose.
And this was the fate she bestowed upon the Xianzhou.
Belobog - Nighttime
The streets of Belobog were quiet, almost desolate compared to the bustling markets of more prosperous worlds.
Stelle scooped up a handful of snow and, with a mischievous grin, dumped it down March 7th's back. The pink-haired girl shrieked, whirling around with a trash can lid in hand, ready to retaliate.
Qingque leaned against a lamppost, exhaling a cloud of frosty breath. Her phone screen still displayed the damning evidence:
[Image: Liuying kissing Anming]
It had happened not long ago.
Qingque had let Anming go so easily because she'd already planned to double back. His behavior had been too suspicious—there was no way that "other woman" wasn't in Belobog.
And given how few outsiders ever came here, her mind had immediately jumped to the silver-haired girl she'd glimpsed outside Qlipoth Fort.
Definitely not a local.
Definitely the answer.
But Qingque couldn't bring herself to feel victorious.
Her grandmaster had moved on.
What did that make Fu Xuan?
She would never side with a stranger over her own master. Her loyalty was unshakable.
Yet she'd seen it with her own eyes—Anming kissing Liuying. She'd even photographed it. After an internal battle, she'd sent the proof to Fu Xuan.
This was betrayal.
But when both sides were her masters… did it still count?
Qingque desperately wanted Anming and Fu Xuan to reunite. She remembered how Fu Xuan had withered in the years after his death—how she'd barely eaten, how her growth had stalled.
But Fu Xuan was smarter than her. This tangled mess of emotions wasn't something she could fix.
Huddled near a street heater, Qingque sighed.
Love was such a pain.
Life was simpler when it was just mahjong and swords. Win or lose, straight and clear.
"Ah… love."
"Qingque? Why the long face?"
March 7th walked over, dragging Stelle—who was buried headfirst in a snowdrift, only her flailing legs visible—behind her. She offered a hand.
"It's late. Don't catch a cold."
"Thanks." Qingque took it, adjusting the green sword strapped to her back as she stood.
"Hey, does everyone on the Luofu know how to use a sword?" March's eyes sparkled with excitement, her mind already conjuring images of herself wielding a blade with heroic flair.
Qingque smirked. "Not everyone. Just our lineage. If you want to learn, you should ask Anming."
"That guy?" March huffed. "On the train, he's either grinning at his phone or having pillow fights with himself."
The two chatted amiably as they returned to the hotel. It wasn't until March was soaking in the bath, steam rising around her, that she suddenly remembered—
"Wait… did we forget someone?"
Meanwhile, in the snowbank, a pair of long, shapely legs flailed violently before unleashing a dramatic cry:
"Rules… ARE MADE TO BE BROKEN!"
With a boom, the snow erupted like a miniature avalanche, revealing Stelle—now shivering and sneezing.
"Achoo! Damn it… never pranking March again…"
She trudged back to the hotel, narrowly avoiding frostbite thanks to a scalding shower. Drying her hair by the window, she checked her phone.
The group chat was buzzing.
March had added Qingque to their "Jarilo-VI Squad", and the conversation was lively—discussing Belobog's sights, its history, its architecture.
Stelle leaned back, gazing at the stars peeking through the clouds.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
It's nice… having friends like these.