"Lord Tail... are you really going through with this deal with Lady Fu Xuan?"
In the dim candlelight, Huohuo tiptoed to pull a dusty file on Mara-struck cases from the shelf, verifying its contents before placing it on a smaller stack.
The glowing green tail hovering behind her flared brighter, morphing into a spectral flame. "She's the Luofu's Master Diviner. She can make you a full-fledged judge of the Ten-Lords Commission."
"Oh..." Huohuo murmured. Despite her nightly nightmares and constant fear, she couldn't deny Fu Xuan's odd protectiveness.
"Lady Fu Xuan acts harsh... but she hasn't hurt me."
She pulled another book, her soft brows furrowing. Since witnessing Fu Xuan's Mara-struck episode, Huohuo had been dragged into her shadow—hunting Abundance abominations and borrowing confidential Ten-Lords records.
Most files detailed Mara-struck convicts. Huohuo wondered: Had Fu Xuan truly succumbed? If she'd found a way to resist the Mara... wouldn't that save the Xianzhou?
But there had to be a catch.
She'd tried to broach the topic once. That afternoon, she'd found Fu Xuan asleep at her desk, sunlight cascading over her pink hair like a painting.
As Huohuo turned to leave, she'd heard a whisper:
"Anming... I will save you."
Outside, maple leaves swirled. Huohuo draped a blanket over Fu Xuan's shoulders, her mind racing.
Later, in the Ten-Lords archives, she'd searched for "Anming"—and found a long-buried file.
With trembling hands, she opened it.
Inside: the tale of a nameless Sword Sovereign, his soul devoured by Abundance, leaving only an indestructible husk.
"Molten Knight SAM! Grant me the power of flame and earth! TRANSFORM—"
"Lower your voice!"
Firefly yanked Anming's sleeve, her face crimson. Even she only dared say those cheesy lines inside SAM's cockpit! This was all his fault!
Back in Grammer, he'd practice poses on their bed, brainstorming attack lines like "Protocol 4 approved. Executing Thunderstrike!" or "I'll ignite the seas!"
At first, she'd cringed. Now? She secretly loved it.
"Been a while since I suited up. Rusty!"
Anming ignored the bystanders' stares, reveling in SAM's transformation device. Real men pilot mechs!
Firefly side-eyed him. "Will you start sleeping with SAM next?"
She still remembered Grammer—how he'd forgotten to hold her hand, too busy playing hero.
Stupid SAM.
"Never! SAM's cool, but nothing beats your soft hands."
"Just my hands?"
"Mm... your sweet hair, your lips, your waist, your legs—"
"Hmph. Smooth talker."
Firefly smiled, though part of her still wondered. Last night, she'd been ready to give him everything. But Anming, ever-patient, wanted to wait.
Was she... not enticing enough?
But one glance at his adoring eyes dissolved her doubts. Warrior or lover—he cherished all of her.
She loved his vulnerabilities too: how he clung to her in sleep, face buried in her chest. In those moments, she was his everything.
"Want to visit the Underworld?" Anming offered. The Fragmentum could wait—Qingque had it handled. March and Stelle could brute-force their way through.
"Mm." Firefly nodded. "Anywhere with you."
She savored every second. Hopefully, Silver Wolf wouldn't mind waiting. She'd left her with enough games to last a month.
Hand in hand, they headed for the Underworld's station.
From the Shadows
Pela lowered her camera, comparing the photos to Bronya's intel.
"Doesn't look like a hero..."
But she knew better.
Anming seemed ordinary—just a man in love.