Deep within the Leimnian Hollow, the pink pillar of light that had torn open the sky—reeking of an eerie, seductive allure—finally began to falter after a brief struggle that felt like an eternity.
It stopped being stable.
It flickered like a candle in a storm, twisting, collapsing in on itself, shrinking—until a silent ripple of energy spread outward, and the pillar disintegrated piece by reluctant piece, melting back into the Hollow's perpetual gloom.
Only the sweet, clinging Ether aftershock hanging in the air proved it had ever existed.
With the pillar gone, Qianye—who had been suspended by that force—lost all support at once.
His body dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
Yet the black-gold runes Yixuan had carved onto him did not fade with the dissipation of power. Instead, as if something unknown had breathed "life" into them, they pulsed faintly—brightening and dimming like a living thing—circulating of their own accord as they struggled to soothe the still-rampaging bloodline energy inside him.
His eyes were shut tight. Long lashes cast pale shadows over a face drained of color. Even the stubborn cowlick that always stuck up had drooped, limp and defeated.
He was in deep unconsciousness.
His breath was so faint it seemed ready to snap.
Yixuan—who had been forcibly suppressing the churning blood and watching the situation with iron focus—moved the instant the pillar fully vanished.
She flashed forward, leaving a streak of bright yellow in the air. In the split second before Qianye hit the ground, she caught him—steady, precise, and unexpectedly gentle—pulling him into her arms.
The warmth and fragility of his body, even through fabric, stirred something complex across her orange-green slit pupils—fear, heaviness, and a sliver of relief.
She placed two fingers against his neck.
His pulse was chaotic and weak, his breath unstable—but his life signs were still there.
Only then did the tightness around her heart loosen—barely.
But she didn't even get one full second to breathe.
A roar erupted.
A chorus of shrieks and howls surged from every direction—out of the pitch-black corridors, from within rusted piping, from the distant trembling of the earth itself.
The sound became a terrifying wave, packed with frenzy, greed, brutality, and an almost ecstatic yearning—like predators driven mad by scent.
Worse, woven into the noise were several oppressive auras so heavy they made the skin crawl.
High-tier Ethereals.
They had smelled the earlier eruption like sharks smelling blood.
Now they were converging from all corners of the Hollow—toward the source.
Toward here.
Yixuan's expression iced over.
She lifted her head, slit pupils sharp as blades, scanning the surroundings like a drawn sword.
She could feel it clearly: not one, not two—hundreds, thousands, more—forming a tide that was already surging toward them.
The scale and momentum of it dragged a memory up from eleven years ago: the day the old capital was swallowed whole, the day Yun Kui Mountain's twelfth-generation disciples and her elder sister, Yijiang, were nearly buried in despair.
They could not fight here.
The thought struck like an ice spike and pierced through every hesitation.
Yixuan knew exactly what this meant: in this labyrinth of derelict industrial infrastructure—tight spaces, broken lines of sight—if they were surrounded by that many Ethereals, she might survive…
…but she would not be able to guarantee the safety of the boy in her arms.
And beyond that—there were still Hui Jing Mech workers who hadn't evacuated in time. If battle erupted here, the aftershocks alone could erase this entire zone. Ordinary people wouldn't stand a chance.
Yixuan decided instantly.
She hoisted Qianye onto her back in one clean motion, binding him firmly with a soft band of energy. Just as she was about to force a Yun Kui escape technique through the converging tide—
"Cheep…?"
A small, bright chirp—confused, almost dazed—cut through the terror like a wrong note.
It came from a compact storage space she carried.
Before she could react, a dark lump popped out and dropped to the ground with a soft thud.
A round, fluffy black ball of a bird.
The Qingming Bird.
But it wasn't staying that way.
It began to change—violently, visibly.
Its body swelled and stretched as though air were being pumped into it. The plump, harmless shape sharpened into something sleek and predatory. Its black feathers deepened into a glossy darkness that seemed to drink in light itself.
Its wings unfolded—twice the span as before—edges streaming with a faint,幽pink glow.
And its size surged from "perch on a shoulder" to "carry a person."
More unsettling than its size was its aura.
It was no longer the timid, harmless thing it had been.
A deep, ancient pressure rolled off it—an apex predator's quiet threat that made the soul instinctively tense.
Yixuan's heart sank.
She tightened her hold on Qianye and stared at the transformed bird, energy flooding her meridians as she raised her guard to its peak.
She didn't know whether this sudden mutation was salvation or catastrophe—especially after Qianye's power had just gone out of control. In a moment like this, any anomaly could become lethal.
But the Qingming Bird simply tilted its now majestic head, blinking its obsidian eyes with a brief, almost comical confusion.
Then its gaze landed on Qianye.
And instantly, its expression—absurdly, unmistakably—became affectionate.
It drifted closer without a sound, and with a tenderness completely at odds with its terrifying new presence, it pressed its cool, smooth-feathered cheek against Qianye's pale face.
A gentle nuzzle.
Then it turned to Yixuan and nudged her hand as well—softly, coaxingly—its throat rumbling a low, obedient coo, as if trying to soothe her tension.
Yixuan exhaled—silent, long.
The bond was intact.
This wasn't a loss of control.
If anything… it had likely been catalyzed by what the bird had previously swallowed, and by the violent flare of Qianye's power just now.
In the middle of a nightmare, it was the best possible news.
"Bird," Yixuan ordered, concise and absolute. "Get us out."
She swung up onto its broad, solid back with effortless precision, keeping Qianye secured.
The Qingming Bird answered with a clear, ringing cry—so sharp it seemed to have physical weight. The approaching Ethereal tide hesitated for the briefest instant, as though the sound had slapped their instincts sideways.
Then the bird's massive wings snapped open.
One brutal beat—wind exploding outward—and they shot upward, tearing free of the abandoned ventilation cover like an arrow leaving a bow.
Cold Hollow wind—thick with miasma and industrial fumes—hit them full in the face.
Yixuan braced Qianye with one hand and formed a quick protective seal with the other, raising a simple wind barrier around them as her eyes cut across the chaos below.
But as they crossed above the base's central zone, her gaze locked—and hardened.
Below, in an open area piled with discarded pipes, a small golden figure was being swallowed by a sea of Ethereals.
Ju Fufu.
Her weapon, Tiger Might, burned with fierce heat. Her compact body moved like a real tiger in a stampede—charging, pivoting, tearing through low-tier Ethereals with blazing arcs of light.
But there were too many.
And among the swarm were several "wraiths"—fast, malformed things that slipped through shadows like bad thoughts. They would go still as statues, then suddenly lunge with a killing thrust, making every second a trap.
Fufu's short golden hair was matted with dust and sweat. Her tiger ears were pinned flat in extreme tension. Her tail lashed the air, furious and anxious. Her green eyes held no surrender—but exhaustion and isolation were beginning to show through the cracks.
And then Yixuan saw something else—something wrong.
Not far from Fufu, in a "safer" pocket of space, stood Jane.
The enigmatic black-haired woman moved like a dancer in darkness, her silhouette flickering between positions. When a wraith formed behind Fufu—coiling for the signature lethal strike—Jane slipped in like a ghost.
One clean swipe.
Elegant. Lethal.
The wraith froze mid-motion, then burst apart like a punctured bubble, collapsing into black Ether dust.
Fufu caught sight of it at the edge of her vision.
Surprise flashed through her eyes—then gratitude.
But that gratitude was immediately drowned by deeper confusion.
Because right as Jane eliminated the wraith, several low-tier Ethereals surged past Jane—close enough to brush her space—
…and ignored her completely.
Not only did they not attack, they almost seemed to avoid her, subtly veering aside like they were skirting a boundary they weren't allowed to cross.
As if Jane were a forbidden zone.
Or something they feared at a primal level.
It didn't make sense.
Fufu's mind nearly stalled.
"Hey! You—" she tried to shout between swings, desperate for an explanation.
But the howl of the swarm swallowed her voice, and the next wave crashed in before she could spare even a breath.
She had no choice but to bury her confusion and keep fighting.
The scene was deeply abnormal—
but there was no time to dissect it.
"Fufu. Here."
Yixuan's voice—cold, clear, and heavy as ice—cut through the battlefield noise and landed directly in Fufu's ears.
Fufu's head snapped up.
She saw the massive black bird overhead, and on its back—her master, and the unconscious Qianye.
Her eyes exploded with disbelief and relief.
"Master! Junior brother!"
No time for explanations.
The Qingming Bird dipped in a swift, controlled dive, dropping altitude fast.
Yixuan's hands moved—seals forming with speed and precision—and Ether surged under her fingertips.
"Wind of Xun—Open!"
Her palms slammed downward.
A violent cyclone detonated around Fufu.
Invisible blades of black Ether tore outward, shredding and flinging away the low-tier Ethereals, carving out a small, fleeting pocket of safety in what had been a sealed ring of death.
"Grab on," Yixuan barked.
Fufu reacted instantly.
She sprang upward with astonishing force, small body launching like a cannonball. She caught one of the bird's lowered talons perfectly.
"Master—over there too!" Fufu shouted urgently, pointing toward Jane. "That's junior brother's… partner!"
Yixuan's gaze swept Jane.
Doubts surged, sharp and dense—but survival came first.
The Qingming Bird extended its other talon toward Jane like a precise mechanical arm.
Jane looked up at the looming claw. Her expression didn't change much—only a faint lift of her brow. Her eyes flicked once to Yixuan, once to Qianye's limp form…
…and then, as if abandoning some private calculation, she gave a soft, dismissive snort.
No resistance.
She let the claw close gently but securely around her waist.
The Qingming Bird released another piercing cry.
Its wings slammed down, harder than before, and they shot upward—climbing fast, ripping out of the chaos and racing toward the Hollow exit.
As Qianye left the area, the strange alluring "core" that had drawn Ethereals like moths to flame vanished entirely.
Below them, the Ethereal tide—briefly united by a single target and even suppressing mutual aggression—lost its anchor.
And in the instant that anchor disappeared, their natural hostility exploded.
The swarm broke.
Howls rose again, but this time in every direction.
Ethereals turned on each other without warning—claws tearing, bodies colliding, energy bursting. What had looked like a grim, coordinated surge became a blood-soaked brawl in seconds.
Weaker Ethereals shattered under the pressure of higher-tier presences, dissolving into raw Ether.
Stronger ones began harvesting the chaos.
A massive miasma-corroded devourer rolled through the mass, crushing low-tier bodies like trash under a wheel.
A Dullahan swung a great blade wreathed in eerie flame, cleaving apart anything that dared approach.
Wraiths slipped back into shadow, hunting for ambush angles amid the confusion.
They had forgotten the original lure.
The Hollow returned to its natural state: predation, territory, endless internal war.
But that madness no longer mattered to the four figures already streaking away through the air.
The Qingming Bird flew like black lightning.
They punched through the Leimnian Hollow's warped Ether boundary and burst back into the open sky above Chenghui Ping—still gray, still heavy, but infinitely cleaner than the Hollow's inner rot.
Following Yixuan's intent, the bird headed straight for the weathered Taoist temple perched on the cliff, the old plaque reading:
Suibian Guan.
When the Qingming Bird touched down in the temple courtyard—dusty, quiet—several people rushed over in alarm.
Yixuan carefully lifted Qianye down first, keeping him steady, and immediately instructed them to prepare a meditation room and medicinal supplies.
Beyond this secluded mountain air, the outside world was already starting to churn.
Workers who had barely escaped the Hollow spread the story—terrified, exaggerated, breathless—about the sky-splitting pink beam, the sudden Ethereal stampede, the Ether storm that followed.
The event's sheer scale drew attention fast—not only in Wei Feidi, but from other regions of New Eridu, and even from independent media.
And as reporters dug and survivors talked, a more explosive truth surfaced:
Hui Jing Mech Group, chasing profit, had ignored worker safety and forced people into the dangerous Leimnian Hollow for high-intensity Brightporcelain extraction during the legally protected Sharo Golden Week holiday.
Because of that illegal, life-disregarding decision, countless workers had been trapped inside when the anomaly struck—one step from a major catastrophe.
Public fury erupted.
Headlines exploded across every outlet:
"Leimnian Hollow Anomaly""Hui Jing Mech's Black-Hearted Extraction""Death Overtime During Golden Week"
In a single wave, the image Hui Jing Mech had been cultivating—pillar enterprise of Wei Feidi—collapsed into a crisis. Public condemnation, competitors' opportunistic attacks, and official investigative pressure hit all at once.
For the first time in a long time, Hui Jing Mech was in real trouble.
But for now, all that noise stayed outside the quiet boundary of Suibian Guan.
The old courtyard felt like its own world, sealing away the Hollow's chaos and the city's uproar. Only the faint moan of wind under the eaves remained, along with the aged scent of wood and a soft thread of medicine in the air.
Everyone's attention converged on one place:
the tightly shut meditation room—
and the silver-haired boy lying inside, still unconscious, still wrapped in too many unknowns.
A heavy silence settled.
Yixuan closed the wooden door gently, then turned.
Her orange-green slit pupils fell on Jane, who stood alone beneath the corridor's shadow, quiet and unreadable.
Yixuan's usual cool detachment now carried an extra edge of solemn weight.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut cleanly through the courtyard's stillness.
"Jane."
"Come with me. There are things I need to discuss with you—privately."
Jane lifted her head slowly.
In the dim light, her teal eyes glinted with something difficult to name. Her lips curled into a small smile—amused, knowing—entirely out of step with the tension of the moment.
She straightened, posture relaxed, even lazy, and met Yixuan's gaze without flinching.
"Oh?" Jane said lightly. "Perfect timing."
She tilted her head, eyes steady.
"I also happen to have a few questions for you, Master Yixuan."
Their eyes met—briefly, quietly—
calm surfaces hiding sharp probes, mutual understanding, and an undercurrent that had begun to move.
And then they turned, together, toward whatever truth would be spoken behind closed doors.
Join here to read ahead.
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Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
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The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 120
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 67
Uma Musume: From Beginner 135
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 85
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Checking In in Demon Slayer 80
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 85
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Honkai's Otherworld? Wait—Who Are You People?! 45
Emiya Shirou, Determined to Slay Every Curse and Evil Spirit 45
The Uma Musume Who Became 40
I'm Definitely Not the King of 45
After Maxing Out Every Class 45
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