The journey from Ritou to Inazuma City was a surreal experience. After a long trip, the scenery before him finally changed drastically.
The air here felt cleaner, lighter, filled with the sweet and refreshing aroma of cherry blossoms.
The stone paths he walked on were now wide and well-maintained, flanked by beautiful gardens and small shrines emanating an aura of peace.
When he finally passed through the city's main gate, he paused for a moment, truly in awe.
Inazuma City sprawled before him like a living painting.
Buildings with gracefully curved purple roofs towered high into the sky, countless paper lanterns hanging from every corner, emitting a warm glow that made the entire city sparkle like a fairy-tale land.
The streets were filled with people coming and going, all wearing kimonos and yukatas in bright and beautiful colors.
The sound of children's laughter as they played, the calls of merchants hawking their wares, and the melodious music of a koto from a nearby teahouse all blended into a vibrant symphony of life.
Charles, still wearing his dark ronin attire and mysterious fox mask, looked so contrasting amid the colorful scenery.
He could feel the curious stares from the people around him, and his ears caught their whispers.
"Hey, look at that guy. Is there a festival today? Why is he wearing a kitsune mask like that?"
"I don't know, but his aura feels… weird. Better not bother him."
Charles ignored the whispers. He continued walking, his eyes hidden behind the mask observing every detail of the city with genuine admiration.
To him, this was a world entirely different from the places he had visited.
As he wandered around, he suddenly stopped. A vague memory surfaced.
Why is it so peaceful here?
Isn't there a Vision Hunt going on…?
This made him wonder. However, he quickly shook his head.
Instead, his feet began leading him somewhere, down a small path lined with food stalls.
He stopped in front of a simple little stall, where a friendly old woman was busy grilling something over a charcoal brazier.
A sweet and slightly charred aroma, so characteristic, wafted from the stall—an aroma that somehow felt so familiar to Charles.
On the tray, neatly arranged skewers of dango in three bright colors: pink, white, and green.
He bought one skewer.
The old woman handed it to him with a warm smile.
Charles accepted it, feeling the warmth from the freshly cooked dango spreading to his hand through the bamboo skewer.
He walked to the nearest bench under a fully blooming cherry blossom tree, its pink petals falling like snow around him.
He lifted his mask slightly, just enough to reveal his mouth.
Then, he bit into the first dango ball, the green one.
Instantly, a soft sweetness and the chewy, savory taste of rice flour exploded in his mouth, accompanied by the distinctive aroma of mugwort leaves.
He then bit into the white one, its sweetness more pure and simple, its texture so soft it nearly melted on his tongue.
And finally, the pink one, with a touch of sweetness from cherry blossoms, leaving a pleasant floral aftertaste.
The combination of the three different flavors and textures was so perfect, so comforting.
A small smile etched on his lips.
No wonder… Ei loves this so much, he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible.
After finishing the dango and throwing the skewer into the trash, he was about to continue his journey.
However, suddenly, a blue system notification screen appeared right in front of him.
Charles's eyes narrowed behind his mask.
…
In the main dojo of the Tenryou Commission's headquarters, a tense silence felt so thick it was almost palpable.
The air inside was cold and clean, filled with the faint aroma of polished hinoki wood, long-extinguished incense, and cold steel.
The only sounds breaking the quiet were the panting, panicked breaths of a man prostrating in the center of the room, and the soft rustle of his tattered, sweat-soaked clothing.
Before him loomed a tall woman standing motionless like a war monument.
She stood with her back perfectly straight, her gloved hands clasped behind her back, her posture radiating an unshakable military discipline.
Her indigo-dark hair, cut in a sharp asymmetrical bob, framed her pale and expressionless face.
Her golden eyes, sharp like a hawk's, stared straight ahead, not focused on the trembling man before her, but on an invisible point in the distance, as if contemplating a complex war strategy.
The blood-red tengu mask tucked at the side of her head looked like a raven observing, its sharp beak ready to peck at any weakness.
It was Kujou Sara.
The man before her, a low-ranking samurai who had just returned from a failed mission, finally finished his stuttering, fear-filled report.
"…and after the supply wagon exploded, he vanished into the shadows. We… we were attacked by a mysterious man wearing a kitsune mask, Miss!"
After the man finished his sentence, silence returned to the room.
Kujou Sara didn't move, showing no reaction at all. She let the silence hang in the air for a few moments that felt like eternity, allowing the samurai's shame and fear to peak even higher.
Finally, she slightly lowered her head, her golden eyes now staring sharply at the man, her gaze so cold it felt like an icy sting. Her thin lips barely moved as she spoke.
"That's all?"
That one word was uttered in a tone so flat and emotionless, yet more deadly than a sword slash.
The man flinched as if he had just been whipped. He swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry and choked. He could only nod with a stiff motion.
Sara turned her face away again, her gaze returning to the invisible point in the distance.
"If so, you may leave."
The command was an absolute dismissal.
The man, with a face pale from shame and relief, quickly stood awkwardly. He bowed deeply, then turned and hurried toward the exit, eager to flee from his terrifying general's presence.
However, just as his hand was about to grasp the shoji door handle, he stopped. His body tensed, a clear hesitation visible in his stiff shoulders.
Sara, noticing the pause, slightly tilted her head.
"What is it?" she asked, her eyes narrowing this time, her sharp tone indicating her patience was wearing thin.
The man turned slowly, his trembling hand reaching into his dirty kimono. He looked so hesitant, as if weighing the risk of further angering her against the risk of not delivering the entrusted message.
But in the end, with a quick and panicked motion, he stepped forward and thrust forward a roughly folded letter.
"Someone in Ritou… he said he knows the attacker, the one wearing the kitsune mask," he said in a voice nearly a whisper. "He said… I must deliver this directly to you, Miss."
Without waiting, Sara immediately took the letter from the man's hand with a swift and firm motion. She didn't open it.
Instead, she stared sharply into the man's eyes. Her gaze was so piercing, so full of suspicion and authority, that it made the samurai flinch back as if electrocuted.
Without another word, he bowed once more in panic, then turned and fled the room, leaving Kujou Sara alone in the silence.
…
Keqing stood frozen. Her chest rose and fell. Her Aetheresthesia slowly dimmed, the pain in her head that had screamed danger now turning into a dull throb in sync with her heavy heartbeat. But her physical senses were now working too sharply.
She could smell the blood of Haoyu pooling on the ice floor, still warm, evaporating a stinging metallic scent. She could hear the sobs that seemed to still echo among the stalactites.
And worst of all, she could hear Louis's breathing.
That breath was ragged, irregular, and alive.
Keqing let out a long sigh. White vapor escaped her mouth, swirling briefly before vanishing into the cold.
In that exhalation, she released the remnants of patience, tolerance, and the team ethic code she had upheld so highly.
The bond that tied them as a group had snapped.
Slowly, with a neck motion as stiff as an old wooden doll, she turned her head.
Her amethyst eyes, which usually radiated firmness and grace, were now dim. There was no lightning flash there.
Only a thick purple darkness, like a starless night sky. That gaze fell on Louis.
Louis, still sitting slumped on the ice floor, felt that gaze like molten lead on his skin. He tried to smile, but his lips only twitched uncontrollably.
He backed away slowly, sliding his butt on the slippery ice.
"We... we survived, right? We made it..." he whispered, his voice breaking.
Keqing didn't answer. She didn't draw her sword. She sheathed the metal blade back at her waist with a sharp click.
She moved.
Her steps weren't fast. No Stellar Restoration, no lightning teleportation. She walked normally, step by step, her boots slamming the ice with a heavy, inevitable rhythm.
Dug. Dug. Dug.
Louis backed away faster, his legs kicking the air, trying to find footing to stand and run. But his back hit the cold ice wall.
Now, he was cornered.
"Wait... listen... I had no choice!" Louis rambled, his eyes bulging wildly. "It's passive! A passive skill! I can't control it! I didn't mean to kill them! I swear by the Archons!"
Keqing was already in front of him.
Without changing her flat expression, she closed the final distance with one swift motion. Her right hand, wrapped in black and purple leather gloves, shot out like a striking snake.
Her fingers gripped Louis's collar, the dirty fabric wet with cold sweat.
Keqing lifted him.
Louis, though an adult man, felt light in her hand. Maybe because his soul was hollow, or perhaps because Keqing's anger gave her giant strength.
Louis's feet lifted off the ground, dangling uselessly in the air. He clutched Keqing's wrist, trying to free himself, but the girl's grip was as tight as iron vise.
They locked eyes.
Their faces were only inches apart.
Louis could see a bit of the girl's face even though it was hidden by her hood, but he could see his own pathetic reflection in those purple eyes.
"You're right," Keqing said softly. Her voice was calm. "You didn't kill them with your hands. You killed them with your existence."
Keqing's free hand clenched into a fist.
BUGH!
The punch slammed into Louis's jaw.
Louis's head jerked to the side. Pain exploded on his face, the salty taste of blood filling his mouth.
"This is for Haoyu," Keqing hissed.
BUGH!
The second punch hit Louis's stomach. Louis coughed, air forced out of his lungs, his eyes bulging. He curled like a shrimp, but Keqing's hand on his collar kept him upright.
"This is for Isabelle."
BUGH!
The third punch struck his nose. There was a crack of cartilage. Fresh blood gushed out, staining Louis's shirt and Keqing's glove. Louis whimpered.
Keqing didn't stop.
She punched again.
And again.
Louis's face was now swollen and bloody. One of his eyes was shut from swelling. He no longer begged. Resigned, becoming a punching bag.
Finally, Keqing's breath heaved. Her hand ached. She looked at Louis's ruined face, and she felt no satisfaction. Only a deepening disgust. Nausea from touching something so low.
With one rough jerk, she shoved Louis.
Louis was thrown back, tumbling on the hard ice floor. He coughed, spitting blood and broken teeth onto the floor. He curled up, hugging his own body, trembling like a dog beaten by its master.
Keqing stood there for a moment, regulating her breath. She looked at her hand stained with Louis's blood. She shook it off with disgust, as if wanting to discard the clinging filth. She grabbed a handful of clean snow from a nearby mound, rubbing her glove roughly until the blood was gone, or at least camouflaged.
Then, she turned.
Her back straight. Her slightly torn robe billowed in the cold cave wind. She didn't look back, toward the corpses of Haoyu and Isabelle.
She couldn't.
If she saw them again, she might break down right there.
And she refused to break in front of trash like Louis.
She began walking toward the cave exit.
"Wh... where are you going?"
Louis's voice sounded hoarse and wet, muffled by his swollen lips. He tried to sit up, staring at Keqing's retreating back with his one eye that could still open.
Without Keqing, Louis knew he was a walking corpse. He couldn't fight. His skill was useless without others to sacrifice. He was alone. And in this labyrinth, alone meant death.
"Wait!" he cried, trying to crawl. "You can't leave me! We're... we're a team!"
Keqing stopped.
She didn't turn fully. She only tilted her head slightly, her sharp profile illuminated by the faint blue light from the cave moss. Her eyes, glancing down, toward the crawling Louis.
At that moment, her lips moved, uttering a parting phrase that would haunt Louis until his last pathetic breath.
"That's none of your business, trash."
…
Sara turned, the heavy clack of her boots echoing in the empty corridor as she walked to her office.
The room, like herself, felt cold, neat, and functional.
The air inside was filled with the sharp aroma of ink and fresh parchment paper.
On her desk made of dark polished wood, stacks of reports and official letters were arranged with perfect geometric precision.
No personal items were visible, except for a single porcelain vase in the corner of the room, where a stalk of dark purple dendrobium stood upright and alone.
She sat in her chair, its high back making her look like a judge on her throne.
She stared at the letter in her hand for a few moments, its rough paper feeling odd between her gloved fingers.
With a slow and deliberate motion, she took a small tanto-shaped letter opener from its place on the desk.
She didn't tear it roughly. Instead, she carefully cut the unofficial wax seal and unfolded the paper.
Her golden eyes moved quickly, scanning the lines of handwritten script on the paper, an elegant but hasty writing, full of sharp and slanted characters.
When she finished reading, her expression didn't change. Her face was still as cold as a porcelain mask.
However, her hand holding the letter slowly began to clench.
The paper crumpled and crushed in her grip, a soft crinkling sound heard.
With one sudden motion, she threw the now-crumpled wad of paper into the trash bin beside her desk.
She stood up, her movements once again rigid.
Not long after, she walked out of her office, her robe billowing behind her like dark raven wings. She had made her decision.
In the empty trash bin, the crumpled wad of paper, as if pushed by an unseen will, slowly began to unfold on its own.
Under the dim light from the window, the letter's contents were now clearly visible.
To the Honorable General Kujou,
I hear you're looking for someone wearing a fox mask. Someone who seems to have made your troops look like a bunch of incompetent amateurs.
I have the information you seek: his identity, his purpose, and perhaps even his weaknesses. However, information like this doesn't come for free.
If you're interested, come to Ritou tomorrow when the full moon reaches its peak. Meet me at the farthest abandoned dock.
Come alone. If I see even one of your guard dogs, the deal is off, and this information will be lost forever.
Don't take this as a threat. Consider it a business invitation.
From a concerned friend.
…
A/N: I have nothing to say. Just hoping someone reads this. (My greatest hope) T-T.
Btw, I'm still expecting comments!
If you want to read the 7 advanced chapters with a faster update frequency than the webnovel, you can read it on my patreon whose link is below:
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