With a sharp tug, Snow Kui yanked Yingda toward him, bent down, hooked her legs in one smooth motion, and lifted her onto his shoulder.
Two pairs of crystalline butterfly-like ice wings bloomed from his back.
The moment they unfurled, Snow Kui's speed shot upward like a released arrow.
A roll mid-air—
A massive boulder streaked past them, close enough that Snow Kui and Yingda met eyes and swallowed hard at the same time.
The weather was pleasant.
The world calm.
Which made this an extremely rare moment of leisure.
On the high ridge, Fushō set down a small wooden stool, spread out a roll of white paper, and faced the distant mountains.
Few would imagine that the burly, scar-covered yaksha found peace not through combat—
but through calligraphy and painting.
He ground ink, lifted his brush, and the strokes flowed like water.
Mountains emerged on the scroll.
Then bamboo forests.
Every stroke felt guided by inspiration itself.
Today is different.
Today… the world cooperates with me.
Fushō could feel it: a breakthrough.
His spirit quieted, steady as stone.
His brush danced.
When he finally set it down, he exhaled deeply, certain:
This piece… can finally be shown to Lady Guizhong.
But when he raised his head—
A boulder obliterated the scroll.
The sky darkened.
Purple hair whipped in the wind.
Snow Kui and Yingda—mid-flight, chaos in their eyes—stared down at him.
"Fushe Big Brother— I can explain—!"
Snow Kui's voice cracked.
Yingda flapped her hands like she could physically push blame away.
Then— gone.
Two streaks of red and white zipped off like startled birds.
Emnu arrived a heartbeat later, panting—but forcing calm to save pride.
He took one look at Fushō's destroyed masterpiece.
Fushō stood motionless.
Expression blank.
…But two tears slid down his face.
Those tears were not sorrow.
They were the remains of his last thread of sanity.
Then—
A yaksha mask snapped onto his face.
"You have shattered my Dao…
then I shall walk into madness."
Lightning cracked.
"COME. DIE."
At a clear stream, Pavana dipped her bare feet into the water, letting fish swim around her toes. Her expression softened.
Until three streaks flashed overhead: red, white, and gold.
Then behind them—
a whole sky of thunder.
Pavana's eyes sparkled.
Their relationship is so good…!
They're playing a thrilling chasing game.
High in the air—
Snow Kui and Yingda exchanged a look…
…and burst into laughter.
Snow Kui wasn't entirely sure why they were being chased anymore.
But sometimes, being hunted while flying for your life was—fun.
At dusk—
Stone Dust blinked at Snow Kui, stunned.
"…Picking flowers is that dangerous?"
Snow Kui's clothing was torn, charred, and covered in singe marks.
He could still smell lightning.
Snow Kui answered with a dead, soulless voice:
"Hard to say."
He handed Stone Dust a large bundle of perfectly selected Ningsang Flowers.
But he kept two blooms hidden in his arms.
Stone Dust narrowed his eyes.
"You kept two?"
Snow Kui guarded them like a dragon hoarding treasure.
"Don't touch. These are mine. Also, the scent doesn't suit Sister Shuang."
Stone Dust thought about it. True—
Shuang was gentle and pure; overpowering fragrance would not suit her temperament.
But Stone Dust suddenly slung an arm around Snow Kui's neck.
"…Don't tell me you're planning to give them to someone special?"
Snow Kui stared at him.
"Do I look as deranged as you when you're in love?"
"…Hard to say."
Stone Dust stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Some men hide it well. I hid mine for years, didn't I?"
Snow Kui sighed.
"I'm giving them to Guizhong. As… an offering."
He thought about Rex Lapis's offering table and felt a petty sense of justice.
Stone Dust's entire demeanor changed.
"Then— can you wait until I succeed first?"
Snow Kui blinked.
"Why?"
"Because if you hand over something that refined before I confess, I'll be overshadowed! Please, I beg you. This is my lifelong request!"
Snow Kui stared at him.
How many 'lifelong requests' does he have left?
But time meant little to him or Guizhong, so Snow Kui nodded.
Later that night, after countless failures—
Stone Dust finally produced a jar of sweet-scented balm, nearly crying in relief as he sprinted from the house to deliver it.
Snow Kui cleaned the tools, exhausted beyond belief.
I would rather fight Morax again than help another man with romance.
He worked silently.
Compared to battle, Snow Kui was gentle at the alchemy table—movements elegant, patient.
Incense smoke curled around him.
The flower's warm fragrance filled the air.
In the soft light, Snow Kui's snowy hair caught the glow like stardust.
He gazed at the finished balm, hesitant.
"…Would a god really like something like this?"
Advance Chapters available on P@treon
patreon.com/soulrequiem