Linyue squinted.
Was that… Shu Mingye?
Yes. That was definitely him. Right in the thick of it, black robes whipping, sword glowing. A few unfortunate soldiers clustered around him, clearly doing their best not to be skewered by the Red Phantom Maiden's spear-like hands.
Well. That was definitely not fine.
"Ah," she muttered, "finally. A problem I can stab."
Her eyes stayed fixed on the chaos ahead.
Shu Mingye's sword blazed with every swing, each strike carving a streak of red light that cut through wind and demon limbs alike. His face was smeared with blood, but his stance never faltered. There was no limp, no sign of weakness. Somehow, even covered in blood and dust, the man still looked unfairly handsome. Like he had walked out of a nightmare and made it look fashionable.
He was fine. For now.
Linyue folded her arms and tapped her finger against her elbow. Since waking up, something inside her had changed. She felt lighter. And honestly, a little mischievous. Like an old version of herself had quietly returned while she was asleep.
Her eyes narrowed as they locked on the Red Phantom Maiden.
Sunken cheeks. Burnt skin. Wild hair like a bird's nest in a hurricane. She wouldn't let that thing win in beauty. If anything, it was her turn to shine, to dazzle the demon so hard it tripped over its own spear-like hands in confusion. Her lips curved into a dangerous, amused smile that promised beautiful chaos. She turned sharply on her heel, robes snapping behind her, and headed down the rampart.
A soldier guarding the gate blinked as she walked past. "Wait, miss—uh, miss?!"
Too late. Linyue was already strolling outside the gates. Her steps were slow and confident.
A level two demon lunged at her from the side. She barely turned her head. A flick of her fingers, a flash of blue flame and the demon burst into ashes.
She kept walking.
Left. Right. More low-level demons shrieked and charged at her. She raised her hand lazily. A faint glow surrounded her, and the air shimmered like heat waves. The moment they stepped into her blue flame, they crumbled to black dust without so much as a scream.
Her dark hair swayed behind her. Her crimson robe billowed, every step light as if the ground loved her too much to weigh her down. It had been a long time since she felt this free. For so long, something had been tugging at her. She couldn't explain what it was. But now, after the dream, after that strange spring... maybe, that water really had healing effect. Or maybe this was just her. Awake. Alive. And apparently, she also felt dramatic. Perfect time for a proper entrance.
As Linyue walked closer, the wind grew wild around her—sharp, heavy, and full of pressure. It sliced through the air like invisible blades, tugging at her robes and whipping past her cheeks. Regular people would've been shredded to pieces.
The closer she got, the clearer the scene became. Soldiers near the Red Phantom Maiden were struggling. Their arms weighed down, feet dragging like they were walking through mud. Even their swords seemed too heavy, swinging in slow motion. Their eyes looked panicked. One of them was practically dancing just trying to stay upright.
Linyue folded her arms and squinted at the demon.
Level eight. Definitely dangerous. Probably the type to chew heroes and use their bones as toothpicks. The demon's entire body shimmered inside a thick wind barrier. It was so dense that spiritual energy from weapons shattered the moment it got close. Two swords had already snapped in half mid-air. Another unlucky soldier went flying, limbs flapping as he cartwheeled five meters away.
Her eyes narrowed. "What a powerful ugly maiden," she muttered.
Her gaze shifted. A soldier had fallen on the ground, rolling desperately as his sword lay stuck under his own leg. His eyes were wide with terror.
The Red Phantom Maiden hunched low. Its sunken face tilted, hair writhing in the wild wind. One long, spear-like hand gleamed as it raised high, then shot down like a jagged lightning bolt—aimed straight for the soldier's chest.
Linyue sighed. She raised her hand to her mouth and called out politely. "Hey, ugly."
The Red Phantom Maiden froze mid-lunge, its long claw hovering inches from the soldier's chest.
For a long, awkward beat, nothing happened.
Then, with the slow, creaking motion of a broken door hinge, the demon's head turned. And turned. And kept turning. A full 180 degrees. Its sunken eyes locked onto Linyue. The wind around them stilled. Every soldier on the battlefield paused and turned toward the voice. The soldier on the ground twisted his neck around, saw Linyue, and made the exact face people make when someone pulls the curtains open while they're still in bed.
"I was calling that demon," Linyue clarified helpfully, lifting a finger to point directly at the horrifying, bony creature without even a flicker of shame.
Another gust of wind blew her ponytail sideways.
Perfect timing. It made her look twice as cool.
The soldiers looked back and forth between her and the demon.
Someone whispered, "Is she flirting with it or threatening it?"
No one bothered to answer.
Linyue didn't bother either. She just smiled faintly.
Shu Mingye snapped his head toward the voice.
There she was. The one who had been sleeping like a frozen statue, as if she had planned to nap until the next lifetime. But now she stood right there—very much awake, very much alive—and looking like she had just stepped out of some overly dramatic painting.
Crimson robes blazing against the blood-red sky. Sash snapping in the wind. Ponytail flicking. Even the tassel on her hair tie was working overtime, swinging in perfect rhythm as if to say, "Yes, this is my entrance." And for the first time in days, he felt the tension in his chest loosen just enough to let out a breath.
"Pie," he muttered, lips curving in the faintest grin.
She had finally woken up. Of course, this should have been a worrying moment. She was standing way too close to a level eight demon in the middle of a battlefield, casually provoking a creature that could throw people like sticks. But instead of alarm, what filled his chest was warmth and mild confusion. There was something new in her smile. It wasn't just calm or cold like before. This one had an extra layer to it. A flicker of slyness. A tiny sparkle of mischief.
Shu Mingye narrowed his eyes. She wasn't here to join the fight. She looked like she came to cause trouble. He was worried. He was also happy. She was the friend he had made in that snow four years ago. She said she was strong. And she was. And if she wanted to flirt with demons now… well, he supposed he'd just have to deal with it.
Linyue, meanwhile, was extremely pleased with herself. The terrifying level eight demon—skin like old dried jerky, arms like giant skewers, dress tragically out of fashion—was now fully focused on her. What an honor. Truly.
The demon didn't waste time. With a loud, bone-rattling whoosh, it lunged forward. Wind spiraled viciously around its bony figure, lifting dust and debris as it shot across the field. Its long, spear-like hand aimed straight for Linyue's chest. The speed was impressive—fast, violent, and definitely fatal for most people. But Linyue simply stepped aside. Then she casually waved one hand through the air. Blue flames bloomed from her fingertips, twisting into elegant, glowing shapes.
Butterflies. Dozens of them. A whole cloud. Their wings glimmered like sapphires, leaving streaks of pale blue light with every flap. They hovered around her for a heartbeat, almost affectionate. Then, at her faint smile, they shot forward as one.
"Beautiful and deadly," she whispered to herself, extremely satisfied. "Just like me."
The soldiers on the ramparts gawked.
"Are those—" one archer stammered, squinting hard.
"—butterflies?" another finished, equally confused.
"She's fighting… with butterflies?" a third whispered in awe.
"I think I'm in love," a fourth muttered, clutching his bow.