A low murmur rippled through the stillness of the night.
Somewhere far beyond the reach of light, a cold forest held its breath.
Branches twisted like ancient bones. Leaves rustled—not with the wind, but with warning.
From the depths, the faint, broken sound of a guqin played a melody no one remembered… yet everyone feared.
A group of cloaked figures stood in silence—dressed in black hanfu, golden flame-shaped symbols emblazoned on their foreheads. The Lanxie Cult: Black Gold Lans.
Their long sleeves swayed like ghostly hands reaching for something unseen.
Owls cried. Crows laughed.
But none dared speak.
Then—a scream.
Sharp. High-pitched. Inhuman.
It cut through the air like claws scraping a soul.
One man collapsed, clutching his ears as blood dripped between his fingers.
"That sound again… it's waking up," he murmured.
Another stepped back, trembling.
"No… not it. The Garden. The one ranked second… is waking again!"
Eyes widened in fear.
"But this time… it's different. This isn't just a curse anymore. It's forgotten what it was—growing into something else."
The wind laughed cruelly.
Beneath earth, beneath flesh, beneath time itself…
Something that should have died was crawling upward once more.
Not as it was.
At the center of it all—
A boy who should not have survived.
A soul never meant to return.
Not yet strong. Not yet complete.
But alive.
And growing.
Kirihito finally reached the ceremony after his long, restless journey.
The faint, haunting guqin and bamboo flute music now clear, full, and oddly hypnotic.
He looked around.
The place was decorated sparsely—old red fabrics fluttered from branches, faded fox masks hung eerily from the trees. Red lanterns swayed in the cold breeze, their flames dim and flickering. The ceremony seemed more like a ritual to appease a devil or something equally dangerous.
Kirihito wondered who.
No children were present; only middle-aged and elderly humans lingered, faces tense with expectation.
He paused when he spotted a large crowd gathered before a throne.
He hid his face beneath his hood, watching silently.
Behind the throne stood a figure Kirihito couldn't fully see—turned away, draped in silver curls that caught the moonlight. White fox ears peeked from the hair, and behind him, paired tails edged in red swayed softly.
"A fox yokai? A two-tailed one? Rare… no wonder he's king of these insects," Kirihito mused silently.
Beside him, a wooden table bore ripe dragon fruits. Kirihito nibbled slowly, eyes fixed on the fox king's back.
A middle-aged man served liquor to the king—golden cups gleamed in the dim light.
"Some old fox king, huh? Look at the pride that furball has… drinking gold," Kirihito hissed softly, his ego ignited. "That throne isn't just to kill for. I want to steal it."
The fox king's pale hand, slender and elegant, reached for the cup. His nails were long and sharp. He nodded slowly to the man serving him, cold and commanding.
The man bowed nervously, heart pounding louder than anyone dared to admit. Kirihito heard it clearly:
"What a poor insect~ Your heart pounds loudly… is it singing for me? Hehe~ Maybe you're already welcoming me, even if you don't know. Your little piece of meat does."
Kirihito whispered the words under his breath, a devilish chuckle escaping as sharp fangs peeked.
The human guard stood rigid behind the throne, fear etched in his every breath—as if he would die should he even breathe too heavily.
Kirihito bit his lower lip, lips parting beneath the hood.
His tongue flicked out, unusually thin and forked like twin snakes, betraying his growing aggression.
"Yak! Female insects!" he hissed with disgust, his hair falling over his eyes before he quickly brushed it back. His breath mixed cold smoke with heat.
He sighed, oozing overconfidence.
"It's showtime, old fox."
Licking his lips stained red with dragon fruit juice, Kirihito slipped behind the stage, unseen—for now.
The fox king—Kyoren—was clearly ancient, yet exuded a dangerous, mysterious beauty.
Though his silver hair curled lightly, his eyes were golden lenses with sharp, foxlike pupils. Large and tired, they held a desperation only time could teach.
Dark red eyelids framed his eyes, with two glittering golden dots in the corner—one large, one small.
A black mark, three tangled strokes fading from large to small, graced his neck—like a wind symbol.
His golden crown was unusual—a thin ribbon edged with black, centered by a gold emblem matching his neck's mark. A black pearl chain hung from it, silk fabric draping gently around his face.
Kyoren's hanfu was layered:
Inner white silk, simple and pure. Mid-layer shimmering white with wide sleeves like drifting smoke. Outer dark red with golden embroidery of the wind symbol.
His black waist belt was adorned with golden pearl chains.
He sipped golden liquor slowly, swallowing down the burn with a strange comfort, as if it soothed something deep and aching within.
Suddenly, the guqin and bamboo flute played again—but this time the instruments floated in the air, playing themselves.
A dangerously beautiful voice echoed, hunting and cruel:
你点亮了死者的火焰
nǐ diǎn liàng le sǐ zhě de huǒ yàn
You lit the fire of the dead,
但他们却为了我而来
dàn tā men què wèi le wǒ ér lái
But they came for me instead.
那不是很悲哀吗?
nà bù shì hěn bēi āi ma?
Isn't that… sad?
你祈求怜悯
nǐ qí qiú lián mǐn
You prayed for mercy,
但怜悯没有肤色
dàn lián mǐn méi yǒu fū sè
But mercy wears no skin.
我戴着灵魂之眼
wǒ dài zhe líng hún zhī yǎn
I wear eyes of soul.
你难道不愿迎接这新的罪恶吗?
nǐ nán dào bù yuàn yíng jiē zhè xīn de zuì è ma?
Won't you welcome this new sin?
Kirihito spun, dancing freely now—his hood cast aside, long black hair and white yukata swirling with his every move.
Suddenly—a woman's scream pierced the air.
Her head was torn from her neck, flying like a cruel rag before smashing against a tree. The impact broke her nose and teeth.
"No holy shit! That woman was supposed to die… in ten minutes! Now her soul can't be taken for healing—she's useless!"
The king's inner voice screamed, mingling shock and fury.
His eyes widened as he stared at the shattered corpse, breath ragged.
More screams pierced the air—women terrified and desperate.
Kyoren spun sharply, the black pearls of his crown echoing softly. His fox tails trembled, the right one curling tightly around his waist.
Kirihito continued, singing and dancing, torturing the women consumed by obsession:
你的王冠闪耀黄金
nǐ de wáng guàn shǎn yào huáng jīn
Your crown glows gold,
但黄金比血更快融化
dàn huáng jīn bǐ xiě gèng kuài róng huà
But gold melts faster than blood burns.
He raised a hand, and from the unseen garden behind him, winds sliced through the air like blades.
Spinning again, more heads were torn from screaming women as Kirihito drove the wind's deadly force.
"Ahhh no!! Have mercy!"
"No!"
"Let us go!"
The women screamed, panicked and terrified.
"Kyoren-sama! That strange yokai is going to kill everyone!"
A trusted fox yokai guard cried, pointing at Kirihito with wide gray eyes and a trembling tail.
Kyoren's heart skipped. The ceremony's silence shattered into panic.
His eyes widened, sensing something profoundly wrong.
He felt no curse energy from Kirihito. None at all.
Impossible. No yokai could mute their curse.
Yet this one did.
His pulse raced as he realized—this yokai was different. Unknown. Unreadable.
"What is his name? He's not on my yokai list."
Kirihito's moves were intimate—too intimate—and the women drank in his appearance as if to devour him. Even the other men's eyes had turned pitch black.
"Why does he only manipulate humans? For fun?"
One entranced human whispered, voice thick with desire:
"Look at his hips… perfect… more breedable than any woman… I want to bite there… and suck his—"
"Shut up, you shameless pig! Even pigs have shame!"
Kyoren snapped, red-faced with anger and embarrassment.
He slapped the man hard, leaving claw marks across his face.
The man collapsed, still murmuring in lust.
Kyoren wanted to tear out their eyes and tongues.
"Kyoren-sama, calm down," his trusted guard Yurei said, voice gentle but worried.
He squeezed Kyoren's shoulder, trying to soothe his fury.
"No, Yurei. My heart burns like fire! My ears will explode from their disgusting words!"
Yurei bit his lip, helpless. Kyoren moved away, refusing to hear those filthy murmurs.
The tense atmosphere was a twisted mix of lust, fear, and confusion—none understood it.
Kyoren hated it.
He hated how unholy his eyes and ears felt, hearing such words about the stranger who ruined his ceremony.
He grabbed the lustful man's hair roughly, slamming his head to the ground—death came swiftly.
Yurei opened his mouth, but closed it again. There was nothing to say.
Watching Kyoren kill like one would ants was haunting and terrifying.
A woman's voice twisted into obsession:
"But he's so beautiful… I want to touch him… have him inside me!!"
Then desperate screams erupted:
"THAT MAN IS MINE! HE'LL FUCK ONLY ME! HIS EVERYTHING IS MINE! ONLY MINE!"
Kirihito chuckled darkly, dancing as the lustful insects drowned in desire.
"Hah… how badly they're drowning…"
His performance ended on the last notes of his song—a final trade with Kyoren for now.
问问森林
wèn wèn sēn lín
Ask the forest,
它会回答你
tā huì huí dá nǐ
It will answer you.
我不需要名字
wǒ bù xū yào míng zì
I don't need a name,
我需要的是沉默
wǒ xū yào de shì chén mò
I need silence,
还有人对它尖叫
hái yǒu rén duì tā jiān jiào
And someone to scream into it.
The music stopped abruptly.
Kirihito slowly lowered his hand, face hidden beneath silver-black hair shimmering under moonlight.
Suddenly—every human's head tore from their body as if by their own will.
They died like insects.
Except Kyoren and his fellow yokai.
Yurei swallowed hard.
Kyoren's mind screamed in disbelief.
"Ah shit… he killed them all?!"
Kirihito smirked, licking blood slowly from his lips.