Chapter 635: Too Big

When A Xing pulled the Rein, the Pink Horse lifted its front hoof high, kicked twice in the air, then landed heavily on the ground, its hoof stirring a small puff of dust from the broken stones.

Mysterious Star Call!!!!

When A Xing shouts that name, it always carries a strange solemnity, as if calling an old comrade who has fought side by side for years, not a clumsy horse summoned casually from the roadside, its whole body full of sinewy meat.

The horse snorted loudly, its massive head nudged A Xing's shoulder, the force so great that A Xing swayed sideways, then it stood there, its four pillar‑like legs firmly planted, Tail swinging behind, and its horse face still wore that blank expression as if the sky falling had nothing to do with it.

When Robin flipped off the horse's back, its legs went limp as if stepping on cotton, the knee bent and nearly knelt, and it hurriedly grabbed a crooked streetlamp pole beside it to steady itself.

A Xing's skirt slipped off the horse and crumpled into a bundle; the floating ribbons on the hem tangled around the leg, taking several attempts to untie, and the delicate face was filled with a jumble of five flavors—pain in the buttocks, inner thigh ache, bones feeling as if the horse's back had rearranged them, each segment reminding A Xing of what had just happened.

A Xing leaned on the streetlamp for a while, took several deep breaths, and finally suppressed the tingling numbness rising from the tailbone, then walked step by step toward the mansion, each step causing a subtle twist in the expression on the face.

A Xing didn't look at them.

When A Xing flipped off the horse's back, the movement was clean and swift, the boots' footfall light and steady, and the Pink Horse swayed its head behind A Xing, its mane tracing a pink arc.

A Xing reached out and patted the horse's sturdy neck twice, the pressure neither heavy nor light, as if soothing a warhorse that had just finished a long run.

Mysterious Star Call!!!! A gust of hot breath puffed from its nostrils, scattering a small patch of dust at its feet, then it stood there quietly, Tail slowly swaying behind, waiting.

The surroundings were very quiet.

The buildings here were a bit more intact than those A Xing had passed before, with fewer collapsed walls.

The distant sky remained that grayish hue, occasionally a deep‑blue or dark‑red light flashed from some corner, then faded, and once out, it never lit again.

A Xing looked around, the gaze sweeping over the crooked roofs and twisted walls, the golden eyes revealing no emotion in the dim light, and when A Xing's gaze fell on the ground, it paused.

It was a speck of light, very faint, almost invisible amid the ash, but A Xing saw it.

A Xing held Mysterious Star Call's Rein, walked over slowly, crouched, and picked that speck of light out of the ash.

It was a coin.

It probably wasn't a coin from this world.

Copper‑colored, a size larger than a regular coin, the edge worn to a slightly fuzzy state, the obverse engraved with a cat paw, the pad round and plump, the reverse bearing unreadable characters, mostly worn away, only a few curved strokes still faintly discernible.

A Xing flipped the coin over for a glance, then flipped it back, the fingertip brushing the cat paw's pattern; the lines were already shallow from wear, but the shape of the paw remained, round and plump, like a real cat's paw pressed onto a copper plate.

Pa Duo.

A Xing's fingers paused.

The coin lay in A Xing's palm for a while, warmed slightly by A Xing's body heat.

A Xing stared at the cat paw for a few seconds, then clenched the coin into the fist, stood up, and swept the gaze farther.

A short distance away at a corner, another faint light flickered in the ash, as if someone blinked in the darkness.

A Xing switched the Rein to the left hand, let the right hand hang at the side, and walked in that direction.

Mysterious Star Call followed behind, its hooves striking the broken stones, each step solid, shaking the faint flash a few times.

It was a fragment of a wine glass.

The glass wall was thin, almost weightless in the hand, the edge broken into irregular serrations, yet the undamaged parts of the cup still revealed former elegance—smooth arcs, balanced proportions, and golden patterns flowing on the glass, still refracting tiny light in the dim illumination.

A Xing held the fragment up to the eyes, viewing the grayish sky through it; the sky was sliced into several irregular shapes by the fragment, the golden patterns swirling within the shard like living things moving inside.

Yidian.

That name also sprang from deep within the mind, like water gushing from a spring, unstoppable.

A Xing set the fragment down, clenched it in the palm, the coin and fragment pressed together, emitting a faint clink.

A Xing stood there, gazing at the empty sky for a few seconds, then lowered the head, and the gaze began scanning the area.

A Xing didn't take a step, but the gaze already swept the corners and cracks repeatedly, as if seeking more light within the grayish buildings.

Then A Xing heard a sound behind.

Like a bomb detonated from within.

A Xing spun around abruptly, seeing the mansion instantly engulfed by cobalt‑blue Flame, the flames spewing from broken windows, bursting through cracks in the collapsed roof, oozing from every loose brick fissure, turning the whole mansion into a burning torch.

The Flame quivered and coalesced in the night wind, the scattered firelight converging toward the center, as if grasped by an invisible hand, compressing from all directions into a single point, shaping into a fox.

It was too big.

It was larger than the one A Xing had once seen from afar, the cobalt‑blue Flame bubbling from every inch of its fur, forming a thick luminous shell around it, shielding the scattered stones outside, turning them to ash.

Its head nearly touched the grayish sky, its limbs sunk in broken tiles, each movement pushing the surrounding ruins farther away.

It tilted its head back, the massive fox face gazing at the sky, mouth open, revealing a deeper, brighter cobalt‑blue within.

Then something fell from the sky.

The object was tiny, dropping from high and far, its speed so great that A Xing only saw a blurred Black Shadow falling from the gray sky, landing precisely in the Giant Fox's open mouth.

The Giant Fox's mouth snapped shut, the object flashed once in its throat, then was devoured by the cobalt‑blue Flame, not even a sound managed to emerge.

A Xing saw clearly what it was—orange hair, tattered school uniform, a twisted face.

Gudazi.

A Xing hadn't had time to process the scene when a hand reached out from behind, gripping A Xing's back of the neck.

The force was astonishing, lifting A Xing entirely off the ground, as if holding a kitten aloft.

A Xing looked down at the ground—growing farther away, the stones beneath shrinking into a small, blurry gray patch, the Pink Horse lifted its head to stare, its previously blank horse face finally showing a hint of expression: confusion.

A Xing turned her head, seeing the dark‑purple, scar‑covered mechanical arm, Berserker.

Its wounds were greater than before, the chest armor now bore several deep, bottom‑visible cracks, and a large piece was missing from the left shoulder armor.

But it could still fly; the Thruster expelled dark‑purple Flame from its feet and back, lifting A Xing higher and higher, leaving the growing Giant Fox behind.

A Xing looked down at the fox.