Chapter 952: Qingque Falls into a Demon Shadow Body

The newly appeared building also turned into an ice sculpture.

Xing saw through the crack in the door that the vague shadow crouched again in its new spot, with something inexplicably clutched under its arm.

"This person is really wild."

Xing gave the final assessment.

Just as she savored the other's taunting words, a flash of light suddenly flickered in her mind.

What did that voice just shout?

Qingque miss......

Qingque?

Qing... que!!

Xing snapped her head around, her golden eyes refocusing on the gray‑white‑haired Demon Shadow Body in the middle of the street.

The fragments that had been scattered across her mind suddenly rose, clacking together into a complete picture: a petite girl with a brown‑tailed ponytail waved at her, smiling brightly, "Pioneer, right? Follow me."

In the Shen Ce Fu main hall, the girl yawned before everyone and said, "Good morning, Grand Diviner," then strode toward Fu Xuan, grabbed his head, and pressed her lips to his.

That brown ponytail. This gray‑white long hair.

That smiling face. This cold‑as‑ice sharp face.

That Tai Bu Si uniform. This asymmetrical commander‑style outfit.

The two images overlapped in her mind, like two transparent sheets slowly aligning.

They coincide!

Xing inhaled a breath of cold air.

"Qingque!"

The name leapt from her mouth, carrying the sudden realization of a great detective finally solving a case.

But that conclusion lasted only half a second before she overturned it herself—No, impossible!

From what she knew, that Qingque was a petite Diviner who spent her days goofing off and playing cards, her greatest achievement being winning all her colleagues' lunch money at a Thus Item: Thus Item: Diyuanqiongyupai table.

But the one before her radiated enough aura just by standing there to make half the street's Demon Shadow Bodies circle around, a completely different scale.

Then who is this gray‑white‑haired one?

Xing's brain revved up at high speed again.

This time, with an anchor point, the processing efficiency clearly improved.

She stared at that face, about seventy‑eight percent similar to Qingque yet with a completely different temperament, and a highly plausible inference formed in her mind.

This is Qingque's relative!

Older sister!

Or cousin.

Or paternal cousin.

In any case, definitely a direct blood relative, perhaps even the same generation, since Xianzhou people of the Long-lived Race show no age difference outwardly.

That sister is probably a senior officer of the Cloud Cavalry; you can tell from her attire. She fell into a Demon Shadow Body on duty, now taking this form, while her sister Qingque remains clueless!

The more Xing thought, the tighter the inference seemed.

She then stuck her head out from the corner to observe, her gaze scanning the gray‑white hair's outfit repeatedly, increasingly convinced the clothes were indeed attractive.

Every detail was absurdly exquisite, and on the gray‑white‑haired figure, combined with the floating white Bubbles around her and the rotating golden five‑petaled flower beside her, she looked as if she had stepped out of a classical xianxia painting.

"Tsk tsk."

Xing Fa let out a sincere sigh, "That outfit is truly beautiful; Qingque's family actually has such a good‑looking relative, why hadn't she mentioned her before?"

Unfortunately, she fell into a Demon Shadow Body.

Xing thought this and felt a bit regretful.

When she first arrived at Luofu, she heard the Cloud Cavalry say that Xianzhou people who fall into a Demon Shadow Body are extremely hard to cure, with recoverable cases so few they're almost negligible.

Most Xianzhou who fall into a Demon Shadow Body are eventually suppressed by the Cloud Cavalry; the luckier ones are sent to the Dan Ding Si for long‑term treatment, the less lucky are killed outright on the battlefield…

Xing shook her head, tossing the heavy thought away.

She thought she should turn back and tell Qingque, Xing mused internally.

Although she couldn't help much, at least she could let her know her relative was here.

She hoped Qingque wouldn't be too sad; after all, a sister falling into a Demon Shadow Body would sadden anyone.

Even though Xing's understanding was completely off the mark, the next thing she did turned out unexpectedly correct.

After a half‑second silent tribute to Qingque in her mind, Xing pulled out her phone, aimed at the standoff in the street's center, and pressed the shutter.

Click.

The flash didn't fire, but the mechanical click of the shutter sounded unusually crisp in the silent lockdown zone.

Xing immediately covered the phone's speaker, turned her head away, waited three seconds to confirm no one saw, then stuck half a head out again.

The photo turned out okay.

With ample moonlight, both figures were clear, the gray‑white hair's flutter in the wind perfectly captured.

Xing opened the group chat "Xianzhou Luofu Battle Communication Group," selected the photo, and hit send.

After sending the image, she casually typed a note: "Encountered a master in an unknown district, standoff captured—pictures prove it."

Before she finished typing, a message popped up in the group.

General Fu Xuan: "? Don't post content unrelated to work."

Xing's finger hovered over the screen, staring at Fu Xuan's reply, a subtle curve lifting the corner of her mouth.

Fu's response speed was faster than she expected; he was still online, indicating the general's overtime intensity truly lived up to its reputation.

She deleted the unfinished note, about to retype an explanation of the photo's significant intelligence value, when several more message bubbles popped up on the screen.

Fu Xuan: "Pioneer, every message posted in this group will be pushed to me."

Fu Xuan: "It's midnight now; it's not time to discuss street photography."

Fu Xuan: "If you have any discoveries, please use the official intelligence reporting channel and don't post irrelevant content in the casual chat group."

Xing watches these messages, imagines Fu Xuan behind the desk, expressionless, typing, and feels no ripple in her heart.

She reopens the photo she just took, zooms in, confirms the gray‑white‑haired woman's facial features are clear, then switches back to the group chat, ready to type a description of this "Qingque relative."

Before her finger can fall, a new message bubble pops up at the top of the screen.

Fu Xuan sends a voice message.

Xing tilts her head.

Followed immediately by a second one.

The third.

Four voice messages pop up in succession, each brief, as if she rattled them out several times in a burst of emotion before steadied her hand.

Perspective shift

Somewhere in the General's residence, a light remains on.

Fu Xuan sits behind the desk, three half‑person‑tall piles of documents spread before her.

On the left is the Dan Ding Office's compiled cases of demonic‑yin bodies, on the right the Cloud Cavalry's deployment report, and in the middle the Construction Office's Star Chariot channel maintenance request; each requires the Acting General to personally review and stamp in red.

She has been sitting here for a full six shi, only drinking two cups of sweetened water and eating a plate of osmanthus cake.

The Divination Eye on her forehead glimmers faintly in the shadow of the document stacks.

Her orange‑pink eyes retain the sharpness befitting the head of Tai Bu Si while reviewing the papers.

Her pink‑purple sky‑rising bun is meticulously styled, and the hairpin lodged at the back of her head reflects fragmented golden specks under the lamp.

She puts down the pen and flexes her slightly sore wrist.

Her white‑tights‑clad calves stretch straight beneath the desk, and her black high‑heels tap the blue‑gray stone floor twice, producing a crisp clack.

The hem of her skirt, hanging to her ankles, lifts gently as she extends her leg.

The cuff slides down, revealing a pristine white wrist that glistens with a translucent sheen in the candlelight.

"Qingque, bring a cup of sweetened water."