Chapter 3

Something from the Stars

Qing Xukong ran through the night streets.

At some point, Qing Xukong realized the surroundings had grown strange—the scenery along the road felt both familiar and alien; the once dim night path now glowed unnaturally red under three eerie crimson moons in the sky, the air thick with a nauseating odor.

Qing Xukong had no mind to wonder why any of this was happening—he simply ran.

Yes, ran.

Qing Xukong was being pursued, though he did not know who—or what—was chasing him, nor why, nor even its gender. At first, he thought his appearance had caused this trouble; his face did make him a likely target for predators. But he quickly dismissed the thought.

The thing pursuing Qing Xukong—or perhaps it was not even a “thing”?—stood two meters tall, its body shrouded in what looked like a black drape, strangely fused with the shadow behind it, its posture indiscernible, its boundary with the shadow utterly blurred.

“What... is going on?”

So far, Qing Xukong had been running for about twenty minutes, yet strangely, the distance that should have taken minutes to cover now showed no progress whatsoever. Though faint red glows lingered around him, he saw nothing but an endless road stretching forward.

“Cough... help! Help!” Qing Xukong shouted again—this was not the first time, but tragically, no one ever answered.

His body, sprinting at full speed, should have been burning hot—but now he felt a winter’s chill. The strange street, the moons, that “thing”—too many anomalies overwhelmed his mind, leaving his thoughts in chaos.

Qing Xukong ran forward, trusting only his instinct.

Suddenly, the darkness ahead began to fade, taking on shape and color. But when Qing Xukong saw what it was, he thought—he was done for.

The road ended in a dead end, complete with a towering wall too high to climb. This absurdly perfect combination made him want to cry.

Qing Xukong slumped against the wall, his heart still pounding, his throat rasping “Sss—haa,” the nauseating odor growing sharper, the darkness deepening until it seemed the world had shrunk to just the wall behind him. Yet he knew he was not safe—his instinct told him that “thing” was watching him from ahead.

And so, Qing Xukong closed his eyes, ready to accept his fate.

But then, light came from ahead—and with it, he saw the true form of the “thing”: twisted horns, a massive vertical eye oozing green fluid like a lamprey’s mouth, membranous wings pressed against its sides, its entire body gleaming with a rubbery sheen. What puzzled him most was the hand growing from its abdomen.

That hand, on the monster’s belly, twisted as if rotating a wrist. Then, each finger extended straight, palm exposed, and clenched suddenly.

Instantly, the massive black form exploded without warning. Unlike the bloody carnage Qing Xukong expected, the bursting tissues and fluids dissolved into phosphorescent light and vanished into the air.

“Saved?... What just happened?”

Qing Xukong stared, bewildered.

There was something there. Someone stood motionless, arm outstretched, where the “thing” had dissolved. The person must have been the owner of that hand from the monster’s abdomen.

Somehow, the street had returned to normal—the three crimson moons had dwindled to a single white moon, the nauseating odor gone. By the moonlight, Qing Xukong saw the hand’s owner—seemingly human.

A petite figure, in stark contrast to the monstrous thing just gone. If judged by silhouette alone, it was human. Beneath the moonlight, white hair streamed down its back, swaying in the wind.

“Save your thanks for later—right now, we must leave this place,” the girl before him said, not even glancing down.

Though her voice carried calm and composure, her appearance was undeniably that of a girl—perhaps two or three years younger than Qing Xukong. Her green eyes reflected a spring’s clarity, drawing the gaze irresistibly; her ivory hair evoked purity and nobility, yet also an unexpected warmth; her ruby lips and white teeth, her flawless pale skin—all combined into an indescribable allure.

Qing Xukong doubted his eyes. She looked like a girl a few years younger than him—yet she had calmly erased that monster, and now stood as serene as ever.