The rain had stopped.

  Li Xue sat on the same cold stone as before, now only slightly less wet, which was not exactly a victory. His long hair hung down his back in damp waves, and his robe—which might’ve once been silk—clung to him like a desperate ex. He sighed dramatically, looking up at the now-clear sky as birds started chirping like nothing traumatic had just happened.

  “Zen,” he said, voice dry as a cracker. “Clothes. Now.”

  [Sure thing, Your Soaked Highness.] Zen replied with a suspiciously cheerful tone.

  There was a moment of silence.

  Then poof—a small golden ripple in the air shimmered in front of him, and floating delicately in midair was… a beautiful blue hanfu. Elegant. Flowing. Layered with sheer silk and silver embroidery shaped like dancing clouds. It looked like something a fairy would wear to a royal banquet.

  Li Xue blinked. “Zen.”

  [Yes, darling?]

  “This is a girl’s dress.”

  [Technically, it’s unisex. The embroidery just screams ‘elegance,’ not ‘gender.’]

  Li Xue slowly stood up, arms crossed, the hanfu still floating like it was being modeled by an invisible ghost. “You’re telling me that this—” he gestured dramatically at the gauzy, glittering hem, “—is the best you could do?”

  [You’re inhabiting the body of a noblewoman from the Nine-Tailed Fox Cn. You expect me to dress you in sweatpants and a hoodie?]

  “…I would’ve killed for sweatpants,” Li Xue muttered, snatching the hanfu.

  He retreated behind a tree and changed while Zen whistled a merry tune in his head. When Li Xue emerged, he looked…

  Well, gorgeous, to be honest. Ethereal. He looked like someone who probably had her own cult following on pace forums. But instead of enjoying it, Li Xue just sighed.

  “Zen,” he said, voice serious now, “Why is the Dark Zone so invested in the bance and fate of this world anyway? Isn’t this just one world among thousands?”

  [Oh, look who’s suddenly asking the deep questions.] Zen said mockingly. [But fine, I’ll py. No, the Dark Zone doesn’t need this world to survive. But this world needs bance and fate to keep from colpsing. If too many anomalies pile up—like, say, a character dying too early or the Dusk Star going missing—then the entire world can unravel like a badly crocheted sweater.]

  Li Xue frowned and lowered his eyes.

  Zen was about to crack another sarcastic line when he noticed something odd. Li Xue’s thoughts… were no longer entirely in one nguage. In fact, he had started to think in a strange, ancient dialect. One that hadn't been used in millennia.

  “Zyn-sha meli’ir venai nor.”(The sky always mourns before it is reborn.)

  Zen’s voice faltered.[Wait. What was that?]

  Li Xue didn’t answer. His mind was spinning with thoughts, all pouring out in that mysterious tongue.

  “Serai dul veyrin. Shira tas era Dusk Star.”(I will not die again. I will find the Dusk Star.)

  Zen remained quiet. For once.

  It struck him then—this human, this average, no-cheat-code, died-on-the-sixth-floor human—was remembering a nguage that didn’t belong to this world, or perhaps even this timeline. Maybe that was why the Dark Zone chose him. Maybe there was something more than statistics involved.

  Li Xue finally looked up, determination gleaming in his eyes like a bde under moonlight.

  “I’m not going to sit around and wait to be another plot prop,” he said. “This empire’s about to fall. I can feel it. So I’m going to do what no dead noble girl has ever done before…”

  Zen braced himself. “What’s that?”

  “I’m going to run away,” Li Xue said brightly. “And find the Dusk Star by making my own forces. Might as well build a revolution while I’m at it.”

  Zen blinked. […Wait, what?]

  But Li Xue was already moving. He knelt, dug a shallow grave with a stick, and carefully buried the cold body of the original fox princess—whose face he now wore.

  He stood, brushing off his hands. “Rest easy. I’ll make sure your family name shines again.”

  Zen sniffled in his head. [That was… unexpectedly touching.]

  Li Xue looked to the east. “Now then. I’m going to the Qiling Mountains.”

  Zen choked. [Wait wait wait—you’re going to the Fox Cn?! The reclusive, paranoid, mountain-dwelling cn that hasn’t spoken to outsiders in two centuries?]

  “Yup.”

  [Bold choice.]

  “Thank you. I pn to become their leader.”

  Zen paused for a long moment. Then:

  [Okay, dramatic speeches aside, let me give you a quick history lesson. You’re wearing their face, after all.]

  Li Xue sighed. “Go on, professor.”

  Zen’s voice took on a tone like a bored tour guide.

  [The Fox Cn used to be the cn. Beautiful, powerful, mystical. They could charm the moon out of the sky and sell it back as jewelry. But then the Celestial Realm and Demon Realm went to war, and their battlefield crashed into the Mortal Realm like a toddler falling on a sandcastle. Everything was destroyed.]

  “Sounds chaotic.”

  [That’s an understatement. The foxes lost their sacred nds, their temples, and about 80% of their popution. The survivors fled to Qiling Mountain and built a sanctuary there. Since then, they’ve kept to themselves, paranoid, quiet, and very suspicious of outsiders.]

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m not an outsider,” Li Xue said with a smirk.

  [You’re barely an insider!]

  “Well, time to prove myself.”

  Ten Days LaterTraveling through the wilderness was not, as Zen had once suggested, "romantic and soul-healing." It was more like "blister-inducing and mosquito-infested."

  Li Xue didn’t have a proper map, only vague directions and Zen’s snarky voice as a compass. His days went something like this:

  Morning: Forage for berries, compin about how hard apples are to chew now that he had daintier teeth.

  Midday: Bathe in whatever stream, ke, or suspiciously clear puddle he could find.

  Evening: Roast whatever unfortunate squirrel or rabbit he could catch.

  Night: Argue with Zen about how “normal people” don’t get sent on world-saving missions with no shoes.

  At some point, Li Xue became impressively proficient with a sharp stick. He named it Stabby.

  Zen approved.

  [I can’t believe you named a stick.]

  “Stabby has character.”

  [Stabby has termites.]

  Despite all the suffering, something inside Li Xue had started to change. His body grew stronger. His movements more graceful. His instincts sharper. He could climb trees without slipping, cook without burning anything (too badly), and his aim with thrown rocks? Deadly.

  Zen called him Nature Barbie. Li Xue pretended not to enjoy it.

  And finally, ten days ter, after dodging a wild boar, getting lightly chased by a group of bandits who mistook him for a rich dy, and bickering with Zen so loudly that squirrels jumped off branches in terror—Li Xue stood before the towering Qiling Mountain.

  It was majestic.

  Clouds curled zily around its peaks like silk scarves. Waterfalls glittered down its cliffs like ribbons of light. The forest around it whispered with ancient energy, and foxfire nterns floated zily in the shadows.

  Li Xue’s hanfu was now patched with pnt fibers, stained with berries, and still somehow managed to flutter dramatically in the wind like a fashion statement.

  Zen whistled.

  [Well, you actually made it. In one piece. With all your limbs. And some surprisingly good calves, I might add.]

  “I don’t want to talk about my calves, Zen.”

  [Too te. I’ve already submitted their image to the Hall of Legendary Thighs.]

  Li Xue ignored him. His gaze was fixed on the path ahead.

  The Qiling Mountain awaited. The Fox Cn awaited.

  The Dusk Star was out there somewhere, glowing with all its wish-granting power, and Li Xue had a strange, foreign nguage whispering in his mind and a voice in his head that wouldn’t shut up.

  He adjusted his tattered hanfu, twirled Stabby, and took a step forward.

  Let the world try and stop him.