A high-pitched squeak echoed from the rat’s mouth as it nuzzled into Kurome.
Squee!
Pii-pii!
Kurome gave a faint purr and lowered her head slightly, touching her nose to the rat’s back.
Hao’s brain froze.
“…What.”
Kurome turned her head to Hao.
’Do not be alarmed, Master.’
’This is a member of our clan.’
She lowered her snout slightly, the rat now curled up against her fluff.
’My junior brother, Little Sneak.’
’Little Sneak. Hurry up and introduce yourself to my master.’
The rat twitched. Little Sneak slowly stood up on Kurome’s foreleg like it was a stage and he had just been summoned by the heavens.
His beady eyes locked onto Hao.
There was silence.
Then –
A squeaky, over-the-top voice rang out in Hao’s head.
’So it’s you!’
Little Sneak jabbed a paw in Hao’s direction, his tail twitching furiously.
’The guy that stole our big sister?!’
Hao blinked.
Kurome blinked.
Little Sneak wasn’t done.
’You – you two-legged schemer!’
’You must’ve cast a spell on our big sister!’
’What kind of sinister demonic seduction technique is it?!’
’You took advantage of her vulnerability, didn’t you?’
He stomped his tiny foot on the ground, waddling closer with a fierce glare.
’Our Big Sister Kurome has never bowed to anyone, ever! Not even the elders!’
His tiny chest puffed out with pride as he pointed accusingly.
’And now she’s calling you ’Master’? What forbidden art is this?!’
Little Sneak paused, his voice growing louder.
’Every day, she stands outside the store like some kind of… of guard dog! What right do you have to make her do that?!’
Stomp.
Stomp.
’And – and then you make her wear those strange clothes!’
’What twisted nonsense is behind this?! Although, I must admit, it does suit her… Our Big Sister still looks elegant, even in those ridiculous clothes!’
Hao: “…”
’This little guy even more of a yapper than Hua Feixue.’ Hao thought, shaking his head in disbelief.
Kurome narrowed her eyes.
Smack.
Her paw landed lightly but firmly on Little Sneak’s head. He flattened into the fluff like a squashed dumpling.
’Enough.’
A long silence followed.
Then the rat slowly peeked up from the fluff, his ears drooping as he cleared his throat.
’…Greetings, cunning human.’ Little Sneak muttered with a slight pout.
’I am Sneak. Junior brother of the honored Kurome. Watcher of shadows. Keeper of secrets. Guardian of snack stashes.’
’And most importantly, Master of Stealth. From the esteemed Pumbral Clan.’
Little Sneak half-closed one eye, trying to look serious.
’I have my eye on you.’
Hao looked at Little Sneak and raised a brow.
“Right. Good to meet you too, Chibisuke.”
Little Sneak twitched. “Chi… what?”
Hao grinned.
’You’re small, noisy, dramatic, and very confident. That makes you a certified Chibisuke.’
’You dare give me a nickname?! I am – !’
’Chibisuke.’ Hao said again, patting Kurome’s side.
“Let’s go, Kurome. Bring the chibi.”
Kurome nodded.
She didn’t say anything.
She just gave the tiniest shift of her head, gaze locking onto Little Sneak. Her light blue eyes slightly widened.
Little Sneak instantly understood.
That look… that action… it said everything.
If he complained even once more, he wouldn’t just get a smack. He might get tossed into the nearest trash heap and left to reflect on his sins.
He trembled in silent protest.
But in the end… he climbed onto Kurome’s back obediently.
His little claws latched onto her fur.
Hao sighed lightly and stepped forward, moving toward the edge of the alley where a faint golden light shimmered ahead.
Kurome padded after Hao.
Little Sneak clung to her like a furry backpack, his eyes darting around with suspicion.
And then they stepped out of the shadows.
“…”
Light flooded Hao’s vision.
A wide street stretched out before them, paved with smooth, dark stone.
Shops lined the sides, some with hanging banners, others with delicate charms dancing in the wind.
The air was clean.
The noise was lively.
The scent of grilled skewers drifted from somewhere nearby.
But it was the light that caught Hao’s eye the most.
The entire street was illuminated by glowing crystals mounted into lanterns that hung from wooden poles.
The light they gave off wasn’t too harsh, nor too dim. It carried a soft golden hue, almost as if it was filtered through warm morning sun.
It wasn’t torches. And it wasn’t anything as flashy as the convenience store’s lighting.
No. This was different.
Though simple on the surface, the street lighting here was the result of years of refinement by cultivator artisans.
They called it Lumen Crystal Alchemy.
It wasn’t a single technique, but a blend of several minor crafts.
They used low-grade lightstones, mined cheaply from the outskirts of spirit mines.
On their own, they only glowed faintly, barely enough to light a room.
But through a special alchemical treatment involving powdered fire-element herbs, refined luminescent ores, and low-tier spiritual ink, the stones could be enhanced without increasing cost.
Then came the inscription step. A basic array, using four foundational runes: absorb, store, glow, and balance. Easy to mass-produce, taught in even minor array sects.
The result?
A cheap, long-lasting crystal lamp that needed no fuel and only required recharging once every season.
Every major city used them. Not for luxury, but for practicality.
Not for show, but for stability.
The street stretched ahead like a living scroll.
Carts rolled over the stone path, some pulled by ordinary beasts, others by odd contraptions shaped by talisman runes.
A merchant passed with a small, square wagon filled with steaming buns.
Another cart carried a stack of bamboo jars with the scent of plum wine and spirit herbs drifting through the air.
The buildings lining the road were a mixture of clean stone and well-maintained wood, their rooftops adorned with curved tiles.
It wasn’t the crude layout of a backwater village. Nor was it the gleaming sharpness of a heavenly capital.
People passed by in quiet streams. Some in plain robes, their hair tied back in simple knots.
Others wore layered spiritual garments, with jade clasps and beast-hide sashes.
A few had weapons slung across their backs – long swords, curved sabers, even a strange chained hammer dangling from one man’s hip.