The dragon, golden eyes peering through the thinning sandstorm, showed a very human confusion.
"How is this possible? For a yaksha, putting on their mask is instinct—like breathing."
Even Morax, who had seen countless wars and eras, had never encountered this.
The woman beside him ignored his comment. With a light pinch of her thumb and middle finger, the swirling sand dissolved and faded.
Facing the dragon's massive gaze, she sighed helplessly.
"If you push him any further, he's going to lose control. You want a warrior with reason, not a mindless beast. Correct?"
The dragon's head dipped. He accepted her assessment.
She was not his subordinate—
but an equal.
A fellow Archon.
And they were on her territory; he couldn't interfere recklessly.
Morax shifted, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Why appear in such a form? What purpose does this… appearance serve?"
He didn't understand her choice.
The woman spun slowly in the air, sleeves drifting like falling petals, smiling brightly.
"Pretty, isn't it?"
Morax was silent for a moment.
"From human reactions I've observed, what you're wearing isn't considered… 'beautiful.' And given your mastery of transformation, becoming beautiful should be trivial."
If she didn't care about beauty—why meticulously decorate herself?
If she did care—why choose a plain face?
She clicked her tongue.
"Ah~ Morax… such a block of stone."
She pointed to her own face.
"Humans are born weak. So I appear before them as someone ordinary—plain—but through dress, adornment, cultivation of demeanor, I become striking."
"I want to teach them: even if you are born plain, you can still pursue what is beautiful."
"Even someone like me can shine."
Morax snorted, stone scales shifting.
"That's why you teach them embroidery, music, and other useless skills? If you have time to do that, better spend it finding more hands to protect them."
She sighed.
"How can the pursuit of beauty be meaningless? Why do gods cherish humanity?"
"Gods are born loving humans."
Morax answered without hesitation.
"Then why do some gods delight in slaughtering humans?"
"Perhaps their 'love' is simply in listening to their screams."
A cold gleam flickered in his eyes.
The woman wagged her finger lightly.
"At least I was not born loving humans."
"That is merely what you believe."
She continued anyway, unaffected by his rebuttal.
"Humans are fragile. And because of that fragility, they possess emotions so vivid even gods are moved by them."
"In this era of chaos, those emotions are the most beautiful flowers that bloom."
"That is why I love them—and why I choose to protect them."
She looked toward Morax.
"I do not believe someone as strong as you acts merely out of instinct. If you wish to protect humans, it must be—"
Before she finished, the wind exploded.
The sandstorm scattered entirely, revealing the yaksha bursting forward, aura flaring with raw elemental power.
He charged straight at them, roaring.
Morax refocused.
His voice dropped.
Five Geo pillars slammed down—pinning the yaksha's limbs and torso to the ground.
"Awoo—!"
Unable to move, he lay there twitching in frustration.
The woman drifted closer and giggled at his bedraggled state.
"Little one, you have three choices."
She raised three fingers.
"One: let this big guy kill you. Do you choose that?"
The yaksha rolled his eyes at her.
"Obviously not. Second: follow him and work under him."
The yaksha immediately struggled and growled.
"Gh—kill me instead."
Follow the dragon who humiliated him for three days and nights?
Death would be kinder.
"Don't rush. There's a third option."
She smiled mischievously.
"Follow me."
The yaksha's fingers twitched—pointing decisively toward the woman.
Morax frowned.
"What do you mean by this?"
"You suggested I should gather helpers, didn't you?"
She responded with a sweet smile.
"And I found him first."
Morax rumbled, displeased.
"Yet even at the risk of death, he refuses to follow you. Your method works on mature yaksha, but not on one newly born with nothing but battle in his mind."
She poked the yaksha's round cheek.
"Give him to me. Let me teach him how to act like a person first. Once he no longer hates you—then you can use him."
Morax thought in silence before speaking.
"Fine. But when I need him, you will not refuse."
"Naturally."
"Remember—this is a contract."
Leaving those words behind, Morax turned and departed.
The pillars weakened and crumbled.
The yaksha stood, stretching his limbs, staring at the humanoid-being who was not human.
"I'm surprised. I thought you'd run the moment you stood up."
She giggled behind her sleeve.
"I'm not so stupid as to mistake hope for escape. There's no point running when I know I can't."
Her eyes widened at his calm logic.
"Then why provoke that stubborn rock-head?"
Morax had clearly told her everything.
The yaksha slung his arms behind his head casually.
"He looked big. I thought he'd be fun to fight. How was I supposed to know he was that strong?"
He glanced at her.
"You're the same."
"Hehe~ If not for that, we would never have met. Doesn't that make being chased a good thing?"
"...Not even a little."
He hesitated, then asked:
"Why save me?"
If she hadn't intervened, the only ending would've been a death battle.
"Why? Do you remember a human with a broken leg you saved days ago?"
The yaksha frowned—searching his memory—then recalled the man.
"I was just itching for a fight. He escaped because of his own luck, not because I wanted to save him."
"But you did save him. He thinks you're one of Morax's yaksha and keeps saying he wants to thank you. Will you go meet him?"
"I'd rather not, but refusing won't work, will it?"
He glanced at the gentle god.
He somehow knew that one refusal would not end well.
She didn't take offense.
"My name is Guizhong, a god. And you?"
"Yaksha."
"Your name?"
"None."
"Unacceptable. You'll confuse everyone."
Guizhong floated around him, thoughtful.
"A yaksha who commands Cryo… rare indeed.I shall name you Xue Kui — Snow Kui.The Vanguard of Winter."
The yaksha blinked.
"...Do as you wish."
But his steps—
no longer trembled.
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