COZMART: Corner Shop of Visiting Gods

WAR COUNCIL BASE. SOUTHEASTERN RIDGE.

Team 001 huddled in the lee of a shattered buttress, the ridge wind whistling over broken stone.

Quine Long dropped them only as far as the outer fault line—the last safe notch before the War Council's lattice of qi-detectors turned the air into a harp.

"Anything closer," the dragon murmured, palming a thread of azure that unfurled over their shoulders like fine rain, "and the array will sing our names to the war kitty."

The veil settled, not erasing their presence, but smearing it—turning heartbeat peaks into drizzle.

From there, Shen Hai's vellum took over. Willow's thumb anchored the cracked map to a slab of basalt; the tunnels below were sketched in miners' shorthand and mortal patience: cart-mouth, frog-throat, broken lung. Three tiers of tunnels braided under the War Council's camp like roots hunting water

They slid into cart-mouth, boots whispering over grit, following chalk marks that had outlived three uprisings.

"Eyes," Willow warned softly, two fingers tapping her temple.

"On," Finn whispered, irises flicking violet as he toggled a talisman that activated far-sight. "Trip-wards at two and seven, rune seams pulsing in fours—looks like a… seism-net? That's new."

Quine Long leaned in, fingers laced behind his back, eyes half-lidded. "After your intern inverted their ley lines, the White Tiger re-tuned his toys. He learns."

Chewie went first, Chi You blade collapsed into its fishing-rod disguise across her back. Her hand skimmed along mortar to find and pinch off thread-thin sensor hairs.

"We learn faster," she said, not bothering to whisper.

Each bend and turn they took so far had matched the maps perfectly—decades of mortal sacrifice captured painstakingly on paper.

The first hard lock came where Shen Hai's tunnel intersected a suppression spine. A glowing ward stretched from ribbed column to ribbed column, tuned to snare anything with a pulse.

Willow flicked open Fei Qian's silk pouch, plucked a bead, and rolled it between thumb and forefinger as if warming a die. "Lady Fei Qian said to treat them like glass grenades. Three count, then bend," she said.

On two, she bounced the bead off the ward-nexus.

It shattered soundlessly; a petal of glass bloomed; the suppression field dimmed, then folded. Chewie was already through, wrist sweeping in a tight figure-eight to snip the secondary filaments.

"Window: eight breaths," she clipped.

Finn tucked the silk pouch that Willow threw over into his pocket as he ran. "Five breaths is plenty—assuming someone doesn't trip every ward en route."

Chewie and Willow looked at him without expression.

"What? I'm improving," Finn said. "I'll only trip, like, half."

Quine Long cleared his throat. "Constraint," he said, melancholy as a weather report. "I'm veiling all your signatures to a margin that will pass glancing scans, but do stay under the radar. Bai Hu's troops aren't exactly picked based on courtesy."

After a couple of twists and turns, the group emerged within the War Council's territory, expecting immediate opposition. Instead, they encountered an encampment still reeling from the earlier disruption. Patrols were thin. Most elites were busy repairing the baffling damage Eathan's skill had wrought.

Finn whispered, staring at a distant guard fumbling with a flickering barrier, "They still haven't figured out why their ley lines just purged themselves?"

"Lucky us," said Willow.

She swiftly deployed another one of Fei Qian's disruptor beads to bypass a glowing suppression ward, its aura flickering out without sound. Chewie navigated ahead, fingers flying through various gestures as she disabled active runes with her fishing rod.

Finn's enhanced vision caught a hidden rune just in time, whispering for the group to duck as an invisible trip-ward shimmered overhead. Just as he began to congratulate himself, something exploded in the distance. Willow signalled the team to halt, eyes narrowing.

"We're close."

As they neared the holding pits, the atmosphere shifted perceptively. Guards became increasingly frequent, and there was a weight to the air the group couldn't quite pin down.

Amidst the tension, Team 001 moved swiftly, presence masked by Quine Long's careful concealment.

Things remained suspiciously smooth up until this point—until Finn's boot kissed a loose chip as they took a corner turn.

He stumbled over an invisible crack in the stone path, nearly tumbling into a rune-triggered alarm. Willow lunged, catching him by the collar and yanking him back just in time.

"Seriously?" she hissed through gritted teeth. "Are you actively working for the enemy?"

Finn grimaced, scrambling upright. "It's the universe, not me. I swear."

Another few steps, and Finn's sleeve snagged on a hidden tripwire. Willow snapped her hand forward, grabbing his wrist and halting the near-catastrophe. Again. Her patience visibly frayed, she released him with a quiet growl.

"Stop making me touch you," she whispered, "your anti-luck's rubbing off. If I survive this, I'm never touching you again."

Finn grimaced, rubbing his bruised elbows. "Yeah? If I survive, I'll tattoo 'doomed' on my forehead as a public warning."

Willow rolled her eyes. "Fair trade."

Two corridors on, Cang's intelligence started showing its worth. The team crossed a shadowed choke where a pair of guards turned away to smoke resin pipes; another three turns, they slid past an infirmary hatch as mask straps snapped in tired hands.

Heading towards the marked spindle corridor, they climbed beneath a catwalk as two sets of boots reached the midpoint and argued about rations.

"Pragmatism suits demons," Finn whispered. "They label their flaws for you."

"Only when you pay for the list," Chewie answered.

They reached the spindle corridor. Vertical cells rotated slowly as water-wheels, prisoners strapped and groaning inside. The air was a stew of iron and old sweat. Rune-plates in the floor pulsed, drawing tithe from every body toward the camp's barrier hubs.

Team 001 exchanged uneasy glances.

"Russian roulette torture wheels." Finn gagged. "The War Council's design team needs therapy."

"Quiet." Chewie's voice dropped lower. "Guards ahead."

They surged forward in practiced sync. Willow strode when others would sneak, gauntlets humming; she met the first guard head-on, shoulder-checking him into silence and catching his body before it could clatter. Finn dove under the falling weight, barely dodging a ricochet of the guard's weapon that somehow flew precisely toward his head.

He palmed a disruptor bead against a floor glyph to fuzz its fall for nine blessed seconds.

Chewie danced between flickering rune-traps, her tiny figure a blur as she systematically dismantled each sigil lock.

Quine Long drifted behind, seemingly bored, yet his every gesture deflected detection spells. "You know," he mused, yanking Finn away from an incoming hammer, "it's almost as if you're trying to activate every security measure."

Finn sighed mournfully. "Blame my entire ancestral lineage."

A second pair rounded the bend—tired eyes, good footing. Willow's gauntlet found a sternum; Chewie's toe found a knee; Finn's anti-luck found a flying baton.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

A quick, brutal scuffle ensued as another two guards rounded a corner. Willow's gauntlet smashed one unconscious; Chewie's precise kick knocked the other flat. They moved without hesitation, stepping over fallen bodies in unified movement.

By the time the final guard dropped at Willow's feet, the corridor fell still again, punctuated only by the creaking of rotating cells. A distant clang echoed down the corridor.

The entrance to the pit area stood before them, sealed by reinforced doors. Chewie lifted a tiny fist, knuckles popping once as precise qi flared from three points along her forearm. She punched—not the door, but the three right studs.

The doors sighed open, and the guard slumped from the inside before he even saw them.

Inside his cell, Eathan lifted his head, pulse jumping as a distant metallic clang echoed down the corridor that was now licked teal by torchlight.

For the past hours, he'd been in a continuous battle trying to avoid lowering his [HP] further, barely keeping it above 40%. Honestly, he didn't know how much longer he could hold on before the inverted auspice decided to screw him over again.

"Please," he whispered, straining against suppression cuffs, "let that be the cavalry."

A silhouette emerged, and then faces sharpened in teal torchlight. Finn's nervous gaze met his first, then Willow's relieved expression, Chewie's flat, glowing stare, and finally Quine Long's casual smile. Eathan's breath hitched, relief flooding so powerfully he nearly cried out loud.

"Eathan!" Finn peered through the bars. "You're actually still in one piece? I thought Bai Hu would've started with the skinning by now."

Eathan laughed weakly, metal clattering as he moved his wrists. "Not yet, but give him a minute."

Willow sliced open the lock with a quick strike. The door swung open, and Chewie was already moving forward, examining the suppression cuffs. Willow pried the bar-door inward with a pure force from her gauntlet, sound swallowed by the Azure Dragon's veil.

"As heartwarming as this reunion is," Quine Long's voice was mild as he glanced towards the entrance. "We're not alone."

Distant, a ward changed its hum, the pitch sliding up a half-step.

"Your commander's certainly aware of the moving thread. I suggest haste."

Eathan rose shakily, relief battling fatigue. "Not exactly my commander right now."

They swiftly moved toward the designated escape route. Quine Long guided them upward through a discreet roof hatch, where two guards took stand.

Willow let the first see her, because some things were cleaner that way. He lunged; she slid inside his reach and took the chin; Chewie flicked a palm-sized bead off the second's ward-pin—Fei Qian's disruptor—and Finn, grimacing, managed for once to be exactly where a falling body wasn't.

They spilled onto the terrace and into a different world.

Collectively hit by a sudden burst of fresh, cool air, the group took in an open terrace of lotus-crowded basins and moonlit petals. The War Council's stink thinned under water and chlorophyll.

Finn stared at the peacefulness that was utterly out of place. "Wait, where are we?"

"How did you know this place?" Willow gave the dragon a look.

Strolling ahead, Quine Long turned to them with a smile that bordered on infuriating. "Just a lovely little garden I discovered a few days ago. Optimal conditions for chrysanthemums."

"You planted flowers," Willow still couldn't believe it, "in the White Tiger's prison complex?"

"Before we fought," he corrected gently, examining a particularly vibrant bloom with pride. "One cultivates one's options."

"We're fighting in a psychological thriller," Finn muttered under his breath. "He's gardening in a slice of life."

The dragon shrugged. "Every genre needs balance."

Ignoring the bewildered looks, he then gestured toward the far end of the garden. "This way. Once over that hill, we'll rejoin the battlefield. Then I can safely teleport us to the makeshift base."

Willow moved decisively, pushing Finn along before he could make another disastrous comment. As they ghosted along the last bend, the exit slope silvered by moon and wardlight, Finn's shoulders sagged with relief.

"Finally, we're clea—"

"No!" Eathan barked, clapping a hand over Finn's mouth. "Absolutely not another word. Do not tempt fate."

Finn blinked, then nodded, contrite. But Eathan had forgotten one detail—his inverted [Auspicious Aura]. The universe, offended by being pre‑empted, repaid the courtesy.

They crested the rise and froze as one.

Bai Hu stood alone on the ridge, hair like frost, midnight robes rippling under the moonlight.

A chill sank simultaneously into their bones. Chewie inhaled, posture shifting subtly into a combat stance.

Finn gulped, voice barely audible. "He looks like Yama coming to claim our souls."

This time, Bai Hu didn't speak. He merely lifted one hand. A single thread of light bloomed outward from his palm, unfolding into a cone of silver qi aimed directly where they were standing.

Without preamble, without mercy.

It took the team precisely three seconds to register that the White Tiger was actively about to erase them from existence.

Quine Long's eyes widened—actually widened, a reaction rare enough to spike Eathan's panic tenfold. The dragon reached out, and a rapid teal vortex flared and wrapped the space around the team. But they were still too close to the pit, and the suppression wards buckled under the strain, limiting his teleportation to pitifully short distances.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," Finn chanted.

As though things couldn't worsen, the Pale Judgment opened his mouth, and the line every history tablet had carved into its bones began to fall:

"If you creatures insist on fighting endlessly for this pathetic piece of dirt—"

Team 001 collectively lost it. Eathan, voice breaking with panic, was already tasting iron. "Why are we suddenly the targets of those words!?"

Chewie moved then, a sudden burst of fury. Eyes flaring crimson, she shouted something incomprehensible, syllables slicing like blades through the thickening qi.

"————!"

A single heartbeat passed, then another—then suddenly everything froze. Bai Hu hung mid‑syllable, the cone of annihilation feather‑edged and motionless inches from their faces. He himself was locked motionless, face frozen mid-word.

Team 001 stood gaping. Finn looked as if he'd forgotten how to breathe entirely.

"What the hell was—"

"Move!" Willow barked.

Three seconds. They spent none of them thinking. Finn did an ugly spider‑crawl that might have been a sprint. Willow shouldered him and half‑carried, half‑flung his limbs where they needed to be.

Chewie stumbled, black ichor dripping from her nose, staining the stones below. Eathan hooked his arm under the eleven-year-old and ran—no [Agility], just shock‑clean instinct at survival—while Quine Long spread a thin teal lattice between the paused verdict and their backs.

On the third heartbeat, the world resumed. Sound slammed in: the tail end of Bai Hu's sentence cracked the air behind them and chewed a cut into stone where their shadows had been.

"Bead!" Willow barked.

Finn's hand was already in the pouch. Fei Qian's disruptor hit the ground and burst into a ripple of slick vacuum.

Friction vanished. The slope became a chute, then a roar; they rode their own collapsing traction down the ridge. Behind them the verdict scythed past and blew a trench across the ledge; above them, the blurry sky was washed in silver light.

"Now!" Quine Long flung his hand when the bead's radius spat them past the suppression ring. Space folded with a hiss as the world tilted.

Team 001 tumbled out beneath the familiar shelter of the ridge tunnels.

Eathan crashed onto solid ground knees-first. He slid, stopped, then scrambled to Chewie. Her nose bled black; her breath came in thin, serrated pulls like a bleached fish out of water.

"Hey—hold still!" he said, reaching out his bound hands and forming the gesture he'd executed a hundred times prior.

3 Qi Tokens have been subtracted from your [PROFILE]! (187 → 184)

Golden streaks burst from his fingertips and stitched warmth into Chewie's pulse. The cuffs still bit, but now that the suppression range was behind them, his powers poured out unrestrained and faster than ever.

Skill [Minor Reconstitution] has levelled up! (Lv. 3 → Lv. 4)

▸ Host can now implement skill onto three living or inanimate objects simultaneously.

[Integrity] has increased by 1%! (59% → 60%)

[Humanity] has decreased by 1% (59% → 58%)

Host [Level]: Lv. 48 → Lv. 49

Chewie gasped as her breathing stabilized, eyes fluttering back into focus. Black ichor trickled to a stop, leaving a thin, dark trail down her chin. She spat once, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Thanks, Eathan," she muttered.

Finn, pale and wide‑eyed, found his voice. "Chewie, what was that?" He gaped. "Since when do you have deus ex-machina-level freeze codes for the Pale Judgment?"

"Not a code," Chewie said, leaning against the stony walls. "A debt."

"Mercy Protocol Θ." Quine Long's head tipped, interest a thin crescent. "The Auspicious Beast's own failsafe. He stripped it from his core before fighting the Yellow Dragon—handed it exclusively to Bai Hu. Not exactly common knowledge for ex-demon warlords."

Chewie stared at the rock, not at them. "Had a friendly chat about it once. With the boss."

Willow shot her a sideways look, and she sighed.

"We had... history. I didn't know the White Tiger personally during this war. At least not yet. After the Southeastern Ridge fell, he changed," Chewie said. "Guess time really does things to people—non-people, too."

Quine Long tilted his head. "And somewhere after that, your paths crossed."

"We shared difficulties." Chewie spat out another mouthful of dark ichor, seemingly irritated at revealing even that much. "I earned his trust, he gave me this as insurance. Once only."

"Wait—" Finn blinked slowly. "You're telling me, the Commander White from the future gave you his only failsafe?"

"Yes," she said. "And today, I burned the escape he gifted me—to escape from him."

A silence settled upon the team as the implications sank in.

"You burned your one lifeline," Eathan murmured. "On us?"

Chewie's look said do not even start; the amber in her eyes softened anyway. "Better burned than wasted."

Quine Long chuckled. "Your foresight borders on paranoia."

"Unlike celestial deities—" her eyes narrowed back at him "—demons do not typically have the luxury of second chances."

Eathan swallowed hard, suddenly realizing how much Chewie had given up in that one instant. A trump card held close, and she'd burned it for them. He wanted to thank her, but one glance at her sharp-edged stare told him she'd rather take another nosebleed than accept gratitude.

Just then, the tunnel trembled underfoot. Dust trickled from the spine of stone above; a hairline crack ran along the wall like a vein waking.

Finn clutched Eathan's arm. "What now?"

Quine Long's calm frayed by a thread. "Not Bai Hu. Meridians rebounding. The island's meridians—they're destabilising from the destroyed engines. It's seeking equilibrium—"

A crack split the air above, and the tunnel walls buckled inward. Massive stone chunks dropped like leaden rain, sealing off their exit route in an avalanche of dirt and rock.

Willow shoved Finn through the grate; Quine Long caught Chewie and shoved her after; Eathan dove and cleared the lip by less than a breath—

—and the roof came down.

Noise became grit and pressure and a bright stripe of pain along Eathan's shoulder where rock kissed bone too hard. He covered his head instinctively, crouching low as dust stung his throat and seized his lungs. In the dark, buried beneath rubble, he dimly heard his teammates calling out.

Then, abruptly, silence.