Little Pink Starfish

Today, C City was especially lively. People coming home late could feel the chill of the cold wind whipping down the streets.

Still, on a rainy day like this, very few were willing to come out. Most people stayed indoors to avoid the rain, and even the number of cars on the roads had noticeably decreased.

The ones still lingering outside were mostly demons. Tonight’s downpour was actually a result of there being too many demons gathering in one place.

“He really went over there?”

In the heavy downpour, someone asked in a low voice.

“The leading serpent has already been subdued,” another whispered behind them. “But… how should we deal with the rest?”

“Beat them up and throw them out,” the first person said, massaging their temples in frustration. “Even though the radicals seem to have cut ties with him, killing them outright might still bring us trouble. Did you see if Yuan killed that snake?”

“Got it.” The demon next to them nodded and slowly vanished into the rain.

Yuan Yuanyuan walked home. Her head was spinning a bit, like she was oxygen-deprived after a wave of intense emotion.

She didn’t remember to check her mirror until she reached her front door. She took it out and sent a message to the woman in white: “The serpent has been subdued.” Then she returned home, pulled the covers over her head, and passed out.

She had a mess of dreams—some dark, some warm, all jumbled together like a pot of porridge.

But ask her to describe what she’d dreamed? Yuan Yuanyuan couldn’t say.

In the middle of the night, she suddenly woke up.

She’d jolted upright as if startled awake, staring into the pitch-black room.

Everything was silent. Lying there, she stared at the ceiling, the warm yellow glow from a streetlamp outside casting light on her face. Every now and then, shadows flickered across the walls—at first, she thought it was passing cars.

Then she realized—it wasn’t.

It was demons, darting through the streets.

She looked toward the window. Demons of all shapes and forms passed under the streetlamps. When their shadows hit the glass, they cut sharp, flashing shapes across her room like blades slicing through the air.

The whole scene was more intense than a Hyakki Yagyō, with even more demons than usual. At least those usually floated through the sky—these ones were swarming the ground.

Yuan Yuanyuan tried to get up to look closer but was hit with a wave of dizziness. Her body was hot. She hesitated, then lay back down.

She had a fever.

No wonder she’d woken drenched in sweat.

Grimacing, she reached for the bedside cabinet. Living alone had its downsides—like being sick with no one to help. Thankfully, she’d prepared for situations like this: fever meds, cold pills, burn ointment, all stored nearby.

She fumbled out the fever medicine and, without reading the directions, popped an entire strip into her mouth. Being a half-demon, most medicines had little effect unless taken in high doses anyway.

She didn’t even have water—just swallowed the pills dry, wincing at the bitterness. Checking the time, she realized she’d only been asleep for two hours.

The rain outside hadn’t stopped. Dizzy from the meds, she turned over and fell back asleep.

---

To the demons of C City, last night was unforgettable. Nearly every demon with even the slightest fighting ability had been summoned.

Yuan Yuanyuan, who had gone to bed early, had no idea just how chaotic the night had been.

The truth? It was the most severe external demon invasion C City had seen in the past decade. So severe, in fact, that the city made an unprecedented announcement the next morning: a one-month lockdown of C City.

It shocked the entire supernatural community.

The news spread rapidly among the demons, and even some humans—despite their limited connection to demon affairs—began to hear whispers.

The “City Lockdown Plan” wasn’t entirely unheard of; it had appeared many times during wartime, the longest instance lasting ten years.

When Yuan Yuanyuan got up in the morning, she was stunned. She rubbed her eyes and looked up, thinking something was wrong with her vision…

A giant translucent blue dome had appeared over the city, like an inverted bowl covering the sky.

Strangely, the pedestrians didn’t seem to notice. Downstairs, the ramen shop, bakery, and dental clinic were all still open, people coming and going as usual. No one looked up.

It was as if Yuan Yuanyuan was the only one who could see it. She stood at her window, watching this massive barrier stretch across the city.

She stepped into her shop, still unsteady on her feet—and suddenly, someone was there.

“Tang Shi? What are you doing here?” Yuan Yuanyuan asked.

She had given Tang Shi a spare key, since she often wasn’t around. Tang Shi had gotten used to letting herself in.

“Classes were canceled today,” Tang Shi replied.

“What? But when I came back, I still heard the school’s morning bell,” Yuan Yuanyuan said, sitting opposite Tang Shi.

Behind her, the window glowed faintly blue from the dome outside. The color had a chill to it that made her uneasy, as if the entire room was being dyed blue.

Tang Shi lay on the table, sighing. “Just the demon students. We’re not allowed out for a week. Yesterday, class was halfway through when a bunch of us got summoned. Next thing we knew, we were in some underground shelter… and yeah, I checked—it was a real bomb shelter.”

Yuan Yuanyuan watched as Tang Shi idly scrolled through her ancient-looking phone. She was surprised the relic could even get online.

Then again, she remembered sneaking around reading epic web novels on an MP3 player back in the day, so maybe it wasn’t so surprising.

Tang Shi showed her a photo of dozens of students in her school uniform, crammed together on the playground. Yuan Yuanyuan quickly estimated there had to be at least a hundred of them.

Tang Shi flipped through more pictures. “This was yesterday on our field. Lots of demon students go to school there. Same with Third Middle, Fourth Middle, and Second Elementary. I heard something huge happened last night, but I don’t know what. Boss, where were you? I came looking for you right after we got out, but you were gone.”

“I was very busy,” Yuan Yuanyuan replied, coughing twice.

“You have a cold?” Tang Shi perked up, circling her excitedly like she’d discovered a rare specimen.

“No, just… got caught in the rain,” Yuan Yuanyuan muttered, eyeing Tang Shi’s phone. It looked like some kind of forum webpage.

“This?” Tang Shi handed it over. “A student-made site. The older generation doesn’t really use phones, and humans won’t let us discuss demon stuff online. So a senior who knew web development made this site just for us. It’s been popular for years. Every senior class knows about it. Boss, you’ve never heard of it?”

Yuan Yuanyuan finally understood—the “students” Tang Shi meant were demon students.

The page was packed with posts about last night’s events. One headline read:
“Did you know? The shelter we hid in was the No. 5 bomb shelter from the Second War.”

Replies came quickly:

• “Seriously? I’ve only heard of it, never seen it!”
• “I was just complaining about how dark it was. Didn’t know it was the legendary Shelter No. 5. Should’ve taken pics!”
• “Don’t be dumb—if this leaks, we’re screwed.”

Another post read:
“Only the Experimental School and Second Elementary were in Shelter No. 5. We were in No. 2… jealous.”

Yuan Yuanyuan scrolled through post after post, stunned.

Holy crap… you little demons are seriously next level…

She never imagined that demon students had built such a large online community—using human internet no less.

As a half-demon, she found it nothing short of revolutionary.

“You’re not worried humans will find it? Network surveillance and all…” she asked.

“Nope,” Tang Shi replied. “We use our own servers, and all the admins are demons too. It’s been running for years. Seniors from way back are still on it.”

“…Holy crap. Whoever made this, I want to kneel and call you master.”

“Boss, don’t. You’re a big-time demon—this is way out of character.”

As they chatted and browsed, a huge discussion thread caught Yuan Yuanyuan’s eye. It was blowing up—thread replies piling higher and higher.

She clicked in.

The top post had a video.

It was shaky, blurry, and sometimes blocked by debris—looked like footage from some kind of disaster.

Yuan Yuanyuan frowned at first. Then, ten seconds in, it hit her.

Wait a minute… this was filmed at their tavern!

Some maniac actually filmed it?!

Tang Shi leaned in. “A student working part-time at Autumn Sakura filmed this. You know—the famous tavern in the west district. That place always has drama. Probably cursed.”

As she spoke, she suddenly got hyped. She slapped Yuan Yuanyuan’s arm and shouted, “Boss! Look at that demon in the video! So cool! That’s Yuan! The one from the comic! We all thought he was some weakling from the Blood Jade Demon Army, but it turns out we were wrong! He used the Ghost War Dance!”

Just then, the video panned upward. A tiny black speck flickered across the screen.

Yuan Yuanyuan realized—it was her using the twelve combination demon arts.

From the video, she heard several girls screaming—and recognized the voices of acquaintances from the tavern.

“That’s it! That’s the one!” Tang Shi squealed, gripping Yuan Yuanyuan’s arm and shaking it like crazy.

The tiny figure on the screen was nearly invisible compared to the giant white serpent. Then suddenly, it moved—spinning mid-air, dodging in a rhythm like a dance. Every step hit a beat, drawing even the viewers’ hearts into the rhythm.

Thump.
Thump.

Each evasive move looked like a dance step. It was a slaughter—but it felt like ballet. Like the black swan on stage.

So deadly.
So beautiful.

Yuan Yuanyuan stared with her mouth open, scrolling down to the comments—

The top ten were all things like:
“Holy shit!”
“WTF!”

Judging by the site’s average user age, she suddenly feared for the nation’s future.

Then came the more “enthusiastic” posts:

• “Bless the great one! May I pass my ghost-footwork test!”
• “You haven’t even learned Ghost Step yet? Trash.”

Some were more reflective:
“The quality sucks, but I rewatched it ten times. I might be sick.”
“I thought he was just a no-name soldier in the Blood Jade Demon Army. But now I think he might’ve been a top-tier spy. The comics even said he dragged down the spy camp. Makes sense if he stayed out of the public eye.”

“So what’s Yuan’s background really? I’m kind of scared to guess…”
“Stop digging. Talk too much and the thread’ll get nuked. You all know there are human spies on here too.”

Then someone suggested:
“Let’s give Yuan a nickname. All the Blood Jade demons have cool ones—like ‘Brush Immortal’ and ‘Lady of a Hundred Flowers.’ We don’t even know this guy’s name…”

“Great idea!”
“What should we call him?”

“His Ghost War Dance is insane… I’d never match that even in a hundred years. Probably a master of all ghost techniques. What about—‘Ghost Demon’?”

“Ghost Demon?”
“Pfft… a demon good at ghost arts, huh?”

“Praise Ghost Demon!”
“Praise Ghost Demon! May I pass my next exam!”

…and more chaotic posts followed. Apparently, there were a lot of struggling students among the demons too.

Yuan Yuanyuan’s head felt like it was going to explode.

She glanced at Tang Shi, ready to say something—then sneezed right in her face.

Expressionless, Tang Shi wiped her face, yanked the phone out of Yuan Yuanyuan’s hands, and kicked her before stomping upstairs to do homework.