I am NOT a Demon Queen!

A few moments passed in silence. The whispers faded, leaving only the rustle of vegetation against the stones. Su Yao remained still, her spiritual senses probing the surrounding darkness. The resentment was present, but its source remained unclear.

Then something shifted among the shadows.

Su Yao stood poised for a spectral confrontation. A red-crowned crane emerged from the shadows of the wall. Its pristine white feathers and vivid red crown stood in stark contrast to the weathered stones.

This is just an ordinary bird.

The crane took a graceful step forward, then let out a melodic call that seemed to hang in the air for a moment before fading.

She lowered her hands. The spiritual energy she had gathered dissipated. “You aren’t the cause of the disappearances.”

The crane tilted its head then unfolded its wings and soared away over the treetops, leaving Su Yao alone with the lingering silence. She scanned the area again, but detected no other supernatural activity.

Perhaps the local was mistaken, or the spirits are more elusive than I thought. With a sigh, she continued her walk along the wall.

Su Yao suppressed her imposing aura and slip into the more mundane consciousness of Xiao Ling. She relaxed her posture, letting the sharpness in her eyes soften.

Almost immediately, the air around her shimmered. Several translucent figures materialized along the wall. They seemed to be strolling and taking in the view, much like the living tourists.

One spirit, an elderly man in ancient scholar’s robes, nodded to her. “Lovely day for a walk, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said. “Have you seen anything unusual here? People have been disappearing.”

The spirit shook his head. “We are merely visitors ourselves, enjoying the scenery. We mean no harm and haven’t caused any trouble.”

Another spirit, a woman in Qing dynasty attire, added, “We’re just passing through. The disappearances must be from something else.”

These spirits are as boring as the living. Su Yao thanked them and let them fade back into the ether. Now she was back to square one, with no answers and worthy adversary.

Regardless, the Xiao Ling persona had drawn out the spirits without frightening them away. It was a functional strategy. She maintained the guise for now.

With that in mind, she walked further along the wall. The evening air grew cooler, and the tourists began to thin out. As she rounded a bend, she noticed a section of the wall where the stonework seemed newer.

A park ranger approached her. “Miss, it’s getting dark. You should head back to the main area. It’s not safe here after sunset. Several people have vanished near this spot.”

“Thank you for the warning,” she said. “I’m just curious. What do you think is happening?”

The ranger shook his head. “No one knows. There are no signs of struggle. It’s like they just dissolved.”

As he spoke, Su Yao caught a glint of something embedded in the wall. She moved closer, pretending to admire the view. It was a small, intricate seal carved into the stone, pulsing with a subtle spiritual energy she had missed earlier.

Before she could examine it further, the seal flared. A vortex of energy erupted from the wall, pulling her toward it. Su Yao allowed herself to be drawn in.

The world twisted around her, and then she landed on her feet in a chamber with walls carved with faint lines of spiritual scripts. Talismans hung from the ceiling, glowing with a soft light. A low stone table held a set of bronze ritual objects, and scrolls of parchment were neatly stacked nearby.

This is a Daoist hideout. The precision of the seals and the traditional artifacts pointed to cultivators who had used this space for meditation or retreat. She kept her Xiao Ling demeanor and analyzed the setup for weaknesses or threats.

The air in the chamber shifted. A man in simple Daoist robes materialized from the shadows and looked at Su Yao. “Another lost tourist? I made sure to move the entrance to a quiet corner.”

“Are you the one who made those tourists disappear? What have you done with them?”

The man waved a hand. “I did nothing to them. They stumble in, I tell them to leave, and they do. But time flows differently here. They reappear in the outside world a few days later, disoriented but unharmed. It’s an unfortunate side effect of this place’s isolation.”

Su Yao studied the man. His spiritual aura was steady, without a flicker of deception or ill intent. “What are you doing here all alone?”

The man sighed, adjusting his robes. “I’m in seclusion for spiritual training. It’s necessary.”

“But you’re already powerful,” Su Yao noted, sensing the depth of his cultivation despite his modest appearance.

“I was stronger once,” he replied. His eyes were distant. “I was sealed inside an ancient scroll for centuries, accused of a crime I didn’t commit. Now that I’m free, I must reclaim what I lost.”

Su Yao tilted her head. “What crime were you accused of?”

The man folded his hands into his sleeves. “Opposing the Joseon dynastic government and the king.”

“Joseon hasn’t existed for over a century,” Su Yao noted. “You must be very old.”

A faint smile touched the man’s lips. “And you’re older, Nine-Tailed Fox. I can see your true nature beneath this mortal shell.”

Su Yao froze. How did he know?

The man held up a hand. “Please relax. I know that not all nine-tailed foxes are evildoers. My own mentor was one, and she was a being of great wisdom and compassion.”

He bowed. “I’m Jeon Woochi. She entrusted me with her grimoire before she departed this world.”

Su Yao stared at him. Jeon Woochi? The name means nothing to me. I must remember to ask Yumi if he holds any importance in Korean lore.

Jeon Woochi gestured toward a low table where a chilled bottle of Chilsung Cider sat beside two ceramic cups. “Would you care for a drink? It’s a local favorite. Some even call it gumiho soda, though I find that name rather whimsical.”

Su Yao nodded. “Thank you, I’ll try it.” She accepted the cup he poured. The cold liquid fizzed as she took a small sip. Its sweet citrus flavor was familiar and comforting.

He watched her. “It’s refreshing, isn’t it? My mentor always enjoyed simple pleasures like this.”

“So do I.” Su Yao set the cup down. “Your mentor, what was she like?”

Jeon Woochi took a slow sip from his cup. “She had a particular fondness for rice wine, and I must admit, she was a great kisser.”

Su Yao almost spluttered her cider. She set the cup down with a controlled click. “That is very personal information to share with a stranger.”

He chuckled. “Apologies. When you live as long as I have, such memories become treasures. But enough of that. Why did you truly come here? You’re no ordinary tourist.”

Su Yao shrugged. “I just wanted to see the Great Wall. I heard the sections in Beijing are always crowded, so I came here instead.” She took another sip of the cider. “It’s quieter, and the view is just as good.”

Jeon Woochi nodded. “Yes, crowds can be overwhelming. But you seem to handle solitude well. Are you sure there’s nothing else you’re seeking? This area has its secrets, and you don’t strike me as someone who stumbles upon them by accident.”

Su Yao set her cup down. “If you’re referring to the abandoned Japanese facility underground, I’ve already been there. It was full of engineered insects and a synthetic oomukade. Hardly worth the trouble.”

Jeon Woochi raised an eyebrow. “You dealt with the oomukade? Then you’re more capable than you appear. But that place is a mere relic. The true secrets of this region run deeper.”

Su Yao took another sip of the cider. “Such as?”

“The ley lines here converge at several points, used by cultivators for centuries,” he explained. “My hideout is one, but there are others. Some are guarded, some forgotten. If you seek challenges, you might find them there.”

She considered this. “I’m on vacation.”

He chuckled. “A vacation? For a nine-tailed fox? Unlikely. But since you’re here, would you like to see the grimoire? My mentor’s teachings might interest you.”

Su Yao nodded. “I would love to see the grimoire.”

Jeon Woochi smiled and retrieved a thick leather-bound book from a hidden compartment in the wall. The cover was worn with age, and the pages were filled with elegant brush strokes in Hanja. He opened it to a section near the middle.

“This contains comprehensive manuals on various Daoist arts, but there are passages here I’ve never been able to decipher. My classical Chinese isn’t as strong as it should be. Can you make sense of them?”

Su Yao took the book. Her eyes scanned the text. After a moment, she recognized the subject matter and her cheeks warmed.

This is about joining energy, the Daoist sexual practices. How typical for an old fox to include such things.

She looked up at Jeon Woochi. “It discusses dual cultivation methods. Specifically, the art of joining energy between partners.”

Jeon Woochi’s eyebrows rose. “Dual cultivation? I see. My mentor always did have a practical approach to spirituality.”

He rubbed his chin. “I suppose that explains why she was so fond of rice wine and, well, never mind. Does it provide any useful techniques, or is it just theoretical?”

Su Yao skimmed a few more lines, comparing it to similar texts she had encountered over the centuries. “It seems to offer practical methods for spiritual harmony through union. But it requires a willing and compatible partner. It’s not something to be taken lightly.”

She closed the book and handed it back. “Thank you for showing me. Your mentor’s work is comprehensive.”

He accepted the book and placed it on the table. “It is a legacy I strive to honor. But tell me, since you’re here, would you like to see the exit? The tourists usually reappear near the river after a few days, but I can guide you out directly if you wish.”

Su Yao nodded. “That would be helpful. I should be going.” She stood. “And thank you for the drink.”

Jeon Woochi led her to a simple wooden door at the back of the chamber. “This will take you to the base of the wall. Remember, the seal moves, so it might not be here if you return.”

She stepped through the door and found herself back on the Great Wall. The door vanished behind her. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick message to Yumi.

Su Yao: Have you heard of a Jeon Woochi?

Her phone buzzed with a reply.

Yumi: Jeon Woochi? He’s the Korean Seimei. A legendary Daoist trickster with serious power. Why? Did you run into him?

Su Yao read the message. She typed back

Su Yao: I met him in a hidden chamber near the wall. He claimed his mentor was a nine-tailed fox and showed me her grimoire.

Yumi responded.

Yumi: Then you’ve met a living relic. He’s known for his schemes, but if he was civil, you might have made a valuable ally. Just watch your back. He plays long games.

She slid her phone into her pocket. Jeon Woochi’s knowledge and demeanor aligned with someone of his stature. She decided to file the information away for future reference and continued her stroll along the wall.

The evening was deepening around her as she stood at the base of the Great Wall. She pulled out her phone to search for nearby hotels, then paused. She hadn’t made any reservations. The bureaucratic process of checking into a hotel was a hassle.

I recall that in Japan, many people stay overnight in internet cafes for convenience. It should suffice for one night.

Su Yao opened a map app and located the nearest internet cafe in Andong.

She phased to the street outside the cafe, a building with signs in Chinese and Korean. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of instant noodles and electronics. An attendant at the counter looked up as she entered.

“Welcome. How many hours?” he asked, chewing gum.

“Overnight,” Su Yao replied, placing cash on the counter.

The attendant handed her a keycard and a small towel. “Booth 12. Drinks and snacks are self-service.”

Su Yao found her booth. It was a cramped space with a computer and a reclining chair. The chair creaked under her weight as she sat down and the computer screen glowed to life. She ignored it.

Instead, she sent a message to Yumi.

Su Yao: Tell me more about Jeon Woochi. Any weaknesses or alliances I should know about?

As she waited for a reply, she overheard two teenagers in the next booth arguing over a game.

“Dude, this is what online games do to people,” one snapped. “They turn you into a rage-monster. It’s literally designed to make you violent.”

“Oh please,” the other shot back. “The game’s fine. It’s the garbage internet that makes me violent. If my ping didn’t bounce like a cursed frog, I wouldn’t be yelling.”

She considered silencing them with a minor spell but decided against it. Drawing attention would be counterproductive.

Her phone buzzed. Yumi had responded.

Yumi: He’s tricky but honorable. His weaknesses are tied to his mentor’s teachings. Don’t antagonize him unnecessarily. Why? Planning something?

Su Yao typed back.

Su Yao: Just gathering intelligence.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back in the chair. The whirr of computer fans and the faint chatter of other users filled the room. She dismissed the occupants of the next booth as far too invested in each other’s company. For tonight, this would do.

The next morning, Su Yao, maintained her Xiao Ling persona and joined a sightseeing tour at the Yalu River bridge. The massive structure stretched across the water, linking the Eurasian rail network to the Japanese-ruled Korean side.

She approached a local guide who was pointing out features to a group of tourists. “Excuse me,” Su Yao said. “Why is the Japanese side so heavily fortified?”

The guide followed her gaze. “That side faces more frequent kaiju incursions from the Sea of Japan. The defenses are necessary to protect the rail line and the city from monster attacks.”

Su Yao nodded. “That makes sense. Thank you.”

The guide lowered his voice. “Some people believe the kaiju aren’t natural. They say the Japanese dumped industrial and chemical wastes into the ocean for decades, mutating ordinary sea creatures into those monsters.”

Su Yao tilted her head. “So it’s pollution that caused this? That’s terrible.”

The guide shrugged. “It’s just a theory, but it explains why the attacks are so common on their side. Our side has stricter environmental controls.”

She thanked him and moved away from the group, cataloging the information. If the kaiju are mutated by waste, they might have unstable spiritual signatures. Perhaps I should investigate the coastal areas later.

Su Yao pulled out her phone and opened a local news app. A headline from yesterday detailed a kaiju attack on the Japanese side of the bridge. She had been in Jeon Woochi’s hideout when it happened.

She continued along the riverbank, watching the fortified side. How inconvenient.

The fortifications were a practical response to a physical threat, but the bridge itself lacked any spiritual weight.

If I wanted to examine a haunted bridge, I would visit the Mang Gui Kiu in Hong Kong. At least that one has a reputation for genuine spiritual residue.

She turned away from the railing. Andong continued to offer nothing of substance. Perhaps it was time to move on.

Traveling as a hobby does not suit me. Scenery and history are meaningless without a threat to dismantle or a secret to uncover.

She had tried being Xiao Ling. The quiet was suffocating. This experiment in leisure was over. She would return home.

Su Yao turned away from the river and began to walk, but her steps slowed. The current below moved with a steady and unhurried rhythm. She watched it for a moment. The movement was simple, almost soothing.

Xiao Ling’s voice surfaced within. You’re trying to be me. But you don’t need to. You already are me. We are the same person. You feel restless because you’re forcing a separation that does not exist. It’s wrong to think this trips as a failure. Think of it as a different kind of experience.

Su Yao stood still, the river breeze brushing against her face. The constant division between her ancient self and the modern vessel was a construct she maintained. Her restlessness came from the effort of the performance itself.

You’re right, Su Yao acknowledged. The tension in her shoulders eased. Looking at the bridge again, Su Yao saw it as a structure over water instead of a potential battlefield. The need for a dramatic conflict faded.

She turned and walked away from the riverbank, the purpose of the trip shifting toward existing without the armor of expectation.

Xiao Ling’s voice stirred again. Honestly, how did you forget we’re the same person? We share a brain, you know. I live here too.

Su Yao blinked. A smile touched her lips. Point taken.