Chapter 25: Prank and Consequences 1
Dawn broke with pale mist clinging to the southern ridges as Tharia woke to her hair attacking her. She sat up, tail flicking groggily, and immediately regretted every life choice that had led to this moment.
Her violet hair had staged a rebellion overnight, as it stuck out in seven different directions, tangled into knots that defied physics.
"Why," she asked the ceiling. "Why do I have hair. Who designed this. I want a refund."
She reached for the wooden comb on the stone shelf—Serenya's gift, smooth and worn, smelling faintly of frost and spring flowers even now.
'Don't think about her. Don't think about how she's probably doing important cultivator things while I'm fighting hair.'
She dragged the it through the tangles with more violence than strictly necessary. It caught and refused to budge. She yanked it free anyway.
"I hate you," she told her hair.
It did not respond.
Ten minutes later, her hair was... passable. Mostly. If you squinted.
She conjured her illusory kimono with a practiced flick of qi. The red fabric shimmering into place, stable and crisp thanks to the System’s blueprint.
'Old me would’ve already flickered twice just from the walk', she thought. 'Remember that stupid blue jay in the forest? One squawk and poof... naked fox in the trees. This one actually holds, and is easy to create.'
Then came the high heels, the only real clothing she owned.
The impractical, beautiful, absolutely terrible for cultivation high heels. Her feet still had blisters from yesterday, small angry things that protested with every step.
She pulled out the small tin of ointment — Serenya’s gift — and dabbed it on. “Practical shoes,” she muttered while lacing them up anyway. “I could wear practical shoes. But then I’d be short. And reasonable. NO.”
Click. Click. Click.
Her tail swished. “Mission time. Let’s earn some stones so I can pay that evil bunny to beat me up. Very normal life goals.”
System:
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Morning Routine Completed.
Chaos Essence: +1 (Choosing Fashion Over Function)
Note: Your feet will regret this. Your feet already regret this.
Chaos Essence: 78→ 79
[collapse]
"Shut up, you!"
The southern ridges smelled of wet earth and pine resin.
Tharia joined a small group of outer disciples sent to reinforce landslide paths and mark any new spirit herbs exposed by the slide. The work was dull but necessary: check unstable ground, look for beast tracks, haul rocks until your back screamed, and bag any useful plants that had surfaced.
Her high heels sank into mud with every step.
"Excellent footwear choice," an outer disciple commented, watching her struggle.
"I'm making a statement," Tharia said, yanking her heel free with a squelch.
"About what?"
"Commitment to bad decisions."
The disciple moved away not wanting to be associated with the crazy fox.
As they marked the area, Tharia conjured lantern-lights through the fog and glowing outlines around dangerous cracks; Then... a bright arrow appeared. “There. Don’t step there. Or do. I’m not your mother.”
One disciple nodded approvingly. "Useful skill."
She conjured another glowing marker. “Look at me. Being helpful. Contributing to society.” Her tail gave a smug little swish.
By midday, her muscles ached, her qi felt strained, and sweat soaked through her kimono beneath the illusion. Her feet screamed in the heels, even the blisters had blisters now.
The group dispersed with nods of approval, each clutching their modest reward of spirit stones.
System:
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Mission Complete: Landslide Survey (Southern Ridges)
Note: You were useful today. The System is as surprised as you are.
Secondary Note: Next time wear practical shoes.
[collapse]
"I AM wearing practical shoes," Tharia told the System.
[Note: Your feet disagree.]
"My feet don't get a vote."
She limped back to the sect, heels clicking unevenly against stone, every step sending fresh sparks of pain up her legs.
Back in her cave she collapsed onto the mat for a few minutes, groaning as she kicked the cursed heels off. Her feet throbbed, her back ached while sweat and dust clung to her skin.
'Why do I do this to myself…'
She stared at the ceiling, tail limp and tired. For a moment she considered just sleeping. Being responsible and resting like a normal person.
'…Nah.'
The restlessness hit anyway. First a twitch in her ears, then her tail gave a lazy flick, and then another. The gremlin itch was waking up whether she liked it or not.
She sat up with a groan, rolled her shoulders, and felt a wicked little grin slowly spread across her face.
'Trained. Worked. Paid my dues.'
She bolted upright.
'Now… now I wanna play.'
Tail flickering with mischief, she scampered out of the cave and headed straight for the training courtyard like a fox on a mission.
...
Kaela's pet disciple stood among the outer disciples, stocky frame, and cropped brown hair. His hands gripped a practice staff, his posture locked in a mask of discipline.
'Too rigid, and too serious. Every day the same dull expression.'
Tharia, who was watching from the side grinned. She'd never learned his name, didn't matter anyway. He was "Stick-Up-His-Ass Disciple" and that was enough. Only when another disciple called out to him did she catch it.
"Joren! Again!"
'Oh. Joren. That's almost as boring as his personality.'
She wove qi with a subtle flick, sending phantom lights darting around him like mischievous fireflies. His robe shimmered, colors swapped with another disciple's mid-conversation, leaving him blinking in confusion.
Snickers rippled through the courtyard.
"This is amazing," Tharia whispered to no one in particular. "I should do this professionally. 'Professional Annoyance Artist.'" Her tail swished. "Has a ring to it."
Joren on the other hand, stared at staff, trying to straighten it, but met only with failure.
The courtyard erupted in laughter.
With another weave, his boring grey outer disciple robe melted into flowing skirt folds, complete with delicate embroidery. The illusion clung to him as if he were dressed for a festival, his stocky frame made ridiculous by the sudden femininity.
Joren spun, bewildered, tugging at phantom fabric. His face flushed crimson as disciples doubled over, pointing and jeering.
The more he struggled, the more the skirt swished.
"What—" Joren grabbed at the illusion. "Get OFF—"
Laughter rolled in waves. Tharia covered her mouth, trying not to laugh too loud.
Then he did something stupidly effective; he shoved his own qi outward in a clumsy, desperate burst.
The two weaves collided, and Tharia felt the clash like a hammer to her chest.
'Oh no.'
The illusion snapped. Not just his. Hers. Her kimono flickered once, then vanished. Joren’s raw qi tore straight through it. 'If this had been my old robes… Gone. Instant. This one… actually tried to hold...'
Silence slammed down.
Tharia’s skin prickled under dozens of stares, as the sun pressed hot and merciless on bare skin while her heart hammered in her ears.
“Oh SHIT,” Tharia yelped.
Every eye in the courtyard now locked onto her. As heat flooded her face, her hands shot to cover herself, tail curled tight, desperately trying to hide what it couldn't possibly hide.
"This is fine," she announced. "Minor wardrobe malfunction. Very common. Cultivation does this."
The courtyard did not agree quietly.
Renji's face turned scarlet, he stumbled back, hands half-raised like he didn't know what to do with them. Joren on the other hand froze, then a slow smirk spread across his face.
"Huh look at you, I almost think you are enjoying this… naked fox," he called out.
Tharia’s face burned, ears slammed flat. She shoved more qi into the illusion. ‘Come on, hold together…’
It flickered and barely held, transparent enough that she might as well still be naked.
"FUCK," she hissed, pushing more qi.
The red kimono solidified. Sort of, still shimmering and still unstable.
But covered.
"I MEANT TO DO THAT," she shouted. "IT WAS A TEST. YOU ALL FAILED. ESPECIALLY YOU, JOREN."
She turned and ran.
Very fast.
Laughter chased her down the corridor like a pack of hounds.
"This is the worst day of my life!" she yelled while running. "I'm filing a complaint! With the sect! With the heavens! With EVERYONE!"
Her tail remained puffed the entire way back to her cave.
…
Later, Kaela found her sulking in the practice yard, hammering a training dummy with way too much violence.
She struck the dummy.
"Okay," she announced. "New old plan. I am going to get very good at illusions. Extremely good. So good that no sweaty qi-pushing disciple can ever—"
She struck it again.
"—EVER—"
Again.
"—do THAT to me again."
The dummy wobbled, after which she pointed at it. "You understand."
"Tharia."
She froze mid-motion then spun around.
Kaela stood there, arms folded, rabbit ears at full attention, face carved from pure disapproval.
"Senior sister," Tharia said carefully. "I was just—"
“Illusions are not toys.” Kaela’s voice was sharp. “Control them, or they will betray you. What I saw in that courtyard wasn’t training. It was a childish prank, and it cost you your dignity.”
Tharia’s ears drooped. “Yes, senior sister.”
Kaela stepped closer. “If you want more lessons, earn the stones and show me control. No more playing.”
"Noted," Tharia said. "Definitely taking notes. Mentally. Very serious notes about seriousness."
Kaela's expression didn't move.
Tharia's ears flattened. "Right. Yes. No more playing."
She turned to leave.
“Senior sister,” Tharia called, voice smaller than she wanted. “How do I stop them from failing when it actually matters?”
Kaela paused. “You train until failure is no longer an option.” Her expression softened just a fraction. “Emotion destabilizes qi. Control yourself before you try to control anything else."
Then she left.
Tharia exhaled, tail drooping. “That went great,” she muttered. “Super productive.”
'Control. Not tricks.' She struck the dummy again.
'Got it. Easy. Simple. No problem.'
The dummy cracked.
"...I'm going to need more dummies."
Joren passed by not long after, staff resting across his shoulders, wearing that same smirk on his face. "Even your tricks betray you, naked fox." Echoing Kaela’s words.
Tharia's tail puffed again.
"I will end you," she said sweetly. "Respectfully. With violence."
He laughed and kept walking.
Renji appeared at the edge of the yard. He stood there for a moment like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to exist near her.
"So," he said finally. "That happened."
"Never speaking of it again," Tharia said.
"Agreed." A pause. He looked at the cracked dummy. "You're... really hitting that."
"Yep."
Another pause.
"You're going to be fine," he said quietly. Then turned away, ears still red.
Tharia stared at the training dummy.
'Yeah,' she thought. 'I know.'
She rocked onto her toes, ears twitching with determination.
'I won’t stay at the bottom.'
System:
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Observation: Your illusions destabilize under qi interference.
Recommendation: Either strengthen your weave or stop pranking people who can fight back.
Secondary Note: You will choose option two. The System knows you.
[collapse]
"I'm choosing option one," Tharia told the System.
[Note: You will not.]
"Fuck off."
System Status:
Host: Tharia | Age: 18
Status: Healthy
[TECHNIQUE ANALYSIS]
Illusion Proficiency: 39%
Chaos Stability: Fragile (Improving).
Qi Circulation: Vein resonance threshold - 32%.
Achievement: 'Style Over Substance'
Traits: 'The Reluctant Royal' (Passive). ‘Willing Exposure’ (Passive)
Passive Techniques: 'Shame-Guard' (Passive)
Module: 'Path of the Unseen'
Active Techniques: Illusory Raiment (Rank: D)
Chaos Essence: 79.
Status: Duskwind Sect - Outer Disciple.
Active Quests: Exceed Vein resonance threshold 50%.
SHOP.
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