The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 465: Warmth

Blood, tears, pain, wailing... and the sharp screeches of strange insects—like a knife, slicing again and again through the still-tender heart of the girl.

This not-yet-grown maiden had only celebrated her twelfth birthday a month ago. Poverty made her look thinner and weaker than her peers, but life and suffering had made her far stronger than outsiders imagined.

Yet no matter how strong one is, in front of a scene like this, one’s hands still tremble; one still weeps and fears.

Not long ago, she had imagined that under the Goddess’s blessing, her mom might get better—might finally keep that long-shelved promise and take her to fly that kite that had lain alone in the attic for so long, yet had never gathered dust.

But... this sudden disaster, this bloody reality, tore her last beautiful fantasy to shreds.

“No, Mom, I don’t want to... I can’t do it.”

Emily shook her head in anguish, face covered in tears.

Precocious as she was, she had already understood her mother’s intent.

That terrifying bug was a full fist in size, but in terms of a crossbow’s accuracy, it would actually be hard to hit.

Just now had already proven that.

However, if it were the woman who was the bug’s host—at this distance—even Emily could hit easily.

If this host were killed, perhaps it could give Emily a chance to run.

“Quick... quick...”

The woman’s pale, gaunt face twisted further; the veins in her neck leapt like a nest of snakes. Her limbs convulsed violently, already shuffling step by step toward Emily.

The sharp kitchen knife scraped along the wall beside her, shrieking.

“I... I can’t hold... myself back much longer.”

Tears ran down one side of her face; she could no longer maintain her expression. But in those eyes, what little remained was still gentle and full of attachnt.

“Emily, be good.”

She said:

“You can do it.”

“...”

Wordless stillness was greater than any speech.

Emily lowered her head for a mont, then, at the woman’s startled cry, her small body trembled and she jerked her head up.

This sensible child, in the end, chose to listen to her mother.

She raised the chanical crossbow, aid with shaking hands, then shut her eyes and, using all her strength, pulled the trigger.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh—

The remaining five bolts fired in a rapid stream.

“Puff, puff, puff.”

The sound of flesh being pierced rang out as expected—each sound seed to stab into the girl’s heart as well.

The now-empty crossbow suddenly grew unbearably heavy in her hands. Emily flung it away in fright, gasping for breath in great gulps.

The coppery reek spread. Emily felt her lungs were about to burn. She forced her eyes open and saw her mother lying in a pool of blood.

“Run...”

From a throat pouring blood, the woman forced out her last words.

Emily’s eyes blurred with tears in an instant, but she had no ti to cry. She sprang up, stumbled past her mother on the floor, and ran toward the other side of the room.

The house wasn’t big; Emily quickly reached the front door, swiftly unlatched the three security chains, then the final lock.

Then she pushed.

Emily’s face suddenly changed.

Because the shabby door that normally creaked whenever it opened or closed didn’t budge at all now, no matter how hard she shoved.

It was as if soone had nailed a steel plate on the other side, pinning it shut.

Emily didn’t waste ti on this incomprehensible abnormality. Seeing she couldn’t open the door, she grit her teeth, whirled, and ran the other way.

Snatching up the sharp kitchen knife her mother had dropped, she rushed to a window.

For safety, her windows were sealed, with only small holes left for light.

Fortunately, these old wooden windows weren’t as sturdy as one might think.

Emily’s thin little hands gripped the knife and hacked hard at the shutters.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Soon, the brittle wood split open. Hope of escape—the hope her mother had carved out for her with her own life—finally appeared before her eyes.

Without the slightest hesitation, Emily gripped the window fra and nimbly wriggled her small, skinny body outward.

She had to hurry.

She had to find the Mayor Auntie... If she moved fast, maybe Mom wasn’t dead yet. Maybe, just maybe...

Thud.

Another dull impact.

A sharp pain struck her forehead; stars burst before her eyes as she staggered back several steps.

She was pushed back. It was as if hope itself had barred her way.

“Eh?”

Hands to her forehead, Emily stared ahead in terror.

“Why?”

With no ti to worry about the pain in her head, she lunged, both hands reaching for the supposedly empty window.

It wasn’t empty at all.

She couldn’t see it, but her hands clearly felt sothing solid.

It was like an invisible wall, sealing her path tight, trapping this pitiful little white mouse in its cage for good.

She pounded a few tis, but her frail body couldn’t move it in the slightest. The light drained from Emily’s eyes, because she suddenly understood: there was no hope at all.

What she had bought with her last precious thing was only a futile struggle of a trapped beast.

Clap... clap... clap.

A slow, rhythmic applause sounded, like the heartfelt admiration of an audience at a play’s curtain call.

A figure stepped out of the black shadow.

He wore a tall top hat but ragged clothes, which looked ridiculous. In the dim starlight outside the window, a face with ssy whiskers ca into view.

“Good, good, good. A little girl who actually had the courage to go this far—admirable, lantable! What a splendid scene, it truly moves one to tears.”

The figure exclaid, unable to help himself—he took out a harp and plucked it in excitent.

Clear notes rang out; the noisy insect song fell silent at once. His steps were strange, as if he were dancing; swaying and wobbling °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° in comical motions, he chanted poetry Emily couldn’t understand.

“Y-you are...”

Emily turned her head stiffly; her pale little face looked especially pitiful.

“Eh? Don’t you recognize ?”

His performance over, the figure removed his hat and bowed to his only audience.

“I am a wandering poet—Wandering Poet Marvin Strelimor. For now, that is the na I’m using.”

“Wandering poet...”

“Hehe, rembered? Three days ago, we had a fated encounter, didn’t we?”

Marvin spun again, crying out in intoxicated delight:

“That’s right—fate, all of it fate. It was fate that guided to discover a mother body as perfect as you. Well, you’re a little young, but it doesn’t matter. I am very patient. I will patiently wait for you to grow up, and in the anti... properly cultivate you.”

“...”

Emily trembled. She didn’t understand what Marvin was saying, but at this mont she knew with absolute clarity... the one before her was the person who had killed her mother.

“Give my mom back to !”

Anger finally overca fear. Emily hurled the kitchen knife at Marvin with all her strength.

But how could a knife thrown by a little girl possibly harm Marvin?

“Ah, you mortals—you can never understand.”

Marvin casually caught the knife and tossed it aside with a wistful sigh.

“But it’s fine. I’ll train you well and let you learn... the beauty of this side of the world!”

Creak...

Creak...

Creak...

The sound of joints grinding rose. Emily’s eyes widened—she saw her mother, who lay on the ground, sway and struggle to her feet once more.

She walked toward Emily. No trace of gentleness remained on her face—only twisted savagery.

“Mom...”

Emily called softly, but there would never again be any response.

“Yes, your mom,”

Marvin mimicked the woman’s tone, cackling sharply:

“Hurry into Mommy’s arms. From now on, you two can be together forever.”

Creak.

Creak.

Under the control of the monstrous insect, the woman slowly reached the now-helpless Emily, raised her convulsing hands, and stretched them toward her.

“Puff.”

Then ca that familiar, horrifying sound again—the sound of sothing being pierced.

Emily shut her eyes; the terrible scene from earlier flashed through her mind.

“Mom, I’m sorry.”

The little girl curled up in pity, waiting for her own end.

But after a long ti, no pain ca.

On the contrary, she suddenly sensed a trace of warmth.

A warmth she hadn’t felt in a long, long ti.

She opened her eyes in confusion and saw that what had been pierced was not herself, nor the mother controlled before her eyes.

It was... that invisible wall.

Pierced by a blade of pure white.

The blade ripped the barrier open, and a broad, warm hand reached through, gathering her gently within.

And on the other side—in Marvin’s field of view—everything around had vanished. Through the torn rift, he saw only a pair of eyes blazing with roaring black fla... eyes filled with fury!