Transmigration:The Villain Wants A Happy End Without His BeastHusbands Chapter 234: Rebirth Of The Phoenix (6)

The streets of the Vermilion Fox Clan burned with endless light and celebration.

Fireworks blossod across the heavens like flowers of fla while music drifted through every corner of the city. Fox beasts laughed beneath glowing lanterns, dancers spun through the streets, and the entire clan pulsed with vibrant life beneath the night sky.

Su Ningyan walked slowly through the bustling roads, his violet eyes reflecting the countless lights around him.

The Vermilion Fox Clan was famous for its unrestrained revelry. Even Fire City, which was dominated by fox bloodlines, could not compare to this place.

And strangely, he liked it.

He liked the warmth. The noise. The chaos. The life.

For the first ti since awakening, the emptiness inside him quieted for very long.

His gaze lifted toward the endless lanterns floating across the sky and a thought surfaced in his mind without warning.

I want the Phoenix Clan to beco like this too.

The thought startled him.

Yet he did not reject it.

Eventually, his steps slowed near an open street square where countless children had gathered beneath glowing lanterns. Tiny hands worked carefully with colored paper while laughter rang endlessly into the night.

Most of the lanterns were shaped like foxes.

So had nine tails.

Ningyan stood silently at the edge of the crowd, watching the children help one another. So struggled with folded paper while others proudly carried completed lanterns toward the sky.

The scene was simple. Peaceful. Warm.

Sothing inside his chest tightened faintly.

His eyes lifted toward the lantern-lit heavens before he unconsciously stepped closer.

Two children nearby were struggling with theirs, the paper collapsing awkwardly in their tiny hands. Ningyan crouched beside them gracefully, his long white hair spilling over his shoulder.

"May I help?" he asked softly.

The children froze at first, stunned by his appearance.

Then their eyes brightened eagerly. "Yes!"

They looked no older than eight or ten. Innocent and carefree.

Ningyan found himself smiling as he guided their small hands carefully through the folds.

"You have to be gentler here," he murmured. "Or the lantern loses balance."

The little girl nodded seriously before suddenly reaching toward his hair.

"Big brother is so pretty," she whispered.

Before Ningyan could react, she began braiding a thin strand of his white hair.

Soon, more children gathered around him excitedly.

"Can you help too?"

"My lantern keeps breaking!"

"Beautiful master, mine won’t fly!"

For reasons he could not understand, he stayed.

He spent what felt like hours among them, helping shape lanterns beneath the warm lantern glow while tiny hands tugged his sleeves and childish laughter echoed around him.

And during that ti... The crushing emptiness inside him faded.

Not completely. But enough. Enough that he almost forgot it existed.

Eventually, the children began leaving one by one, carrying their finished lanterns toward their families.

"Bye bye, beautiful master!" One little boy waved energetically.

Ningyan stared at him for a mont before slowly lifting his own hand in return.

The action felt... Familiar. Painfully familiar. Like an old mory brushing against the edge of his mind before disappearing again.

His brows furrowed faintly.

But the feeling vanished before he could grasp it.

So he simply watched the children disappear into the glowing streets while countless lanterns drifted endlessly into the heavens above the clan.

The cold wind swept through his long hair.

After a while, Ningyan finally turned and began making his way back toward the inn.

The mont he entered, He Yuting imdiately approached him with hurried steps, visible worry etched across her beautiful face.

"Your greatness!" Relief flashed through her eyes. "I have been searching everywhere for you."

Ningyan blinked, slightly surprised by the intensity of her concern.

"I am fine, General," he replied calmly. "I rely spent so ti with the children."

He walked past her toward the stairs.

Behind him, He Yuting froze briefly.

"Children...?" she repeated softly, almost in disbelief.

Ningyan nodded. "We made lanterns together."

A faint smile curled his lips. "Perhaps the Phoenix Clan should hold festivals like this as well. The children seed happy."

His violet eyes glimred thoughtfully. "And perhaps... an academy too."

There was genuine excitent in his voice now.

He Yuting stood motionless at the bottom of the stairs, staring after him with a conflicted expression.

Guilt slowly surfaced within her eyes.

Her hand pressed lightly against her chest as she watched his figure disappear upstairs.

Only after he vanished from sight did she lower her head and release a heavy breath before silently turning away.

anwhile, Ningyan returned to his chamber.

The attendants of the inn carefully prepared water for his bath before helping him change into fresh robes of black silk embroidered with crimson threads.

As the attendants prepared to leave, Ningyan suddenly noticed sothing strange.

One of the young won kept glancing toward his body.

Not with fear. Not entirely.

There was concern there.

Ningyan lowered his gaze to the countless scars covering his body along with the black veins at the side of his body that stretched up his neck.

So thin and pale. So deep and vicious. So old enough to look ancient.

Marks of suffering carved into flesh that no longer felt entirely his own.

The attendant quickly lowered her head the mont their eyes t and hurried out alongside the others.

The chamber fell silent.

Ningyan stood alone beneath the dim lantern light, his violet eyes lingering on the reflection staring back at him.

On the scars. On the unfamiliar body.

And once again, that strange emptiness returned.

Xie Zhenting had told him the scars were war scars. He did not believe Xie Zhenting.

The scars across his body were far too vicious to be wounds earned from battle.

Ningyan’s fingers brushed lightly over one of the scars stretching across his abdon before he let his robe fall loosely around him once more, leaving it untied.

The fabric hung carelessly from his shoulders as he moved toward the table and ate alone beneath the quiet lanternlight.

When he was finished, he stepped outside.

The inn had grown quieter now.

Music still drifted faintly from distant streets, but this part of the manor had settled into calm silence beneath the night sky.

As Ningyan crossed the upper corridor and rested his hands against the railing overlooking the courtyard below, his violet eyes narrowed.

Xie Zhenting stood beneath the lantern glow speaking to He Yuting.

No... he was interrogating her.

The atmosphere between them was tense enough to chill the air itself.

He Yuting’s expression remained composed, yet there was visible strain beneath it while Xie Zhenting looked furious, his jaw tight as he spoke sharply to her.

Ningyan frowned faintly.

He was already considering intervening when a sudden rush of beast pressure exploded from He Yuting.

nacing enough to make the surrounding lantern flas tremble.

Xie Zhenting’s expression darkened before he scoffed coldly and stord out of the inn without another word.

Only then did He Yuting look upward.

Her eyes t Ningyan’s.

For a brief mont, surprise crossed her face before she smiled at him softly, a silent plea not to involve himself.

Ningyan studied her quietly before giving a small nod and turning away.

The mont he returned to his chamber and shut the doors behind him, he froze.

A powerful aura rippled through the distance.

Violent beast pressure.

A battle.

Ningyan’s eyes sharpened instantly.

Without hesitation, he turned, pushed open the doors once more, and vanished into the night.

His figure moved swiftly across the rooftops, robes fluttering behind him as the cold wind swept through the streets below.

The closer he drew, the heavier the pressure beca.

One aura was dominant. Overwhelming. Filled with wrath so intense it almost distorted the surrounding spiritual energy.

Ningyan landed silently atop a high rooftop overlooking the battlefield below.

The streets beneath had already emptied, frightened beasts fleeing from the clash.

Two fox beasts battled fiercely beneath the lanternlit sky.

One was a single-tailed fox beastman with orange fur and sharp, agile movents.

The other.... Ningyan’s eyes lingered.

A nine-tailed fox.

Crimson hair flowed behind him like burning silk while nine magnificent tails swayed elegantly through the air, tipped in white like fresh snow touched by blood.

His fox ears twitched sharply atop his head.

Red-gold eyes glead beneath the night.

He was beautiful. Dangerous.

But what caught Ningyan’s attention most was the way he fought.

It did not look like combat. It looked like a dance.

Every movent flowed with impossible elegance, graceful enough to srize while carrying enough force to kill instantly.

Suddenly, the nine-tailed fox moved. Too fast.

He appeared directly before the orange fox beastman and seized him by the throat before the other beast could even react.

A heartbeat later, his hand plunged straight into the fox’s chest.

Blood splattered across crimson sleeves.

The sound of tearing flesh echoed through the street as he ripped the still-beating heart from the beastman’s body.

The corpse collapsed heavily onto the ground.

Silence followed.

The nine-tailed fox stared down at the heart in his grasp, his nine tails swaying slowly behind him beneath the lantern glow.

Ningyan watched him with growing curiosity.

Beautiful. Cruel. Elegant.

His type of creature.

As though sensing the gaze upon him, the fox suddenly lifted his head.

Their eyes t.

And the mont they did, the fox froze.

Those red-gold eyes widened.

Ningyan smiled faintly.

"It seems," he said softly, voice carrying through the night air, "I have found my company for the evening."

The heart slipped from the fox’s fingers.

For the first ti since Ningyan arrived, the fox looked shaken.

Not angry. Not hostile. Shaken.

His lips parted slightly as though he had forgotten how to breathe.

Then, quietly, almost painfully, "Yan’er?"