Chapter 165: The Budding Shape of the Black Forest Wanderers
Night had fallen deeply.
Darkness cloaked the Orphanage. The outer corridors gradually quieted as the Cursed Children, exhausted from the day’s frolic, slipped into sleep. A patrolling Guardian wandered by with a flashlight, beams of light occasionally flickering through the observation windows of the room doors, accompanied by the deliberately hushed sound of footsteps.
Little Red Riding Hood had changed into her nightgown and was leaning against the headboard, her ear keenly attuned to the sounds beyond the walls.
She listened for stifled sobs, any unusual screams in the night. Her Wolf sniffed through the shadows, searching for the scent of fear and unrest, searching for the presence of anything that did not belong—anything that might have slipped into reality through the cover of night.
Even on nights when she was not scheduled for patrol, this had become her routine.
After a long while, she finally exhaled softly and lay down.
The first hour after lights-out was the most prone to disturbances. But tonight, it seemed, would be quiet.
From the upper bunk came the creaking of movement. A head peeked down from above, curiosity in her voice: “Red Hood, sleeping this early? You’ve really been sleeping more lately.”
“Mm, just getting tired earlier,” Little Red Riding Hood yawned softly, her voice laced with drowsiness. “And I have a meeting tonight.”
The Long Haired Princess blinked, momentarily confused, then recognition dawned within seconds. A name, recently familiar, surfaced: “…That Uncle Yu Sheng?”
“He’s not that old. Call him Brother,” Red Hood rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s him. We’re meeting in the Black Forest.”
“Alright then, big Brother,” the Long Haired Princess said with a weird expression. “Meeting you in the Black Forest… uh, even though I know what you mean, it still sounds super weird. We’re all stuck in our own subsets, and your Black Forest has been getting pretty… lively lately.”
Red Hood raised an eyebrow. “Jealous?”
The head tilted slightly, then retreated. “Not really.”
Red Hood opened her mouth to say more, but ultimately swallowed the words. She picked up her phone and, as sleep slowly overtook her, typed out a message:
“Good night. See you soon.”
Time slipped by in a half-dreamed haze before the girl finally drifted into Dream Entry.
Darkness. Cold. Emptiness. Then, layer upon layer of shadows began to rise before her eyes. From the murk emerged the Forest at dusk—and with it, the distant howling of Wolves.
Red Hood opened her eyes in the dream and beheld a familiar scene.
“…Right, back here again.”
She sighed quietly, though her nerves began to wind tight.
The fear and anxiety rooted in her childhood had grown into a second skin—instinctual, inseparable. No amount of psychological prep or courage training could erase it. The calm on her face, the casualness in her tone, were lies she told herself. Inside, she was afraid—and she knew it better than anyone.
As her nerves tightened, she Summoned her Wolf Pack and scanned her surroundings.
She remained alert for the approach of Evil Wolves in the dark—and for the one who promised to join her in exploring the Black Forest.
Almost at the same time her Wolves appeared, a strange phenomenon occurred.
Threads of black silk wove through the air, coiling and spreading like spider webs. A voice echoed from nowhere:
“Hey hey she’s asleep, she’s asleep… stop rushing, I’m still locking onto the coordinates—it’s tricky work to pop in right beside her, you know? Delicate operation… okay, okay, we’re connected! Let’s put the Door here, open it, open it…”
In the next moment, Red Hood watched in stunned silence as the threads suddenly twisted into a thorny Door frame. A Phantom Door shimmered into form within it, and out stepped three familiar figures.
Yu Sheng carried Irene on his back, followed closely by Foxy.
“Evening!” Yu Sheng grinned as he stepped into view. “Hope we’re not late? Irene said you just dozed off.”
Foxy and Irene waved cheerfully, radiating giddy excitement—as if they were heading into a picnic, not the perilous Black Forest.
Red Hood found her sense of tension abruptly derailed by their energy. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then said, “Uh… I just got here.”
Then she watched as Yu Sheng leaned back into the still-open Phantom Door and fished around before yanking something through—
It was a twisted metal rod over a meter long, thick as a thumb, with coils and makeshift blades welded onto it in a chaotic, rusted array. In the twilight of the Black Forest, the thing gleamed with a cold menace.
Just looking at it made you feel like you’d catch tetanus.
Little Red Riding Hood blinked in sheer confusion as Yu Sheng pulled the Tetanus Staff out of the Door and gave it a casual twirl. The nearly two-meter-long spiked club, a brutal-looking rod of steel, moved in his hands like a toy baton. Finally, unable to suppress her curiosity, she asked, “What is that?”
“A weapon,” Yu Sheng replied cheerfully, though there was a trace of sheepishness in his grin. “Honestly, I don’t have anything better. No real combat skills either. Aside from brute strength and the occasional blood sale, I’ve got little else going for me. Not like Miss Foxy with her Fox Radish arsenal or Irene and all her magical gadgets… So I make do with this.”
As he spoke, he gave the savage staff another two casual spins—an object that looked like it could cause both heavy bleeding and tetanus with a single scrape. He sighed. “I doubt it’ll do much against the Evil Wolf, but it beats going in barehanded or throwing rocks like before.”
Little Red Riding Hood stared at him, stunned. Only after some moments did she recover from the sheer visual impact of the weapon and grasp Yu Sheng’s meaning. Her expression shifted into something like reverence—but not for the weapon’s power.
In her years as a Spirit Realm Detective, she had seen her fair share of dangerous armaments. The Otherworld teemed with deadly, strange artifacts. A rod of welded steel and blade shards was hardly sophisticated. Yet the weapon’s menace lay in its very aesthetic—the jagged edges, the barbs glinting coldly, the palpable malice baked into its design. It emanated killing intent beyond its physical damage.
More disturbingly, a creeping sense of dread prickled her spine each time she looked at it. It grew stronger, undeniable. Something was wrong.
Sniffing the air, she caught it—a trace of something metallic.
“…Is this covered in blood?” she asked, eyes widening as she glanced at Yu Sheng, who was now turning to shut the Door.
“Yep,” he replied with a bright smile. “Lots.”
In the shadowed reaches of the Black Forest, that smile seemed to gleam with a pure, unsettling joy.
Little Red Riding Hood stood frozen. She felt she ought to say something but found no words in her worldview that quite fit. After a pause, she managed: “Is that… your blood? Isn’t that a bit…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Yu Sheng cut her off with a wave. “The whole thing’s made from leftover scraps when making a little doll. Think of it as a byproduct.”
“…What?”
Yu Sheng didn’t elaborate. He hoisted the Tetanus Staff onto his shoulder and peered into the depths of the Black Forest.
“Let’s not linger in the heavy shadows. According to that Squirrel, we should head toward the light. Looks like there’s a bit ahead—let’s go and see if Squirrel or Evil Wolf shows up first.”
With that, he strode off. Little Red Riding Hood, realizing she had no better plan, followed quickly. After a few steps, she noticed scratches and tiny bite marks on Yu Sheng’s arms and even his head—how one gets bitten on the head was anyone’s guess.
“So… those injuries? Like Cat scratches?”
Yu Sheng’s pace slowed and his face twitched awkwardly. “Uh… also a byproduct of making a little doll. Don’t worry, they’ll heal.”
Perched on his other shoulder, Irene gave a snort, clearly trying to maintain an air of irritation. But her act faltered—she reached out and touched one of the bite marks on Yu Sheng’s head, a conflicted look on her face.
“…What?” said Little Red Riding Hood again.
Just then, a rustling noise came from a nearby bush. Everyone froze.
In the next moment, a small figure leapt out from the underbrush.
A Squirrel, with a fluffy tail and a strip of red cloth tied around its torso, landed atop a branch with theatrical flair. It clutched an acorn and cried out in a high-pitched voice:
“Ah—twilight has come! The Forest dims, and Little Red Riding Hood walks the outskirts alone. A good child must resist the allure of wildflowers and mushrooms by the wayside—”
Halfway through its dramatic monologue, the Squirrel stopped short.
It blinked at the group before it:
Yu Sheng, grinning with the Tetanus Staff.
The imperious little doll, only sixty-six centimeters tall.
The Demon Fox, tails swaying and Fox Fire flickering.
And Little Red Riding Hood herself, embarrassed for reasons even she didn’t understand.
The Squirrel stared, dumbfounded. Seconds later, the acorn dropped from its paw.
“…This just got weird!!”