Chapter 18The Chrysanthemum Unfurls

At the town square, Peach gasps for breath, her voice piercing the evening air like a bell toll. Across the dusty path, the yaoguai horde advances—a tide of shadow and hunger drawing ever closer, with nowhere to flee, nowhere to hide.

“Yaoguai are coming!” Her warning rings out. “Find your families! Get inside now!”

The townsfolk freeze mid-motion, like living sculptures of uncertainty and confusion. They turn as one to stare at this unknown figure, this girl from elsewhere who brings warnings in the twilight.

“Please!” Peach’s plea carries both desperation and determination. “You must trust me!”

Murmurs ripple through the crowd like water disturbed. A woman steps forward, clutching a basket of herbs, her hand outstretched—unmarked, unstained, offering concern. “Are you all right, young lady—”

SLAM!

The world erupts in a whirlwind of motion. A lightning-fast blur descends, and before understanding can take root, the lady drops to the ground with a breathless gasp. A metallic figure pins her down, restraining her with the weight of a mountain.

“Y… Yi…” Her voice struggles, straining against the vice-like grip. Her face contorts, features shifting beneath skin that ripples like water. “Hrgnn… Yi…”

The stray dogs begin to howl, their barks carrying the particular sound of creatures fearing something unnatural in their world. Wind stirs the air, clouds part just enough for moonlight to spill through, painting the scene in silver and shadow. Slowly, the lady’s face distorts—elongates—until a long snout emerges, revealing the Fox beneath. Zobito’s headless body holds her pinned, unmoving, patient as stone.

“Zobito!” Peach realises what has transpired, the pieces clicking into place with sudden clarity. She turns back to the stunned townsfolk, her voice carrying urgency. “Look out! She’s a Fox Spirit! Go hide inside!”

Zobito’s finger rises, moves with the precision of celestial mechanics—not merely functional, but purposeful. Three delicate strikes to pressure points on the Fox Spirit’s forehead, each one carrying the memory of qi. The Fox ceases to struggle. The glamour peels away like mist from morning grass, revealing the slender, furry truth beneath. The creature goes limp, begins snoring with the particular loudness of animals when exhausted.

Panic spreads like wildfire across the town, voices rising and falling in waves of fear and desperate action. The people scramble, each movement a tiny prayer for safety. Mothers snatch up toddlers, pulling crying children close. Strong farmers guide the elderly with patient hands, their footsteps measured and certain. Smiths grip their tools—rusty, yes, but weapons nonetheless—ready to stand between their families and whatever darkness approaches.

The moonlight fades as clouds return, swallowing the silver glow in shadow. From the distance, menacing yips echo—sharp, hungry, drawing closer. Peach stands alone with Zobito’s headless body in a square gone pitch black, deathly quiet, waiting for a storm to break.

Then, from the town’s entrance, a warm glow emerges—not sudden, but gradual, as if the darkness itself hesitates to touch it. Like a lantern born from starlight, Zobito’s head returns, floating through the air with impossible grace to hover above the square, illuminating everything in soft radiance.

“Are you all right, Peach?” The voice emanates from the chrysanthemum-shaped construct, each orbiting petal pulsing with gentle rhythm as they unfurl and retract in a dance of life. The caring in her voice feels almost tangible—not heard, but felt. “I see you have successfully guided the townsfolk to their shelters.”

“You’re back!” Peach perks up briefly, then replies with her troubled voice. “But now what? The townsfolk’s shelter won’t hold against the yaoguai—”

BOOM!

The earth trembles, a deep resonance that rises up through the cobblestones and into the bones. From within their shelters, the people of Tiantan gasp—a collective intake of breath that carries the weight of a whole town’s fear. The yips grow closer, sharper, hungrier, each sound a promise of violence.

BOOM! BOOM!

“We have to save them, Zobito!” Peach catches her breath as her heart races faster. “What can we do?”

“We can fight together. I need your help.”

Zobito’s headless body springs to life, rising with mechanical grace that transcends mere movement—this is transformation, evolution, becoming. Plates unfold like petals from a Celestial bloom, each segment glowing with inner radiance that pulses with cosmic rhythm. The armour pieces spiral around Peach in an intricate dance that speaks of ancient artistry, settling against her form with magnetic precision—helmet to shoulders, chestplate to torso, greaves to legs—each piece finding its place in the constellation of her protection.

Brilliant light erupts through the darkness, so sudden and so complete that even the distant yips and the Rock Guai’s thunderous footsteps falter for a heartbeat, as if the very universe must catch its breath. In moments, where a young girl once stood, now stands a divine warrior—transformed, radiant, ready for battle that will be written in legend.

Peach’s space buns, once ordinary dark coils, now catch and reflect the armour’s inner light, seeming to orbit her head like twin moons. Around each bun, celestial rings of light materialise—delicate orbital bands that glimmer with traditional cloud patterns and calligraphy strokes. Like ancient jade discs or celestial bi-pieces rotating around twin stars, the rings pulse with Celestial energy, their surfaces etched with flowing motifs that shift and dance in the light. Strands of hair that escaped their bonds during the warning now float around her face, lifted by an energy she can feel but not see—the Celestial power flowing through her, making even her hair dance to the rhythm of cosmic currents.

The armour itself is a marvel to behold. Each plate fits her form like it was forged for her alone, the CelestCore technology responding to her presence with a subtle hum she feels more than hears. Light traces patterns across the surface—not random, but intentional, like calligraphy written in starlight. When she moves, even slightly, the light follows her motion, leaving faint trails in the air.

“Whoa—” Peach exhales, testing the armour’s weight as she flexes her arms. Light pulses through every seam and joint, and she watches in wonder as the orbital rings around her space buns pulse in response to the Celestial energy flowing through her. The rings seem to breathe—contracting and expanding like living art, their cloud patterns shifting in hypnotic rhythm. Her loose strands twirl around the glowing buns, threading through the orbital rings like shooting stars. “This armour… it’s lighter than air. Strength floods through my limbs, my mind sharpens… Is this what the Elite Riders experience?”

“I believe so.” Zobito’s voice echoes through Peach’s mind. “My body is now one with yours, allowing Celestial energy to flow through you and transforming mortal flesh and mind.”

Peach takes a deep breath. She feels her senses heightening, connecting to something ancient that she can’t describe with words.

“I’ve never felt this way before… my mind is so clear… I feel like I’m one with the stars…” Peach takes another deep breath. “So is this what it feels like to be a Celestial?”

“Temporarily, yes.”

“Oh… that’s it? I was expecting to do an unnecessarily long transformation montage ending in a cheesy pose and a punchy one-liner.”

“Pardon me?”

“Don’t mind me.”

The yips return, louder now, closer—a choir of hunger and purpose. The giant footsteps continue to shake the ground, each thud a promise of overwhelming force. From the town’s gates, the sound arrives: the Husks’ carapaces knocking together in a discordant rhythm, like bones rattling in an empty jar.

“They’re here!” Peach turns to the floating flower Zobito. “How do I work this thing?”

“Simply focus on your intent to save the people of Tiantan, and your armour will guide you.” Zobito’s gentle voice hums as her myriad petals pulse and orbit faster. “Celestial energy flows through pure hearts that align with the stars, and aeons of wisdom await those who are worthy to receive it.”

Peach closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath, and something remarkable happens. Her mind calms—no, more than calms—opens, expands, blossoms like a lotus reaching toward sunlight. The armour responds to her intent, plates shifting subtly against her body, the hum intensifying to a frequency she can barely perceive. Around her space buns, the orbital rings begin to rotate faster, their cloud-patterned surfaces spinning in perfect harmony. The rings pulse in sync with the expanding awareness—twin heartbeats matching the rhythm of her expanded consciousness, the bi-discs rotating like celestial wheels. The armour’s connection transforms her awareness, stretching it beyond the limits of mortal perception to encompass the entire town, every life, every heartbeat.

She feels them all: the Fox Spirits sprinting on all fours across rooftops. The Husks marching in, their numbers too many to count. Three giant Rock Guai—one at the gates, one following close behind, the third trailing through the eastern woods like a mountain on the move. She feels the people hiding in different buildings, each breath, each heartbeat: parents embracing children tighter than life itself; adults clutching tools, hoping against hope to defend what matters; older couples worrying they’ll burden the young, that they’ll be the anchor that drowns everyone.

The incoming shadows are strong, terrible, overwhelming. But in this moment of expanded awareness, Peach realises: nothing compares to the weight of responsibility she has taken on, the sacred duty to protect the innocent that burns brighter than any star.

Like nightmares given form, the Fox Spirits bound across rooftops, their yips sharp as blades cutting through air. Husks surge into the square—each creature a dark mess of mindless malevolence that encircles Peach and Zobito, tightening like a noose. A Rock Guai crushes several Husks beneath its bulk without care, unleashing a roar that shakes not just the stones, but the very foundations of reality itself. From their shelters, the townsfolk gasp—a sound that carries every fear they dare not voice.

GRAAAAAH!

The boulder’s bellow reverberates through the square, sending dust devils spinning like dervishes of chaos. The ground itself seems to rebel against such thunder. And then, the Husks charge—all at once, a wave of obsidian and hunger.

Peach’s eyes snap open, her mind crystalline with purpose that feels both foreign and familiar. She surrenders—not to fear, but to her companion’s wisdom, to the Celestials’ guidance flowing through aeons of memory. Ancient knowledge courses through her veins like molten starlight. Her body flows into a stance she’s never learned yet knows perfectly—every movement practiced across lifetimes she’s never lived. The final plates seal with a resonant click that echoes in her very bones.

As she settles into her stance, the orbital rings around her space buns align into perfect vertical orbits, their cloud-patterned surfaces catching and refracting light like prisms. The rings pulse with inner radiance that matches her heartbeat, rotating in sync with her breath—contracting on the inhale, expanding on the exhale. The loose strands frame her determined face like starlight wisps, threading through the celestial bi-discs in a dance of light and shadow. For a moment, looking at her reflection in the armour’s surface, she sees herself transformed: not just a girl in armour, but something else entirely—something ready.

Together, armour and chrysanthemum bloom unleash light—not like dawn, but like dawn’s very conception, like the first spark that birthed all suns across all heavens.

“Bring it!”

The words carry across the square, and in that moment, between one heartbeat and the next, the battle begins.