The Little Gift
A pale-white head—or, to be precise, a skull.
The moment he turned around, Fu Qian spotted one on the ground.
Beneath it, a comparatively tiny skeletal body was straining to wriggle itself free of the ground.
Though it didn't seem to be in any kind of physical conflict with the ground.
Before long, more similar figures appeared beside the familiar shape. Once they had struggled to pull their upper bodies free, they clustered together.
Messengers?
Fu Qian recognized the visitors without much effort, and clicked his tongue in surprise.
That was right: the little messengers who had once helped him find his gun on the half of the moon belonging to the Red Moon.
From their behavior, it was obvious that they served as the Red Moon's attendants.
He'd just been saying that the Red Moon hadn't made a move. Talk about speaking of the devil.
What amazed Fu Qian was that the messengers could now appear in reality with such ease. It seemed the Red Moon was recovering again.
Was it because it had eaten a New God and gotten a little nourishment?
As befitted a First Order of the new generation, Brother An Jing had found the perfect place to shine.
As Fu Qian marveled at them, the little messengers on the ground clearly sensed his gaze and grew excited.
In the next moment, they made another great show of tugging at something, their movements almost excessively lively.
Just as they had appeared, a pale-gold piece of wood slowly emerged, its elegant curve carved with intricate patterns.
Was that... a chair?
It looked quite heavy, and the messengers were clearly struggling.
As Fu Qian examined it curiously, he soon realized they were pulling it out upside down.
It really was a chair.
Fu Qian