The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 79: The Shift

Chapter 79: The Shift

The field smelled like a cozy kitchen in the fall. The scent of apples and cinnamon easily detracted from the stank of copper. However, the undercurrent was still there, if you looked for it.

Shi Yaozu stood at the edge of the battlefield, both swords drawn, a bit at a loss for what to do next. He did not tremble. He did not flinch. He simply watched to see what Zhao Xinying would do next.

It was clear that moments after she had joked about letting her demons out, she had changed.

It wasn’t a sudden burst—not like fire leaping to life—but like ice cracking under pressure, slow and deadly. Her posture had shifted, her eyes went distant and glassy before settling into something powerful. Something distinctly unearthly.

The body was the same, the green ribbon still clung to her throat, but there was no sign of Zhao Xinying in her movements now.

He thought he had seen demons before. Or what the world called demons—men who twisted power until it broke them, creatures made of curse and vengeance. But this? This wasn’t rage or madness. It was possession.

And it clearly wasn’t Wrath.

He wasn’t certain what demon lived behind those pale blue eyes now, but he knew it wasn’t the same girl who had taught him how to use his fury as a weapon.

She turned her head slowly.

And smiled at him.

Not like a friend. Not how she normally smiled at him or even looked at him. This was something deeper, something that he didn’t dare name, seeing as she was his mistress.

"Shi Yaozu," she purred, her voice thick with silk and static. "My assassin, my Shadow Guard, my..." her voice trailed off in a teasing manner, daring him to finish her sentence. She stepped closer, hips swaying just slightly as she approached him, the battlefield seemingly forgotten. "Don’t worry... I can keep you safe and keep you happy all at the same time."

Yaozu didn’t step back. Didn’t flinch. His eyes flicked toward her hands, then the mist coiling around her ankles like a snake too bored to strike. Or a hound waiting for the command.

"I’ll take the army," he muttered dryly. "Get on your horse, Princess, and go somewhere safe."

Her laugh was low. Pleased. She reached up to trace a finger down his cheek. A feather-light touch, followed by a kiss to his jaw. Not for love. Not even for control.

But for ownership.

"Princess," she purred. "I like that title passing your lips." She licked her own as if to emphasize the word. "But I don’t run from any man... no matter how many stand in front of me."

Shi Yaozu didn’t move, holding himself steady as she walked around him, her fingers trailing over his body like it was hers.

But his jaw tightened. He was calculating now, counting enemies, measuring the distance to her shadow, assessing how many of the enemy he could take down if this turned.

Because something had turned.

And not just her attitude.

The mist was feeding. Slow, deliberate deaths were beginning to spatter across the field like ink drops on parchment. But instead of the screams that he had gotten used to, these deaths were silent.

Don’t get him wrong, they were no less gruesome, but now there was a sick horror factor of absolute silence.

Chunks of men fell in clusters—legs detached at the knees, faces melting from bone. But no matter how much they tried, no one was able to scream. Instead, it was like their tongue was gone, and the only sounds were short, wet gasps before they disintegrated into nothingness.

Still, Xinying made no move to fight.

Not yet.

------

From the ridgeline, Sun Longzi’s face was a slab of iron. He pulled his horse to a stop just as the last messenger peeled away from the column. Five riders—each headed in a different direction.

"Someone must live to reach His Majesty," he ordered, voice clipped and hard. "Someone has to tell our families we died protecting them."

Zhu Deming was already at his side, adjusting the straps of his mask; his movements were quick and familiar. It had become his habit before battle to make sure that everything was in place. "Shi Yaozu is down there," he grunted, pointing just off to the right.

Sun Longzi nodded his head in acknowledgement. "At least he won’t die alone."

The Red Demons behind them had gone quiet. They knew what they were facing. They had a little over two thousand men, if you included the cooks and medics, and that wasn’t nearly enough to take on the army in front of them.

In fact, if you added all of Daiyu’s military forces together, it still wouldn’t be enough to take on the combined army.

But before them, the battlefield was a vision from a fever dream. Patches of grass still hissed with steam where blood had fallen. Flesh clung to shattered armor. Banners burned mid-collapse. Men stumbled, screaming, only to be dragged backward into smoke that hissed and pulsed like a living beast.

"What is that?" one soldier asked, his eyes wide.

"The Witch," another whispered, making a sign to ward off evil.

Sun Longzi didn’t answer; he simply watched her, the girl in green.

The one who had killed a thousand men without lifting her sword. The one who hadn’t even bothered to look at he death and destruction that she was causing. Instead, she was wrapping herself around Shi Yaozu like a silk scarf... or a cat trying to get attention from her owner.

But the moment she heard their horses approaching, she slid between them and Shi Yaozu like she was somehow planning on protecting him.

When she saw that it was Zhu Deming, her shoulders relaxed as she smiled at him. Sun Longzi had seen that same smile from his father’s concubines when they were trying to get attention.

He hated that smile, so why was he a bit upset to know that it wasn’t directed at him?

She lifted one hand, inviting.

"Come closer, sweetheart," the Witch crooned, waving Zhu Deming toward her. "This isn’t the place for you."

Deming hesitated, his horse shifting beneath him. His hand clenched the reins so tightly that the leather groaned.

"Is she crazy?" someone asked. "Approaching the Second Prince like that? Doesn’t she know that this is a battlefield? It’s bad enough that she is on it; she doesn’t need to act like a camp follower."

"You might want to watch your words," called out Yaozu from down below. "Or else she’s not going to care if you are one of the ones making it out of here alive."

Sun Longzi’s horse reared suddenly as another scream cut the air. Another Yelan soldier had been pulled apart, his ribs exposed like a cracked cage.

One of his officers drew his sword. "She needs to die! She’s the one who slaughtered our brothers—she’s not even human!"

Sun Longzi turned slowly in the saddle.

"Enough."

"But General—"

"I said enough."

His voice could have cleaved stone.

He pointed toward the sea of steel and red banners still cresting the far hill.

"Do you see them?" he asked. "Because I do. I see thousands more men on the move. Chixia. Yelan. Both. We are two thousand. Maybe less. And whether that girl is a witch, a god, or the Devil herself, she’s at the very least on our side."

He looked over the field once more—at the mist that hadn’t tried to reach the Red Demons yet, and at the bodies of the enemy collapsing like puppets with cut strings.

"She is a weapon," he said quietly. "And like any weapon, there’s a chance it might injure you. But right now, we have more important things to worry about... like the army in front of us."

-----

Lust turned, her eyebrow raising at the general even as she rested her cheek against Yaozu’s back.

She heard him. Not the words. Not really. But the tone. The...approval.

It tasted like smoke and admiration.

She liked it.

Shadow sat at her side, his tail thumping once as if in agreement.

She watched the Yelan ranks begin to shift. Watched as a new wave of soldiers hesitated at the edge of the mist.

The black smoke lifted, almost like an invitation.

Then curled into a snarl.

"Let’s see who wants to die first," she whispered.

And then the real war began.