The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness

Pitch-black fog, like night itself, shrouded Muen’s vision.

He lifted his eyes, but apart from endless dead silence and darkness, there was nothing.

When he spread his perception, it was instantly scattered by an invisible force. He could sense nothing at all.

“So this is... the true Dark Moon Mist?”

Muen muttered instinctively—but the moment he spoke, even he froze.

He could not hear his own voice.

From the instant he stepped into the fog, it was as though he had entered a realm of absolute silence.

Sight sealed.

Hearing sealed.

Perception sealed.

Smell? Useless to even attempt—so many had died here, yet he could not catch the faintest scent.

Even touch...

He tried taking a few steps. This should have been uneven ground, yet it felt like walking across a perfectly flat surface, without the slightest reference point.

All five senses, plus perception, locked away.

So this was the Dark Moon Mist that claimed to sever all. No wonder even Crowned ones who stepped inside would become lost.

So long as one remained within the scope of humanity, facing this, there was no solution.

Sooner or later, fear of the eternal darkness would crush them, drive them mad, until they sank forever into ruin.

Then—if I feel not the slightest panic standing here, am I really still within the category of humanity?

Muen thought, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Then, in his palm, crimson fire suddenly flared to life.

The moment it appeared, the fog writhed violently as if meeting its mortal foe. Darkness before his eyes was blasted away—by one meter.

“Only this much?”

Muen frowned.

A single meter, shrinking by the moment. Against fog of such vastness, it was laughably insignificant—certainly not enough to find an exit.

Use more fire?

No—he knew it would only waste strength.

This was no small-scale trick like the demoness’s fog that could be burned away in an instant. This was the Dark Moon Mist laid down # Nоvеlight # personally by the Silent Moon itself, to guarantee a successful descent. How could mere Divine Favor within him fully dispel it?

For all that the Silent Moon’s behavior until now was contemptible, it was still an Evil God equal to the Withering King. Its power and the Withering King’s crimson flame belonged to the same tier, with no true superiority.

He needed another way.

Another way...

An idea sparked. He tapped Elizabeth’s hilt lightly, and walked forward a short distance.

Black Book.

Muen called silently within.

In the depths of his mind, the Black Book surfaced, opening slowly.

This time he did not seek answers. He sought its most fundamental function—its absolute, “objective” record.

The pages turned noiselessly, settling on the entry that described his current actions.

【Muen Campbell steps forward three paces, turns left four, turns left six, turns left five, and returns to his starting point.】

“Returned to the start... but I walked straight ahead the whole time.”

“I see. So the mist does interfere with my actions.” Muen quickly realized.

Deprived of five senses, here, he was no different from a puppet dancing on strings.

But perhaps even the Silent Moon had not imagined—there would be someone who, even within the Dark Moon Mist, still possessed a reference to guide his steps.

Muen stepped forward.

【Muen Campbell steps forward one pace.】

Another step.

【Muen Campbell steps left one pace.】

He retracted his foot, changing direction.

【Muen Campbell steps right one pace.】

Another shift.

【Muen Campbell steps forward one pace.】

It worked.

Muen’s eyes lit up.

Thus, with the Black Book as his reference, he corrected himself again and again, walking straight ahead.

The fog suddenly surged violently again. Though he had not called on the crimson flame, he could feel its agitation and unease.

“So—I’ve arrived.”

The corner of his lips curved. Then, with a sudden burst, flames roared forth again!

Crimson fire erupted from him, carrying supreme light and heat, tearing the last layer of Dark Moon Mist apart.

The fog scattered.

The sky brightened.

Pure moonlight cascaded down, adorning everything as though this were the faerie sanctum of legend.

He spared no thought for the beauty. The instant his eyes adjusted, his gaze fell to the collapsed altar at the center.

A girl in violet floated silently beneath the moonlight, eyes closed, brows faintly knit, skirts drifting like butterfly wings in dance.

“Senior-sis...”

Muen called softly.

But then his pupils shrank, his heart nearly stopping.

He saw the serpent scales spread across Anna’s skin—and the thick serpent’s tail protruding from beneath her dress.

“This is...”

She had already fully transformed into one of the serpent-folk, the mark of the Silent Moon’s servants.

Muen’s mind flickered back to what the demoness had said earlier:

【Muen Campbell, perhaps seeing her current state with your own eyes will be all the more thrilling.】

That had been her malice. To make him watch the girl he loved twisted into something ugly, inhuman. Anyone’s heart would be torn to shreds, unable to remain calm.

“But so what?”

Drawing a deep breath, Muen pressed all anger that could cloud his reason into the depths of his heart.

“No matter what Senior-sis becomes—no matter whether this serpentization can be cured—I will save her. No matter who stands in my way.

So—”

Muen raised his head, glaring at the immense blue moon above, filling his vision, and roared with savage fury:

“Silent Moon—take your filthy hands off of her!”

His shout rang clear in that desolate space.

But in reply—only silence.

The Moon did not so much as cast a glance.

Of course. Even if he had pierced the fog, in its eyes, he was nothing more than an ant granted scraps of power from its foe.

An ant—how could it be worthy of its personal presence?

Muen almost heard a disdainful snicker.

Beyond the altar, the blood pool began to churn.

Emaciated corpses clawed out, their faces twisted with hatred and agony, moving to block his path.

“I see...”

Lowering his gaze, Muen said nothing more.

Nor did he show anger at the blatant contempt.

He simply tightened his grip on Elizabeth—then charged straight into the tide of corpses.

Perhaps in the Silent Moon’s eyes, he was no more than a worm.

But perhaps this lofty god did not know—

Even a worm’s bite can hurt.