The Indolent Slayer

The meditation cushion's request for departmental status would have been the most interesting event of the day, if not for the sudden shift in reality that felt less like Xizhao's comfortable chaos and more like someone tearing the fabric of existence with particularly sharp scissors.

Mingyu, for the first time in recorded history, sat up completely straight.

"That," he said with uncharacteristic seriousness, "was not a scheduled reality disturbance." His Tiger's Mark pulsed with golden light, responding to something ancient and decidedly not peaceful.

The air crackled with an energy that made even the Night Beasts' shadows try to hide behind each other. A message materialized in the middle of the Department's main hall, written in script that burned the eyes and made several filing cabinets try to retire early.

"GREETINGS FROM THE ELVISH REALM OF ETERNAL CONQUEST," the message blazed. "YOUR PEACEFUL METHODS OFFEND OUR SENSIBILITIES."

Night Lord Wei's shadow tendrils curled defensively. "I know this power. The Elvish Realm - they're the ones who consume entire systems just by existing. Even in my world-ending days, we considered them... excessive."

Aunt Bao tried offering a plate of her special calming dumplings to the message. The dumplings promptly aged ten thousand years and turned to cosmic dust. "Well," she said, brushing ancient dumpling remains from her apron, "that's just rude."

Li Xuan's frost patterns scattered as another message burned through reality: "YOUR COMFORTABLE SOLUTIONS MOCK THE TRUE NATURE OF POWER. PREPARE FOR PROPER CONFLICT."

"Proper conflict?" Mingyu yawned, though his eyes held an alertness that no one had seen before. "Very ambitious of them to assume there's a proper way to do anything."

Xizhao, attempting to analyze the foreign chaos, recoiled its tentacles. "This... this is different. Their disorder has no comfort in it. It's all edges and endings." The chaos entity actually shuddered, causing several reality ripples that tasted like bitter memories.

Reports began flooding in from across the empire. Cities where shadows suddenly had teeth. Gardens where peaceful breezes turned to cutting winds. Even the imperial pigeons had started speaking in war prophecies instead of their usual philosophical debates.

Bao Ping, clutching Assistant Justice protectively, watched as his Accidental Zen Garden patterns began spelling out warnings in ancient languages. "The rabbit seems worried," he noted. "And Assistant Justice is usually only worried about carrot shortages."

Elder Yan's scrolls were practically vibrating off their shelves. "The Ancient Records mention the Elvish Realm - beings so powerful they consider destruction a form of greeting. They once unmade an entire constellation because its light was too cheerful."

The Department burst into controlled panic - which mainly involved very organized worrying and properly filed concerns. Night Beasts began emergency comfort protocols while Rui Lin's kitchen staff frantically cooked stability-reinforcing snacks.

Mingyu stood, stretching as if preparing for something long-postponed. "Well," he said, "seems like someone needs a lesson in proper relaxation techniques."

"But Master," Li Xuan interjected, "these beings destroy planets just by landing on them. How can rest and comfort stand against such power?"

"Mmm," Mingyu mused, his Tiger's Mark now pulsing with steady golden light. "Ever notice how the hardest people to fight are the ones who won't fight at all? Very frustrating, trying to destroy someone who keeps offering you tea."

The air shimmered again, this time forming an image of an elf whose very presence made reality flinch. Dark eyes regarded them with ancient malice, and an aura of pure destruction rippled around its form.

"Your methods are a mockery of true power," the elf declared. "We have destroyed systems older than your civilization's first nap."

"How tiring," Mingyu commented. "Have you considered hobbies? Perhaps gardening? Much more relaxing than cosmic destruction."

The elf's eyes narrowed. "We will show you real power. Prepare your realm for-"

"Yes, yes," Mingyu interrupted with another yawn. "Eternal darkness, ultimate destruction, endless suffering - very traditional. But have you tried our new comfort-enhanced tea? Does wonders for aggressive tendencies."

For the first time, the elf seemed caught off-guard. Nobody had ever interrupted its doom proclamation to offer beverages before.

"You dare mock-"

"Not mocking. Genuine concern. You seem very tense. All that destroying must be exhausting."

The Department watched in fascinated horror as Mingyu engaged in what might have been the most casual conversation with an apocalyptic being ever recorded. Elder Yan's brush was smoking from trying to document everything.

"Your end approaches," the elf snarled, though there might have been a hint of uncertainty in its cosmic voice.

"Probably," Mingyu agreed cheerfully. "Everything ends eventually. That's what makes naps so precious. Speaking of which..." He settled back onto his cushions. "Wake me when you're ready to discuss this reasonably. Preferably over dumplings."

The elf's image flickered, clearly thrown by this unprecedented response to its threats. In all its eons of existence, no one had ever responded to imminent destruction by taking a nap.

As the image faded, Mingyu opened one eye. "Well," he said to his stunned staff, "seems we'll need to prepare for guests. Aunt Bao, perhaps your special reality-reinforcing recipe? And someone please make sure we have enough cushions. Destroying worlds must be terrible for the posture."

"Master," Night Lord Wei ventured, "are you suggesting we handle this threat the same way we handle everything else?"

"Of course not," Mingyu replied, closing his eyes again. "We'll handle it better. Nothing unsettles ultimate destruction quite like ultimate comfort."

But as the Department scrambled to prepare, those closest to Mingyu noticed something different. His customary peaceful drowsiness now carried an edge of alertness, like a cat appearing to doze while watching a mouse hole.

The Tiger's Mark continued to pulse, each wave of golden light seeming to strengthen the fabric of reality around them. Whatever was coming, Mingyu's legendary laziness might be tested in ways it never had before.

"You know," he mused to no one in particular, though the universe held its breath to listen, "sometimes the hardest battle is getting someone to stop battling. Very exhausting, teaching the concept of rest to those who've never known it."

And somewhere in the distance, reality trembled as beings of unimaginable power prepared to meet their strangest opponent yet: a tiger who believed the greatest victory was a good nap.