“Say that again if you dare.” Eli’s face darkened like a stormfront, eyes lifting into the empty sky.

Then a figure dropped from the air—Liqianyu’s twin to the last eyelash, but with a lake-flat calm.

“What species are you? Why haven’t I seen one like you?” ‘Liqianyu’ said, voice flat as winter ash.

“What’s with that body? Who are you?!” they asked at once, words clashing like blades.

Eli’s gaze didn’t flicker; his face held a frost calm like moonlight on stone.

The newcomer stared him down, then frowned and waved a hand, a bird dismissing rain. His shape melted into the earlier look of Zero. “Don’t wear anger like a burning cloak. I only have this one template… hold on… there. Does that ease you?”

“So you ancient creatures swap faces like masks at a festival?” Eli said, pain threading his breath like thorns in wool.

“Human?” He frowned, thought rolling like slow thunder, then nodded. “Human. Why do you look so drowned in pain?”

“Loss does that.” Eli grit his teeth, eyes locked like nails in wood. “And what did you mean? ‘Just a template that completed her mission’? Do you have any idea how important she is?!”

“Of course I know. She matters.” His eyes roved like birds skimming water. “Your language is curious—one I couldn’t model. You’re not from my domain?”

“Your domain?” Eli blinked, then shook off the thought like dust from a sleeve. “Answer me. What did you mean?”

“Did I speak too convoluted?” He frowned, creases like dry riverbeds. “I know she’s important. Without her, the Origin Tree wouldn’t have come alive.”

“What—what did you just say!” Eli’s eyes flared wide like lanterns in wind. He yanked the World Tree’s crown from his pocket.

It slipped free, floated to his palm like a leaf on a current. “Mm. That is indeed the Origin Tree. Seems the Founding Primordial Spirit wasn’t wrong.”

“Who’s the Founding Primordial Spirit?”

“Zero, the one in your mind. The owner of this face.” He didn’t look up, studying the small segment of wood like a relic on an altar.

“Since it chose you, human, give me your answer. What do you seek?”

“Seek?” Eli froze, lost as a bird in fog.

“You brought raw material, offering, token, components. Isn’t that to ask me for a favor?” He tilted his head, a bird listening. “If you won’t speak, I’ll ask the material.”

“What! What are you talking about?!” Eli’s mind went white-noise, like snow hissing.

“The female human from before. Her soul persists. I’ll go ask.”

“Hold it! Then—I want her back. Bring her back!” Eli grabbed the idea like a lifeline and shouted into the cold air.

“Heh. Boy, you’re joking.” He snorted, a boar in brush. “Does your civilization recycle spent material and return it as it was?”

He vanished, leaving the air like a pond after a stone.

Eli clenched his fists and stood on the platform, gaze unfocused, like snow after wind. He no longer knew what to do.

After a short span, the figure returned. He held the World Tree’s crown, glanced at Eli, and nodded, like a judge to a verdict. “I see. Your treasure has gone, and the ache stays.”

“You get it?” Eli looked up with a bitter smile, brittle as frost. “Then can you revive her and give her back?”

“No.” He shook his head, simple as a falling petal.

“What?! Aren’t you some kind of wish engine?!”

He sighed, a wind through bare branches. “Human, I’m the Heart of the Cosmos made visible. The whole universe is my evolution. I’m no wish machine. When Zero fully inherits me, I’ll fade.”

“Her body is gone. Her soul-source and energy weave are already braided into you and this crown. What would I use to rebuild her?”

Eli lifted his head. Fatigue pooled on his face like dusk.

“She told me you need a weapon to beat Zero, or to help you become what Zero is. She gave me the design. Do you approve?”

He traced the air, a brush over silk. A phantom longsword bloomed before Eli, thin light like river ice.

“When you finish the weapon, what happens to her?”

“Her?” He rubbed his chin, a millstone turning. “She’ll become the sword’s soul—steady your hand, guide your growth. Are you satisfied?”

“…Not satisfied.”

“Then be unsatisfied. Not my problem.” He shrugged, careless as wind through reeds.

“You—!” Eli’s anger flared like sparks in dry grass.

“I only learned your tongue. Why so heated?” He arched a brow, playful as a fox at dusk.

“Regardless of your mood, it’s done.” He tapped the phantom, a fingertip on glass. A sword of soft blue energy fell into Eli’s arms.

Eli caught it, hands trembling like leaves. He stroked the blue aura along the blade. A shiver ran through him; a smile broke; tears slipped. The blue looked like her hair—singular, luminous, a river under stars.

“Every part of this sword is carved from the Origin Tree. That soul won’t feel well at first. Hold it long, you won’t either.” He hesitated, like a pause in snowfall.

“That’s world-force your kind can’t bear. If you aim to become like Zero, learn to adapt. One day the blade will disappear; to others, it will be invisible. Then you’ll stand where Zero stands.”

Eli watched the sword, eyes deep as a well. He pulled tools from his pack, crafted a plain scabbard, and tucked the blade away with the care of placing a candle in night.

His gaze went deep. Inside that sword lived the girl’s soul, a bird behind glass.

“Don’t fret so hard. It’s the Origin Tree. Other than beings like us, who can snap it?” He shrugged with a thin smile, like a leaf on still water.

“Do monsters like you change your looks and nature for whoever you meet?” Eli didn’t turn, a stone by the river. His hand traced the blade like wind over grass.

“You noticed at last.” He smiled, like sun peeking through cloud.

“So it’s not just you changing me. I’m changing you as well?”

“No. After you leave, our vast power clears the changes like tide erasing footprints. We aren’t allowed personal sentiment.” He laughed softly, water over pebbles.

“Who forbids you?” Eli snapped his head up, eyes bright like coals.

“Who… who knows. I don’t. Since my first memory, it’s just been that way.” He shrugged, unbothered, like a drift of cloud.

Eli looked at the sword, unreality settling like mist. Just like that, he had a weapon? He smiled, a touch lost, like a boat without oars. “From now on, your name is Liqianyu.”

The blade quivered, and Eli felt a faint, annoyed ripple, like a cat’s tail flick.

“What, unhappy? That’s your name to begin with.” Eli tilted his head at the blade, a sparrow studying a seed.

“Your formal name is Liqianyu. Nickname… forget it. I’ll ask others later.” He sighed, guilt pooling in his eyes like rain in a hollow. “I’m sorry. I’m making you live here.”

The blade stilled and grew quiet, like night settling.

Now Eli truly believed Liqianyu’s soul lived here, a lantern behind blue glass.

“There’s one thing I need to tell you.” He lifted a brow, a falcon cocking its head.

Eli looked at him, puzzled as mist over fields.

“I need your blood,” he said, serious as stone on a riverbed.

“What now? What are you trying to do?” Eli frowned, storm-lines drawing over his brow.

“Well… there are extra Origin Tree fragments. Add the female human’s ashes, and I got a crooked idea. But I’m the universe; I don’t have genes or blood. I can’t just toss in sand. You creatures are strange.” He sounded almost helpless, like a tide turned back.

“What are you getting at?” Eli asked, eyebrows knit like twigs.

“I need your genes to trigger it. Mm… a big weapon.” He looked shifty, like a shadow under reeds. Eli couldn’t read him, fog wrapping a lantern.

Eli drew a line across his palm. Blood welled like molten light. The being beckoned; the strange, glowing blood drifted to him like fireflies. Eli’s mouth twitched—he hadn’t expected his blood to look like that.

The being smiled, satisfied, like a craftsman after the last stroke. “Stay here and master the sword. I’ll be right back.”

“Did he take the wrong medicine?” Eli muttered, baffled as a night traveler on a misty road.

“Hmm… female human’s genes… add that star-spirit human’s genes… plus Origin Tree shards.” He tinkered in the air, sprouting more hands than a banyan has roots.

“Emmmm… not working? Then a pinch of astral energy? Oh… done.” He dragged a blue sphere of light, nodding, pleased like a gardener at first bloom.

“Let’s see what this little thing grows into.” He smiled, like dawn breaking.