"Wake up—you can't die here," a gentle girl's voice breathed at his ear, soft as night wind over bamboo.

"Who are you...?" he asked, his mind a fog like dawn mist, as he opened his eyes to a cute girl with sea-blue hair, bright as a lake under the moon.

That face felt familiar, like a half-remembered ripple, yet his memory slipped like sand through fingers.

"Seriously—you even forgot me," she pouted, her words falling like light snow on quiet stones.

"Huh?" he blinked, startled as a sparrow lifting from grass.

"No matter the trials, we must not give up," she said, steady as a lantern in wind. "Those we cherish might still suffer outside, like seedlings under hail."

"Why... can you know what I think?" he whispered, his chest aching like a pressed bruise.

"Dongfang Chen, I feel all your joy and pain," she smiled, tide for tide. "Because you are me—moon to water, mirror to river."

Shock flashed through him like lightning splitting cloud.

All at once, Dongfang Chen—Yue Liuyi—remembered, like a storm clearing the sky.

Everything he’d lived aboard the Sky Voyager came back in waves.

Everything in the Lost City rose like ruins under sun.

Everything in the Elven Kingdom stirred like leaves in rain.

Most of all, everything with Dixue returned, bright as first snow and dear as spring water.

The fight with the Crimson Baroness wasn’t over, the thought fell heavy as iron.

He hadn’t voyaged alone to the New Land; the staff’s power had shackled him like chains of night.

"You... wait, me?" Yue Liuyi looked down, trembling like willow leaves.

Her body had returned to a girl’s shape, soft as evening mist.

It felt like waking from a vast dream, thin as smoke.

Yet the dream of going alone to the New Land was cruelly vivid.

Pain still prickled like knives.

The sky reddened like spilled dye.

And the screams lingered like cold crows above bare branches.

Perhaps it wasn’t a dream at all, but another thread in the loom of fate.

If she hadn’t met Dixue then, she might’ve died on the road to the Rainbow Secret Realm—bones lost like ash in wind.

So, to save the one she loved, it was time to wake, like dawn breaking frost.

Outside the window, the night wind combed the leaves like soft fingers.

Azure moonlight poured like water across the bamboo floor; the air held a chill like spring in stone.

"This is... the little bamboo hut," she breathed, her heart fluttering like a caged bird. "Wait—me..."

She tried to stand, but her limbs sagged like wet silk; strength wouldn’t answer.

"This is... my own body?" she murmured, relief pooling like warm tea.

She realized she’d returned to herself; this wasn’t the battlefield, but the camp’s bamboo hut, quiet as a pond at dusk.

Her blue-haired, delicate frame had lain here for over two days, like a flower under rain.

So the stiffness felt natural, like bark after storm.

But there was no time to adjust; she had to hurry to the battlefield and learn what storm had broken.

A knife-bite pain ran along her legs, as if dream-wounds still lingered like hidden thorns.

Yet her skin looked jade-white, flawless as fresh snow.

Stumbling like a fawn, the blue-haired girl slipped out of the bamboo hut.

"That staff’s power is terrifying," she thought, the memory rising like thunder across a ridge.

Before the dream swallowed her, the Crimson Baroness had swung the staff and netted everyone, like night casting a net over stars.

She’d had no room to resist; if that was the staff’s gift, the magic inside was artifact-deep, like an abyss under glass.

She wanted support.

But most adventurers in camp were spent like burnt candles.

Midnight wrapped the camp in quiet like snow on fields.

"What now..." she fretted, fear clinging like cold mist. "Wait—right!"

A spark flickered in her mind like a firefly; there was something in camp she could use.

Azure petals lay clear as cicada wings—Ailuna’s accidental find brought back to camp, the Soul-Return Flower.

Falls Stream Valley lay not far from the adventurer camp, humming like water under stone.

Through dense trees, the blue-haired girl peered toward the old battlefield, careful as a cat in reeds.

She feared the fight had ended, and LittleSnow and the others had been taken, moths pinned by the Crimson Baroness.

Thankfully, it wasn’t that grim; hope stirred like a small flame in the dark.

The field that had blazed with war-smoke now lay eerily quiet, like ashes after storm.

No steel-song rang, and even the mechanical puppets and white-robed men stood still, like statues under frost.

Good—everyone was still there, frozen like sleepers beneath snowfall.

LittleSnow and Qiu Ruyi, the Elven Guard and adventurers, the Sea Sword Maiden and the black-robed loli, and even the Crimson Baroness.

But all had fallen into sleep, deep as winter ponds under ice.

Only a black staff hung in the sky, its dark light flowing like ink.

It poured into every body, lord of the field like a cold moon over a dead lake.

So the Crimson Baroness can’t master that staff either, Yue Liuyi thought, suspicion curling like smoke from cedar.

Does the illusion spare no friend or foe, like fog over river and road?

Cradling the Soul-Return Flower, she bent low and crept toward the center, light as a fox in snow.

She didn’t know how the staff triggered; being caught again would be disastrous, like sinking into swamp.

Step by step, she reached the silver-haired girl’s side, moving like rain toward river.

The silver-haired girl’s brows knotted like tangled vines.

She looked trapped in a nightmare, shadow-deep.

Her lovely face had gone a little haggard, like a night-bloom losing scent.

"Please... let this work," Yue Liuyi prayed, her hope fluttering like a moth to flame.

She lifted the flower to Dixue’s nose; its scent drifted like spring wine, and Dixue stirred awake, slow as dawn over hills.

"Thank goodness," Yue Liuyi sighed, relief washing over her like rain on dust.

"Little Yue!" Dixue cried, tears bright as beaded dew, and suddenly hugged her, arms tight as vines around a trellis.

Her green eyes brimmed with tears, heavy as dew, packed with raw excitement and grief like twin tides.

"Little Yue, don’t die!" she cried, voice breaking like cracked porcelain in cold.

"Huh?" Yue Liuyi froze, startled like a deer in lantern-light.

"I know—I hurt you, Little Yue," Dixue sobbed, words falling like rain from eaves. "Please don’t die... please don’t die..."

The silver-haired girl crushed Yue Liuyi into her arms, skin against skin, clinging like ivy on stone.

Even if the sky fell, she wouldn’t let go, stubborn as roots.

"I’m sorry—I won’t cling to you anymore," she babbled, fear shivering like winter leaves. "As long as you don’t die... don’t die..."

It was the first time Yue Liuyi had seen Dixue panic, adorable as a small girl lost in rain.

She thought, heart soft as melted snow: LittleSnow’s just like any girl—she can wear such a face too.

Yue Liuyi didn’t know which illusion had snared Dixue, but it had to be as bleak as hers, dark as a sealed well.

She wouldn’t scorn LittleSnow’s moment of softness; sympathy rose like warm light in fog.

"LittleSnow, it’s okay—I won’t die," she said, voice gentle as plum blossom on frost. "Look, the real Yue Liuyi is right here."

Dixue blinked, blank as a fawn by stream.

She realized this wasn’t dream’s despair but solid reality, firm as earth underfoot.

She held Yue Liuyi, alive and spring-bright, like a bud after thaw.

"LittleSnow, you were caught in the staff’s illusion," she explained, calm as a lake at dawn. "See it up there."

She glanced up, and clarity settled like clear rain over glass.

Realizing she was fooled, her cheeks flushed like peach blossom in morning.

But she still hugged Yue Liuyi, refusing to let go, arms stubborn as roots gripping stone.

"Um... Little Yue, can I ask?" she murmured, mischief peeking like sunlight through leaves. "Do you hate Sister Dixue clinging to you, like ivy on a wall?" "If I keep teasing you, would you jump from a roof, like a swallow abandoning sky?"

"What? Jump off a building?!" Yue Liuyi yelped, shock skittering like a startled bird across reeds.

Suddenly, Yue Liuyi guessed the shape of Dixue’s illusion; if that was it, then the dream-her had been glass-fragile, brittle as frost on grass.

"Absolutely not," she said, voice firm as iron under snow. "I’d never do that, not even under storm."

"Really?" Dixue sniffed, hope trembling like a thread of silk.

"Sure," Yue Liuyi smiled, warmth rising like sun through mist. "Growing tired of LittleSnow’s impossible, like winter forgetting snow."

"Then I’ll try," Dixue purred, playfulness sparking like fireflies at dusk.

"Try—what?" Yue Liuyi blinked, worry fluttering like sparrows.

She looked down, and saw LittleSnow’s hand claim a certain spot, bold as a fox in a henhouse.

"Familiar size—definitely the real Little Yue," LittleSnow sang, teasing light as snowflakes on lashes.

"Don’t do that the moment you wake up!" Yue Liuyi yelped, blush flooding like sunset across clouds.

But this was still a battlefield; their flirtation burned only a moment, like a spark in wind.

The others still slept, and the staff hovered midair, breathing eerie black miasma like a cold spring, never ceasing.

"Little Yue, you used the Soul-Return Flower to wake me?" Dixue asked, relief easing like a warm breeze. "And your body’s back to normal too, like a river finding its course."

"Yeah. I woke, ran back to camp, spotted Ailuna’s flower, and hurried over, heartbeat like drums."

"This helps a lot," Yedie Snow exhaled, fear ebbing like a receding tide. "The staff the Crimson Baroness wields is called the Abyssal Staff." "It drags everyone in its domain, ally and enemy, into illusions, like a web over the valley."

"Then the Crimson Baroness...?" Yue Liuyi asked, curiosity flickering like sparks from flint.

"She may be used to them," Yedie Snow said, wariness sharp as a blade. "She wanted to wake first and bind us, like frost over grass."

"And me...?" Yue Liuyi asked, fingers twisting like vines on rail.

"Looks like the soul-protection magic we carved on Little Yue’s cuddle-pillow took effect," Yedie Snow said, pride warm as honey in tea. "Once danger stirred, it pulled you back to your body, beyond the staff’s reach, like a boat leaving whirlpool."

"Thank goodness for the Soul-Return Flower," Yue Liuyi breathed, gratitude brimming like spring water from rock.

"Mm. Little Yue saved the day—first-class merit," Yedie Snow smiled, praise glowing like lanterns along a street.

As the girls moved to capture the Crimson Baroness, the dark succubus twitched and woke, rising like a bat from dusk-shadow.

"Uh... what? Why are you awake before me?" she rasped, panic fluttering like moths at flame.

Her eyes were red like rubbed rose petals, as if she’d wept hard in the dream.

It clashed with her feral glamour, like rain on fire.

"Your scheme’s exposed," Yedie Snow said, her tone clean as a drawn bowstring.

"That’s the Soul-Return Flower?" the Crimson Baroness gaped, shock flaring like a torch. "How do you have something that precious, like a star in hand?"

She pushed herself up, forcing her black wings wide, and conjured several black rhombic swords behind her, like flitting crows.

The scene looked cool—if she weren’t wobbling like someone drunk on bad wine.

Dixue gripped her bow and summoned silver light, pure as a cold moon.

But the moment she stepped from Yue Liuyi, her body crumpled like soft clay, falling flat and unable to stand.

"LittleSnow!" Yue Liuyi cried, fear snapping like a whip in night air.

"I’m fine," Dixue forced, grit hard as stone. "I can crawl up, like a lizard on rock."

No matter how she struggled, she could only inch along the ground like a wounded snake, unable to stand straight.

The Abyssal Staff’s harm was plain as a scar—both Dixue and the Crimson Baroness were deeply affected.

Even awake, they’d lost fighting strength, like bows with snapped strings.

"Ugh..." they both groaned, weak as spent waves on sand.

The silver-haired girl and the Baroness could only glare at each other, stormless thunder, unable to muster a proper strike.

With that, war couldn’t go on; blades lay quiet like sleeping dragons.

But Dixue’s side held the edge—Yue Liuyi still had some strength, and they had the Soul-Return Flower to wake their comrades, like a bell to dawn.

"Dixue... just wait," the Crimson Baroness snarled, hatred coiling like a serpent in thorns. "I’ll pay this humiliation back tenfold."

She clenched her fist, tossed out lines any villain would, then pulled back the staff and turned to flee, shadow trailing like torn silk.

No matter what, the savage Battle of Falls Stream Valley ended in a sweeping victory for the Azure Front, like clear sky after storm.

They captured the Sea Sword Maiden and the black-robed loli, like fish in a net.

The Crimson Baroness was hurt, her strength emptied like a broken cistern; she couldn’t act again soon, time pooling like stagnant water.

The Azure Front also gathered proof of the threat from Crimson Paradise, so the peace faction in the Elven Parliament could seek broader support, like roots spreading under earth.

But the valley sighed like a hollow shell.

After such a fierce fight, there was no joy of victory, like sun hiding behind cloud.

Everyone wept and sniffled, as if they’d suffered total annihilation, grief heavy as rain-soaked cloth.

"Why did the world end!" someone wailed, despair like a fallen sky.

"Damn it... I’ll avenge this," another swore, rage smoking like embers under ash.

"Lord Dawn Goose, I won’t dare again, please spare me," someone begged, fear thin as reed in wind.

"No—my little skirt got dirty," another sobbed, tears like broken pearls.

The valley was a field of lament, cries rising like geese into gray air.

Even old Captain Duanmu Liang and the iron-blooded Chulei had red eyes, pride stripped like leaves; no ‘manly dignity’ left.

"Qiu Ruyi... can we ask the elves for help?" he croaked, nerves frayed like twine. "We need psychologists..."

"Waaah, the wine jar got smashed by mice, waaah!" the green-haired elf girl cried, tears running like streams.

"..." Silence sank over them like fog across marsh.