Rain sheeted down like a gray curtain, and Ouyang brooded beneath it for a long while. Then a cough flicked the air—like a reed shivering in a storm. No ordinary ear would catch it. Ouyang wasn’t ordinary.

Bang—the massive trunk split with a thunderous crack. He scooped a few chunks of wood and jogged back into the cave, water trailing off him like broken beads.

The frail cough floated from the darkness, thin as a guttering candle about to die. Panic pricked him. He dropped the wood, rushed over, and pressed his palm to Xi’s forehead.

“Scalding… keep this up and even if she lives, her brain’s a kiln.”

He snapped at the wood—snap—and a tongue of fire budded, warm light painting the cave walls like gold wash. Seconds later, the flame shrank and sighed out.

The wood was soaked, a sponge heavy with rain. No way it would catch so easy. Ouyang’s temper flared. A snap from the left, another from the right. Flames licked and hissed; steam bled off the logs like white snakes. At last the wood dried and began to burn, cracking like husks.

He moved Xi closer to the fire and sat cross-legged, shadow flickering over his face.

“I’ve done what I can. If she still dies, I’m out of tricks.” His tone was a shrug to the heavens, because he’d never nursed anyone in his life. Those Demon Kings of old, each one a planet-cracking lord—did they even get sick?

Further back, those old companions… best not. Caring for the sick wasn’t in his repertoire.

“What if she really dies?” His right eyelid kept twitching like a trapped moth. “Left eye means money, right eye means trouble. Don’t tell me the girl won’t survive the night.”

“Fine.” He bent low and traced the air, fingers sketching invisible strokes. Silver light spun at his fingertips, and a magic circle rose like a moon in the void.

Minutes crawled by…

“Those bastards! They tore up the contracts unilaterally!” He stared at the glow, then at the silence that answered him. “Damn it! My contracts aren’t that easy to break!”

He talked big, but he understood them in his bones. Ages had crawled by. Those former grunts were probably bosses now. Back then they were too weak; the contracts were casual, sloppy. Now they had the might to cut the ties. Who wouldn’t scramble for freedom?

Understanding is one thing. The old Ouyang would’ve let it slide; he couldn’t be bothered to chase them. They’d bled for him in that era, even if it wasn’t voluntary. But the present Ouyang carried the honor and pride of the Other Shore. If he turned a blind eye, others would question that honor, that pride.

“Our glory will endure. Our pride admits no doubt. At the edge of the starsea, the other-shore flower still blooms. The splendor of the Other Shore never withers.”

He feared nothing now. They’d left him the entire Other Shore when they departed. Inside were world-ending taboo curses, the eeriest black magic, the brightest secret arts…

“But I can’t learn a single one.”

It was enough to make him laugh and cry. All those sky-breaking arts, and he couldn’t touch them.

The problem traced back to the war in the Age of Chaos. Back then, a being called Original Sin appeared like a black sun, and Ouyang almost got erased. Original Sin—terrifying beyond measure. Creation or ruin, light or dark, everything fed it without end, a bottomless well of power.

Old scrolls note the end of the Age of Chaos, but no one can say how it truly closed.

Truth is, Original Sin flipped every Demon King alone. With the Demon Kings battered, the continent’s multiracial alliance paid a grave price to seal them. Seal, not annihilate. Killing them was never a dream anyone dared hold.

“Original Sin…” Ouyang’s teeth ground. That creature had turned his life to cinders and nearly scattered his soul to dust. The Glachidor Clan sealed him with a life sacrifice. Worst of all, their clan head burned herself to ash to place tenfold seals on Ouyang.

Which meant until he unraveled the seals, those world-cracking, time-turning arts were out of reach.

“Wait…” A thought hit like a falling star. Big enough to break a world. Rumor says a mysterious person suppressed Original Sin, identity unknown, but likely of the Other Shore.

Now that whole crowd’s gone. So the suppression has no support. Year by year, day by day, Original Sin is eight-tenths likely to break free; the other two-tenths say it already has.

Original Sin was suppressed not because it was weak, but because that person was too strong. Some say they were a Tiered Being, one who played the world’s anthem. Some say a third-tier, out-of-spec powerhouse. Even a freak like Original Sin got sealed.

Why not kill it? They said it was endangered—only one in heaven and earth—too rare to slaughter.

Now even if someone wanted to, no one could.

“Those bastards. Wherever they throw their trash, that world rots.”

“Cough… cough…”

Another weak cough tugged at the air. He realized his thoughts had drifted far from the fire.

“Looks like there’s only one way.” He sprinted out into the rain and returned with coils of vine. “Dry the rain off her. Let the fire’s heat chase the cold from her bones.”

He muttered as he bound Xi with the vines, tracing her curves like a sculptor drawing lines.

“Nice. The outline’s elegant.” The vines pressed her clothes down, and her chest—well—stood out like twin hills after rain. “Unexpectedly, she’s… well stocked. The girl’s figure is solid…”

Then he caught himself, and shame kicked him in the ribs.

“Hell, that’s not what I’m doing this for!”

He snapped back to his purpose and sped up. Soon Xi hung from the cave ceiling, a pendulum of silk and vine, the fire below breathing heat up at her.

“This’ll dry her fast. I’m a genius.”

If a third party had walked in, they’d have asked: you did this on purpose, right?

“Cough… cough…” Xi swam back to consciousness, not by choice. The smoke hauled her up from the dark like a hook.

She blinked, mind fogged. She twitched and felt wrongness bite. Thick black smoke clawed at her throat and eyes. Heat licked her skin. Her dress felt seconds from catching flame.

“You woke up. See? I’m a genius.” Ouyang stepped close and patted her head, light as stroking a cat.

For a heartbeat she blanked out. Then her mind snapped.

“Ouyang!!” She struggled, but his knots were art, an elegant prison. She couldn’t break them. “What do you want?”

She grasped her situation and despair surged, cold as floodwater. Being roasted? He was a proper Demon King after all. Was she about to be cooked and eaten? Father, Mother, little sister… take care. I’m heading to heaven first.

No—if a Demon King eats you, rumor says your soul goes to hell…

Then Xi remembered. She was the Demon King’s master. They had a contract.

“You hateful Demon King, go to hell!” She mustered courage. By the contract’s rites, lightning bloomed in the void, chain upon chain, a dense net of sparks.

Ouyang looked at the storm and laughed. “Don’t kid me. This level—ah—”

The lightning turned red in a blink. Strikes hammered him, and he smoked into a piece of charcoal.

“I salute your damn mother—” He flipped off the sky and toppled.

“Ouyang! Don’t pass out! Cut me down first, then faint!” Regret hit Xi like a club. She should have threatened him into freeing her, then unleashed the contract to teach him a lesson.

“Help…”

She wriggled against the vines, but it did nothing. Dirt crumbled from the ceiling with each jerk, little clods raining down like dry leaves. If the overhead soil loosened, she’d drop straight into the fire.

“Bastard! You hateful Demon King! Bastard!” She ran out of curses fast. Another shower of dirt pattered down. Xi pressed her lips together. If she kept shouting, she might shake herself loose.

So she waited. Long and slow, like winter with no spring. She didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare speak. Any sound might loosen the ceiling and send her into the blaze. Heat slapped her skin. Smoke clawed her lungs. Even her orange hair curled at the edges like singed maple leaves.

She cried and shut her eyes, as if waiting for life’s end.

Plink—a tear fell onto the fire, a small bright drop swallowed by the coals.