"My choice is exactly what you wished for, Your Majesty Safix?" Ouyang bowed to the Demon Lord with an ancient salute, knight-grace in moonlight.

"I didn't know before, a fog over the road. When those seniors left me messages, I learned things. I added my own guesses. So I reached this conclusion. I hope I'm not wrong."

Twin green flames danced in Safix's eye sockets, like will-o'-wisps in a cave. He pondered, still as deep water.

"Since that's so, you should know our covenant hasn't ended..." Anyone else would be lost, adrift in fog. Ouyang, however, smiled at the corners of his mouth.

Once, before the Other Shore existed, the Watchers fought the Demon Lord. It ended with the Demon Lord's defeat. People assumed Abyssal demons hid in the Abyss, licking wounds for a comeback. But the truth defied every expectation, like lightning from a clear sky. If not for a "meteor" striking Ouyang, his soul would never have fallen into the Other Shore. He received those seniors' messages. He would still think the two sides were hostile, knives drawn across a table.

"Then, on behalf of the Other Shore, congratulations, Your Majesty Safix, on sounding the Paean." Demon Lord Safix's origin is ancient, dust-deep. Some scholars say it reaches back to the Ancient Turtle's birth. That Ancient Turtle is widely held as the oldest living thing.

Through ages as long as winter nights, he now sounds his Paean. Ouyang wasn't surprised, as calm as still water. So he adds the honorific "Your Majesty" to the Demon Lord's name. To Ouyang, that title isn't what mortals call a king. It names the knife-edge of power, a summit of honor. He once dreamed of touching it himself, like reaching for the nearest star. Too hard, like climbing a sheer ice wall.

"Then, Your Majesty Safix, tell me the situation now. Those seniors claim to see the future. But they don't share our time."

"The situation now..." Safix lifted his gaze to the vault of heaven. From his voice, Ouyang heard a stone-heavy weight.

At Leticia's home, Ouyang opened his eyes. He had lingered long in the Abyss, like a night without dawn. Here, time hadn't moved, hardly more than a blink.

"Mr. Ouyang?" Leticia saw him release her hand and asked, puzzled, as surely as dawn seeks a horizon.

"It's fine, Leticia. I couldn't purge the demon blood in you. But don't worry, breathe easy as wind through leaves. You won't end up like the others in your clan." Ouyang patted her head, soft as a breeze. "From now on, you'll live like a normal girl. Happy and ordinary, like sun on a quiet street."

Hearing that, Leticia gripped his hem in delight, unbelieving, like a child clutching spring kite string. "Mr. Ouyang, can I really live like them?"

"Really... so let this mistaken memory fade away..." As he spoke, he drew two Divine Grace Crystals from his space ring, cold as ice in starlight. His eyes flicked to the room where Xi lay fainted, quiet as a fallen petal. Then he looked back at Leticia. "Hourglass of Time, turn. Let this twisted fate return to its track."

With a clang, both crystals crumbled to powder, like frost swept by sun. A dark red magic circle hung over the town. Chains of order spilled from it and speared the earth.

Countless phantom gears threaded through the streets. Scenes flickered and ran backward like a river in a mirror. Everything rewound to last night, before it happened. Different was this: in every memory, Ouyang was gone, like a name erased from sand by tide.

Even in Xi's memory, there was no Ouyang; that page was blank snow. She reached for the past, and fog welled up. Like a dream you try to hold. "Sister, I... seem to have forgotten something..." She whispered to the night sky, not knowing to whom.

At the same time, her soft voice shifted, like wind changing direction. It turned bright and sprightly, like bells in spring. "It's fine. When it's time, you'll remember. You only need to wait..."

Elsewhere, Ouyang still walked in Ancient Memory Town, footsteps tapping like rain. He was on a long, long boulevard under trees without end. Petals drifted in sakura hues. Cold moonlight poured down, with no cloud to bar it.

He sighed, a leaf falling. "This forbidden spell ate two Divine Grace Crystals. I used one before, a raindrop spent. Now there are only four left, stones in a pocket." In truth, he couldn't cast real time reversal. Even at his peak he couldn't. Much less now.

It's all a beautiful lie, paint on a cracked wall. At first glance it's a rewind, like a river running backward in a mirror. In truth, nothing changed but memory. Even this night is just tonight moving forward, like a boat downcurrent. It isn't a return to last night.

For a short while, no one will notice, like a hairline crack under glaze. As time goes, talk of the past will feel wrong.

"Next, find the Second Seat," the missing piece on a chessboard. "That guy can patch my fighting shortfall, like iron rivets in a hull. But before that, I must go to the Other Shore. If I'm not wrong, this town..." It is a knot in the wood.

He looked ahead and walked on and on. By distance, he should have crossed the whole town dozens of times. Yet the road never ended, stretching like a silk ribbon.

"Sure enough, that damned know-it-all didn't lie." At last, Ouyang let out a breath, like steam from winter lips. "If I can seize those legendary Secret Arts... stars in a jar. Hmph, every other foe is trash to me."

Walking, he suddenly saw the road end, like a curtain dropping. A black castle blocked the way like a cliff. "What is this?" Ouyang edged closer. Above the black keep, a banner unfurled. White cloth, a red skull painted on it.

He stared, puzzled, brows knitting like dark threads. Something felt wrong, a note off in a song. A black castle? What does that mean? And that banner looked familiar, like a face in a crowd.

"Wait... isn't that my mobile castle? Which bastard moved it here?" Ouyang flared at once and sprinted for it, like fire catching dry grass.

At the gate, he found the iron doors locked. A strange spell had sealed them, cold as iron frost. "Robbed! The bastard even changed the locks!"

He kicked the iron twice; it didn't budge, stone-stubborn. He grit his teeth and, heart aching, drew a Divine Grace Crystal. "Little thief, you dared steal from the Demon King's own house. You even moved my castle. Just you wait!"

He cupped the crystal and chanted under his breath, words like embers. "Trash, your Grandpa Ouyang is here. If you have guts, stay inside and don't run. I'll teach you the meaning of Ouyang's wrath..."

Brilliant light burst out like sun striking snow. The magic lock on the iron door cracked apart. The crystal turned to powder.

He stared at the dust and bit his lip, pained, blood salt on tongue. Divine Grace Crystals are finite. Use one, lose one. Now only three remain. Breaking a single spell lock cost a whole crystal. The foe must be strong, a mountain in fog. Would Ouyang chicken out? Not with his hearth on fire. His house was occupied. He had no space to cower. He only hoped the inner doors weren't sealed. Otherwise he'd run dry of crystals.

His prayer seemed to work, like rain after drought. Only the iron gate bore a spell lock. The rest of the place was clean, silent as a pond.

Why not climb the wall? When he built this castle, did he ignore that? No. He set a perpetual ward over the walls, a net of invisible thorns. Not only the keep. The lawns, the gardens, the pool as well. Below the gods, touch it and die, like moth to flame.

He opened the iron gate but didn't rush in. He studied the grass, hunting for signs, as a wolf noses snow. Sure enough, a few circles later, he found clues, crumbs on the path. Animal corpses lay scattered across the lawn. Every one of them was shriveled, like drained husks. On each, he spotted tooth marks, sharp as awls.

"A Blood Kin?" He spat. "Damn it, a mere bat dared steal my castle? If I don't make you pay, my name is mud."

Muttering, Ouyang eased the hall door open, hinges sighing. In the hall's center stood an obsidian coffin. He didn't pry it open and yank out the bat. Instead, he went to the kitchen and rummaged in a chest, like a badger in a burrow. He returned to the hall with an armful of garlic, white moons in his arms.

"I'll disgust you to death. Death is the easy road, soft as sleep. Life worse than death is what you remember, like thorns under silk."

Why was there still so much in the kitchen? In Ouyang's castle, storage works like a space ring, cold and sealed as caverns. Supplies never spoil and stock runs deep.

Back then, Ouyang hoarded enough to shame a dragon's hoard.