He opened his eyes; same world, same cave; the damp air clung like moss.

Ouyang pushed himself up, head spinning like a shaken gong. He moved like a newborn crawling, clumsy as a foal on ice.

"Why aren't you dead yet?"

The half-dragon, half-human girl stared, shock wide as moonlit pools. In her mind, this made no sense, like snow in midsummer.

Caution rose first, cold as a river. Ouyang didn't answer; he threw a shield over himself, a thin glass moon around his skin.

He refused to get one-shot again. He had no way to deal with that sprite and those Dark Trinity Artifacts.

The sprite, Jue, with the Dark Trinity Artifacts, was poison among poisons, a thorn nest in the dark. Ouyang wanted zero part of that nightmare.

With the shield humming like a bee, Ouyang felt safer. He stretched big, lazy as a cat under sun. "Girl, I told you. You can't kill me."

If not for the blood drying on him like rust, his words might have sounded less hollow.

"Can't kill you?" Her gaze went blurry, like glass fogged by breath. "Then… shall I kill you again?"

Irritation spiked, sharp as chili on the tongue. Sure, she couldn't keep him dead, but the pain was real, hot iron on raw flesh.

Who volunteers to be killed for fun? If he hadn't been careless, he'd never have taken that hit.

That death was speed, yes, but also arrogance. She was a hatchling fresh from shell; how much bite could a chick have?

So, wide open and unguarded, Ouyang got cleaned off the board.

"Pick one. Steamed or braised? You dared kill me, so be ready to be killed." Black fire rose over him like soot-stained lotus. A red sigil spun under his feet.

The world around them fell into void, blank as fresh rice paper. Only two figures faced off in that hollow sky.

The girl looked lost, like a deer in mist. Nothing felt familiar; everything tasted of blank slate.

"Let's try steaming first." Ouyang snapped his fingers, flint-bright. The void flipped into a giant kitchen, bright as brass.

Chains sprang out, iron snakes rattling. They dragged the half-dragon girl into a massive steamer.

The stove roared, a red flower blooming. Steam poured out like pale serpents. The pot shuddered as if a trapped beast fought.

"Stop struggling. In my Godly Domain, you can't escape." His domain was Change itself; the world bent like clay to his will.

It sounded grand, yet it was a chicken rib in battle, meatless and hard to chew. For ages, he used it as a party trick.

His rowdy friends would gather, he'd open the domain, and they'd go wild through his thousand odd landscapes, like kids at a lantern fair.

Even now, he treated it as a playground; hence the kitchen set, neat as a stage.

Half an hour slid by like sand. He figured the steam had done its work. He lifted the lid, moon-round, and peered in.

She curled inside, skin flushed red like boiled shrimp. Eyes shut, she looked dead, a petal fallen on stone.

"Well then, I won't be polite." A fork grew in his left hand, a small knife bloomed in his right, silver as frost.

The knife hovered near her cheek, cold as a winter crescent. Her eyes snapped open. Fear flooded out, black tide in two deep wells.

In her eyes, Ouyang was a man-eating Demon King, a storm in human skin. Even his smile looked like a scar cut into night.

"Not dead? Then braised."

He reached to drop the lid again. She thrashed hard, chains screaming like wind in iron reeds.

"Don't eat me…"

Despair weighed in her voice like wet wool. She had to spend everything to squeeze out that one plea.

"Don't eat you? Then what's the point of keeping you? Can you turn into a dragon?" She heard him and nodded, a reed trembling in rain.

"Good. Turn, let me see."

A long moment stretched, thin as taffy. She didn't change. Anger struck; he shaped a great axe, heavy as a mountain gate.

"Forget it. I've eaten human-shaped beasts before. Why care if you're girl or dragon? Chop it all. Fry it, roast it, stew it."

He swung. The axe fell like thunder. Her head left her neck, clean as a cut bamboo shoot.

He swung again. "Crooked. That arm's a mess… fine, redo."

Time rolled backward like a river running uphill. Her arm and head knit together, neat as stitched silk. The axe fell again.

"Crooked again. An artist with OCD can't allow this. Reset."

Time rewound once more, clock hands spinning like leaves. Ouyang chopped again.

"Crooked, again. Hah. Years without hands-on work; I'm rusty."

…

She lost track of how long. She lost count of how many deaths. So this was worse than living: die, revive, die again, revive again.

In the end, numbness spread, white frost over earth. On the Nth revival, she stared at the kitchen ceiling, blank as a winter sky.

She looked like a broken doll passed through rough hands, hollow as a reed. The world shrank to endless despair, a wheel repeating without end.

"Call it here. You look played-out, so I won't pursue you for 'killing' me." Ouyang waved; the world crumpled like paper and flipped back to the cave.

Honestly, she killed him once, and he killed her N times. This guy could hold a grudge like a crab clutching sand.

Is it over? A flicker returned to her empty eyes, a firefly in dusk. Then she saw Ouyang, and terror slammed back like a cold wave.

She curled up, tight as a leaf in wind. Her broad dragon wings folded around her, a night cloak hiding a shaking girl.

"Am I that scary?" Ouyang slicked back his hair, peacock-proud. "Look closely. How many men are as handsome as me?"

"Why pull that face? Like I did something weird to you. With looks like this, you think I'm starving for girls? I'd be random with you?"

Power hummed back in him like spring thunder. His mood lifted, warm as sun. A good mood brought chatter. Chatter brought mischief.

He strode to her side, hands grabby as sticky clay. He pinched here, poked there. "Mm, good texture. Prime cut. I'll fatten you up and butcher you later."

"Hey, kid, got a name?"

Her face hid behind her wings, a tent of black feathers. She trembled inside, leaves in rain. Too many deaths had cracked her heart like porcelain.

Not going mad proved her mind was iron under silk. Still, this wound would need a long season to heal, slow as moss on stone.

"Kid, answer. Keep ignoring me, and I'll toss you into the oil pot and fry you."

That threat bit deep, sharp as a cleaver. She jerked her head out, a timid bird peeking from a nest. Her mouth opened, closed, and failed.

She didn't know what to say. She had no name. Blankness spread like fog in a valley.

"Ah, names are a hassle. I'll pick something simple. Xiao Bai… how's that? Little Dragon? That one's cute too…"

Ouyang muttered to himself, words fluttering like paper charms. Bai kept her head down, still shaking.

"Mm… we'll go with Bai. Complicated names slip my mind."

"So, Bai, do you know where those two bastard Dragon Emperors ran off to? Or any other treasure down here?"

Bai nodded, a reed stiffening. She forced herself upright, legs wobbly as a fawn’s.

She wasn't the same as when they first met. Back then, she wore cold like armor, a world-dead look that said nothing mattered.

Now, that cold lay buried deep, pressed down by fear like snow under ash.

"Good kid," Ouyang murmured, watching Bai totter forward like a lantern swaying in wind. Something felt off, a note out of tune.

He frowned. What was wrong? A beat later, it hit like a candle lighting: clothes. The hatchling from the egg wore nothing.

He dug through his space container, dark as a gourd belly. No women's clothes. He pulled out a stack of black cloaks, dozens like raven wings.

"Kid, throw this on. Can you fold those wings? They're blocking the view. And that tail too."

Bai seemed not to get him. She took the cloak, kneading it like seaweed, unsure how to wear it.

"Man, your smarts are in the dirt. Come on, I'll show you." Ouyang stepped close, lifted the cloak, and reached to dress her.

Her claw slid in with a wet pop and speared his chest. She squeezed. His heart burst like a crushed pomegranate.

Bai snatched the cloak, threw it on, looked once at the very dead Ouyang, then flew off, wings beating like night sails.

"Eh? You're back again? You're so annoying. You pop in here all the time." Jue, the sprite with the Dark Trinity Artifacts, puffed her cheeks, sour as unripe plums.

"You think I want to? Do you know what it feels like when your heart gets crushed? Have you tasted despair?"

"I'm not looking for death because I'm bored. Stop talking like it's easy when you're not the one bleeding. I'm not—"

His rant ran hot, steam off a kettle. He glanced ahead at the Boundless Sea, a sheet of gray stretching like eternity, and anger flared.

He poured out his grievances to Jue, words tumbling like a river. That half-dragon brat was infuriating, a thorn under the nail.

He'd killed her countless times and even felt a little guilty after. And she had only "killed" him twice. By the tally, wasn't Ouyang ahead?