Not far from Canopy City, two figures climbed a hillside strewn with corpses, a slope like a charred sea; the bandit lair had found its fate, written in blood and dust.

One was entirely swallowed by a black robe, never touching ground, drifting like a raven’s shadow. The other looked sunlit despite his black—short hair, long coat, a smile bright as morning. Both wore night like second skin.

“Agas, that’s a hell of a trick,” the young man said, his grin like a blade flashing. “Didn’t think you could break the secret of the Dead’s Eternal Life. No wonder you were Vice President of the Dark Magic Association. If that President hadn’t blotted out your radiance, you’d be far more famous.”

Had Ouyang been here, he’d have recognized him at once—the ‘Boss Dongze’ he’d met in the inn at Rong City. And the robed figure? The words made it clear: Agas.

“Just parlor magic,” Agas rasped, voice like wind funneling through stone. “But you… back then we all thought you were the one most likely to raise the paean among the great beings. Now, well…”

The young man shook his head and gazed into the pale sky, eyes catching the cold of it. “That’s past. Right now, I don’t have the power of the First Cult’s Chief Heavenly King. And you don’t carry a Vice President’s weight. We’re just ants clinging to the bark, buying time.”

Agas scoffed, a chill hiss under the robe. Ants clinging to life? People of the First Cult never leave themselves only one road. They plan like rain before drought, laying paths before they move. As the First Cult’s chief among the Four Heavenly Kings, Agas didn’t buy that resignation.

They all lived in the Starry Citadel, yet Agas seldom met this young man. For long ages, the First Cult’s Four Heavenly Kings were half-legend, and Agas’s knowing was thin as mist.

“I’m curious,” Agas said, the robe breathing like a low tide. “How did someone like you fall? Your Majesty Dongze…”

The young man’s smile turned wry, thought clouding his face like a passing shadow. He weighed whether to speak.

“Truth is, my situation matches yours. I got sniped.”

“Hm?” The sound in Agas’s hood was sharpened surprise, disbelief ringing like metal. “To snipe a Majesty… only those three worlds could do it. Only those ancient creatures…”

“Even so, I keep feeling a dark hand behind it,” Agas murmured, eyes narrowing like a hunter’s. “Those ancient creatures could snipe you, but the few on the Other Shore wouldn’t just watch.”

“There was a black curtain,” the young man said, still wearing that sunny smile like a mask. “My fall was just a step in the plan. Think about it: if I’d lingered here at full strength, we know what would follow. Only this way could we slip past the eyes of those three worlds.”

“So, being resurrected by the Dead’s Eternal Life was part of it too?”

At that, handsomely composed features finally cracked into embarrassment.

“You can feel that guy deep in the planet’s heart, right? By plan, he was supposed to bring me back. But most of the time he’s unreliable as drifting smoke. Luckily, that band of traitors just happened to pick up the task and did his job for him—they revived me.”

Agas extended his senses downward, past stone and molten murmur. After hearing that, he fell silent, exasperation beating like a dull drum. What a mess. Coincidence?

“Dream Chaser… I didn’t expect it was him,” Agas breathed. “Makes sense. Only the Dream Chaser’s captain would think of something like this. I want to know what he’s plotting. He personally buried the First Era, then vanished. I heard nothing of him until the moment before I fell.”

Agas’s voice carried weight, like heavy clouds, yet a thread of old affection wove through.

“He never left,” the young man said softly, words drifting like ash. “Across era cycles, you just didn’t recognize his face. Only those of us who crawled out of the First Era’s war keep that name alive—the one who played the timeless Jue symphony, a life spent chasing a dream. Dream Chaser’s dream never died. Even cracked, even fading, he never let go. His dream keeps flowing forward, like a river through stone.”

“Divine Realm, Demon World, Abyss—those who lived to see the stars break and the cosmos turn—none could halt him. This time, the Demon World will be erased. The Divine Realm will be cleansed. That’s Dream Chaser’s aim. Anything that bars his heart’s dream, even the Supreme Law, will one day shatter in his hands.”

Dream Chaser… few knew that name. All were survivors of the first dawn. With years like sand drifting, people forgot the brightest figure of that age—the one who buried the Boundless Sea and opened a new sky for everyone.

“Honestly, he isn’t a good man,” the young man said, eyes like a far shore. “He’s a madman who waits for a dream through long winters. But to us, no matter how the years turn, he stays himself—the Dream Chaser who struck the timeless Jue.”

Agas fell quiet. Memory rose like fog—those earliest days, bewildering and raw. Who was right or wrong then no longer mattered. When all turned to yesterday, you look back and find that bitter taste, savored slow, is strangely unforgettable.

“Pity,” the young man sighed, wistful as dusk. “Even if they call him the Watcher of Time and Eternity, he can’t reverse time in a true sense.” He let the feeling settle, like dust after wind. “Come on. That kid Ouyang should take us in.”

“That part of his plan too?”

“No. This one’s a whim. Don’t you feel our strength can’t handle far too many things right now? With help, everything gets simpler.”

Ouyang had no idea two ancient beings were about to show up at his place to eat and drink on his tab. He was busy fighting the glut of Man-eating Flowers overrunning his garden, scythes of green snapping like wet jaws.

“Yulan, don’t push it,” he snarled, temper blowing like a storm. “You toss Man-eating Flowers into Wutong’s back garden—I could ignore that. But into my back garden? You think I’m easy to bully?”

At dawn, Ouyang had wandered to the castle’s rear garden to breathe petals and dew. Eyes closed, savoring. Then something slick wrapped his head like a swamp’s kiss. He tore it off and found a riot of bright blossoms hiding a nest of Man-eating Flowers. He wiped the sticky slime from his face and saw red. Fury flared like black lightning.

He didn’t call out that damned plant fiend. Worse, a few acquaintances caught him in his finest mess.

“Well now,” Irina drawled, red hair flowing like fire, laughter pealing from the castle gate. “Our big Demon King got swallowed? What ate you this time?”

Kooson stood ahead, a steady pillar; only with him leading would Irina dare come here. Beside her were three more—Amelie and Fei, and a girl with hair as fire-red as Irina’s. Unlike Irina’s shoulder-length cut, the girl’s hair fell to her waist, tied into two long tails with pale violet ribbons.

“What are you even here for? Xi’s not here.”

“Nothing much,” Irina said, hands on hips, brazen as a sunrise. “Sightseeing. Kooson said your Demon King’s castle is pretty, so I came to see it—to make sure you demons aren’t plotting something nasty.”

A gust whispered through the courtyard, flipping her short skirt like a startled bird.

“Kid, you’re flashing.”

“Ah—!” Irina clutched her skirt, face going tomato red.

“Told you—showboating never ends well,” Ouyang said, smirking like a cat on a wall. “The ancients weren’t wrong. You flex, you pay.”

“Shut up, you lecherous Demon King!”

A blazing fireball swelled in Irina’s palm, hot enough to warp air; one more word and she’d lob it.

“Hmph. Mortal wit,” Ouyang murmured, voice going low as thunder. “You think you can threaten me on my turf?”

Behind him, a pair of vast black wings unfurled like night. Obsidian lightning crawled along his shoulders, a storm coiling to strike. Irina saw that shape and bolted behind Kooson.

“I—I didn’t come to fight. Put those terrifying wings away.”

She folded first. Since she did, Ouyang let the storm ebb; the black wings receded like tide, and the lightning thinned to nothing.

“Why are you here, really?”

“I told you—I’m here to play. I looked for Xi, but she wasn’t home. Thought she might be with you, so I came. I’m not here to cause trouble. Look, I even brought my sister. That proves I’m here to have fun.”

She nudged the girl with the fire-red hair forward. “Let me introduce her. This is my sister, Kanofia Reyes. She’s fourteen.”

Ouyang slowly drew a compass from his space, the one he’d taken from Li. Metal glinted like a cold eye.

“Demon King… sir, right?” Kanofia smiled, high-born and serene, a lily that knew its light. Such a beauty smiling at him should have warmed his heart. He felt no warmth—only a chill sliding down his spine.

When he saw her, he only suspected. When the compass appeared, suspicion hardened like ice. Kanofia—the Ancestor of Blood Night.

“Great. I haven’t even figured out how to face this, and she walks to my door. So this is fate?” Ouyang’s thoughts scattered like leaves. He hadn’t solved the Ruola problem, and now a bigger storm knocked.

Eunice had said Ruola left because her ‘master’ summoned her. So she left without saying where, or when she’d return. Ouyang knew Ruola’s identity too well. Since when does she have a master?

One problem unsolved, another beast arrives on its own.

“This goddamn world.”