Under a canopy of green shade, Snow slid off her backpack and drew a flask, cool metal tight against a trembling hand.

“Human, have you never doubted?”

The voice flooded her mind—male and female braided together, like wind crossing reeds. She knew it was the magic staff’s power. The staff could talk until the sky went dark; she wouldn’t believe a word. She wanted its strength, not its whisper. She refused to listen, and she didn’t dare.

“Give it up. I only need your power to fight the Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts…”

“My power against the Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts? Ahahaha… Funniest thing I’ve heard, human. You really never questioned it? That the Sky Goddess’s weapon would corrode its host? You never questioned…”

“It’s the Goddess testing her wielders. Your words are a test too. So I won’t believe anything you say.” Snow drank, water like a silver thread on her tongue. Her teeth bit her soft lower lip. Tired. Hazy. Since leaving Kavasha, her body felt like a candle guttering day by day. She didn’t know when death would come. She only knew she had to endure until she found the Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts. She’d use the staff’s power to seal them again, then fall like a felled tree. Not before.

“Hehehehehe…”

The mixed voice kept chuckling, a cold chime in a fog. In the haze she glimpsed another self—chestnut hair cascading, a long black dress flowing like night water, her bearing a frost-touched princess.

Snow splashed cold water across her face, a river breaking the spell. Strange—under this blazing sun, even a ten‑star mage could suffer heatstroke? She shook her head, breath ragged, and pushed to stand.

“You are… who?”

A familiar silhouette stepped out of the light toward her.

“Go, kitty! Left hook—missed—right hook…” With the tentacle monster down, Ouyang got bored, so he started coaching White Cat from the ground, voice like a drumline under blue sky.

For a man who didn’t lift a finger, Ouyang was asking to be punched. White Cat itched to drop and plant left–right hooks across his smug face.

“Human, shut up! Believe it or not, Lord Cat’ll jam a lump of crap down your throat!”

White Cat’s roar cracked like thunder. In that instant, an emerald halo cinched tight, binding it midair like ivy snapping closed.

“Meow—dammit! You useless teammate, you sold the Cat out!”

Bound and thrashing, the only fighter on the field got clipped. The girl drifted down from the high air, her dim gaze looking down like moonlight over a still pond. She was small, slight, her chest only just beginning to curve.

She flung the emerald‑ringed White Cat toward Ouyang and the others. “Meow~ Kid, catch Lord Cat!” White Cat had no strength under the ring. It saw Ouyang’s face and knew he’d rather let it hit the dirt, so it yowled for its “mobile cat bed.”

Augustine did not disappoint; he stepped in and caught White Cat clean, arms like a cradle.

Ouyang flashed a grin at the hovering girl, then pulled a heap of potions from his ring, glass glinting like dew. “Come here. I’ll treat the wounds on your wings.” He tugged Bai close and spread ointment into the torn scales on her dragon wings, touch light as rain.

“Does it hurt?” His fingers dabbed, careful, a painter touching canvas. Bai watched him with emerald eyes, her face clear of pain, a lake without ripples.

“Mm. That’s about it. Retract your wings.”

At his word, Bai obeyed. She left her combat stance like night leaving dawn. Two bloody holes opened on her back where the wings folded inward, red flowers blooming on pale skin.

Ouyang stroked her back for a moment, palm warm on silk. “Trouble. I’ll bandage you. Until those close up, no half‑dragon form. Not allowed.”

Watching Ouyang and Bai, Augustine’s tongue stuck like a leaf to stone. Teacher, we still have a big enemy. He glanced at the bearer of Saya’s Song; she kept her eyes on Ouyang and Bai, unmoving, the scene a frozen pond. He swallowed his words, afraid one sound would shatter the quiet.

“You like an outsider?” The girl feathered closer on wings of emerald light, glow like dawn through glass. “Why? She’s a nonhuman. Why don’t you reject her?” She pointed at Bai, face blank, but the ice had thinned.

Why?

Ouyang felt the irony bite like frost. He’d drafted The 999 Ways for Bai to Die, a grand plan like storm charts pinned on a wall. So why was he rubbing ointment on her wounds? Wrong plot thread. He should’ve been trapping her, then giving her a clean end…

“I don’t know…” He wound the bandage snug, skin‑to‑skin in passing like petals brushing a hand. Bai didn’t resist at all. He ruffled her hair, a gentle breeze through grass. “Maybe because I’m the first person she saw in this world. Since I brought her here, I should take responsibility…”

“Monster or not, if she exists because of me, I’ll see it through. Our bond tied itself when we weren’t looking, like two vines twining. Before I knew it, I’d accepted her completely.”

Caro and Augustine watched that softened smile, feeling a story under the surface like a river under ice. Ouyang hugged Bai’s head to his chest, blocking the girl’s view, because Bai’s face right now was pure confusion, a cat under sudden rain.

Yes—Ouyang had entered his acting hour.

“When I was just a kid, I found a giant egg in a cave, white as a winter stone. Out of love for life, I carried it home, tucked it into my bed, held it close every day, hoping it’d hatch…”

The egg did exist. Back then, Ouyang had wanted to fry it like a breakfast sun.

“Then it hatched. My family and the village were shocked. Out of that egg came a baby—lumps on her back, a tail—everyone called her a monster. They told me to throw her away. I wouldn’t. No one would feed her, so I worked for the adults, took the coins like fallen leaves, and bought her food.”

He locked Bai in his arms, firm as a shield, because one look at her expression and the lie would crumble like dry clay. Thankfully, Bai didn’t push him away.

He spun the tale clean, a small boy and a girl branded monster. “Bai spent her childhood under eyes full of thorns. At twelve, she showed strength that made the village tremble, so they couldn’t bear her presence anymore. They drove Bai out—out of the village, out of the only home she had.”

Holding Bai, Ouyang smoothed her silky hair, a hand over a stream.

“I couldn’t let her wander alone, so I left with her. I still remember—she told me, ‘Where you are is my home.’ From then on, we never left each other.”

“Teacher… and after? How did you and Bai split up?” Augustine remembered the first time he met Bai—Ouyang wasn’t with her. So much for never parting.

Ouyang wanted to slap him, palm like a fan.

“After…” He lowered his head, pressing his forehead to Bai’s, as if pain rose like smoke. “After that, the damned Light Church targeted Bai. They branded her heresy and wanted to burn her at the stake, flames licking like wolves. Me too—because I kept protecting her, they said my soul was tainted, and they would burn me as well. To let Bai escape, I held most of them off alone. The Church hunted me, and I had no chance to find her—until recently, when we met again.”

“Jealous…” The cold‑faced girl let warmth pass like sun behind cloud. Of what, even she didn’t know.

“For the one you love—outsider or not—you never let go. I envy you…”

The crowd stood stunned, like trees under sudden snow—part by Ouyang’s knife‑to‑heart tale, part by the bearer of Saya’s Song and her strange turn.

“My name is… Saya… will you date me?”