Karl swaggered off, a victor’s grin flying like a banner in the wind. Collin’s gaze drooped like a white funeral lantern. Augustine mourned in silence like a bowed willow. Caro sighed like incense smoke. Bai, clueless, followed their mood like a drifting leaf.

“Child, rest in peace. Lord Void Messenger will cradle your soul,” Collin said, pity soft as rain. Then panic hit him like cold water—today, the Void Messenger stood right beside him.

Ouyang smiled, bright as a knife of sun, and rapped Collin on the head with a sharp knuckle. Thunk. Collin felt, down to his bones, how a loose tongue breeds storms.

Sulking and rubbing his scalp, Collin wanted to notify the palace. Ouyang came to meet the royals; without an escort, the gate stays shut like a sealed cliff. Ouyang didn’t need help, true, but as envoy of the Void Church, courtesy was a banner he had to raise.

“No need. I’ve got friends,” Ouyang said, voice light as a breeze. They waited like stones in a stream until a young man in a black tailcoat stepped in, elegant as dusk. His gold hair burned like wheat in noon sun, and his warm smile made girls on the street flush like cherry blossoms.

From six-year-olds to silver-haired grandmothers, eyes hooked onto him like fish to a lure.

“Yo, Vice-Captain, you’ve been living the sweet life.” Ouyang’s teasing dropped like a pebble in a clear pond.

It was Devila, no doubt. After Kanofia’s scandal broke, he’d chased the name all the way to Canopy City like a hawk on a scent. He didn’t know she’d already been moved under Ouyang’s wing.

“Collin, let me introduce…” Ouyang paused, then grinned like a fox. “The current Pope of the Void Church.”

Everyone froze like frost hit glass. Devila’s face went blank, a deer in sudden torchlight. When did I become Pope? Why did this strange creature named Ouyang love pinning odd titles on people?

Collin stared, shock crackling like static. A Pope, then a master of talk—solid gold. He quietly decided to study under this “Pope” when time allowed.

Devila felt a chill creep up his back like a draft in a hall. He knew he was handsome—man and woman alike fell like leaves before him—but a man’s hungry gaze still made him itch.

“Pope…” Augustine’s eyes widened like twin moons. In their trade, a Pope could speak with their god. If this was a Pope, then could he talk with the divine wind?

“Mrrrow, just a bat…” White Cat had slipped free of the Emerald Ring. It sprawled atop Augustine’s head like a fur hat, shot Devila a lazy, disdainful glance, then flicked its tail like a willow switch.

Some meet and bond at first sight like flint finding tinder. Some meet and bristle like cats on a rainy wall. White Cat and Devila were the latter, eyes clashing like crossed blades.

“Mrrrow~”

Ouyang pinched White Cat by the scruff and lifted it, a cat-shaped fish out of water. “Kitty, belittle my little brother again, and I’ll tan your hide,” he murmured, voice low as thunder under the eaves. Augustine and the others heard nothing but wind.

“Mrrrow~” The cat’s big round eyes went pitiful as puddles after rain.

“Mr. Ouyang… what did Mr. White Cat do wrong? Could you not treat him like that?” Caro’s voice was soft as a shawl. White Cat had saved her life once; she stepped up like a candle in dusk. Augustine, bound to the cat deeper than roots to soil, just snickered on the side, heartless as a winter breeze.

Released, White Cat perched on Augustine’s head, glaring like a tiny stormcloud. Devila stared back, cool as a hanging bat. Cat and bat, big eyes against small, drew anxious looks like gnats gathering over water.

They walked on. Ouyang noticed Bai had fallen behind like a lone petal. The troublemaker stood before a small shop and wouldn’t budge, so Ouyang drifted over with a helpless sigh.

The shop was crowded with crystals, glittering like frost on a clear dawn. Bai stared at a diamond-shaped clear crystal, unblinking as a hunting hawk. Sunlight pierced it, and a rainbow spilled out like paint on air. A tiny arc hung there, a bridge spun from light.

Ouyang remembered. Dragons love anything that gleams, magpies in royal scales. Truth be told, he loved shinies too, a dragon hiding in a human coat.

The shopkeeper, a burly uncle, took one look, then another, and knew where to cast his net.

“Miss, sharp eye,” he said, voice smooth as oiled wood. “This Rainbow Crystal came from the Rainbow Temple’s ruins, they say. Lovers who keep it get the Rainbow Goddess’s blessing.” He angled his head at Ouyang, smile sly as a fox. “Sir, the young lady’s taken with it. Buy it as proof of your love.”

A sandstorm roared through Ouyang’s head. Love? Love your sister. And ten thousand gold for a rock? Back home, a coin buys a bag. This was fat bait on a rusty hook.

“You kidding me? Where I’m from, this stuff’s a gold coin a sack. Sure you’re not scamming me? If it’s truly from the Rainbow Temple, forget ten thousand—I’ll pay a million.”

The uncle’s smile froze, script burned like paper in flame. In front of such a beauty, this kid still haggled? Usually you buy first to warm her heart like tea, then talk later. Kid’s EQ sat lower than a winter sun.

“Lovers? Blessing?” Bai’s voice was soft as snow. She cupped the crystal like a bird’s egg. Sunlight crowned it with a ring of rainbow, a dew halo trembling on glass.

“Girl, don’t get conned. This stuff’s everywhere—” Ouyang began. The crystal answered with a bloom of seven colors, mid-word. Rainbow bridges unfurled before Bai like brocade.

Dream and daylight braided together. For a breath, everyone sank into a sweet fog, the kind only half-sleep can spin.

An Azure Bird swept across their sight like a blue brushstroke. Wherever it flew, barren earth sprouted green like spring wheat, and dry riverbeds gushed clear water like freed veins.

Clouds split like curtains. Sunlight poured down in golden sheets, washing the land. In a blink, a dead world turned lush and loud with life.

“This… this is a miracle from the Rainbow Goddess!” The shopkeeper’s eyes bulged like lanterns, shock and joy popping like firecrackers.

Ouyang stood mute, not at the miracle, but at his own words boomeranging back like a slap.

“Sir, you see… even the Rainbow Goddess blesses you two.” The uncle rubbed his fingers together where Bai couldn’t see, the gesture chirping like crickets. Time to make good.

“Heh…” Ouyang’s face shifted like stormlight. He dragged a heap of rare gems from his ring, each one glittering like a caught star. “This covers a million gold.”

It felt like carving flesh. Money was wind to him, but shiny things were bones; parting with them ached like winter cracking wood.

“Haha! Sir, ladies, may your love be complete, and may you grow old together!” The shopkeeper bowed, shrewd as a fox beneath a peach tree, laughter bright as chimes.

He wasn’t stupid. The crystal was wondrous, yes, but the Rainbow Goddess embodied beauty, not possession. It had slept half a year in his hands; fate wasn’t with him.

A thing like this draws storms. He was a small shop on a small street; trouble would flood him like a broken dam. A million gold feeds a lifetime like a full granary. And a man who can pay that isn’t ordinary. If he reneged, the shopkeeper wouldn’t even know how he died.

So he chose clean and quick. He stepped away from thunder and into sunlight and coin, happy enough to dance in the rain.