"Your Majesty, please issue your orders..." His voice shook like a reed in a night wind.

"Orders? What can you do?" His words cracked like a whip across ice. "Can you fill those gaps like torn seams in the sky?"

"No..." The reply fell like ash into a cold brazier.

"Then what's the use of you?" His tone cut like a knife through damp fog.

"..." Silence pooled like still water under stone.

Realizing its worth was a dim spark, Number Seven hurried to feed it like tinder to a dying flame. "Your Majesty, it's not as bad as it looks, like storm clouds that never break. They can't enter the core of the Other Shore, like wolves barred from the heart of the valley. You know this vast continent still houses many vassal clans, like stars scattered across a dark sea. Those explorers can only comb the ruins the clans left behind, like crabs picking through a tide-flat."

Ouyang nodded, his thoughts moving like shadows around a campfire. People from beyond the Gate were few, like sparks in a gale. From the First Epoch to the Eighth, they totaled barely a million, counting those who fell like meteors. For such a number, this colossal land was too empty, like a desert swallowing footsteps. It hadn’t been so huge at first, like a sapling before centuries of rings. Only across epochs did it grow vast, like a mountain rising from the seabed.

On the far side of the Gate lay their core zones, like citadels sunk into bedrock. Starry Citadel, where he'd once walked, was one such place, like a star unflickering in a storm. That wouldn't be "hacked" easily, like a fortress whose gates were iron and thunder. It was the First Cult’s lair, a nest of problem children whose talents could hack any defense in the Other Shore, like foxes slipping every snare. They only ever hacked others; never the other way around, like hunters refusing to be prey. If Starry Citadel got hacked, you could say ninety-nine percent of the Other Shore had already fallen, like a forest set ablaze from its heart.

"Also, Your Majesty, I can open a stable passage to the Other Shore," Seven added, fishing for merit like a cat for fish. Ouyang slanted him a look sharp as a blade in moonlight. "And then what? I'm the one who marches troops and sweeps them out, like a broom against fallen leaves. I'm the one who patches those gaps, like a mason filling a crumbling wall. You open a door, and all the trouble still lands on me like snow on a lone pine."

Seven went quiet, the silence dull as a dead bell. It thought it through and found its use a thin thread on a loom.

"Fine. So be it," Ouyang exhaled, weariness settling like dust on armor. "They're a mess of weeds, but I'll clear them even if it breaks my back like a bow. Little Seven, put the exit in the Demon King's City; can you do it?" His tone rose like a flag before battle.

"No problem, as long as you provide coordinates, like stars marked on a chart... One more question, Your Majesty. Which place in the Other Shore do you want linked to the Demon King's City?" The query hovered like a lantern at a crossroads.

Now Ouyang fell silent, his thoughts knotting like roots under stone. Which place in the Other Shore should meet the Demon King's City? That was a thorn.

"Eternal Heavenly Palace—can we?" Ouyang tested the waters like a toe in winter stream.

"Your Majesty... that... His Majesty the Emperor's palace is beyond my authority, like a shrine barred by divine seals." Seven’s answer landed as expected, like rain where clouds already gathered. Ouyang knew it—Little Seven really didn’t have that key, like a locksmith without the right pick.

He thought again, thoughts moving like crows from branch to branch. Seven didn’t spell it out, but Ouyang could guess, like a hunter reading tracks. Not just the Eternal Heavenly Palace. Important places—the Halls of the Gods, the Place of Origin—were the same, like sanctuaries ringed by thunder.

"Think it through, and outside a limited set of publicly open spots, how many choices do I really have?" Ouyang felt his headache ebb like a tide. The options were few, like islands on a bare map.

Astral Plaza. Starry Citadel. The Epoch Corridor. He knew Starry Citadel best, like a road worn by his own boots. But if he wanted a quick sweep, the best choice was Astral Plaza, like a hub where all roads knot. Astral Plaza was laced with portals, dense as bees in a hive. Those portals were its only scenery, like a forest of gates under a starry dome. They said you could reach ninety percent of the Other Shore from there, like rivers running from a single spring. Some portals even led to other worlds, like cracks opening onto other skies.

It was a strategic node, like a keystone in an arch. Placing the passage there was high value for little cost, like buying a mountain with a single coin.

"Astral Plaza, then. Link Astral Plaza to the Demon King's City." A small white light sphere floated from his hand like a firefly; that was the coordinates.

"Your Majesty... the world passage within your coordinates is sealed, like a door bricked over. Do we blast it open?" Seven didn’t join the two points yet; it floated the choice like a leaf on a stream.

Blast it, or not? The question hung like thunder under the eaves.

If he didn’t, Ouyang could keep growing in silence, like a seed under snow. If he did, the Divine Realm, the Demon World, and other busybodies would jump into the muddy water, like crows to a battlefield. "In that case, blast it open. Heh. Anyone wanting a dip in this mire pays a price, like swimmers in a sea of knives."

With the Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts in play, Ouyang was sure the Divine Realm and the Demon World would weep without tears, like lords waking to find their palaces flooded. "Plans can’t outrun change, like shadows chasing clouds. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have offed that spiky-haired punk, like crushing a hedgehog with bare hands. Too late; he ran up asking for death, like a moth to a torch. The remaining Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts will make them choke, like bitter tea. Divine Realm, Demon World, I await you like a fisherman on a foggy bank. Come feel the fear of being ruled by the Twelve, like sheep under a wolf’s gaze!"

The more he thought, the hotter his blood ran like a river in thaw. Given the Divine Realm’s lofty style, they’d clash with the Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts for sure, like eagles colliding mid-sky. If they lured the artifacts into the Divine Realm or Demon World, all the better, like leading a storm onto an enemy plain.

"Blasting world barriers... confirmed. Command received." The mechanical reply thudded like a hammer on iron.

After a while, wind raked through, and Ouyang’s hair went wild like grass in a gale. "Little Seven, then what? Why is there no movement, like a drum that won’t sound?"

"Your Majesty, the passage is complete, like a bridge finished in the night. Do you want to go to Starry Citadel now, or let your soul return to your body, like a ship to harbor?"

Done? Finished without a ripple, like rain that leaves no puddle? That wasn’t what he’d pictured, like fireworks that never lit. And his soul, returning?

He understood. Little Seven had dragged his soul here without asking, like a net yanking a fish from dark water. "Little Seven, did you get my permission? I was sleeping sweet as spring, and you hauled my soul over like a thief!"

Seven stayed silent, the hush cold as a cellar. After a while, it spoke with a mechanical chill like winter rain. "Your Majesty, do you want to teleport to Starry Citadel, or let your soul return?"

Ouyang didn’t budge, his mood dark as storm glass. He narrowed his eyes and locked onto the fist-sized stone before him like a hawk on a mouse.

"Little Seven, answer me!" His shout cracked like lightning across a ridge.

The stone hovered, shedding ghost-blue light like frostfire. The cold mechanical voice repeated, like a wind-up doll. "Your Majesty, do you want to teleport to Starry Citadel, or let your soul return?"

"Cut the act and give me an explanation!" His patience frayed like rope in salt spray.

"Your Majesty, do you want to teleport to Starry Citadel, or let your soul return?" The refrain droned like a temple bell.

Ouyang: "..."

"Fine. You get a pass—for now," he growled, temper cooling like steel in water. "Send my soul back. Now. Immediately. At once."

"Command received." The reply clicked like a lock.

Space twisted around him like a cloth wrung tight. After a spin that flipped sky and earth, Ouyang found himself in a pitch-black space, like being sunk under a moonless lake. "What the hell? Little Seven? Show yourself. What’s this?" His voice went nowhere, like a stone thrown into fog.

No one answered in that silent void, quiet as a sealed tomb. He felt himself floating, buoyed like driftwood. The darkness had no up or down, like the heart of the void, and he kept drifting, drifting like a leaf in deep night.

He didn’t know how long it lasted, time thin as mist. Then strips appeared in the black world, countless and gleaming like reels of film unspooled in starlight. On those reels, vivid images flickered like lantern shows. A quick glance told him they were the rise and fall of civilizations, like waves swelling and breaking. The waxing and waning of worlds played out, like seasons turning on a wheel.

"Huh..." A voice sounded in the space, familiar as an old tune in evening wind.

"You finally made it, kid..." A phantom book floated up before Ouyang like a page torn from dream. Ouyang knew why it felt familiar, like smelling rain before a storm. "Brother Diary, been a while," he said, a half-smile like a crescent blade.

The phantom book was the "Brother Diary" he’d met a few times, like a trickster returning with the same grin.

"Brother Diary, what is this cursed place?" Frustration pressed on him like a mountain. Here he sensed no exit, like a maze without sky. Even in the void, he could find his way back, like a sailor reading stars. But here, he had no way, like fists against fog. Even with godlike power, he was ordinary here, like a tiger declawed. He had no leverage against this space at all, like a swimmer in glass.

"Here?" Brother Diary’s voice came again, light as a pen scratch. "Oh, this is inside me, like chambers within a conch. Pretty great, huh?"

Inside... what? The thought stumbled like a cart in mud.

Ouyang wanted to sock that diary and send it spinning, like a ball kicked from a courtyard. But the book was a phantom, like moonlight on water. If this was its body’s inside, hitting a shadow meant nothing, like spearing smoke. Besides, he wasn’t that thing’s match, like a fox against a tiger. That mattered most.

"Right, I dragged you here to give you instructions," the diary drawled, mischief snapping shut like a fan turning solemn. It was business now, like steel under velvet. Hearing Brother Diary had another task, Ouyang thought of that Kanofia errand, like a thorn under the nail. He hadn’t dared feed her his blood, so that task kept getting delayed, like a letter never sent.

A white light-gate opened in this world, round as a moon over water. From it flew an ancient Eastern longsword, simple as a river stone, like a crane gliding through mist.

"Ahem. Kid, this God Emperor’s longsword returns to you, like a comet circling back. Don’t lose it again," the diary said, words flicking like a twig at his forehead.

What? The sight hit Ouyang like a drumbeat.

"Where’s Luo? Where’d that guy go?" He caught the sword in one hand, the grip warm as a heartbeat. His finger tapped the blade a few times, notes ringing like droplets in a cavern. He found the sword’s spirit still as before, asleep like a winter-bound lake. Hard to imagine what blow had nearly dispersed it, like wind scattering ash, forcing it into long sleep to keep a last thread of life.

Brother Diary’s tone sank, heavy as dusk. "He went back. Also, the Master and the other one went back, like tides drawn by a deeper moon. I heard trouble broke out beyond the Gate, like cracks in far ice. Cynthia marched an army into the deep void and ran into strange creatures, like fish with eyes of fire. They had to recall their projections, like banners lowered in storm. Until that’s handled, they can’t watch this side, like eagles caged by tempest."

"Strange creatures in the deep void?" Ouyang’s scalp prickled like frost on bark. The void was nothingness, like an endless blank. Anything living in its depths wouldn’t be simple, like fire under the sea. The fact those three withdrew their projections showed how grave it was, like generals stepping back from a boiling cauldron. If it made them that cautious, the foe was fearsome, like mountains walking.

He turned the cracked sword in his hands, the web of fissures like dry riverbeds. His mood grew heavy, like clouds before thunder.

"Back then... the Heaven Departing Divine Sword cut off a portion of the Supreme Law, like a hawk tearing a banner. Because it went head-on with the Supreme Law, it almost died, like a moth burned mid-flight," Brother Diary explained how the blade came to this state.

Ouyang nodded to show he understood, chin dipping like a branch under snow. "Honestly, I care more about this. Which 'Master' are you talking about?" His smile tilted like a blade. "Given your rotten personality... heh, I think I’ve guessed right."

Brother Diary choked for words, silence hanging like a stopped pendulum.

"That’s not important. What’s important is this," it said at last, words settling like seals on parchment. "We, the Eternal Trinity Artifacts, must sit in the Void Illusion Realm, like anchors in a maelstrom. We can’t leave lightly, like stars fixed to their courses. So... matters in the Other Shore are yours to handle, like a torch passed at midnight. If you can wake Litian, many things get easier, like ice thawing in spring."

Ouyang curled his lip, skepticism sharp as sleet. If the Heaven Departing Divine Sword "came alive," many problems would vanish, like fog in sun. But the Supreme Law had wrecked it, like a mountain falling on a boat. How easy would it be to wake it, like rousing a dragon from stone?

"Hey, what even is the Void Illusion Realm? I’ve never heard of it, like a river on no map. And... so you’re one of the Eternal Trinity!" His laugh snapped like a twig.

He finally understood why that little Loyin asked him to collect the Eternal Trinity Artifacts, like sending a man to pluck stars. Was that something he could just collect? That was baiting him to die, like tossing meat into a tiger’s den. Of course, he’d once sent Loyin to the Boundless Sea to fetch the Dark Trinity Artifacts, like pointing her at a hornet’s nest, hoping she and that pixie would fight to the death. Both of them had dirty motives back then, like two gamblers palming cards.

"Hm? You’ve heard of us?" It sniffed, preening like a peacock. "Hmph. That’s right. I, your grand-daddy, am the Book of Epochs, head of the Eternal Trinity Artifacts!" The book spun in the void like a leaf on a whirl, smug as a cat in sun.

Head of the three? If you’re the boss, what about that silver-haired beauty named Li, like moonlight forged into a woman? Brother Diary seemed to fear her, like a fox avoiding a tigress. Ouyang let it strut and didn’t tear the veil, like a man sipping tea at someone else’s boast.

"Alright, business done," it said, voice snapping shut like a chest. "Kid, anything special you want to tell me?" The question floated like a feather.

"No? Good. Off you go." The farewell came like a bell tolling noon.

A phantom thigh popped out from the phantom book, the phantom foot kicking at Ouyang like a gust booting a door.

"Wait—where the hell did you hear me say 'no'?" He flailed, outrage sparking like flint. "I haven’t said a word yet!"

Ouyang had wanted to ask about the Void Illusion Realm, but that ill-tempered "Diary Bro" sent him flying like a leaf in a sudden gale.

"Kid, no need to thank me!" The line rang in his head as blinding light flooded his world, bright as noon on white stone.

Damn it—the curse bit like cold iron. He swore that, when he had the power, he'd use that book to prop a wobbly table.

"Awake? I was worried..." When his eyes finally adjusted, Bai lay against his bedside like a sleepy cat, rubbing her eyes.

He felt her concern before he met her gaze; worry clung to her like dew on morning grass.

"It's fine—just a nap, like drifting through a quiet night." He reached to ruffle Bai's hair, then felt weight in his right hand like a brick.

He looked down. His fingers clenched a sword—an austere Eastern-style longsword veined with cracks, like dry riverbeds in late autumn.

Not a dream, then. The truth hit like cold water down his spine.

As his shock swelled, the door slammed open with a drumbeat, and a black rabbit bounded in like a soot-black blur.

"Waah—Lord Ouyang, you're finally awake! You slept for a whole month, you're finally awake!"

A month... he'd slept for a month, as if sunk in a sealed jar of time.