Night draped the world; Ouyang stared into a sky strewn with stars, his thoughts ebbing like a quiet tide.

In truth, the Source World’s heavens weren’t this lovely; back then they were a monotone sheet, colorless and cold.

The battle inside Kanofia’s diary shattered constellations; the firmament dimmed, like lanterns drowned in ink.

Xi grew angry and punished them, forcing the two culprits to refill that torn sky with light.

So this night is crafted; one glance, and stars spill like seeds, nebulae bloom in color, auroras ghost across the dark.

The stars don’t shine just white; red, violet, and green glimmer like scattered gems in velvet.

“Brother Ouyang, is my sister all right?”

A black glove flickered onto Ouyang’s right hand; Youwen sprang out like a shadow slipping free.

From Ouyang he knew Youyun hadn’t died; yet since leaving that phantom First Continent, he hadn’t seen her once.

“Relax. Azure Bird’s fine. She’s in the Other Shore, buried in duties only she can handle.”

Ouyang leaned on the sill; fireworks cracked like flowers, and distant crowds roared like surf.

Only then did he remember: it was the New Night Festival tonight, anniversary tomorrow for the Source World’s new era.

No wonder Augustine showed up today; he rushed home to spend the festival and tomorrow’s Divine-Demon Procession with family.

“Brother Ouyang, why do you all call Youyun ‘Azure Bird’?”

Ouyang didn’t answer right away; he kept watching, thoughts folding like paper boats on a dark river.

Azure Bird…

In the Other Shore, records about Azure Bird are spare; few even know she exists at all.

Yet its workings hinge on her; without Azure Bird, the Other Shore stutters, like gears missing a tooth.

Access there is layered by stars, one through twelve; knowledge opens only when your rank unlocks the door.

Want the list of the first Tiered Beings? You need nine-star clearance, a key cut from years of merit.

Want detailed profiles of third-tier beings? Ten-star permission, strength and service braided together like rope.

They say no one holds twelve-star; Ouyang knows the truth—Azure Bird alone holds that highest key.

In a way, she is the Other Shore’s network, a nexus linking everything, like an attentive intelligence.

Even so, four or more holders of eleven-star can vote to strip her twelve-star authority.

She carries too many secrets; she lives inside a net of light, unseen, known only to nine-star and above.

Permission ties to power and to contribution; before seven-star, merit alone lifts you, like a steady flame.

At seven-star and beyond, merit isn’t enough; you need matching strength—at least Ancient God—and proof of service.

From No. Seven, Ouyang learned his own rank: eleven-star.

He’d frozen that instant, stunned; how could his key be cut so high?

Later he learned all Seven Watchers hold eleven-star; only seven such permissions exist so far.

Once Azure Bird fully woke, she resonated with the Other Shore, patching holes like a weaver mending tears.

With her back, its defense system hummed alive; Demon Kings no longer hunted invaders portal by portal.

There were too many gates; even gods tired, breath like steam against iron.

Freed at last, the Demon Kings ran home to the Source World and threw feasts under blazing torches.

“Don’t worry. The name ‘Azure Bird’—you’ll understand later. Wait. She’s busy cleaning messes left by careless elders.”

Noise swelled outside; Ouyang mulled if his Void Sector should host something tomorrow.

As Region One, letting the Divine-Demon Procession pass quietly would dull its name like a blade left to rust.

A meow sliced the air; a White Cat dropped from above, tailed by a cloud of bats.

“Meow~ Boss Ouyang, save me!”

The castle window stood open; the cat streaked inside like wind. The bats balked, circled, then scattered.

They were Kanofia’s servants; why they chased White Cat, Ouyang didn’t know, and the night kept its secrets.

“You scared me half to death…”

“Stupid cat, how’d you provoke that flock?”

“Meow~” White Cat groomed his whiskers, perched on the sill, eyes flicking to the dark like wary knives.

“That flower demon insisted on a beauty pageant. We ranked the top beauties. I mouthed off, ‘Moon Goddess is first.’”

“The bats heard, got salty, and chased me like storm rain.”

Ouyang sighed at the cat’s luck; fate tugged his tail too often.

Kanofia isn’t worse than the Moon Goddess; but in that thirteen-fourteen look, she leans cute over awe.

In the far First Era, she wore seventeen-eighteen years like a spring dress, beauty bright as a blade.

Annoyed by the First Cult, she shifted into a childlike form; they couldn’t recognize her anymore.

That was the beginning; from then on, Kanofia truly liked that younger guise, like a song she kept humming.

“Right—should my Void Sector host official events? Other regions blaze each year; mine sits like still water.”

He’d only lingered a few years on the First Continent; now this quiet felt like dust on a crown.

As Pope of the Void Church, Collin would have run it; the kid always handled the bustle.

But Pope Collin slipped into the Divine Realm, bold as a fox in moonlight.

Rumor said he charmed a girl there and went to play, invited by starlight and a smile.

Everyone worried; Xi gave Collin a protective artifact—a Sovereign’s edict written like fire in jade.

Even after long ages, if he brandished it, the Divine Realm’s sky would tear like silk.

The edict carried a wisp of the Sovereign’s intent, a fingertip pressed against fate.

What to host? White Cat pondered, tail swaying like a metronome.

Two palm-sized odd beings popped into Ouyang’s room, laughter like bells in grass.

“Ayang, we heard! You want an event? Little Night and I already planned it!”

Moer grabbed Little Night’s hand and dove onto Ouyang’s head, rolling like wild kittens in meadow-soft hair.

Moer sat up, eyes bright. “Ayang, let’s do a Big Eater contest. Who can eat the most cotton candy?”

“The champion wins lots and lots of cotton candy, a sugar cloud all their own.”

Ouyang saw the game; she wanted a proper excuse to gorge on sweets.

He flicked the little trickster’s head with a finger, gentle as rain. “You want to enter too, don’t you?”

Another voice chimed, crisper than Moer’s soft lilt. “Human, besides my master, no one dares flick me.”

He’d tapped Little Night—the sprite who watched the Boundless Sea for long, long years.

Crunch.

Both tiny terrors bit his finger, small jaws like needles nicking skin.

“Stop! Please stop! Host whatever you want during the Divine-Demon Procession—I won’t oppose a thing!”

He traded event rights for his life, breath rolling out like a tired wave.

One sprite is quiet alone; two together chirp louder than ducks, a storm of squeaks.

Ouyang slipped away, craving a taste of the New Night Festival’s air on his own tongue.

Quietly, while Snow and the others reeled under the sprites’ racket, Ouyang ghosted out of the castle.

It still felt unsafe; he waved a hand and opened a random portal, stepping into the unknown like a diver.

“Meow, don’t leave me!”

White Cat pounced onto his head, sticking like stubborn glue, impossible to shake loose.

With a cat crown, Ouyang dropped into a remote corner, shadow snug as a cloak.

In the dim, a few figures huddled, whispering like moths tapping paper.

One spotted him and waved, friendly as a knife wrapped in cloth.

“Yo, brother, here for booklets? I’m a veteran connoisseur; I’ve got every kind under the moon.”

He slid his backpack forward and dug out a slim booklet, hands working like quickbirds.

“Classic one male, one female.”

Another booklet flashed. “One male, many females.”

“This is male-male romance; this is female-female; this one’s human-beast…”

Holy—so that’s the legendary trade, cloaked in shadows and smirks.