“You’re back?”

“Mm. We’re back.”

They blinked into being at the old spot on the Endless Plateau, like sparks snapping back to a cold anvil. Augustine, who spoke for time like a clock’s hidden heart, confirmed they’d hit their original node. Only then did everyone breathe, like sails catching a safe wind.

“Whew, that was close. If that Mysterious Fourteenth hadn’t eaten all the karma, the power of time would’ve scrubbed us clean.” Augustine wiped cold sweat, fear clinging like mist at dawn. Their roster back then had been a seven-person squad against the Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts, plus the Morris trio, plus Rex, Besha, and Fia—thirteen in all.

Time-travel sounded romantic, like moonlight over still water. In truth it was a cliff edge in a storm. The Mysterious Fourteenth returned with them, stole the power of Original Sin, and took every causal debt like a thunder rod. As the black-clad figure who arrived with the crow had said, she might sow disaster in this age, but she’s wounded. She needs to mend, so short term, no wave will crest.

That buys them time to warn Ouyang and the others, to lay nets before the river floods.

Unlike when they first stumbled into the Heretic God World, they’d grown by mountains and seasons. The real treasure wasn’t a chest; it was the road under their feet.

They couldn’t wait. With a flurry of techniques like fireworks in a night sky, they rushed for the Source World.

Before they’d touched that tier, they never understood. Now, having stepped across that threshold, they learned the hard way: getting into the Source World from outside was a stone gate in a landslide. The world barrier was so sturdy Lain wanted to curse at the sky.

“Why rip the barrier open?” Irina’s voice was cool water. “We took this world already. Use the official gate.”

Her words pricked the bluster. Lain and Pulis deflated like punctured bellows. Right—why force a door when you hold the key?

The Heretic God World was Jiangxue’s home, so she acted as their lantern. One circuit later, news struck like a hard frost. From her cross-checks, a full century had passed since their departure.

Shock rippled, then calmed like rain swallowed by sand. Only Jiangxue dimmed. A hundred years meant little in the Source World, where even common folks lived centuries. But here it was generations breathing, aging, and leaving. She found no familiar faces when she returned to her clan.

Thanks to her, that clan had been favored during the rule, and a century of growth made them the world’s first family in all but name. To Jiangxue, that house felt like a strange temple—her shrine, not her home.

In the end, she chose to leave. Better to walk with Augustine and the rest—companions of a hundred-year road—than sit in a grand hall that didn’t know her name.

At the World Gate, Augustine spoke his name like a banner raised. A century gone meant identity mattered more than coin. Sure enough, even after a hundred winters, his name still stirred echoes. It even alarmed the resident world ambassador.

This world lay under the Alliance Domain, with many worlds hosting resident ambassadors. The ambassador from the Source World to the Heretic God World walked in, and every gaze tightened—an old face.

Angsester, once a captain of the Karosen Kingdom’s knight order in the imperial age. Augustine had met him when Ouyang led him to an audience with the royal court, and the ties with Miracle City had stayed taut as a bowstring. Augustine’s squad had aided them more than once.

“Haha! Augustine, I knew you’d show a century later. The First Demon King’s prophecy hit the mark.” Angsester’s first words were fireworks and thunder as he pulled Augustine into a crushing embrace.

A hundred years, and Angsester still shone like a blade—Demigod, qualified to touch a divine throne. That was weight enough for an ambassador’s seal.

From him, they took in the Source World’s tides. Few great waves. The biggest swell came twenty years after Augustine vanished, when Karosen’s former ruler, Sheila, ascended under the star-strewn sky. The Laye imperial clan finally had a god and rose to first-tier power. Ten years later, the Void Church’s former pope, Collin, climbed a divine throne as well. Afterward, he set down the papal scepter—and somehow dragged a pack of rowdy friends from the Divine Realm into the Source World.

The shock then spread like lightning across dry grass. Trust the former pope to actually steal people from the heavens. It didn’t end there. Soon after, an Ancient God noble house stormed over, spitting fire. Collin had abducted their little princess, they said. Return her at once, or they’d bathe the Source World in blood.

In the end, their Ancient God, a being old as stone and river, moved personally. And then… nothing. The promised blood tide never rose. The Source World stayed as it was. That silence said more than a trumpet.

Hearing it, Augustine flushed with shame, heat crawling like ants. In a sense Collin was his senior, both taught by the First Demon King. Look what Collin had done, shaking stars out of the sky. Augustine? Besides splashing around when the Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts ran wild, he hadn’t made a wave. His fame mostly came from being the First Demon King’s student.

“No wonder it’s Senior Collin,” Augustine swallowed, voice low as a bowed head, admiration pouring like a long river.

Next, the Abyss linked to the Source World. By the Demon Monarch’s will, their resident ambassador to the Source World was Leticia. The Abyss had sorted its many horns and hooves and stood publicly with the Source World. Leticia carried the Demon Monarch’s blood and knew this world like old streets. No better choice.

As for the Divine Realm, the Underworld, and the Demon World—no clear banners raised.

There was more driftwood on the current, but Angsester didn’t have time to lay it all out. Fia wanted home like a bird wants a branch, so they set off early. A hundred years had passed. Hearts pulled like kites toward family.

In the Void Castle, Ouyang held a book lifted from the Starry Citadel’s library. For a born goofball to sit and read was snow in summer. He had no choice. Since he and Xi announced their marriage decades ago, her standards had rolled in like a tide.

Image meant nothing to him. He’d wear slippers and a bird’s nest of hair into a council chamber without blinking. Under Xi’s eye, he had to suit up, smooth his hair, then face the hall.

That was just one example. In truth, Ouyang’s whole body felt like a shirt that didn’t fit.

“Sigh. I miss my glorious goofball era. Marriage is a terrifying cage. I need to wriggle out.”

He snapped the book shut with a crisp smack, eyes flicking like a thief’s. No Xi-planted eyes nearby. Good. Quietly, he pinned spatial coordinates like tacks on a map, and cast a masking ward like a veil. He was just about to slip away—

“Teacher, we’re back!”

Augustine’s shout hit like a gong. Ouyang almost tripped over air. Come on, could you not?

Seeing them safe, the grumbling in him blew away like morning fog. But then he spotted a certain brat in the crowd. His mouth twitched. He smacked Fia on the head, palm sharp as a fan.

“You little ingrate, you finally remember to come home?”

Fia ducked, lips pouty as a crescent.

Chomp. She latched onto Ouyang’s palm.

Watching father and daughter square up like cats, people started to worry. Rex just grinned at the edge, hands in pockets, with no intent to stop it.

“Relax. That’s their daily routine.”

Sure enough, glare met glare, sparks in the air. In the end, Fia went “waah” and burst into tears, then dove into Ouyang’s arms. Pulis muttered, half hiding a sigh, “The legendary Goddess of Light, huh…”

Thankfully, he shut up in time. Or Fia didn’t hear. Either way, he dodged a thunderbolt.

Only then did everyone remember Fia’s other face—Goddess of Light, Clafias. Day to day she felt like a kid sister, and that holy name slipped people’s minds.

Inside the castle, they laid it all out to Ouyang, every turn of the road. When he heard the Mysterious Fourteenth had stolen the power of Original Sin, Loyin went pale as paper, clutching Ouyang’s sleeve. That Fourteenth was Sin, no mistake. Ouyang hadn’t expected her to ride the Endless Plateau’s leftover time array back into the past.

She’d even nudged the river of time to reach that era. That smell was premeditation. Sin alone couldn’t stage that. The traitors on the Other Shore, in that chaotic domain, had to be the hands behind the curtain.

And the Endless Plateau had stood strange for ages. From Fia’s intel, its anomalies stretched far back. Which meant the enemy’s net had been weaving not for days, but for lifetimes.