Miracle City. Ouyang lounged in his castle chair, calm as autumn water.

Xi wasn’t calm. Her heart was a startled bird, and the scene of Glorious Moon taking that dagger for her still flashed like moonglass.

"Ouyang, think of something. Let’s go to the Stellar Courtyard and check on Glorious Moon." Her voice trembled like a bowstring. Ouyang kept promising she was fine, but worry gnawed like frost until she saw it herself.

She couldn’t enter the Stellar Courtyard without Glorious Moon’s summon. Ouyang could force his way in, yet he sipped tea and watched blue sky and white clouds drift like sails.

His carefree ease made Xi simmer like a storm kettle ready to whistle.

Watching her pace like a caged tiger, Ouyang sighed, a wind through reeds. "Stop circling. In a few days, when she summons you again, a lively Glorious Moon will stand before you."

"In the Stellar Courtyard, forget that nameless ghost breed. Even if I tried to truly hurt Glorious Moon, I’d pay a steep price. If I tried to kill her… I might get reverse-killed."

Those words cooled Xi’s steps like rain on hot stone. She knew Ouyang’s strength; he was a man who could crack star systems like shells. If he couldn’t kill Glorious Moon, that ghost’s odds were thinner than mist.

"Is Glorious Moon… really that strong?"

"Strong? No… In your prime, she’d still be a kid playing under old pines."

A pillow flew like a white cloud and bonked Ouyang’s head. Xi scowled, fangs of anger bared. "Cut the jokes. Be serious."

Ouyang pretended not to hear. He tossed sunflower seeds into his mouth, shells crisp as tiny pebbles, then closed his eyes and drifted into a nap like a lazy cat in sun.

Xi wanted to bite him, a fox with its hackles up. Thankfully, footsteps cut the mood like a bell in fog.

From the courtyard path, a girl in black-and-white Mystic Priestess robes approached, arms cradling a thick stack of files like bundled winter wood.

It was Liuli. As Ouyang’s appointed voice, the priestess handled a river of paperwork. Before the war years, she could sometimes slacken; in this pioneering era, tasks piled like dunes. With the Expeditionary Army marching, her load only grew.

"Liuli? Is there something that needs his hand?" Xi had learned Liuli’s habits. If nothing truly heavy called, she wouldn’t come. When she stepped into the castle, it meant a knot only Ouyang could untie.

As expected, Liuli bowed to Xi, then presented the files to Ouyang, eyes steady as lake-light. "Your Majesty, it feels improper to disturb your two-person world, yet after careful thought, these should be viewed by you."

Ouyang opened his eyes, took the papers, and skimmed them like a hawk over fields.

"Immigration approvals? You can sign those."

Liuli shook her head, calm but firm, like snow settling. "It is immigration paperwork, but these migrants… I believe you should meet them yourself."

"The first file’s people were found by the Expeditionary Army living on a small island, floating in the star sea. Residual divine power kept those mortals breathing like embers in ash."

"That island was once a broad world. Azure Bird’s records say twenty-seven gods ruled there."

"Through the war years, that world and its gods fought on the front line. In the end, every god fell. None surrendered. The mortals inherited their resolve; faced with a gulf of power, not one creature defected."

"When the last lives were about to die, a god believed fallen appeared again. With the final drop of strength, that god placed the last lives on an island and warded it with divinity. The Expeditionary Army stumbled upon it, drifting beneath the constellations."

"I judge they deserve immigration into the Eternal Sleep Continent. And Your Majesty, you should be the one to greet them."

Ouyang opened his mouth, but words stuck like thorns. Xi felt the same. A world fought until only thousands remained. If that god hadn’t clung to one last spark, perhaps that world would have burned out entirely. Most striking of all—no surrender, even if every living thing fell.

In the hush, Liuli turned the page, paper whispering like rain.

"The second file’s world has more survivors than the first, yet the cruelty is no less."

"Azure Bird’s record shows only one god ruled that world. When war spread, that god also fell at the front."

"The mortals inherited the god’s will, but they didn’t die on the spot. They chose patience. They hid and gathered strength, rising only when they believed they could strike back."

"Centuries stretched to millennia. Foreign worlds and foreign gods ruled that land. Revenge grew distant as the horizon. The revolutionaries surfaced again and again, trying to revive the Void Church and wake the world’s memory. Without exception, they died. Every voice that rose was silenced with barbarity. Their children were slaves for generations."

"As the world’s original owners, they became the lowest caste. By now, almost no one knows the war’s true past. Yet the gods’ last wish is carved into their souls. They resist even knowing they will lose. First Legion Commander Klafias learned all this by turning back time."

Nominally, Klafias is Ouyang’s daughter; Liuli calling her “Your Highness” was no mistake. That daughter just didn’t act like one.

"There’s another world, with its population nearly gone. It was lush once, now blasted into wasteland. Yet its beings still fight on."

"Tens of thousands of years rolled by. Each generation died like falling leaves; the new took the old flame and charged the front line."

"Most telling of all—their only base still flies the Void banner. They still proclaim the Void Church’s creed from ten millennia ago."

Mortals carried the gods’ will, spending whole lives on battlefields. The young carried the elders’ will, the Void flag flying inside their chests like a hidden sky.

As the people of the Eternal Empire keep faith that their flag will rise again, so do those humans and those gods. They believe the Void banner will fly once more.

"You’re right. I must handle this myself. I’ll sign the immigration files. I’ll greet them."

A quiet swell of feeling rose, sweet and sore, like spring thaw over old scars.

"Their forebears gave too much for us. We can’t change the past, but we can give their descendants a place to settle and breathe." Ouyang looked at the sky, clouds drifting like thoughts, and his heart wouldn’t calm.

When Ouyang prepared to visit those worlds and those people, Xi clasped his hand, resolve bright as steel. "I’m going too."

"Mm. We go together," he said, steady as a mountain.

They stepped onto Second Space’s seven-colored corridor, a rainbow road humming like a river, and Ouyang’s thoughts drifted far.

He remembered meeting Collin. As the first Pope, Collin shaped the Church’s roots like a gardener tending seedlings.

Ouyang remembered Collin drunk, vowing to spread the Church’s faith to every world. For a mere mortal then, it was a dream as far as the pole star.

How did the Church begin? It sprang from his own clowning, a showboat’s prank. Back then, the Church was a toy, a banner he raised for flair. Now, the Church brought weight and warmth, heavy as rain, bright as fire.

He once set odd rules on a whim; years of growth and grief taught him caution. When your shoulders carry more than your own dream, every word and step must be careful.

The Church now is countless dreams, a flame passed hand to hand. It’s paved by blood and tears. A Church carries too much—too much—like a laden ship on deep waters.

For the first time, every step Ouyang took felt heavy. Heavy footsteps. Heavy history.

"After the wild winds of youth, grown, we must answer for every choice. I chose this road back then. I’ll answer for it now."

In youth, he moved like a stray breeze, careless and free. Only hacking through the thorns of growth do you learn your burden.

If he could, Ouyang would be a child who never had to grow. He would prank with the enemy Lagu in the Karosen Kingdom’s palace, stirring the court like a flock of startled cranes.

He would spook the halls of the Demon King with Kooson, playing ghost with lantern light and long shadows.

He would explore cuisine’s far edge with Dufei, serving dark cuisine that made the world shiver like tasting winter.

So many ifs. So many daydreams. Time won’t halt its river. The cruelty of growth must be faced head-on.

—

An island floated in the star sea, a thin shield glowing over it like dew on a leaf. Ouyang could scarcely imagine how the survivors endured so long on such scarce ground.

They landed. People wore clothes woven from leaves, green patchwork like forest skin. Ouyang felt no urge to laugh.

Years piled like dust. Trapped on this secluded reef of a world, they could only weave leaves for cover. In their eyes, Ouyang saw a fire called inheritance burning. Ten thousand years, and the flame had not gone out.

He looked up. At the island’s highest point, a banner flapped in slow wind. The ragged Void battle flag swayed like an old war-soul smiling at last.