What is death like? Back when Ouyang was weak, Bai killed him once—but that wasn’t real death. He revived in the Boundless Sea like a tide returning. This time felt different. He didn’t see that familiar sea, only a hollow hush.
Before his eyes, a world of chains unspooled—iron rivers stretched across space, link after link like frozen lightning.
“A-Yang, this feels familiar…” A voice cut through his thoughts. Bai stood at his side like a pale flame. Of course she was here; if he “died,” his companion angel couldn’t outlive him. She’d be dragged into this strange place like a kite pulled by the same string.
The word familiar sparked, then sputtered in him—uncertain. Bai felt it too. That meant it wasn’t just his mind playing tricks; the echo was real.
“Is this the Gate of Truth from the inside? Weird. Why did dying drop me into this haunted box?” He wanted to shout that this made no sense. The Supreme Law had fallen; the Gate should be sealed for good. Without the Law’s invitation, he couldn’t enter on his own—unless he pried it open with out-of-spec force.
Last time inside the Gate of Truth, Ouyang added a rule. He changed Bai’s race. She’d been half-human, half-dragon. He rewrote her into a Starlight Angel—a brand-new lineage. Bai alone became a race, a lone moon in a new sky.
The Supreme Law hadn’t minded. It had already marked him as the next administrator, and that tweak was child’s play. He knew his limits. Outside of Bai’s race, he didn’t mess around. Now he’d gotten in again, somehow, for reasons he couldn’t name. That didn’t stop him from taking Bai on a quiet wander through this chain-laced void.
Why are out-of-spec existences strong? Because they peep at truth and pick apart the root, like thieves cracking the lock to the world’s engine. Last time he came by invitation, and he hadn’t looked closely. Now he stood free of the Supreme Law’s leash. He could look as long and as deep as he pleased.
If the mighty are mighty for seeing truth, and he stood inside the Gate of Truth, then if he grasped the workings here, could he skip the second rung and step straight to the third?
The thought hit like fire under the ribs. His own “death” slid to the back of his mind like a shadow behind glass.
“Bai, next target—parse the chain of law under our feet.”
“Got it.”
They dove in. Once submerged, attention drowned. When he finished parsing the chain beneath him, he had no idea how long he’d been at it. Time didn’t flow here. The world stayed chalk-pale and still. Chains of law crossed and recrossed like a steel web without end.
If he kept at it, he would one day reach the third rung for real. But it was too slow. If word of his “death” reached his friends, grief would spread like winter frost. He didn’t want to burn away ages here. He wanted out, sooner rather than never.
How to speed it up? He lay along a chain like a man on a cold bridge. If a third-rung being stood by to answer questions, he could pick up speed. But in this eerie pocket, it seemed only he and Bai breathed.
The Gate of Truth… Right. Glorious Moon was preparing to step into the third rung. If this place really was the Gate’s interior, then the moment she pushed the Gate open and became an out-of-spec existence, she’d walk in here too. Then he’d have someone to ask, a lantern in the fog. Except he didn’t know her well. And he didn’t know if she could open that door.
As long as someone pushed that door, he could leave. As long as they could talk here, he might skip the second rung and stride onto the third.
So the key was whether Glorious Moon could push that door.
Just as he locked onto the crux, Bai’s words cut in and sliced his plan in two.
“A-Yang, two little girls over there…”
Little girls?
His mind stalled, then followed her slender finger. What he saw made him smack his own forehead, laughter slamming into joy. A gift in a dead place. The “two little girls” were the Black Angel and the White Angel from before. Now they looked about ten. One had pure white feathers, but one wing had been snapped off—an angel with a broken wing. The other had only a single wing left—an angel with one wing, teetering like a half-moon.
Out-of-spec existences—weren’t those two feral lolis exactly that?
Best part? He didn’t feel that terrifying power from them anymore. The storm had died to a breeze. He could finally settle old scores.
“Hey, you two in black and white! I’m a firm believer in timely payback—overnight’s more than enough. However long it’s been, let’s settle our tab right now.”
He rolled his fists like grinding millstones. Kicking someone when they’re down? He had a PhD in that art.
His shout startled the distant Black Angel and White Angel. Then, in this place with no clock, the chase began. It ended the only way it could—Ouyang took the win.
He gripped the broken-winged White Angel by the left and the one-winged Black Angel by the right. Their pitiful looks didn’t move him an inch. One had lost a wing, one had only one left, but they had “killed” him.
“Two good girls, be nice. If you’re not… heh heh…”
They stared at his snarling face. Maybe their bodies had shrunk and their courage shrank with them. They tucked their chins in, giving him the courtesy of looking scared.
Everything looked right, yet something felt off. The Black Angel lowered her head, but curiosity lit her eyes, and she smiled at him like he was an old friend found after years. The White Angel hunched, yet a smile tugged at her lips.
From afar you’d think they feared him. Up close, their faces said otherwise. Not fear—mischief.
Ouyang felt his aura leak like steam from a cracked kettle. He almost smacked their little heads, then remembered he needed things from them. He swallowed the slap.
“Ahem. Ladies, fancy meeting you here. Dead and in the same place—when a lamp goes out, we’re all just smoke. Since we’re both ‘gone,’ how about we drop the old grudges?”
He didn’t know why they’d lost power, but they had. He meant to coax out knowledge on unraveling the root. After he became out-of-spec, he’d tally old and new debts together.
“Liar. There’s killing intent in your eyes.” The Black Angel tugged the White Angel back a few steps and popped his balloon with one pinprick line.
Killing intent?
Ouyang conjured a mirror in his right hand, glanced at himself. “Nonsense. What killing intent? My acting’s top-tier. Back in the day, they called me the Ultimate Actor…”
“Acting? Lying again?” The White Angel’s face went cold. She’d told him before—she hated lies. That hatred had carved today’s ruin.
“So, you two brats, read the room. I’m the boss here now.” Getting called out hadn’t surprised Ouyang. They’d lost power, sure, but they’d lived for ages. Experience like that sees through small tricks like sunlight through thin paper.
With the mask off, he didn’t bother to smooth it back on. He spoke plain. Power sat with him.
The Black Angel turned her head with a huff, a dead pig unafraid of boiling water. “Hmph. We’ll vanish soon anyway. Don’t dream of getting anything from us.”
Only then did he notice their state. They were ghostlike, like souls in the mortal world that couldn’t tarry. Ghosts were a bridge, not a home; after, they faded like mist. Since running into them to now, their bodies had grown paler. Keep this up and they’d disappear for good.
“…Right.” His mind blanked for a beat. If he knew he’d “die” soon, he wouldn’t help an enemy either. If you’re going to go, annoying your enemy before lights-out is already generous, never mind helping them.
“Ladies, let’s talk. There’s got to be a misunderstanding.” He dropped the small schemes. He feared they’d rather die than hand him anything. “Think about it. We don’t have a true life-and-death feud, do we? Just a mix-up… Right, Bai-ji, didn’t you say you were losing control back then, so you used a finishing strike on me—did you two meet the Ancient Turtle?”
To dissolve a grudge, the cleanest way is a common enemy. Give two sides a shared target, and they might stand shoulder to shoulder. The Ancient Turtle fit that shape.
The White Angel’s face went back to blank, voice flat as winter rain. “Even if my body hadn’t glitched, I’d still have killed you.”
“Sure, sure, we don’t need to dwell on that. So, did you meet the Ancient Turtle or not?”
The two lolis went silent. They didn’t answer, but Ouyang read it anyway. They’d met the turtle. Which meant that finishing strike had strings tied to that shelled old thing.
