At the last possible heartbeat, Ouyang finally grasped the karmic laws coiled on him—storm-thick vines of cause and effect, lethal to any Tiered Being, even an out-of-spec Third Tiered Being. Nothing could stand.

That karmic law was a fuse. Ouyang himself was the switch. The instant he “died,” the fuse would flash, and the storm would detonate.

Why suspect the Ancient Turtle? Trace the ripple back to the dawn of the Other Shore.

In that far age, under starfields like cold oceans, the oldest creature in the sky sought out the Other Shore’s upper echelons. God Emperors and Sovereigns alike took its pointers, and the Other Shore’s prosperity bore its shadow like moonlight on a river.

Tiered Beings were called gods above gods. A million years might not birth a single one. Yet eight epochs flowed past the Other Shore—only a few million years. By the Eighth Epoch, they held over thirty Tiered Beings; on the surface, only a dozen. Part of that came from discordant laws—those people came from another universe, with other brands burned into their souls. In a new cosmos, that second brand turned into an edge, like a northerly wind behind a racing sail.

Simply put, souls stamped with multiple laws made the Other Shore a hotbed where talent bloomed like spring after snow.

But the other half of the tree traced to the Ancient Turtle. At the very start of construction, it gave them a complete knowledge system, a lattice of insight like constellations strung into a map.

There are kind souls in the world, but that turtle was an old fox under an old shell. Ouyang never believed it helped out of mercy. Not under that cold moon.

It had two reasons. First: when the First Epoch ended, it felt the cosmos’s wall tear, and the aura of an Administrator seeped through like winter wind through a cracked gate.

Second: it fed the Other Shore on purpose, to make them thrash the starry sea, to flush every lurking threat into daylight. Most of all, it wanted to see if anyone among them would earn the Supreme Law’s recognition, like a sword chosen by thunder.

It never hid that ambition. It had outlived ages like stones outlive rivers. Only one thing still stirred its interest—to step beyond this universe. The Administrator’s seat was the stepping stone.

It bet on the Other Shore’s potential. If any one of them became Administrator, it would drag them off that throne in the same heartbeat and sit itself, breaking the tank of the fish and becoming the sky’s bird. The Other Shore’s top brass—those likeliest to ascend—knew. The turtle never bothered with curtains.

Now, Ouyang had already been acknowledged by the Supreme Law. The turtle striking at him was rain following thunder. Ouyang simply didn’t know until he found that scrap of paper at the Void Waystation. The words on it lit the cause behind the effect.

He’d met the Ancient Turtle once. It must have sensed the colossal karmic law wound around him. That coil could end the turtle. It would never take it head-on. It didn’t need to clash. It only needed Ouyang to “die,” and karma would bloom like a field of knives, binding only the hand that “killed” him.

Even so, killing Ouyang wasn’t guaranteed for a Second Tier. Only a Third Tier. Third Tiers are as rare as comets you can count on one hand, so the turtle waited, as patient as deep water. And the chance finally drifted to it.

White Angel made a “mistake,” loosed a killing blow, and cut Ouyang down. Behind that blade, the turtle’s shadow flickered like a cold lamp.

So it won in the end. White Angel “killed” Ouyang, and White and Black Angels died to the erupting karma, drowned by threads of cause like silk turned to steel. It didn’t lift a claw and still defused Ouyang’s karmic law. Whether Ouyang revived meant nothing to it. The only fatal thing was that karma. Without it, Ouyang was smoke in the wind.

“So, Black Angel, White Angel, the Ancient Turtle is the hand behind the curtain. We have to stand together and fight it. This mess? Follow the river upstream, and it’s all on that turtle. Because of it, we’ve sunk to this. You really willing to just fade away? You’re not. I know you’re not. So before you vanish, help me. Let me carry your hatred and cut that turtle down.”

Ouyang thought he’d delivered a hot-blooded spark. He pictured the two feral little angels catching fire like dry pine. Instead, they stared at him, saying nothing, eyes like deep wells with distant stars in them.

“Stare~”

“Stare~”

Wrong. He knew he’d misplayed it. His speech wasn’t bad, but their years dwarfed his like mountains dwarf ants. That little blaze of his couldn’t warm their winter.

“Ladies… what would it take for you to give me a hand?” He could only bow to reality.

White Angel looked at him deadpan. “Curious…”

Black Angel picked it up like a duet. “Why isn’t your body fading? Your soul shows no sign of dispersing…”

Right…

He was puzzled too. Why were they growing translucent like mist, while he wasn’t? After parsing a sliver of law, he even felt stronger, as if fresh wind had filled an old lung.

“Because I’m the protagonist.”

“Stare~”

“Stare~”

“Okay, okay, stop staring. I’m not sure either… It probably has to do with that person.” He meant Jiling. In this uncanny space he couldn’t sense the outside world at all, like a blind man in snow. But he could sense Jiling. Faint as lantern smoke, yet undeniably alive.

If he could feel her, she could probably feel him.

And that thread tugged loose an old knot in his memory. Childhood, far and foggy. Jiling once laid out strange antiques in a pattern like a magic circle, moonlight on rusty brass. Back then, Ouyang thought she’d hit her edgy teen phase. He played along, and they performed a life-sharing ritual as if it were a game.

He’d never noticed it all these years. Xi hadn’t seen it on him either. If not for this cornered moment, he’d never have believed that “edgy” ritual held teeth like that.

The angels didn’t blame him for not knowing. They themselves hadn’t sensed anything off about him before. But “that person” snagged their interest like a hook.

“Is it that Lord? Right? If it’s that Lord, then before we go, I’ll help you as much as I can…” Black Angel looked up at Ouyang, eyes bright as wet lacquer. “That turtle told us you became a candidate for the next Administrator because you killed that Lord. The Lord woke from a long sleep, weak as new ice. You killed the Lord at the weakest moment, stained yourself with that aura, fooled the Supreme Law, and got acknowledged…”

Staring at her crafty look, Ouyang nearly slapped his palm across her forehead. “Are you brain-dead? You buy a story with holes big enough to sail a ship through? That turtle’s up to no good, obviously.”

“I know. But I still took its advice and came to make trouble for you. Because it won’t trick us with pure lies. You… should be connected to that Lord… right?”

Ouyang turned his head away. Black Angel scooted over and stared up at him. He lowered his face. She slid her little head under his chin, that hopeful gaze making his answer knot in his throat.

She must have read something in his silence. She beamed, cupped his left hand in both her palms. She signaled White Angel, who cupped his right. One on each side, they lifted his hands, knelt within the chains of law, and closed their eyes. Then, together, they bit down.

“Hey, you two brats, what are you doing? If you’ve got complaints, just say—” He snapped, flipping from “ladies” to “brats” in a breath. He shut up just as fast. There was no pain at all.

Just lips against the back of his hands—soft, damp, like dew on petals. In that instant, a thread thrummed taut. A bond braided itself between the three. Memories crossed like rivers joining—he saw their past, an age that reached back to the previous cosmic epoch, dust on sunlit stone. In that ancient reel, the Ancient Turtle was already out of spec…

Likewise, Black and White Angels watched Ouyang’s past. A life knotty as roots, and a childhood both harsh and honeyed.

They lifted their faces and smiled at him, spring breaking through frost.

Their bodies paled further, edges thinning like mist in morning sun. Holding his hands, they flowed inward, left and right, merging into him. “We… will live forever in your world.”

Ouyang blinked and came back to himself. Chains of law rose around him like a forest of iron trees. He let out a thin sigh that drifted like smoke.

Bai hugged his arm, worry soft as rain. “Ayang, you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just… a little sentimental.”

With their memories woven in, his grasp of the Root climbed another terrace. He parsed the chains faster now, blades sharpening as they cut. The further he went, the quicker the pace, each solved knot feeding the next like kindling catching.

No telling how long passed. In that eerie space, a door surfaced like a moon from cloud. It swung open, slow and inexorable.

“Took you long enough…”

Hand in hand, Ouyang and Bai walked up to the door. At the same time, a silver-haired woman stepped in barefoot, toes kissing the cold floor. It mirrored the day he met the Star Spirit of the Stellar Courtyard, one echo to another.

Only this time, the difference gleamed in her eyes. Back then, the Star Spirit lacked something called a soul. Now, that missing piece had been set in place, like the last star in a constellation.