In the ruins, Qihe got pounded by Ouyang with every brick in reach, and surrendered on the spot. He’s not Ouyang; a planet could blow and Ouyang would walk away, but Qihe wouldn’t.

As the victor, Ouyang planted a boot on Qihe’s head, looking down like a hawk over prey. "Kid, got a good look? This is invincibility!"

"Invincible" was a stretch. Ouyang was almost unkillable, sure. But against the Ancient Turtle, neither could kill the other. A stalemate isn’t invincible.

The crowd watched the monster Qihe pinned to the ground. Silence hung like dust, then cheers rose like surf. They took Ouyang for a hero, but he looked annoyed.

Hero? That word’s a curse, same as "champion." Aren’t heroes only praised after they’re dead? Even alive, once you’re called a hero, you’re not far from dying. And "brave" types too—slay a Demon King, marry back home, roll credits...

"Shut it! Who said I’m a hero?" Ouyang snapped, sour as winter wind. "Remember this. I’m the First Demon King. This weakling lost, so his wealth is mine. And you—my servants."

Arrogant, high as a cliff. The face begged for hatred. No one dared answer. Didn’t they see Qihe, that monster, under his heel?

One monster left the stage. Another, calling himself the First Demon King, took the spotlight.

In Qihe’s palace—no, Ouyang’s palace now—Qihe lay thrown on the floor, trussed up like a crab. The cords binding him shimmered silver. Normal restraints couldn’t hold Qihe. And with karma twined around Ouyang, only Glorious Moon could act.

Under Glorious Moon’s power, Qihe couldn’t budge, like a fly sealed in amber.

Ouyang watched Qihe with grave focus. If you didn’t know, you’d think his tastes were suspect. Truth was, he felt the scent of Original Sin on Qihe. He’d spent enough time with Loyin to know it well.

Yet Qihe’s scent wasn’t the same. Loyin had shed the chains of Original Sin. Pure Original Sin has no reason, only raw instinct. Loyin grieves and laughs. In Ouyang’s eyes, she stopped being the "Origin" of years past long ago. She’s a living person.

"Strange. Did something happen while I was gone? How’s Original Sin here?" He was puzzled and helpless. Karma bound him tight; he couldn’t cast even a cheap, lewd trick like Skirt-Lift.

Glorious Moon looked fine on the surface, but she was shackled by Ouyang’s trouble too. The instant Ouyang stepped out of the Gate of Truth, that terrible karma hit again. His body rewound, back to when Bai punched through his heart. Glorious Moon stood too close, and the splash caught her.

Now Glorious Moon couldn’t stray far from Ouyang. Go too far, and that terror of karma would coil around her.

"So whose fault is this mess?" Glorious Moon glared, starry eyes cold. She didn’t care about Original Sin. She knew only this—she’d been roped into Ouyang’s pit again.

"Blame me, huh?"

Ouyang took a fruit from a platter, biting with crisp snaps. He felt wronged. He wanted to say, blame the Ancient Turtle. But Glorious Moon didn’t know that old turtle existed, so he carried the pot for it.

Seeing his eye-roll, Glorious Moon let it slide. Back then, when she made that pact, Ouyang did help her. When Xi first entered the Stellar Courtyard, Glorious Moon—then a Star Spirit—noticed her at once.

She was a Second Tiered Being, the strongest Star Spirit by any measure. But pushing open the Gate of Truth was still too hard. Ages passed, eras fell like leaves, and Glorious Moon had an idea. Truth—what is it? Birth and destruction of all things, light and dark in opposition, planets circling stars. Those common scenes hold unchanging rules. Rules are truth.

The Stellar Courtyard was one attempt. Using its cross-world nature to watch the rules of different worlds. To sift out that thin thread of truth.

Glorious Moon’s human self was born to better live through it all, to grasp those rules firsthand. Being the strongest Star Spirit for countless eras hadn’t found that sliver of truth. Maybe a different identity, not a creator-like spirit but a human named Glorious Moon, would see from a different angle. Different angles yield different discoveries.

So a human named Glorious Moon was born. The supreme Star Spirit left behind an empty shell.

Even that shell kept basic awareness. Xi carried an out‑of‑spec aura, and the Star Spirit took note. If Xi and Glorious Moon could be linked, borrowing that strand of aura might make the attempt succeed.

That’s why the Star Spirit refused to let Xi go. Cases like Xi are rare and fleeting. Miss it, and you may never meet it again. Ouyang wasn’t moved by any noble quest for truth. He sold out Xi.

He agreed with his own plans in mind. Glorious Moon would push open the gate with Xi. Xi and Glorious Moon had a contract bond. The power of a Second Tiered Being fed back into Xi. That’s why Xi couldn’t use a shred of power for years, yet broke the "curse" after meeting Glorious Moon. Because of that, using Xi as a time‑space coordinate, the exiled ones found the road home.

Back then, Aurora left her body behind partly to stay with Ouyang. But as an out‑of‑spec existence, her move ran deeper. The body she left was a time‑space beacon. Through the tie between soul and flesh, she could feel the right direction, and not lose herself.

Xi’s power grew, shining like a lighthouse. The brighter the beacon, the clearer the path. In Ou Xinxue’s memory, their return was a thousand years away. But the lighthouse glare pushed their steps faster.

Truth be told, Glorious Moon opened that gate thanks to Xi. But Ouyang’s credit stands. If he had refused and kept Xi away, Glorious Moon likely would’ve failed.

"You’re strange..." Glorious Moon fixed her starry gaze on Ouyang, as if to see through him. Silver lashes blinked. "Your moves weren’t necessary. If you wanted that guy dead, you had many ways."

She meant Ouyang’s fight with Qihe. She was right. Ouyang had a hundred ways from the start. He could just summon Bai—Qihe would die, and this planet would go with him. Or use the glove on his right hand. That long‑forgotten weapon could crush Qihe easily.

The glove liquefied into black fluid, writhing like ink, and hardened into a wooden stick. Ouyang aimed at Qihe’s head. Qihe begged. Ouyang brought the stick down. The "monster" spat foam and dropped cold.

"Glorious Moon, do I look like a clown? I could’ve ended him in a blink. I’m a Tiered Being, yet I went blow for blow with him." Ouyang’s face held a hard‑to‑name mix—sorrow, joy, remembrance, wryness.

It was a look beyond words.

Glorious Moon had seen the cold Ouyang, who dismissed lives and erased foes on entry. She’d seen the neighbor‑warm Ouyang, fussing over Xi like sunlight. And the Ouyang with Elirais, whose IQ seemed to switch off, no longer a god of gods, no longer a warm boy, just a cheerful problem child.

But this Ouyang, this expression, slipped past her eyes. And the longer she watched, the more that face felt like it had a spell.

"You know, long ago someone said this. Years can’t age our bodies, but years gnaw at our hearts. Endless time goes by. Our bodies hold our ideal form, yet our hearts are riddled with holes.

Old—at the end, we get old. We lose fiery youth, we lose hot blood. Without impulse, we weigh by profit. When profit turns negative—when there’s nothing to gain—we give up. We won’t waste our time there.

Without heat, we don’t dare imagine like we did. Growing up makes our dreams die young."

Glorious Moon didn’t know his point, but she sat at the bed’s edge, hands propping her chin, a schoolkid listening hard.

"All this—because our hearts grew old. But those people, the paths they walked, showed me our hearts can stay young."

Emperor Luo stands so high his posture has to be majestic. Few know he’s a sly schemer in private. Erika, that ruler, often salts the First Imperial Princess’s tea. Princess Cynthia dreads group dinners in her courtyard. Certain folks will wreck it, and if she blinks, her pets end up hot‑pot or barbecue. The main culprit, Dream Chaser, is a gossip hound. Yao Xue, watcher of Fate and Hope, loves playing detective. Cynthia’s bunny goes missing, and soon she concludes someone ate it. A random latrine appears on Romance Plaza—dug by the FFF Brotherhood on Valentine’s Day. The Serene Prairie shakes from time to time—because a pack of speed punks are drag‑racing on alpacas.

And Aurora—few outside a tiny circle know she was once the first diva of the Other Shore.

Those people bicker and tease, yet their hearts stay young.

"And me—I want my heart to stay young. Still young, so I’ll do childish things. Still young, so I’ll act the fool."