In the pale blue light of dawn, Yu Bai remained oblivious to the subtle disturbance beside him. He continued muttering to Yan Jing while gazing at the sky.
Yan Jing looked at him with curiosity. “What are you planning to bury all the way out there?”
Yu Bai thought for a moment, then instinctively glanced sideways at Xie Wufang before answering honestly, “The Doom Orb.”
This time, he had no intention of sneaking off to the Funeral Parlor to incinerate it behind the Non-Human Neighbor’s back… no, behind his back.
Since this mess was something the two of them had created together, it was better to face it together.
“…What?!”
Yan Jing was startled and nearly blurted out, “You don’t want the Doom Orb anymore? Don’t bury it—why not just hand it over to—”
He still felt an odd sense of familiarity with that mysterious Blue Orb.
Last time, when Little Bai had nearly cremated the Doom Orb, he’d thought it was a shame. Why bury it now all of a sudden?
At that moment, Yan Jing was about to suggest handing it over to himself when his gaze followed Yu Bai’s and landed on Xie Wufang.
Xie Wufang was staring expressionlessly at the Small Square Box.
…
An animal-like instinct surged through him in an instant.
“—Hand it over to Brother Xie!”
Yan Jing took a seamless, sharp intake of breath and scolded Yu Bai with righteous indignation. “This is a gift from Brother Xie! How can you just bury it like that?”
After leaving the snowy alternate timespace, Little Bai’s Non-Human Neighbor didn’t seem as terrifying as he had during that illness-like period.
He appeared to have returned to his previous state of mild politeness, posing no real threat.
But the suffocating fear Yan Jing had personally experienced was now etched deep into his cowardly bones.
“…” Yu Bai shot him a glare, too lazy to mock his sycophantic display. With a sigh, he said, “I know it’s a gift, and I hate to toss it, but right now it’s completely out of control.”
“Even Little Xie can’t control the Doom Orb. What if it suddenly drags us into another timespace?”
Yan Jing scratched his head. “Getting dragged in isn’t so bad. We always come back at the same time point. It’s like a free vacation—pretty sweet, right?”
Yu Bai considered it and replied, “Imagine you’re in the middle of solo carrying a game, about to win. You’ve got all the trash talk ready for your trash teammates who suck and never shut up, just waiting to hit send…”
“Holy shit, no way!” Yan Jing sucked in a cold breath, instantly grasping the terror of it losing control. “Where are you planning to bury the Doom Orb?”
Little Bai’s example was too horrifying! It made his heart itch with anxiety.
“The North Pole. No people there, and the temperature is freezing. I think it might help the Doom Orb calm down.”
Yu Bai clearly remembered how Xie Wufang, who had once fallen into a deep slumber from expending too much power, had awakened early due to the extreme cold. Even the later snowy days had sped up his recovery.
The Small Ball’s original power had come from Xie Wufang, after all.
So, wouldn’t an icy, snowy environment help the Doom Orb digest the countless stored timespaces inside it faster? Maybe it would evolve into a well-behaved orb capable of controlling itself?
The more he thought about it, the more the North Pole seemed like the perfect burial spot.
Yu Bai steeled his resolve, pulled out his phone, and immediately started searching for flights.
“I’m heading out tomorrow. Hopefully there are still tickets.”
“Whoa, that soon?!” Yan Jing hadn’t recovered yet. “Does our city even have direct flights to the North Pole?”
“No, it’d be a bunch of connections, but I’m worried. What if the Doom Orb drags the entire plane full of passengers into some timespace en route?”
“It wouldn’t go that far, would it? How long does it take to get there? I’ve never been to the North Pole. Maybe I should take a day off and go with you… Wait, you’ve never been either, have you? How are you acting so casual about it!”
Because he’d tried it in one of the time loops.
As Yu Bai thought this, his fingertip tapped the screen lightly, searching for the flights he remembered taking and checking for remaining seats.
At the same time, he felt a twinge of surprise.
Xie Wufang had heard his thoughts, just like Yan Jing had. Why hadn’t he said anything?
Would he agree to burying the Doom Orb at the North Pole?
Or did he have another idea?
Yu Bai lifted his gaze from the screen and looked at the man beside him once more.
Xie Wufang was still staring at the Small Square Box he’d casually placed on the chair. Ripples were faintly stirring in those unique gray-blue eyes.
Yu Bai froze for a moment.
A familiar yet slightly long-absent sense of unease welled up in his heart—intimate and all too recognizable.
He immediately stopped what he was doing and asked Xie Wufang nervously, “What are you looking at? What’s wrong?”
Before the Doom Orb had unexpectedly pulled their group into the Go Timeline, Xie Wufang had sensed the disturbance first and warned them.
This time, it couldn’t be—
“It’s shaking nonstop.”
After the human beside him spoke, Xie Wufang withdrew his gaze and met Yu Bai’s eyes thoughtfully. “I can feel it. It’s very unsettled right now.”
Yu Bai’s eyes widened in shock. “Unsettled? Does that mean the Doom Orb can understand what we’re saying?”
It was just an orb!
How could it understand Chinese?!
Xie Wufang remained calm. “Probably. It seems to have developed some awareness.”
Only then did it click for Yu Bai.
He’d almost forgotten that Xie Wufang could understand any human language.
Though the Doom Orb was just an orb—no, a ball.
But this was a gift of eternity from a god to a human, one that had accidentally stored countless timespaces Yu Bai had lived through. It brimmed with uncertainties even a god couldn’t predict.
Uncertainties tied to life itself.
Theoretically, then, the orb might contain an immature god that couldn’t control itself yet?
…Fuck, that was even scarier.
Yu Bai hurriedly asked, “Will it lose control right now and drag us into another timespace?”
“Probably not so soon,” Xie Wufang said. “The dissipation of the last timespace has stabilized it a bit.”
Hearing this, Yu Bai let out a temporary sigh of relief and pressed on eagerly. “Besides being unsettled, can you sense anything else?”
The Doom Orb really was a ticking time bomb.
One that needed time to recharge, at least.
No matter what, it wouldn’t explode right this moment.
Xie Wufang pondered for a moment before replying, “It still rejects me intensely.”
Yu Bai had guessed as much when he noticed Xie Wufang simply staring at the box without reaching for the Doom Orb inside.
The Doom Orb continued to reject Xie Wufang as strongly as ever.
For the sake of Earth’s safety, He couldn’t touch this Small Ball directly.
But Yu Bai could.
With the Doom Orb in a temporary calm, this was the perfect chance to send it away.
No need to worry about a plane full of people getting inexplicably swept into a timespace.
Of course, if he wanted to reach the North Pole fastest, there might be another way.
Yu Bai stared at the deceptively serene Small Square Box, itching to ship off the supposedly shaking Doom Orb right then and there.
Could Xie Wufang take him straight to the North Pole in an instant?
The day Xie Wufang had received his SOS text and rushed to the Funeral Parlor, he’d arrived incredibly fast.
This kind of instant teleportation should be routine for a god, nothing that would cost Him too much, right?
Yu Bai mulled it over internally, about to ask Xie Wufang if He could send him to the North Pole to bury the orb right now.
But Xie Wufang spoke first.
The human beside him stared intently at the Small Square Box. After a brief pause, the black-haired, blue-eyed god continued earnestly, “…And I reject it too.”
Huh?
The young man, whose mind was full of shovels and the North Pole, blanked out for a second.
Then he couldn’t help but laugh, immediately abandoning the idea of asking Xie Wufang to teleport him there.
It made sense that Xie Wufang disliked this Small Ball that had once forced Him to expend so much power.
Teleportation would surely require special abilities. What if it triggered some mishap with the Doom Orb?
These were two mutually repelled gods, after all.
The consequences didn’t bear thinking about.
Better to go the normal, safe route to the North Pole.
Yu Bai asked, “What if I take it to the North Pole? The cold there might help it digest those timespaces faster.”
Before he finished speaking, the inscrutable box began shaking even more violently from the Blue Orb inside.
Those gray-blue eyes, like a lake’s surface, lingered on the box for a moment before calmly shifting away.
“Alright.” Xie Wufang nodded slightly. “I’m not certain, but it’s worth a try.”
His tone was even, but Yu Bai inexplicably caught a hint of… good mood?
It brightened his own anxious heart in turn.
Yan Jing, who had been listening obediently to their conversation without daring to interject, finally piped up softly. “So, Little Bai, are you really leaving tomorrow? Did you find a ticket?”
“No need for tickets yet. I thought of a faster way to get there.”
With that, Yu Bai closed the booking page on his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and dialed a number.
Video call.
The moment Yan Jing saw that familiar name on the screen, realization dawned on him. He slapped his thigh and said, “Right, I forgot! We can ask Tian Ge for help.”
The North Pole was unreachable within twenty-two hours—without taking a direct flight, that was.
Sun Tiantian had retired from his shady business and built up a thriving enterprise, so of course he owned a private jet.
The old Yu Bai had never liked troubling the people who cared about him.
No matter if there was an issue or not, he never wanted to worry them.
But for some reason, he now took the initiative to think that Tian Ge might be able to help with something like this.
The video connected quickly. A rugged, handsome face filled the screen.
“Hey? Morning, Little Bai! You’re up early today?”
Yu Bai greeted him back. “Morning, Tian Ge.”
These days, the sight of Sun Tiantian immediately made him reflexively think of that car full of mink coats on a frigid winter day.
It was a truly unforgettable, extravagant spectacle.
A clear, bright smile flickered in his pale eyes, hidden behind the oversized frames.
Sun Tiantian paused for a moment at the sight, then burst out laughing. He scratched his head in confusion. “Hey, seeing you with glasses somehow feels off to me.”
…Why was everyone trying to convince him to take off his glasses right from the start today?
Yu Bai fell silent for a beat, then couldn’t help chuckling. “I’ll take them off later.”
After a week of going bare-eyed, he wasn’t quite used to the weight on his nose bridge anymore.
“Really?” Sun Tiantian looked surprised. “You seem to be in a good mood today, Little Bai. That’s rare—”
Yu Bai was usually in a steady, calm state—neither particularly good nor bad.
But even as he spoke, the confusion in his eyes deepened. “Wait, no—why does it feel totally normal for you to be in a good mood? Damn, I didn’t drink that much last night. Why am I so foggy-headed this morning? I even feel like digging out a mink coat to wear. What’s wrong with me…”
Yu Bai listened to his rambling and suddenly sensed something was wrong.
It was clearly summer in the real world. Why would he suddenly want to pull out a mink coat?
And he said the glasses looked weird on him now.
…Did other people in this world have memories from another timespace too?!
Alarm bells rang in Yu Bai’s mind. He hurriedly asked, “Tian Ge, you said you felt foggy after waking up this morning?”
“Yeah, I only got up a little while ago. Maybe I dreamed all night—I’m feeling all woozy.” Sun Tiantian replied offhandedly. “I don’t remember what about, though. Just that it felt pretty cold.”
At the same time, the old man—still quietly sobbing behind the little girl—heard his phone ring from his pocket.
He answered with a casual “hello.” But as the voice came through the receiver, Yuan Yuxing’s choked sobs turned instantly fierce.
“They’re full of crap! What do you mean, turning into a kid? Officer, does this voice sound like a kid’s to you?!”
“I understand, Mr. Yuan. Please calm down first,” the officer on the other end soothed. “Of course we don’t believe such baseless claims. When they filed the report yesterday morning, our colleagues already sternly warned them not to waste police resources.”
“But they just showed up at the station again, still insisting they saw you return to youth. And now they say you’re missing and not answering calls—something about property. I didn’t catch all the details, but there’s a whole group here demanding we find you…”
Amid the faint background clamor, the officer lowered his voice, a note of difficulty creeping in. “Please try to understand and cooperate with us. If it’s convenient, could you come down here now?”
“Sure, I’ll head over. Let them see for themselves if I’m a kid or Grandpa!”
Now fully restored to his elderly appearance, Yuan Yuxing agreed readily. Remembering the paper he’d carefully tucked into his chest pocket, he added, “Officer, could you pass a message to them for me?”
“What is it? Go ahead.”
“I’m connected to that property they’re so worried about.” He wiped at the tears still damp at the corners of his eyes and let out a cold laugh. “Old Zhang’s will is right here with me!”
Yu Bai vaguely overheard Yuan Yuxing’s conversation with the police. Combined with Sun Tiantian’s puzzled expression on his screen, realization gradually dawned on him.
Xie Wufang had said that once the extra timespaces dissipated, they would leave some influence on this world.
For instance, allowing travelers who had personally visited those timespaces to recover memories lost in the time loop.
Or letting other people who had lived alternate lives in those timespaces…
Yu Bai turned instinctively toward Xie Wufang, still clutching his phone.
Xie Wufang was gazing right at him, as if he already knew the question on his mind. His thin lips parted slightly. “Not memories,” he said softly.
He paused, searching for a relatively precise word.
“…Impressions.”
Like the way winter snow melted away, leaving no trace of the flakes themselves—but a faint impression of snowfall lingering in the air.
In the real world, Sun Tiantian had never sent him a carload of mink coats. He hadn’t endured that sudden winter cold snap or seen the happy, glasses-free Yu Bai at a friend’s house.
He had no such memories.
Yet he vaguely held hazy impressions.
Of that vanished world line, lost somewhere in the vast cosmos.
Listening to the old man’s voice tremble with anger, Yu Bai couldn’t help wondering: In the real world, Zhang Yunjiang’s family had been utterly cold-blooded about his death. Now that they suddenly had impressions of that cold yet warm winter day, would any of them feel a twinge of regret?
This was a real timespace—one too late for goodbyes, impossible to take back.
But Yu Bai had no time for deeper thoughts. More pressing matters demanded his attention.
“…Not just me—they’re saying it felt cold too. But they can’t pinpoint when, so it must’ve been in their dreams. Did everyone have their AC cranked too low last night or something?”
Sun Tiantian pulled his gaze away from one of his underlings nearby. Still puzzled, he remembered the reason for the call. “Anyway, never mind that. Little Bai, you called out of the blue—what’s up?”
No sooner had he spoken than he saw Yu Bai’s expression turn solemn on the video. “Yes, Tian Ge. Could you arrange a direct flight to the North Pole for me?”
“Huh? The North Pole? You going there to… gather material or something?”
Sun Tiantian looked utterly baffled but agreed without hesitation. “No problem! When do you want to head out?”
“As soon as possible,” Yu Bai said.
He hadn’t anticipated that the dissipation of an alternate timespace wouldn’t just restore memories for those directly involved—it would affect the entire world like this.
What if, in some future timespace, he accidentally destroyed the Earth?
Then, back in the real world, would strangers look at him and vaguely sense he was some great demon lord?
…He didn’t even want to imagine it.
The trip to the North Pole had suddenly become urgent!
Yu Bai’s words were short and forceful, conveying his urgency.
Though Sun Tiantian still had no idea why, he grew serious as well. “Got it. I’ll get someone on it right away! Want me to send a car to pick you up first?”
Seated on the bench, Yu Bai’s voice carried clearly as he spoke on the phone, his eyes fixed on the video interface.
So he didn’t notice the small square box trembling faintly beside him.
The Deep Blue Orb inside had started shaking so violently that even the outer box quivered lightly—like an earthquake from within.
The brown-eyed human paid it no mind, and even the perceptive god glanced away with cool indifference.
Meanwhile, the other three humans of varying heights huddled together, munching on buns while cursing out the heartless Turtle Bastards.
No one noticed the small ball as it shook and shook.
Until a crack suddenly split open across its starry, deep-blue surface.
