"This thing… is good. Consider me in your debt." Jingliu's voice was slow, deliberate. "Though this body exists only for slaughter, unable to do anything else. You may not even need my help. But if you have a request, I will give it my all."
Sylvester didn't refuse. Facing a Jingliu lost in her memories, an idea stirred in him.
"I want you to live like a normal person again."
Jingliu froze for a moment, then replied coolly, "Impossible. I am already a relic of the past."
But Sylvester's gaze burned with hope. "No—you're still alive, which means the future holds endless possibilities. Just like the trash cans in this shop. You haven't opened them all. How can you say there's no chance of something good inside?"
Jingliu shook her head. "But just as your trash cans are limited in stock, so too are people limited. My cans were long since emptied."
"Limitations are only temporary. You think the cans are all gone, but tomorrow new ones are put on the shelf." Sylvester gestured with his hand, mimicking a tiny figure walking backwards. "That's you right now—moving forward, but always looking back. If you don't turn your gaze ahead, how can your steps ever catch up with Yaoshi?"
His eyes flicked toward the shelves of golden cans. Selling more meant gaining more power. And he was hungry for it.
He gave a self-mocking laugh. Humans are never satisfied. He already had wealth—more than enough to live extravagantly, even if it paled before the coffers of the Interastral Peace Corporation. He already had power—soon, with Jingliu's strength layered onto his own, he could stand against the Emanators.
Yet despite it all, his chest felt heavy with discontent.
The dissolution of the High-Cloud Quintet sickened him. Their so-called reunion, patched together like broken glass, sickened him even more.
A space comedy, huh?
If, after eating well and living safely, there remained a single thorn stuck in his throat, a truth he refused to accept no matter what—then it was this.
To finish this scene of cosmic comedy, and crush its tragic core!
A spark of ambition ignited in him.
His gaze locked on Jingliu, burning. "The day you return to living like a human… it won't be far away."
"You need not do this for me." Jingliu shook her head.
"It's not for you." Sylvester's voice cut firm, unyielding.
With an arrogance he'd never shown before, he declared, "This is what I want to do. Whether you agree or not, I'll impose it upon you."
Jingliu blinked, stunned.
Strange. This man was too strange.
His words were domineering, leaving no room for doubt. But what could he possibly gain from this?
She recalled—he once said he hated tragedies.
Could it be… only for that reason? To struggle so hard, just to alter the fate of someone tied to the past?
She couldn't understand.
A normal life… had she never thought of it? Of course she had. But she gave it up—to remain clear-headed, to witness the fall of the Plagues Author, she had sacrificed everything.
Did she still wish for it? She didn't know.
But if someone were to drag her back by force—would she go?
She had no answer.
Yet in Feixiao's widened eyes, the white-haired woman smiled faintly—a curve absent for centuries.
"I will wait and see."
Topaz stared, dumbstruck. She hadn't known Jingliu personally, but the Quintet's legend? The IPC had heard plenty.
Sylvester wanted to meddle in the war between the Aeon of Abundance and the Aeon of The Hunt? The scope of it was staggering.
"Incredible!" Feixiao gasped outright.
To untangle Jingliu's death-bound resolve, to shake her determination to die?
When Feixiao had met the Marshal, she saw immediately—Jingliu's heart brimmed with hate as vast as the cosmos. Even that companion of hers, Luocha, carried unbearable weight from his past.
That state of longing for mutual destruction with the enemy, every moment… and Sylvester broke it?
It wasn't just a matter of words.
For Jingliu to return to normal life, Sylvester not only had to cure her long overdue Mara-stricken body, but also claim the task of slaying the Plagues Author. Something even the Aeon of the Hunt had failed to do so for millennia!
Feixiao looked at him, raised her thumb in admiration. "Not bad, kid. How about helping me with this Moon Rage too?"
"One thing at a time, no rush." Sylvester waved it off humbly.
Feixiao eyed his fake modesty, not sure what expression to make.
Jingliu had steeled herself for death. But hadn't she too?
And yet, for the first time, she allowed herself a wisp of delusion.
She hoped—truly hoped—this man could achieve what he promised.
Sylvester wasn't bluffing. He did believe he could. After opening one hundred cans, he already had strength to rival the Emanators—and far greater survivability.
What came after? The only path forward was toward the Aeons themselves.
And to get there faster, he had to sell more cans.
He raised a hand toward the shelf. "Go ahead. Maybe your chance is in these."
Jingliu pulled down another can without hesitation, and cracked it open.
This time, even she felt a flicker of anticipation. Maybe these trash cans truly hid something extraordinary. Something for the war against Abundance—or for her own future.
Light spilled forth.
Sylvester's face nearly matched its color.
The odds for ordinary cans were like this… but to draw a green one right after those lofty declarations? So embarrassing.
In Jingliu's hand lay a white scrap of cloth, palm-sized, with two straps extending out.
Silence fell.
"…Looks like the future's a bit further off." Sylvester coughed awkwardly. "This item is called the [Eye Mask of Wisdom]."
"Eye Mask of Wisdom?"
Jingliu eyed the cartoonish design—two oversized eyes printed on it, one staring upper-left, the other upper-right. Wisdom? It was an insult. More like folly.
Sylvester rushed to explain, "No, really, it is wisdom. Wear it, and the wearer will always stay rational. Mara-induced madness? Basically nullified."
"Then why is it green?" Jingliu pressed.
He scratched his nose. "…Because it fixes your intelligence and logic to that of a six-year-old."
"Pfft." Feixiao burst into laughter, quickly turning away, shoulders shaking.
After all, she had been tasked with watching over Jingliu in the Luofu.
And the thought of this tall, regal woman running around with a six-year-old's mind, calling her "Big Sis" as she clung to her—Feixiao nearly collapsed from stifling her laughter.
Jingliu's gaze turned subtly strange.
So, this is how you want me to live normally? As a six-year-old?
Sylvester hedged, "Let's just try the next one. Who knows, maybe a single draw for gold. Miracles does happen."
Jingliu's brow twitched, but she said nothing.
Only when she turned to the shelves again did she realize—she had been reproaching Sylvester.
To others, such emotions were trivial.
But for her? When was the last time she'd felt anything like that? Too long—she couldn't even remember.
Perhaps… she did long for her old life after all.
Half-dazed, she lifted another can's lid.
At first, nothing unusual. But when golden light pierced even her eyepatch, stabbing her eyes, she realized—this was no ordinary pull.
Topaz jumped to her feet. Feixiao's laughter vanished into giddy excitement as she rushed closer.
A golden Curio! The last one had been a weapon that could threaten Emanators—even when fighting alone!
Such items could shake the universe. How could they not be thrilled?
The light faded, revealing a lychee-sized sphere of black and white, liquid swirling within, resting in Jingliu's palm.
She tested it with the power of her Path—yet sensed no force at all.
"What is this? What does it do?"
"It can do almost anything." Sylvester exhaled, then added, "In fact… it just solved one of our problems."
"The [Samsara Elixir]," he named it. "With this, Jingliu, not only can your body be restored to normal… but your strength will take a great leap forward."