“Why?”
Lilith’s voice rang out in the silence.
She leaned forward slightly, her deep red skirt sliding over the edge of the sofa. Those breathtakingly beautiful eyes were like mirrors now, clearly reflecting the frozen image on the television screen.
“That was indeed the purest, most fiery, and most undeniable desire deep within her soul,” Lilith spoke slowly.
She raised her eyes and looked at Jiang Ming.
“But at the moment it was within her reach, she chose to step back.”
“Why?”
Jiang Ming met her gaze.
“That is why I say,” he spoke softly, his voice low, “Angels do not understand the human heart.”
Lilith’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly.
“The human heart is not an Alchemy Equation,” Jiang Ming continued. “It is not a matter of taking Desire A, adding Obsession B, and multiplying it by Time Coefficient C to inevitably result in Action D.”
He paused, casting his gaze toward Elvia’s blurred silhouette on the screen.
Jiang Ming raised his hand, his index finger lightly tapping his temple before slowly moving down to press against the left side of his chest, where his heart lay.
“I have said before that the top authors are often the most shrewd liars.” A faint, self-deprecating curve flickered at the corner of his mouth. “And I… happen to know a little bit about the human heart.”
“A good story, Lilith, is rarely about the characters getting what they initially craved. Its essence lies in showing how the desire itself undergoes a metamorphosis through struggle.”
“The most extreme drama is often not born from the moment a wish is granted, but from transcendence. When a character stands at the edge of the abyss and suddenly realizes there is something more precious, more real, and more worth embracing with everything they have than their old obsession… the weight of that initial, seemingly indestructible wish is quietly recalculated on the scales of the soul.”
“So, she did not give up on her wish, Lilith.”
He paused, speaking each word clearly:
“She realized it in a way that you cannot understand, cannot calculate, and cannot even observe.”
“And,”
Jiang Ming’s voice dropped, yet it carried an indisputable weight.
“She did it as a human.”
Silence fell.
Lilith sat there motionless, her deep red skirt resembling a pool of congealed blood.
Jiang Ming stopped looking at her.
He turned toward Beelzebub, who had been curled up on the sofa the whole time, happily watching the drama unfold.
“I think it is time for me to go,” Jiang Ming said. Elvia’s business was finished, so he had to take Elvira away from this godforsaken place and go to the Order Bureau. Perhaps the Order Bureau had a way to save her.
Beelzebub seemed entirely unsurprised by this conclusion. She simply smiled and stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth, chewing with a loud crunch.
“Do not be in such a hurry, little friend.” She swallowed the popcorn, her voice light. “Do you not want to hear… the reward for winning?”
Jiang Ming was stunned.
He had originally thought this was merely a cruel drama born from the Angels’ whims—high and mighty beings wanting to watch a tiny soul struggle in a desperate situation for their amusement.
He had never imagined there was an actual reward for the bet.
And, by the sound of it, he had won.
Beelzebub looked at the rare expression of bewilderment on his face, her eyes curving into crescents from her smile. She stretched out a finger sticky with syrup and drew a small circle in the air.
“The reward is simple. Just one sentence.”
Her smile faded slightly, and a rare, almost solemn light flashed deep within her red pupils.
“Tonight, there is a Miracle that belongs only to you.”
The moment the words fell—
Jiang Ming felt as if he had been struck by lightning.
His entire body stiffened, his pupils dilated suddenly, and his breath stopped completely for that instant.
He remembered.
Jiang Ming abruptly looked up at Beelzebub. The shock on his face was undisguised.
Beelzebub continued to smile at him, but that smile now clearly communicated: ‘You finally understand.’
Yes.
‘I think I know.’
‘I know what this so-called Miracle is.’
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he was standing in that boundless wilderness.
His Heart’s Home.
Heaven and earth remained blurred and indistinguishable, save for the six huge stone tablet fragments floating quietly nearby. Red, blue, yellow, green, brown, and violet.
Jiang Ming stepped forward.
His pace was steady, without the slightest hesitation. He walked straight toward the center where the tablet had shattered, his gaze locked firmly onto the fragment glowing with a deep violet aura.
That was the “Violet” fragment, the Tablet of the School of Miracles. He had touched it before and obtained a magnificent, exaggerated mask, though as far as he knew, that was merely an “Easter egg.”
He reached out his hand.
The moment his fingertips brushed the cold surface of the violet tablet, the familiar, blazing light erupted!
The deep violet radiance was like a flood bursting through a dam, instantly swallowing his vision. Within the intense light, that mask—so ornate it was almost ostentatious, decorated with purple feathers and tiny starlight—solidified before his eyes once more, slowly emerging.
But this time, a change occurred.
Just as the mask was about to fully form, it began to twist and vibrate violently!
The violet glow was crudely stripped and washed away by some invisible force. The colors rapidly faded and transformed; the feathers and starlight peeled off. In less than three seconds, the light dissipated.
Floating above Jiang Ming’s palm was no longer that ostentatious violet mask.
Instead, it was a wooden mask—dark red, ancient in style, covering only half the face, with faint traces of battle damage on the edges.
Jiang Ming’s breath stopped completely at that moment.
He recognized it.
It was too familiar.
It was the mask he wore when playing the “Lord Protector.”
And now, it lay quietly in his palm.
The wooden texture was felt through his skin—cool, rough, and heart-wrenchingly real.
Jiang Ming looked at it in silence for a long time.
Then, he exhaled softly.
Yes.
This was indeed a Miracle.
A Miracle that transcended the Equivalent Exchange of Alchemy, violated the iron laws of life and death, and blurred the boundaries between reality and fiction—a Miracle of resurrection.
Jiang Ming knew very well that the current Elvia and Elvira were already pawns in Lilith’s hand. If he wanted to seize them back from her, he needed this power. He had to break into the dream to save them.
But the cost? Jiang Ming did not know.
‘Whatever. Someone has already given up their own obsession for me to write poetry together. If I remain timid now, it would be quite unmanly.’
Jiang Ming gave a light sigh and put on the mask.
***
“That is how it should be! At this moment, the sea parts — and the mountains should make way for you!” Beelzebub cheered as she watched Jiang Ming’s aura explode, seemingly very satisfied with the effect of this Miracle.
“You overstepped.” Lilith looked coldly at Beelzebub, who was lying on the sofa, her eyes filled with murderous intent.
The man before her had somehow received a crown at this moment, becoming something entirely beyond her expectations.
Her King Selection Ceremony would be heavily affected by this.
And all of it was because of one of her own kind.
“What? A bet requires a stake. Surely an Angel is not going to cheat?” Beelzebub remained as cheerful as ever.
“I need a reason,” Lilith said. “Even if he is your King, there is no reason for you to help him to this extent.”
Beelzebub glanced at Lilith, then looked toward a picture frame in the distance. Inside was a single photo—a group shot of eight people.