Inside the small bar, Quentin Koon and the young woman sat face to face.
Quentin Koon rested his chin on his interlaced hands, looking uncharacteristically serious: "Time’s tight, but since things can still be fixed, I want to lay out the situation first. I sort of know what you’re after, but even as a Fated One, there’s stuff you probably don’t get. See that bartender over there—"
Quentin Koon pointed. The bartender was quietly, intently polishing glasses and the bar. He wasn’t far from them, but he couldn’t hear a word they said, almost like he didn’t even notice two people sitting here.
Clearly, that’s not normal.
"It’s not hypnosis or any kind of mind trick, to be honest—I don’t have those kinds of powers." Quentin Koon pointed to his phone, where a ridiculously complex Sky Mending Diagram glowed on the screen. "What’s affecting him is fate."
The young woman frowned slightly. "Fate?"
"Yep. The spiral where time and cause twist together—that’s fate. Fate sounds vague, but for you and me, it’s real as it gets. What I’m saying is, even as a Fated One, you can’t just jump into the river of fate whenever you want. Especially when certain entities are using the Fate Void to play games against us."
The young woman caught the key point: "You mean someone—or something—is working behind the scenes, messing with fate?"
"Exactly." Quentin Koon’s gaze turned shadowy and deep, like he was staring into an endless night. "Listen, I have to warn you—the Fate Struggle is way more dangerous than it sounds. Prophecy-makers are ranked for a reason—a tiny edge means a huge difference. The stronger you are, the more likely you get the upper hand. And if the other side gets the first move, flipping things around is nearly impossible. I’m the Fifth Pillar of the Global Observation Agency, but if my master hadn’t tipped me off, I wouldn’t even know the enemy existed."
"Sounds like you’ve got a pretty badass master." The young woman saw an opening: "Can you ask your master to step in and help?"
"Yeah, my master’s insanely powerful—way above my level. But..." Quentin Koon shook his head with a bitter smile. "Half a year ago, the night White Night Descended, he suddenly sensed something and started a divination ritual. I don’t know what forbidden force he touched, but he only had time to say ‘be careful’ before collapsing. He’s been unconscious ever since."
The young woman asked with concern, "Can’t he be cured?"
"It’s not about curing him. He’s not alive or dead, not here or gone. Honestly, for a while I even forgot he existed—forgot his warning. Only when I leveled up did I suddenly remember, could actually see him, and realized he’d been yanked into the cracks of the Fate Void." Quentin Koon let out a sigh. "This Fate Struggle is brutal. Honestly? I have no clue what we’re up against, or if there’s even a real 'enemy.' Maybe we’re just arm-wrestling with destiny itself—and that’s the wildest gamble of all."
The young woman looked at him seriously. "But you still went to Shanghai."
Quentin Koon’s hand froze in midair, his face turning ugly in an instant.
The young woman raised an eyebrow, looking a bit like Yang Qi. "What, you’re disappointed?"
Quentin Koon touched his earring, gazed at the wreckage, and after a long pause, let out a soft sigh. His face relaxed—who knows what he saw in all that mess.
"But I have to get involved." The young woman was determined, her voice firm as steel. "We’ve got to turn this game around or there’s no future. Even in Fight the Landlord, you need two against one—there’s no way you can hold out alone, so let me back you up."
"I get it, and I can give you the Sky Mending Diagram. If we don’t fix Shanghai’s space-time barrier, things could get ugly. But Severing Earthly Ties... that’s out of my league."
"It has to be done." The young woman wasn’t here to bargain, her tone firm. "I’ve only been in Shanghai a few days, but the Special Inspection Team’s been snooping around nonstop. That’s not normal. If you want to play chess, you have to step off the board first. And to do that, you’ve got to sever earthly ties. I’m not trying to become a monk and forget everything, but with your powers, can’t you cover my tracks just a little?"
"Most of it’s easy, even your parents—I can do a ritual, no problem. But the real headache is with your Life Mentor!" Quentin Koon complained. "All your other connections are just regular folks, so covering those is a breeze. But Teacher Yang isn’t a regular person—not even a regular Chosen One! Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I believe Teacher Yang is a Fated One too."
The young woman looked helpless too—because, yeah, that was a huge problem. Just recently, some mysterious force pierced the space-time barrier to find her, so her fate connections ran deep. Once she joined the Fate Struggle, that’d be her Achilles’ heel.
"You two met as ordinary folks, your fates tangled even before White Night. Then you bonded in chaos, tied together through three lifetimes in the heart of crisis. And now, you meet in greatness—one of you is a legit Fated One, and the other, judging by your awakening, is probably up there too. I’m just the Third Pillar, how am I supposed to cover this?" Quentin Koon pressed his hands together, bowing like crazy to the Buddha. "Spare me, please! I can’t handle you two!"
The young woman wouldn’t let it go. "Seriously, there’s nothing you can do?"
"Nope." Quentin Koon shook his head like a rattle-drum. "Maybe this is part of the Fate Struggle? Someone got the first move, made their play, and now we’re stuck. It’s like someone peed upstream and we’re downstream—nothing to do but deal with it. But chances are, it’s not that bad, since you two met way before White Night. Eh, time and fate—I’m just a prophecy guy, not some OP protagonist. I can’t rewrite destiny."
"Hmm... huh?" The young woman suddenly had an idea. "You said you can’t cover it up, so you can’t fake it. But what if you don’t fake it?"
"You two met as ordinary folks, your fates tangled even before White Night. Then you bonded in chaos, tied together through three lifetimes in the heart of crisis. And now, you meet in greatness—one of you is a legit Fated One, and the other, judging by your awakening, is probably up there too. I’m just the Third Point of the Six-Pointed Star, how am I supposed to cover this?" Quentin Koon pressed his hands together, bowing like crazy to the Buddha. "Spare me, please! I can’t handle you two!"
"No choice." The young woman was already set, no hesitation—she stood up, crisp and decisive. "Your phone’s probably at its limit, right? Give me the Sky Mending Diagram—I’ll leave right now."
"Alright, you’ve made up your mind—I won’t say more." Quentin Koon picked up his phone and gave it a shake. A strange image flew out, and the young woman caught it in her hand. She looked down—the pattern shifted and multiplied in her palm, almost alive, impossibly complex.
The diagram was fine; the young woman turned and left, quick and clean. She needed to get back to Shanghai and keep mending the sky. As for severing ties with Yang Qi, she’d worry about that later—she still needed time to think.
With one less person, the bar felt even emptier.
Quentin Koon sat on the sofa, staring after the young woman, his expression complicated.
"Severing earthly ties, severing earthly ties… if only it were that easy. All this worldly mess is just emotion, and to sever it is to sever your bonds. But it’s those very bonds that awakened you—so I doubt you’ll ever break free." Quentin Koon muttered, glancing at his phone and reaching for it. "Leave the Fate Struggle to a professional like me."
But before his fingers could touch the phone, there was a sharp crack—the screen suddenly split.
"Nope." Quentin Koon shook his head like a rattle-drum. "Maybe this is part of the Fate Struggle? Someone got the first move, made their play, and now we’re stuck. It’s like someone peed upstream and we’re downstream—nothing to do but deal with it. But chances are, it’s not that bad, since you two met way before White Night. Eh, time and fate—I’m just a prophecy guy, not some OP protagonist. I can’t rewrite destiny."
The crack spread across the whole screen, sparks flying, smoke curling up. Finally, with a loud pop, the battery exploded and the phone was toast.
Qian Kun touched his earring, gazed at the wreckage, and after a long pause, let out a soft sigh. His face relaxed—who knows what he saw in all that mess.
"The Fate Struggle is just like chess. We make our moves, and the other side adapts. So, to win, you need two things. First, plan ahead and make the first move. Second, be fully prepared and control your resources." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another phone—almost identical to the last. A quick shake, and sure enough, another Sky Mending Diagram appeared, just as good at hiding secrets.
"Wait!" Quentin Koon stared, stunned. "You’re not... No way, you’re going all in? You’re serious?"
Quentin Koon got up and left. He’d never come back here again.
Ding—the bartender put away the last clean glass, closed up the shop, and hung a big sign on the door: [Shop for Transfer].
The Great Slump reached every corner of society—even into the bartender’s departing silhouette.
But while night deepened in China, on the far side of the ocean, it was midday and gorgeous—the kind of weather that put Patrick Zade in a great mood.
He was at home, video-calling a middle-aged man with flaxen hair.
"Alright, you’ve made up your mind—I won’t say more." Quentin Koon picked up his phone and gave it a shake. A strange image flew out, and the young woman caught it in her hand. She looked down—the pattern shifted and multiplied in her palm, almost alive, impossibly complex.
"So, feeling the benefits yet?" Patrick Zade tapped the six test tubes by his side. "Stuff like this is rare now, top-tier treasure. But in the Heart of Tiberius, there’s even better, stronger things. Take this, for example—"
Patrick Zade waved, and an image popped up on the screen. It looked like a fruit, but its skin was covered in bizarre patterns. The man on the other end recognized it instantly: "Devil Fruit? Which type—Paramecia, Zoan, or Logia?"
But Patrick Zade didn’t explain—he just snapped his fingers and closed the image.
Quentin Koon sat on the sofa, staring after the young woman, his expression complicated.
"That’s all I want—a real power combo. I’ve got the oil group, the arms brokers, the cash, everything you’re missing. But you? One photo doesn’t prove much! Sure, the multinational fleet took some hits, but it’s not like you did it directly. The Black Death Emperor’s still headed east, undisturbed. So I want something more concrete." He locked eyes with the man, fierce as a tiger: "I want war."
The man was not pleased. "I’m not your guard dog."
"I don’t need a guard dog—I want a prehistoric T-Rex! If you’re really planning to defy your master, if you really think you can become a god, then show me what you’ve got! Don’t worry, you’ll get paid—" Patrick Zade tapped the six test tubes. "Every time you deliver, you get a reward."
"Severing Earthly Ties, Severing Earthly Ties... If only it were as easy as it sounds. All this dust and mess is just emotion, and cutting it means cutting off your bonds. But hey, it’s those very bonds that woke you up—so good luck snipping them!" Quentin Koon muttered, glancing at his phone and reaching for it. "Leave the Fate Struggle to a professional like me."
Finally, [GOD] nodded.
"You want war, you got war."