"I..." Qi Xia stumbled back a step, suddenly struck by a wave of familiarity at the scene before him.

"What the—!" Qiao Jiajin was equally startled. They had barely been here for a minute, yet this old man seemed to have materialized out of thin air. How had he appeared so silently behind Qi Xia?

"Young’un," the old man rasped, revealing his lone remaining tooth as he extended a withered arm toward Qi Xia. "You really shouldn’t provoke Celestial Dragon... Even staking your life... may not be enough..."

Just as Qiao Jiajin was about to intervene, Qi Xia pulled him back. “Wait, I want to talk to him.” Drawing Qiao Jiajin aside, he reached out to grasp the old man’s arm. The two clasped each other like long-lost friends. “Mister, do you recognize me?” Qi Xia asked.

The old man faltered, his breath catching as if the words had stirred an overwhelming rush of emotion. For a moment, it seemed he might burst into tears. His grip on Qi Xia’s hand tightened so much that a sharp pain shot through his own arm. “You... you’re willing to speak to me?... How wonderful!... I can wait...” His voice trembled with barely contained fervor. “Even if we must start anew, I’ll wait... Soon, you’ll destroy this cursed place and liberate us all...”

His delirium seemed to deepen, but Qi Xia pressed on, despite a growing unease. “Liberate us all? What do you mean by liberate?”

“We’ve been trapped here!!” the old man cried, his voice breaking. “It’s all a lie... a monstrous lie!! He’s deceived us all!!”

“Calm yourself, mister,” Qi Xia said, gently releasing the old man’s trembling hand to instead hold his shoulders, hoping to steady him. “Who has deceived us? What is this lie you speak of?”

“It’s—” Just as the old man was about to answer, a low rumble of thunder rolled through the sky.

The sound startled Qi Xia—it was the first thunder he had ever heard here. He quickly looked upward. Above him stretched an endless, cloudless expanse. How could thunder be born from empty air?

“I can’t say...” the old man lowered his head in fear, his voice barely a whisper. “If I speak of it, I will die...”

Die?

"Alright, let’s shift the question," Qi Xia said, his tone steady. "You mentioned we’ve been trapped here. What exactly does that mean?"

The old man looked up, fear still in his eyes, yet his voice carried a gravity that demanded attention. "Young’un, no one leaves... not even in death... life after death, and death after life..."

“Why can’t we «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» leave?” Qi Xia asked. “Even if we collect enough {Dào}, is it still impossible to escape?”

"{Dào}?" The old man’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What is {Dào}?”

What is {Dào}? Qi Xia had not expected that question. This man kept insisting Qi Xia stake his life, yet didn’t even know what {Dào} was?

"{Dào} is..." Qi Xia muttered, instinctively patting his pockets, only to recall he had none. The four {Dào} by the Mortal Dragon were with Officer Li. Left with no choice, he described it instead. "It’s a small, yellow-white orb, about the size of a walnut, and it glows. That’s our {stake} in the games. They say if we gather three thousand six hundred, we can escape."

“Three thousand... six hundred {Dào}?” The old man’s eyes clouded, his voice tinged with disbelief. "I see... Even though this place has fallen into ruin, he still remembers the master’s words...”

“{Master}?” Qi Xia was taken aback. “Who is the {master}?”

"I cannot say," the old man replied with unyielding finality. "These questions you ask will cost me my life."

Qi Xia sensed this man was far from ordinary. His memories seemed to reach beyond what was natural—perhaps longer than anyone else’s—making him a rare and valuable source of knowledge.

"Mister," Qi Xia asked softly, "would you like to come with us? We have food; are you hungry?" The old man’s gaunt frame and cracked skin, like the brittle bark of a dead tree, suggested he had gone without nourishment for a long time.

"Eat? Don’t be foolish," the old man retorted, his expression darkening. "I don’t need food." He let out a hollow laugh, tinged with regret. "For you to offer me food... it’s almost laughable. Truly, a grand joke."

Don’t need food? Qi Xia mulled over the words, sensing the truth behind them. Even if they starved to death in {End Point}, it would mean nothing—food was irrelevant here.

Qiao Jiajin, who had been observing quietly, let out a resigned sigh. “Swindler Lad, he’s clearly a madman, and yet you’re still talking to him?”

Before Qi Xia could answer, the old man turned toward Qiao Jiajin. With slow, deliberate steps, he closed the distance, forcing Qiao Jiajin to back away.

"Hey, hey, hey..." Qiao Jiajin’s voice wavered. "I don’t hit the elderly or women. Don’t try anything..."

Ignoring the protest, the old man seized his wrist.

“You...” Qiao Jiajin tried to pull free, but the grip was like iron. “Damn... what kind of strength is this? Are you a martial artist?”

“Qiao Jiajin...” the old man said slowly, holding his hand, “Why don’t you remember me? Qi Xia remembers, but you’ve forgotten who I am?”

Qi Xia narrowed his eyes. This man really did know them.

“Huh?” Qiao Jiajin was visibly confused. "Why would I know you? Who are you?"

The old man fell silent, still gripping his wrist as though lost in thought. Then, with a slow nod, he murmured, “I see now... You died before your {Reverberation}...”

“Reverberation? What is this Reverberation you keep talking about?” Qiao Jiajin snapped, frustration edging into his voice. "You’re making my head spin! If you don’t let go soon, I might hit you!" 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Suddenly, the old man released him, making Qiao Jiajin stumble back. "You must protect Qi Xia," he continued, his tone measured yet heavy with meaning. "To liberate everyone, we will need your strength."

After that, he fell silent again, bowing his head as though lost in an inner struggle, wrestling with some truth only he understood.

Qi Xia stepped forward. “Mister, won’t you come back with us? I still have so many questions.”

“No need,” the old man shook his head. “You don’t need to seek me out. Just wait for me to find you.”

“But...” Qi Xia hesitated, sensing a heavy secret weighing on the man. "Alright then, may I know your name?"

The old man stepped back and said, “I have no name, but here, they call me {White Tiger}.”

The moment the words left his lips, his body began to rise, lifting from the ground with an unnatural stillness. Before either of them could react, he was simply gone—vanished into the air itself. No glowing ascent like in immortal legends, no blinding flash like a magician’s trick—just disappearance, leaving not a single trace.