The universe had been saved.
By coffee.
Served in a shoe.
Now, Xuanwu, the ancient turtle god who was also a university dean and the literal foundation of Hell, wanted compensation.
He didn't want power.
He didn't want territory.
He wanted a spa day.
"My shell has been carrying the weight of all your bureaucratic suffering for eons," the cosmic turtle rumbled, his voice a deep, blissful purr from the caffeine rush. "It's given me knots the size of minor planets."
"I require a deep tissue massage. And a pedicure."
Li Wei, Feng Yue, and Zhurong just stared at him.
This was their life now.
The crisis was over. The cosmic wellness retreat had just begun.
**
Giving a pedicure to a turtle the size of a continent is not a simple task.
His toenails were crystalline mountain ranges.
His calluses were ancient, petrified forests.
"Okay," Feng Yue said, taking charge because someone had to. "Zhurong, you're on exfoliation. Use a low-grade, sustained flame to burn off the dead millennia of skin."
Zhurong, who was still corrupted by Li Wei's chaotic code and now had the personality of a hyperactive lifestyle guru, saluted. "You got it, boss babe! Let's get this glow-up!"
He flew off, cackling, leaving a trail of scented, aromatherapy fire in his wake.
"Li Wei," Feng Yue commanded, her voice strained. "You're on nail filing."
She pointed to a jagged peak that was once Xuanwu's left pinky toenail.
"Use your phoenix fire. Gently."
This is not what I signed up for, Yin Mode whimpered in his head. I was promised a cosmic adventure, not a divine nail salon.
The structural integrity of this keratin formation is impressive, Yang Mode noted, his golden eyes scanning the mountain-sized nail. The optimal filing angle to prevent chipping is 37.4 degrees.
Li Wei sighed and got to work, shaping a god's toenail with the fire of a mythical bird.
It was just another Tuesday.
**
News of the Great Cosmic Spa Day spread.
Apparently, the universe's upper management was desperately in need of some self-care.
The first to arrive was a very stressed-out river god whose waters had been polluted by a nearby factory dimension.
Li Wei had to give him a mud mask made from primordial clay.
Then came a constellation who was having a body-image crisis because a younger, brighter star cluster had moved in next door.
Feng Yue had to give her a pep talk about inner light.
Soon, the floating, shattered remains of Hell's courtroom were packed.
It was a supernatural wellness convention.
Gods, demons, and primordial entities were all getting seaweed wraps and hot stone massages.
Yang Mode, seeing an opportunity for optimization, immediately took over as the spa's manager.
He developed an algorithm for cosmic skincare routines.
"Your aura is looking a little dull," he told a minor deity of despair. "I recommend a daily regimen of micro-dosing sunshine and a serum made from the laughter of children. You'll see a 43% reduction in existential dread within one celestial cycle."
Zhurong, meanwhile, had become obsessed with aromatherapy.
He was flying around, creating custom-scented candles for the divine clientele.
"For the God of War, I've created a blend of sandalwood, rage, and a hint of ozone," he announced proudly.
He lit the candle.
And a small, peaceful pocket dimension, filled with fluffy clouds and the gentle sound of wind chimes, instantly bloomed into existence.
It was a paradise of pure, weaponized relaxation.
**
Amid the chaos of the cosmic spa, Li Wei and Feng Yue found a quiet moment.
They were sitting on the edge of Xuanwu's shell, their feet dangling in the star-dusted void.
Below them, Zhurong was teaching a group of demons hot yoga.
"So," Li Wei said, his voice quiet. "Our entire relationship was basically... a science project."
Feng Yue didn't look at him. She just stared out at the endless, silent darkness.
"My entire bloodline," she said, her voice a hollow echo of its usual fire. "Bred like prize-winning horses. To be your perfect partner."
The truth of it, the sheer, calculated coldness of their origins, was a poison they were both still trying to process.
"Does it feel fake to you?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
She was silent for a long time.
"No," she said finally. "And that's what scares me."
She turned to look at him, her phoenix-fire eyes searching his.
"The feelings are real," she said. "The heartbreak. The anger. The... this."
She gestured to the space between them.
"But the 'why'... the reason it all started... that was a lie."
"Does it matter?" he asked. "Where it came from? If where we are now is... real?"
It was the most profound question he had ever asked.
A question that had no logical answer.
"I don't know," she admitted, her voice cracking with a vulnerability she rarely showed. "I don't know if I'm me, or if I'm just a program running its course."
"Me too," he confessed.
He reached out, his hand hovering over hers for a moment.
Then, he took it.
Her hand was warm.
His was clammy.
It felt real.
"Maybe," he said, a small, hopeful smile on his face. "Maybe we just get to decide what's real. From now on."
It wasn't a solution.
But it was a start.
**
Their quiet, profound, character-defining moment was interrupted by a sudden, chilling drop in temperature.
A new figure had arrived at the spa.
Unannounced.
It was the Jade Emperor.
He was wearing a fluffy white bathrobe with the celestial imperial seal embroidered on the pocket.
He looked like he was here for a deep-tissue massage.
His eyes, however, were not relaxed.
They were as cold and hard as diamonds.
The moment his gaze landed on Li Wei, something in Li Wei's soul... glitched.
The three distinct forms that flickered around him—the Idiot, the Genius, the Hero—all spasmed at once.
They tried to merge, then split, then merge again, a painful, chaotic feedback loop of identity.
The Jade Emperor's presence, his sheer, overwhelming aura of absolute order, was crashing his chaotic system.
He fell to his knees, clutching his head as the voices in his mind screamed in unison.
The Jade Emperor just watched, his expression one of cold, detached disappointment.
Like a programmer looking at a piece of buggy, malfunctioning code.
He took a slow, deliberate step forward.
"The experiment is over," he announced, his voice echoing with the finality of a death sentence.
"It is time to collect my runaway project."
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