Li Ming stared at the woman in front of him, then at the courtyard that shimred like soone had tried to paint reality using wet ink. The bamboo swayed out of rhythm, the ground humd faintly, and one pavilion had a sign that read: "Tea Room – Currently Closed Due to Yesterday’s Tomorrow."
He rubbed his face. "I’ve been in nightmares more consistent than this."
The woman smiled politely, the kind of calm smile bureaucrats wore when they were used to existential screaming. "You’ll get used to it, Agent Li. The Bureau of You operates outside linear ti. Our job is to investigate the anomalies caused by—"
Li Ming raised a hand. "Don’t say it."
"—you," she finished smoothly.
Bai Guo hopped onto Li Ming’s shoulder, feathers puffed. "Oh, that’s poetic justice."
Lei Shan stretched, tail crackling faintly. "So we’re in charge of cleaning up his sses? I approve. He’s ssy."
The woman handed Li Ming a jade token shaped like an infinity symbol. "This grants you temporary Bureau authority. Please avoid paradoxical actions, paradoxical statents, or paradoxical beverages. You caused a whole incident last ti."
Li Ming frowned. "Last ti?"
She checked her scroll. "Technically next ti."
He blinked. "...I need tea."
"Perfect," she said, turning gracefully. "Orientation is in the Tea Pavilion, 300 years ago. Follow ."
---
The Tea Pavilion existed half in sunlight, half in starlight. Disciples—or rather, agents—moved around carrying scrolls that occasionally argued with them.
One man was debating a cloud about moral philosophy. Another was trying to serve tea to a shadow of his future self.
Li Ming stared. "Is this... normal here?"
Bai Guo fluttered his wings. "Define normal."
Lei Shan nodded sagely. "I like this place. The thunder feels confused."
They sat down at a low table that wobbled slightly. The woman poured tea from a pot that stead in both directions of ti. "You will be assigned field cases linked to karmic distortions created by your previous actions."
"Each case has a causality anchor. Fix the anchor, and the distortion resolves."
Li Ming took a sip. The tea tasted like nostalgia and mild regret. "And if I don’t fix it?"
"Then the distortion spreads. And since every one of them originates from you, that would make you..." She smiled faintly. "...the cause of causality collapsing. Again."
Li Ming placed the cup down carefully. "Alright. Fine. What’s my first assignnt?"
She tapped the air, and a scroll appeared, floating before him. It read:
> Case #001 — Azure Sky Temporal Echo.
Location: Azure Sky Sect, Mortal Realm.
Status: Closed loop detected.
Possible cause: You.
Li Ming froze. "Azure Sky Sect?"
Bai Guo perked up. "Hey, isn’t that—"
Before he could finish, the scroll exploded into light. The world folded, ti cracked, and everything inverted.
---
Li Ming slamd into solid ground. His ribs protested, his pride wept, and his surroundings rang with a sound he’d once sworn to never miss again—disciples shouting about who broke the training array.
He opened his eyes.
The blue banners of the Azure Sky Sect fluttered in the morning wind. The sa crooked peach tree shaded the courtyard. The faint scent of spiritual incense hung in the air.
Lei Shan crawled out of his sleeve. "Déjà vu."
Bai Guo stared around, eyes wide. "We’re back."
Li Ming rose slowly. "No... we’re back-back."
A chorus of voices broke the silence.
"Elder Li Ming?!"
"He’s alive!"
"Quick, inform the Sect Master—his curse didn’t work!"
Before he could speak, half the outer sect ca running. So cried, so bowed, so held up talismans just in case he was a ghost.
Lan Yue arrived last, robes pristine, expression unreadable. She stared at him for a long mont. "You vanished for half a year."
"I can explain," Li Ming began.
"No, you can’t," she said firmly. "You’re not even sure what day it is, are you?"
Li Ming paused. "...Thursday?"
"It’s sunrise on a Tuesday."
Bai Guo whispered, "That’s close enough."
Lei Shan added, "In fairness, ti hates him."
Lan Yue rubbed her forehead. "Just... try not to break the sect before lunch."
---
The sect looked exactly as he rembered it—except for one thing.
Every disciple had grown absurdly fast. The air itself pulsed with new density, as if cultivation ca easier here now.
Li Ming extended his spiritual sense and frowned. The Qi veins of the mountain glowed brighter, smoother. The entire flow of energy had stabilized.
"This is wrong," he murmured. "I didn’t fix anything this stable."
Bai Guo tilted his head. "Maybe soone else did?"
Lei Shan flicked his tail. "Or maybe the universe cleaned up your leftovers."
Li Ming squatted beside the main path, running his fingers through the soil. The energy pulsing through it was familiar—his own, but purified, refined. Like soone had taken his chaos and distilled it into balance.
"Impossible," he whispered. "That kind of harmonization doesn’t happen by accident."
A nearby disciple bowed to him nervously. "Elder Li! The new Azure Dream Lake is flourishing! You must see it!"
Li Ming blinked. "Azure... what?"
They led him toward the back mountain.
When he saw it, his heart nearly stopped.
A vast pond shimred with light, lotus flowers drifting across its surface. Each petal carried faint divine runes. Disciples ditated by the water’s edge, their breathing synchronizing with the rhythm of the ripples.
The entire place thrumd with serene power.
Bai Guo let out a low whistle. "This is your ss evolved."
Lei Shan’s fur stood on end. "It feels alive."
Li Ming’s hand trembled slightly. "No... not alive. It’s resonating with my Qi signature. This lake was born from my accident—but soone refined it. Guided it."
Lan Yue appeared beside him, hands clasped behind her back. "You disappeared the night before this lake erged. It appeared at dawn, fully ford, radiating balance. It cultivates those who rest near it."
She paused, looking at him carefully. "Did you do this?"
Li Ming opened his mouth—then stopped.
He hadn’t. But whoever or whatever guided this developnt had his essence all over it. His loop, his mistake, his resonance.
The Bureau’s words echoed in his mind.
> "Each case has a causality anchor. Fix the anchor, and the distortion resolves."
He looked at the lake again, realization dawning.
"It’s not a mistake," he said quietly. "It’s the anchor."
Lan Yue frowned. "What anchor?"
Li Ming smiled faintly, watching the water reflect the morning light. "The one that tells I’m finally ho."
The breeze carried faint laughter across the surface—his own voice, from sowhere outside ti.
Bai Guo stretched his wings. "You look too calm. That’s suspicious."
Lei Shan grinned. "Maybe he’s learning."
Li Ming chuckled softly. "Learning’s a strong word. Let’s just say... I’ve stopped arguing with destiny."
He sat by the lake, closing his eyes. The Qi flowed through him, steady and warm. For once, he didn’t feel the tug of tilines, or the whisper of chaos.
Just peace.
And maybe, if he was lucky, he’d get to keep it—at least until the next scroll fell from the sky.
Because with his luck, it probably already had his na on it.
To be continued...
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