On the outskirts of Sky City stood an exquisite wooden cottage covered in vines.
On a desk made of red wood lay a book bound in parchment, with a gold-and-black pen resting across its cover.
Suddenly, the cover trembled.
A die appeared out of thin air, bounced once on the cover, struck the pen, and rolled straight onto the floor.
The "1" face pointed upward.
A breeze stirred through the air. Nothing happened.
The die vanished.
A few seconds later, a clattering sound came from the book cover again. This time, the die did not fall to the floor, but came to a stop on the cover.
The "4" face pointed upward.
The air fell still for a moment.
The die vanished again.
A few more seconds passed, and the crisp clattering sounded for a third time.
This time, the die seemed to roll with considerable force, like an angry sprite dancing over the yellowed parchment.
It struck the pen with a sharp clink, spun several times, and finally slowed to a stop.
The "6" face pointed upward.
The die rested quietly on the cover as soft, blood-red moonlight streamed through the spotless window and fell upon it.
Rustle.
Suddenly, the die began spreading outward, bit by bit, as though unfolding into two dimensions.
A gust swept through the room.
The pen clattered to the floor, and the book's pages fluttered wildly.
As the die unfolded, a dazzling, sacred light appeared inside the cottage. Its rays pierced through the gaps in the wooden walls like swords, then vanished in an instant.
When the light faded, the die was nowhere to be seen. In its place stood Duke Han Xi, dressed in a gold-trimmed uniform, his expression solemn and his brows slightly furrowed.
He had returned from death.
The old duke