The Heavenly Stair had existed since the moment the Beast God descended upon Blue Star.
It stretched across both reality and illusion. Only beings of pure sincerity could pierce through the fog of civilization and glimpse that beam of white light leading toward the divine realm.
All prayers, pleas, and cries were transformed into threads of flowing radiance, traveling upward along the Stair—reaching the ears of the divine.
The deity gazed upon all living beings, listening to their true hearts—granting some wishes, easing others.
Along the way, she encountered many of her kind.
Some were solid and real; others were translucent phantoms.
Some were as massive as mountains; others as small as dust.
Yet all of them climbed with desperate effort, their eyes shining with the same longing—
A longing called home.
At that moment, a little fox asked curiously:
"Why can you climb so fast?"
She tilted her head, a sly and lively smile spreading across her face.
"Because I was the first little animal to answer the Beast God's call! Doesn't that make me clever?"
She giggled.
"Humans have a saying: 'The brave taste the world first.' I'm that brave one. Hehe."
The others looked at her with pure admiration.
They did not understand jealousy.
Nor did they know how to scheme.
This near-transparent instinct only drove them to climb faster—chasing the light ahead.
Love was love.
Hate was hate.
The world of animals was as simple as a clear spring.
At last, the radiant Stair reached its end.
Above the drifting sea of stars, she saw Her—
The deity who ruled over all living things.
"Beast God—!"
Her voice trembled with irrepressible joy—
a dependence that transcended species and life itself.
She turned.
Behind Her, the chaotic projection of Blue Star was nothing more than a speck of dust.
She looked at the soul before Her—one that had shed all beastly form, yet was wrapped in the purest spiritual light.
For the first time—
The coldness in Her eyes completely melted away.
"Your courage saved you…
and saved your kind."
"Thank you, Beast God! You saved me—and Zhizhi too!"
She spoke in a rush, overwhelmed with joy, nearly crying from happiness.
The Beast God nodded slightly, Her voice like spring thunder across frozen plains:
"Cause and effect has been resolved. He is on his way back."
Tears finally spilled from her eyes.
She was grateful—beyond words—that she had found the courage at that moment.
Even though she knew the deity would never abandon Her "children"—
Because to Her, they were truly children.
Still… hearing it confirmed personally—
That happiness was enough to erase all suffering from her past life.
The Beast God lifted Her finger.
Starlight gathered in the void.
"From this day forth, I grant you a name—
Qinghong."
"It means: After the rain clears, a rainbow will surely appear.
Do you like it?"
"I do… I really do… Thank you… Beast God…"
Her voice choked.
"I finally… have a name…"
There was no sorrow in her tears—
Only overflowing happiness.
The divine decree transformed into radiant script, circling the void.
As the name Qinghong settled upon her, the last trace of deathly gray aura faded completely.
In its place—
A flowing veil of rainbow light draped across her shoulders, shimmering with every heartbeat.
She took a small step forward.
The veil swayed gently.
Against the vast cosmic backdrop, she resembled a living painting from ancient times—delicate, vivid, and breathtaking.
She glanced at her now jade-like fingers.
She remembered—
Inside that cold glass box, these hands had once been trembling claws, riddled with needle marks.
Within the divine realm, Qinghong gently touched the rainbow veil, eyes full of wonder.
A light emerged from her chest and drifted toward the Beast God, forming—
A fragment.
A puzzle piece.
The Beast God placed it aside, letting it float, enclosing it with a protective barrier.
Then She looked back at Qinghong—
Who was still smiling foolishly, like a child.
Seeing this, Her lips curved slightly.
"Qinghong, there is something I require of you."
She raised Her hand.
A sphere of light rested upon it.
"Beast God, just tell me! Qinghong can do it!"
She puffed her chest proudly—trying to prove herself reliable—
Only to cough from overexertion.
The Beast God nodded, gently transferring the light into her body.
In that instant—
Qinghong understood her mission.
A trace of hesitation crossed her face.
"Will this trouble you?" the Beast God asked.
Qinghong immediately shook her head.
"Of course not! You didn't ask me to do anything dangerous."
She paused, then spoke shyly:
"I'm just worried… I won't do it well… I used to be very useless…"
Her voice grew softer.
Her hands fidgeted nervously.
It wasn't grievance—
Just the anxiety of a child afraid of disappointing a parent.
The Beast God smiled faintly.
She stepped forward and gently stroked Qinghong's head.
Her hair was soft and smooth.
"It is fine. I trust you."
Her tone was gentle—like encouraging a child.
Qinghong instantly lit up again.
"Qinghong understands! I'll definitely do an amazing job!"
Something in the Beast God softened even further.
She recalled the phrases popular on Blue Star, clenched her fist lightly—
"Keep going."
That one phrase was more powerful than anything.
"Yes, Beast God! I'll work hard!"
She smiled.
Then turned toward the waiting Nightmare Beast—
And back to the projection of Blue Star.
"Your friend… Zhizhi."
Qinghong froze.
"What happened to Zhizhi?!"
Her memories surged back—
Inside the cage.
When a hand reached for her—
A slightly larger fancy rat had shielded her.
She remembered clearly—
That hand grabbing him.
The heart-shaped mark on his belly.
And the glove—
Stained with blood from unknown animals.
Drops falling onto her fur.
That was the first time she understood—
Life could be taken so easily.
So when she was saved—
The first thing she did was beg the Beast God to save Zhizhi.
Because he…
Was her savior.
Three Blue Lion Country — Presidential Office
The atmosphere was suffocating.
The president slammed his tablet onto the ground, shattering the screen.
"Useless! All of you! You can't even find one lawyer?!"
Hans—the lawyer who declared:
"Humanity has lost the right to define nature."
—had vanished completely.
No records.
No traces.
No existence.
"Mr. President… we suspect… he may no longer be in this dimension."
The intelligence director spoke carefully.
"…What do you mean?!"
"Based on analysis, he entered a spatial ripple… likely a gateway to another world."
"And that symbol on his forehead—
it represents… a special status."
"Special status?!"
"Is he a messenger of God—or a traitor?!"
"We don't know."
"But his disappearance… is directly tied to that declaration."
"Interpretation rights…"
The president muttered.
If humanity lost that—
It meant:
No more defining what is "useful" or "useless."
No more deciding what is "progress" or "sacrifice."
No more justifying destruction.
He looked out the window.
The once-busy streets were now eerily silent.
Machines stopped mid-operation.
People moved like hollow shells.
He picked up a secure phone.
"Activate the Ark Plan."
"We must prepare for the worst."
The Ark Plan—
A secret global contingency.
To preserve a fragment of humanity.
Once a fantasy.
Now—
The last hope.
He lowered the phone.
His back bent slightly—
A man in his forties suddenly looked decades older.
"…Let's hope… it works."