As William saw Mamat's horrific remains, his heart hammered against his ribs. His body felt heavy, his eyes widened, his mouth hung open, and he felt as if his body were encased in ice while his heart boiled within. His lungs seized, his body trembled, and his mind refused to believe what he saw.

Instantly, his mind conjured an explanation. This isn't real. It must be some kind of elaborate illusion. The blood splattered on the asphalt was just red sauce. And while part of Mamat's face was visible, it wasn't right. His eyes weren't dead like that. Mamat's eyes were always shining, full of emotion.

As Joni had said, Mamat was handsome. Those remains were not. It must not be Mamat. But even as his brain conjured excuses, he knew the truth. This was Mamat. This was real. Mamat was dead. He died, just like that.

What should he do now? Maybe they could still save him. Even though his limbs were crushed, his body turned to paste on the asphalt, and his skull was split open, maybe the doctors could do something. He was still young. He dreamed of entering a prestigious college and getting a high-paying job so his mother wouldn't have to work anymore. If he died, how could he enjoy his favorite shows and novels? How could they hang out? What about their promise for the bazaar stall next year?

As his mind swirled with thoughts and the rain drenched them all, Joni suddenly howled. It was a guttural sound, like a man whose foot had been crushed. William snapped his gaze to his side and saw Joni's face turn red. He snarled like a demon, tears and snot streaming down his face, his shout reverberating in the rainy night. Then, with impossible speed, he lunged at the truck driver.

The driver, who didn't look like a typical truck driver, was surrounded by people. When he saw Joni lunge at him, his eyes widened, and he tried to protect his head as Joni rained down punches. They were serious punches, aimed to kill. The sound of fists hitting flesh was fast and deep, and the man was forced to kneel further and further down. Joni tried to speak, but only gibberish came out. Yet everyone understood those garbled words.

As the "thud, thud, thud" reverberated, William's swirling thoughts focused on one thing and one thing only. Fury. Mamat, his precious friend, the one who had a bright future as long as he was supported, was dead. And the one responsible for his death was this fucker who didn't understand something as simple as traffic laws. William's face twisted into a snarl, his fists clenched, and he too ran toward the driver, kicking at his head. "Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!" he chanted, kicking his head, his back, anything that was exposed. The man begged and cried and said he was sorry, but that wouldn't bring Mamat back. And so, both of them kicked and punched harder. It was as if they were possessed by demons, and they truly intended to kill this man.

Soon, though, they were restrained by the crowd. They thrashed, trying to break free and kill the man, but in the end, they couldn't escape the people's grip. People finally let them go only when the police and ambulance arrived, and their chance for vengeance was gone.

In the hospital, the three of them sat silently on a cold bench. They didn't talk, didn't even dare to make a squeak. It was as if they had a silent agreement that if they remained quiet, the doctors could save Mamat. When Mamat's mom came, she cried and howled while hugging the three of them, and they hugged her back, crying with her. Their cries were ugly and loud because each of them had lost a part of their heart.

For William, it was the worst night of his life. Nothing could ever top that experience, and that held true even to this day. At that time, the three of them refused to move from the hospital. The doctor said they would try to stitch Mamat's remains together, and so they waited like statues for the body of their friend. At noon the next day, the process was finally over, and the three of them could finally see their friend's face once again. It was horrible, disfigured, and horrifying. But Mamat's eyes were closed, and he looked peaceful. As William saw him, the reality that Mamat was truly dead came crashing down, and he began to cry once again, followed by Joni and Nui.

The funeral was swift. Mamat's mom said, with red eyes and cheeks, that she wanted her son to be laid to rest as soon as possible. So, they contacted a nearby cemetery, measured the ground, and began to help dig his grave. Some adults told them they could leave the digging to them, but the three of them didn't hear a word. They just kept digging, their eyes red from tears. When the grave was ready, they were dirty, so Mamat's mom told them they needed to change and could wear Mamat's clothes. It was a gesture that once again made them cry. From there, Mamat was buried according to his beliefs. William, Joni, and Nui decided they would be the ones to lower their friend into the ground, but while Nui was capable, William and Joni were not. Their energy was spent, and they could only watch from the side as their friend was buried in the dead of night, lamps illuminating the graveyard and the burial procession.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

***

Liu Xing awoke with tears streaming from his eyes. He blinked several times, and the world came into focus. He was sleeping while leaning against a tree, its charcoal-colored bark warm against his back. The tree was large, but its branches grew in two parts, akin to two hands, with one extending west and one east. As Liu Xing awoke and inhaled the fresh air, observing the grass below him, his lips curled down, his eyes red, a strong wind came from above. The branches that looked like two extending hands suddenly bent down. From a distance, it would have looked as if the tree were trying to hug and console him for a single moment before reluctantly returning to its initial position.

As the wind caressed his body, Liu Xing looked around. He was sleeping a bit far from the main camp. Across the field, he could see people bustling around. The little camp had become more homey as time passed, but they would be leaving it tomorrow at the earliest.

Liu Xing stood and stretched. His body felt fresh, but his mind was still clouded by the dream. It wasn't the first time he had dreamed of his friend's death, but it was the most vivid dream he had ever had in two worlds. It was as if he had been sent back in time, and he felt that he could have changed the outcome.

"In the end, though, it was just a dream," he muttered. Even if he could change the dream, the real world would not change. And while Mamat's death was indeed tragic, everyone involved had already found closure.

As Liu Xing began to move, cultivating while practicing some kata, he remembered what happened after the funeral. Joni had gotten a phone call from a friend, stating that the trucker was not actually a trucker but the son of a military general, and his father had already gotten him out of jail. He remembered the rage and anger he felt hearing this news. The law in Indonesia was sharp for the weak and powerless, but blunt for those with money and power. Joni had enough money to pull some strings, but he was outmatched in terms of influence. What followed was a long, arduous effort to put that man back in jail, using social media and a string of events to expose what happened so bombastically that law enforcement had no choice but to act.

Though it was exhausting, this effort to bring the man to justice was what allowed them to come to terms with Mamat's death. And when the judge decided he would be jailed for twelve years without any chance of remission, it was as if the burden of Mamat's death had been lifted from their shoulders.

As of now, though, William was Liu Xing, and he knew that Mamat was currently alive. His situation was not good, but at least he was living, and even from a distant universe, Liu Xing still had enough power to help him.

Liu Xing moved with grace and power, until finally, he let out a mighty palm strike. It was without qi, but the force was enough to send a gust of wind that made the leaves sway. He ended with a deep inhalation, his body fresh, his mind sharp, and his heart content.

One seed of a goal was germinating in his heart. Right now, he needed power to finish Nui's mission. But once that was completed, perhaps he would try to make contact with his friends in the different universes. He was sure that by the time he could meet them, he would be an entirely different person, but he was also sure that the core of his feelings wouldn't change.

"Alright, let's do this," he muttered, then nodded.

Today was his lazy day, so he decided to relax for a bit, and he knew just what he wanted to do.

After he ate—it was porridge that was easy to digest to accommodate Brother Roe—he escorted Brother Roe and the old man to their house. Fang Ruxue decided to tag along, as did Qing Yuan. Surprisingly, Qing Lian came out of the crowd, and with a hesitant face, she spoke directly to Qing Yuan, telling him to be careful, which made Qing Yuan nod.

As they flew atop his turtle, Fang Ruxue said that last night, people had talked a lot with Qing Lian, and they had collectively decided to help her move on and try to reconnect with Qing Yuan. Qing Yuan chuckled, but Liu Xing noticed his smile was a little stiff, as if he smiled because he didn't know what else to feel. At that moment, he decided that while the others would help Qing Lian reconnect with her son, he would help from Qing Yuan's side.

After they dropped off Brother Roe and his grandpa, they decided to enter Water Tower City proper. As he expected, people gave them a wide berth. Fang Ruxue decided to use this to procure many things, from clothes to hygiene products, while he and Qing Yuan went into an art shop where they bought canvases, inks, paper, brushes, and colorful paints.

When they finished, they returned to the camp. Liu Xing set up a canvas and began to paint. Qing Yuan was interested, and so, both of them got busy painting. Qing Yuan decided he would paint the mountains, while Liu Xing decided to paint something else.

When he finished, he looked at it with a small smile. The painting depicted four teenagers in Indonesian high school uniforms, all of them wearing red aprons and beaming, as if it were the best day of their lives. Qing Yuan praised him for the unique painting. When he asked who they were, Liu Xing said they were friends. When he asked about the clothes and the place, Liu Xing just answered that it all came from his dream. After that, he began another painting. When he finished, Qing Yuan raised his eyebrows.

"What is that?" he said as he looked at the painting seriously, pinching his chin as if he were an appraiser trying to discern its worth.

"That, Young Yuan, is what we call a cat girl," Liu Xing said proudly.

Indeed, it was a cat girl painted in an anime style, wearing a black and white maid outfit. If Joni were here, he would have praised him to high heavens for nailing this beautiful painting.

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