Ada laughed. Her husband was fixing the Moon to make a gift for their daughter. A full moon really was beautiful. But she was sure he had another reason too—definitely to teach those Martians a lesson. To show them that there's always someone stronger out there. Just because they'd inherited Martian relics didn't mean they were unbeatable. Earth was far more magical than they imagined.
Zhan Jun thought he'd misheard. The 1999 Heavenfall event had shattered half the Moon when the space gate went out of control. Part of the debris had fallen to Earth, killing 1 billion people. The Americas were nearly wiped out. The meteor shower even triggered the Yellowstone eruption, plunging the continent into a chain of disasters. To this day, it remained uninhabitable.
Many other meteors still orbited Earth in low orbit. Some of the larger ones had even been turned into military bases—like the Trident Space Base.
The Moon had been broken for 15 years. Could it really be fixed? Zhan Jun knew Liu A'dou was powerful, but repairing the Moon? Even in that suave white outfit, it felt impossible. But seeing Ada's amused, confident expression made him hesitate. Maybe…
Only Liu A'dou's actions would prove it.
He raised his right hand and spread his fingers, cradling the Moon. That crumbled cookie in the sky was an eyesore in the dark. Ancient people once said, "The Moon waxes and wanes," but now it was just waning, forever broken.
Now Liu A'dou wanted to help restore that ancient romanticism to Earth. Burn bright, little microcosmos.
Kaitou Kid's cloak fluttered without wind, crackling softly.
Shhhhhh~
Ada felt her husband's boundless microcosmos spreading quickly through space. He had to scan every chunk of debris—rebuilding the Moon was harder than fighting a horde of Kryptonian refugees. Part of the reason she brought their daughter was to witness this gift from her father. But the other part was worry. She needed to be close in case anything happened to him.
In Liu A'dou's mind, a detailed image of Earth's and the Moon's surroundings appeared. But there were many missing pieces—like a puzzle with gaps. Some fragments had fallen to Earth, but most had drifted off into the endless universe, never to be retrieved.
So he'd have to cut corners. As the old saying goes, "The moon of Qin and the passes of Han," this moon would be different from a thousand years ago—lighter, smaller, emptier.
Let's begin. Liu A'dou twisted his arm.
Zhan Jun widened his eyes, staring at the sky to spot any changes.
Space was vast, and he was far away. He could only tell when large meteorites started shifting. Everything felt strangely quiet. Liu A'dou's movements looked silly—like a stage act with no special effects.
But people on the meteorites felt it. The rocks were moving. They didn't know why, but the shaking forced them to abandon their bases and evacuate fast.
Meteorites in the belt began to shift in ways that defied physics. Liu A'dou was resisting Earth's gravitational field. Slowly and painfully, he tugged at the fragments, pushing them back toward their original positions.
It went on for a long time—30 minutes, then an hour, and still going. Liu A'dou realized patching up a satellite wasn't nearly as simple as he'd imagined. But once the job started, there was no quitting. If he stopped now, the debris could fall to Earth.
So he kept going.
Finally, Zhan Jun saw it—meteorites moving toward the Moon. It had taken over an hour, but the change was real, not an illusion.
Not just Zhan Jun—everyone on Earth who could see the Moon noticed it too. Meteorites were converging, like an invisible hand was sweeping shattered stones back together.
Everyone was stunned. Not even the experts could explain this unnatural phenomenon. On the lunar base, the Martians were even more terrified. They fled in panic, rushing through the sea of meteorites, looking back with dread. What was happening? Was this God punishing the Martians?
Sweat dripped from Liu A'dou's forehead. His ultimate microcosmos spun at full speed, gradually releasing a force capable of interfering with the universe. It pushed the meteorites, rotated them, then slowly gathered them to repair the Moon.
But the process was painfully slow. Everything in the universe was in motion. The Moon moved, and the meteorites drifted under the pull of various gravitational fields. Liu A'dou had to constantly adjust the position of each meteorite relative to the Moon.
"A'dou?" Ada started to worry. Fixing a satellite was way too difficult for a human—probably even Superman would take a long time. If Superman were fixing it, he'd just shove a chunk of rock back and weld it into place. But Liu A'dou was trying to control so many meteorites at once. Clearly, he'd overestimated himself.
For a moment, Liu A'dou regretted it. But then he remembered—he was a father now. This was a gift for his daughter, and also the greatest magic trick of his life. He couldn't quit.
Microcosmos, burn.
Liu A'dou's eyes sharpened. He raised his left hand. Now using both hands, the meteorites suddenly accelerated.
"Aaaaahhhh!"
"Light?" Zhan Jun, who'd been staring at the sky the whole time, caught a flicker of light at the edge of his vision. He turned in surprise—Liu A'dou was glowing, surrounded in golden radiance.
It was the sign of a microcosmos burning at its peak. But this wasn't just gold—mixed within the gold shimmered multicolored hues, the colors of the universe, vibrant and brilliant.
The golden glow marked him as a true Gold Saint.
People near the hospital saw it too—an entire microcosmos blooming on the rooftop. Zhan Jun realized he was wrapped in that light too. Stars and emptiness surrounded him. It was beautiful.
Ada and Nono were pulled into that universe too. They felt the warmth of Liu A'dou's ultimate microcosmos.
Liu A'dou felt like he transcended humanity. He understood the truths of the universe, grasping the laws behind everything's motion—fast or slow, it all had reason.
Suddenly he understood why Gold Saints only had a few universe-class moves—because it was insanely hard. Destruction was already difficult; creation and repair were even harder. So Saints who only destroyed were just fighters. The one who could bring people back to life—Athena—was the true goddess.
Those who could only destroy the world were demons. The ones who could destroy and create were gods.
Creation is harder than destruction. Destruction is easier than creation.
"Ada, come with me." Ada heard Liu A'dou calling to her from within the universe.
Without hesitation, she ignited her own microcosmos. At its Eighth Sense peak, their two energies intertwined, instantly lighting up the whole city. People thought it was dawn—if not for the shifting Moon, they might have believed it.
Zhan Jun couldn't speak. He didn't dare.
Liu A'dou guided Ada's energy. When he felt it was enough, his eyes widened. Time to begin. "Reverse Galaxian Explosion—!"
The roar shook the sky. Meteorites and the Moon suddenly became like opposing magnetic poles—slamming together and being compressed into one solid form under overwhelming stress.
The Galaxian Explosion was the most powerful move of the Gemini Gold Saint. It could annihilate every star within the galaxy's range, the most extreme physical attack among the Twelve Zodiac techniques.
But Liu A'dou, borrowing Ada's strength, unleashed its reversed form. Instead of shattering the Moon, he fused it. In that ultimate burn, he realized just how much more power repair took compared to destruction. Thankfully Ada was with him, and their microcosmos resonated. Otherwise, this trick would've failed.
The light faded.
The entire Earth erupted in gasps. People watching on TV saw it too—there it was. The Moon. A full, perfect Moon was back.
Countless eyes went wide, frozen in disbelief. They simply couldn't believe what they were seeing.