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Bonus chapter! Thank you to Somebody for the donation! ^^
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Gritting his teeth, the man forced himself to steady his breathing. With painstaking care, he wrapped the orchid in a cocoon of energy—not a single petal disturbed.
Only when the flower was safely freed from the lava did he finally exhale.
But the divine spark had already shattered, and what remained was but a wisp of a soul—its eventual dissipation was only a matter of time.
The man stared impassively at the ghostly orchid before him, then recklessly unleashed his power once more.
Only this time, his target wasn’t the world—it was himself.
When Xiao Mingyu realized the man’s intent, he leapt up in shock.
“F*ck, f*ck, f*ck! Are you insane!?”
“Do you even understand the consequences? If you scatter yourself like this, do you really think you can pull yourself back together?”
“Are you even sure what comes back will still be you?”
Yet the man ignored him completely, continuing to channel his power without the slightest hesitation.
Even if… there was no coming back.
Xiao Mingyu gritted his teeth. “You’re mad. A complete f*cking lunatic.”
Ruan Qing stared blankly at the beautiful man, utterly agreeing with Xiao Mingyu’s words.
Yes, this was madness—staking everything, gambling his very existence, just to buy him a chance to survive.
And yet… he didn’t even remember him.
Ruan Qing hadn’t cried when he died. He hadn’t cried when promises were broken. He hadn’t cried when his teacher’s figure appeared before him.
But this time, the tears refused to be held back, spilling like scattered pearls down his cheeks.
Pain and suffering don’t always bring tears, but being loved and cherished—that’s what makes a person vulnerable.
An overwhelming tide of grief and injustice threatened to drown him. Gone was his usual composure, his calm calculations. Now, he was like a wronged child finally seeing a familiar face, tears of wronged sorrow streaming uncontrollably.
As if he could cry out every ounce of anguish he’d ever carried.
Ruan Qing didn’t wail or sob—just quiet, trembling tears. His beautiful eyes glistened, his entire being radiating fragility and heartbreak.
It was enough to shatter anyone’s heart, to make them want to gather him close and whisper comforts, to shield him from even a whisper of harm.
Xiao Mingyu felt a flicker of pity, but crushed it ruthlessly. His voice was harsh when he spoke:
“He’s trying to resurrect you.”
“You were a god born from divinity. Bringing you back… will cost him everything.”
“If the Laws discover this—you’ll both die.”
“And then? What are you trying to say?” Ruan Qing’s voice was so light it seemed to scatter with the wind. From beginning to end, he didn’t spare Xiao Mingyu a single glance, his gaze fixed solely on the man before him.
“Persuade him to give up on me? Or persuade me to die?”
His tone remained eerily calm throughout, as if he were merely commenting on the pleasant weather.
The air grew deathly still. Xiao Mingyu’s lips parted slightly, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to voice that cruel suggestion.
He wasn’t even sure if what he was doing was right.
Though they were gods, none of them deserved the title more than the man before him.
Gods were inherently selfish. They would never die for their own world—if one perished, they’d simply seize another. Worlds were nothing more than expendable soil to them, their existence meaningless.
This person… was probably the only soft-hearted god he had ever met.
But no matter how kind-hearted, he was already dead.
Xiao Mingyu didn’t try to persuade him further—he had no right to. Instead, he stared straight at Ruan Qing and countered, “If reviving you comes at the cost of countless lives, would you still choose to be resurrected?”
Reviving an ordinary human was trivial for a god. But if the one being revived was a deity born from a divine core, then that core was everything to them.
The core perishes, the god perishes.
And reforging a divine core was tantamount to defying the natural order. In all the billions of years of existence, such a thing had never happened—it wasn’t even something one dared to imagine.
The Laws would never permit it, let alone at the cost of billions of lives.
“The Laws already know. Their enforcer will likely arrive soon.”
“Before he does, there’s still room for reversal.”
Xiao Mingyu watched as the man on the ground opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but found himself at a loss.
Because no words could change the inevitable.
This man was doomed. Even if Xiao Mingyu didn’t kill him, the Law’s enforcer would.
The only difference was whether one person died… or two.
Under the Laws, he might be invincible—but no one could ever rise above them. No one could defy the Laws.
The Laws tolerated no variables, and this man, born from a divine core, was already an anomaly.
Though all are called gods, they are divided into many kinds.
The first are the Primordial Deities—the earliest gods, born with the sun and moon, standing above all others.
No one knows how long they have existed, nor the extent of their power. Even their divine domains remain a mystery.
Those who learned the truth are long dead.
Take 'Him', for example—one of the five Primordial Deities.
The second kind are those chosen by a divine domain, ascending to godhood. These are the most common, the most ordinary—gods who can be killed.
The one who slays a god inherits everything: their divinity, their domain, their power.
And the third kind? Gods born from a divine domain itself—divine from the moment of their creation.
Though called a "kind," in all the countless eons, only one such being has ever existed.
That one stands here now.
Blessed by the sun and moon, beloved by the very laws of existence—in all the vast millennia, there has been only him.
Yet on the very day of his birth, he vanished, scattered to the winds.
Perhaps this, too, was within the workings of fate. The laws of this world may never have permitted a god to be born from a domain—let alone allowed anyone to bring him back.
The illusion Xiao Mingyu conjured dissolved, the nightmare world reverting to its schoolyard form.
No trace remained, as if all of it had long been buried in history.
Xiao Mingyu hesitated, then glanced at Ruan Qing. "Whatever you do, don’t tell him, or I’ll die—"
"Pfft."
Before he could finish, a blade punched straight through his heart from behind.
And then came a man’s voice—soft, gentle, and utterly lethal.
"What was it you couldn’t tell me?"
Xiao Mingyu’s face twisted into something inhuman. Slowly, he turned to glare at the figure who had appeared behind him without warning, his expression screaming, You f*cking ambushed me?!
The man pulled the blade free without a flicker of emotion—then drove it back into Xiao Mingyu’s heart and repeated, voice colder:
"What. Couldn’t. You. Tell. Me?"
