Chapter 31

This time she woke up quickly, still drenched in cold sweat, unable to tell whether this was reality or a dream.

The panic from the dream still clung to her heart; she extended her hands, staring at them for a long time—no black sludge, no blood.

The ceiling light glowed a chilling white, radiating coldness that left her heart hollow. The window was half-open; the early morning wind stirred the linen curtains, making them sway as if something lurked behind them.

When you cannot distinguish reality from dreams, what can serve as an anchor to confirm reality?

Everything in reality can be replicated in dreams; when you carefully convince yourself this is real, yet illogical strangeness strikes again, battering your foggy mind once more.

The purple floral patterns on the ceiling light remained unchanged—were they real, or just another dream?

Yang Yi drifted in half-conscious thought, her mind flickering between interruption and connection; after a long while, nothing strange occurred, and she finally confirmed this was reality.

She picked up her phone to check the time—if dawn was still far off, she’d play games or read web novels to endure this endless night and get through this shaken moment.

The screen saver’s figure eased her mood slightly—it was the photo Chris had sent her, with greenery behind him, his smile truly captivating. It was a smile that brought instant joy without needing thought or recollection, striking straight to the soul; only those blessed by fate, raised as the center of attention since childhood, naturally handsome, and fully aware of their advantage could possess such confident, bright, magnetic charm.

Even more pleasing was Chris’s text—oh, he’d sent her a message; meeting him was likely the only thing worth celebrating since her ability was discovered.

She finally grasped a thread of reality, pulling her away from loneliness; she couldn’t wait to open the message.

“I saw you on the news—how are you? Are you okay?” Sent at 9:45 p.m., when she was still in a meeting; on the other side of the Pacific, Akar Country was around 5 a.m.

Oh, Misty Town—he’d seen it on the news.

The moment this fact surfaced in her mind, images of fissures, altars, corpses, life sources, and voices inside her body swirled through her thoughts like a kaleidoscope.

To dispel this chaotic emotion, she instinctively dialed his number, her movements almost frantic, as if fleeing.

The moment the call connected, she realized she had no idea what to say.

“It should be around 4 a.m. there—why are you up so early?” Chris walked to a quiet spot, holding his phone. It was her first time calling him; he was pleasantly surprised, his face lit with unrestrained smiles.

“I’m a bit…” She was about to say she felt terrible, but a sudden surge of unwarranted pride rose: Why reveal your emotions? To win his sympathy? Pity? To act like a child, displaying vulnerability and begging for affection? Like when you were little and… She paused, then quickly switched: “...I missed you…”

Only after the words left her mouth did she realize what she’d said—but they couldn’t be taken back; she could only smile silently at herself in mockery.

Since she’d said it, she might as well go all in. She desperately needed an unexpected disruption to break the suffocating darkness threatening to swallow her, to free her from this state. The inexplicable voice inside her, the ominous future it foretold, the dying Fire Demon’s curse, Videl’s vision of apocalypse—all had stretched her nerves taut like an elastic pulled to its limit, ready to snap.

If a brief romance could relax her frayed nerves, why not? After all, she’d long desired him; if the chance arose, why not try?

Chris’s heart leapt; ignoring the approaching director, he waved him off, signaling he was on the phone, then moved farther from the crowd. They were filming a chase scene on the western desert; it was afternoon, and the scorching heat and shooting delays had left everyone irritable.

“You know… I’m your… loyal fan… Just like every fan wants to get closer to their idol, I want to understand you better, get closer to you, touch you…”

The girl’s voice had started haltingly, as if struggling to organize her words, speaking as she thought—but grew increasingly fluent. Her tone softened, the unsaid words in her lingering inflection seeming more than what she’d spoken.

Chris felt as if a feather’s tip had lightly pricked his heart—tingling. He immediately realized she was extending a deeper invitation; for a man who already liked her, this was an excellent signal.

He’d had a vague sense of where their relationship might head, but he hadn’t expected it so soon—and especially not initiated by her. She gave the impression of someone reserved and steady, possessing a calm uncommon in girls her age.

And just two days ago, their messages had remained at the level of ordinary friends—light jokes, mutual encouragement, barely a hint of flirtation, easily dismissed as “maybe I imagined it.” Today, she’d suddenly thrown a direct ball—strange indeed.

If a regular female fan had suddenly confessed like this, he’d feel nothing, even politely thank her and keep distance. But now, he felt an overwhelming surge of joy and satisfaction; a wave of energy seemed to flood his body, and the sweltering desert suddenly felt cool.

This was a god among mortals—the only “superhuman” in reality! And she’d once saved his life. Her ability, identity, status, appearance, and the special way she’d treated him differently from others at the party—all intensely satisfied a man’s vanity.

Besides, he wasn’t indifferent to her.

Didn’t he subconsciously hope for something when he asked for her contact? Didn’t he deliberately say “next time it’ll be orange flavor” at the party to flirt? Didn’t his persistent, eager texting stem from more than just wanting to be friends? Come on—would you show your best side to a girl you had zero interest in? Would you pose deliberately to take a perfect photo and send it to a casual friend?

In this moment of Chris’s turbulent emotions, a brief silence fell between them—only a few seconds, yet something unpredictable seemed to shift on the other end.

“Too sudden, right? Sorry—I feel the same. Don’t worry, even though I can fly, I won’t fly over and beat up a man who isn’t interested in me… If you’re busy, I’ll hang up…” Yang Yi suddenly changed her tone, speaking quickly, and hung up before Chris could respond.

Yang Yi’s sudden words left Chris stunned and uneasy; he even wondered if she’d called just to tease him.

What am I doing?! Yang Yi slumped onto the sofa; the cold ceiling light above seemed to mock her: Playing a boring love game to avoid an approaching crisis? Are you an idiot? A fool! A moron! Even if you’re a schizophrenic nutcase, you’re not stupid—where did your reason and logic go?

Faced with unknown difficulties and the coming crisis, the only way is to confront them directly—not hide in a stupid love game, fooling yourself that nothing is happening!

Weakness! Cowardice! Why choose to flee? I hate you for being this weak! As a child, you were like this—and now, still! You coward! Didn’t you swear you’d never be weak again?!

It must be the nightmare that affected me—it must be another personality making me do this absurd thing! Emotions! Reject negative emotions! Don’t let them control you anymore! Enough of this for years!

Go! Fight! Die! All demons and monsters—come if you dare! Give everything to uncover the truth! Resist! If you want to destroy humanity, then destroy it! So what if I die with humanity? Void! Void! All things return to void! Humanity, past, future, civilization—what do they matter against the scale of the universe? Even the universe will perish!

If I’m not afraid of death, what else is there to fear? Pain? Torment? Endless hell? Endless hunger? Let me see them all! I might be tortured into a hungry ghost of hell, an uncontrollable addict, a heartless scumbag—but before that, you must fight! Fight with your last breath! If you truly cannot win… at least there’s still one final path…

Yang Yi gritted her teeth; a surge of furious passion made her unable to sit on the sofa—her whole body burned, her blood boiling; she had to pace around the living room to relieve it. The fleeting thought of “using love to escape reality” filled her with rage, shame, and revulsion toward the version of herself from just a minute ago.

Let’s see who wins—Fire Demon God Asathde! Let’s see who wins—Celestial Clan, Turmite, Laplace, or any other nameless horrors! If you want to come, come! If Earth is on your menu, eat it! I’ll fulfill my final duty—even if my only fate is death, I’ll open my arms to welcome it!

Resist or die—it’s that simple.

That voice! The voice that declared my fate! Whoever you are, come! I’m not afraid of you! How could I possibly fear you? Yes, you’ve announced my “inevitable path”! You used the life source to lure me, to turn me into an addict, a cannibal, a gambler betting against fate—I know your vile intentions! I’m ready! Come! Come—

At this moment, she longed for an enemy, a monster, to appear right before her—she’d fight with all her strength and fury, clawing, kicking, biting with her teeth, stabbing with every bone in her body.

She clenched her fists uselessly, staring at empty air, her face flushed with excitement, as if facing her mortal enemy in this lifetime.

Suddenly, like a flash of lightning cutting through the night, a blinding white idea struck her mind: Who says the inexplicable voice is real? Who can be certain it’s real?

Didn’t you often talk to another personality that didn’t exist? How can you be sure this one is real? Maybe it’s just auditory hallucination again?

This thought instantly filled her with elation; her anger turned to excitement as she desperately sought evidence to support it.

No one else heard that voice! No one else saw any trace of its existence! And self-awareness is the least reliable thing.

Even the stone chair on the altar might not exist—after all, Daniel and the others only saw the altar; Videl saw the life source; only she, only she saw that hateful chair. Maybe it’s just a hallucination?

The voice named the Fire Demon God “Asathde”—a secret known only to Videl’s group and her. She was certain it wasn’t Videl’s doing; it must be her own consciousness—yes, her damn hallucinations had worsened again!

Yes, I have a slight—some minor mental issue; auditory hallucinations aren’t unusual, right?

No, I’m normal. I don’t have psychosis. I’m not schizophrenic. I’m perfectly normal! I can work. My logical thinking is flawless! I support myself independently!

I’m just introverted, dislike socializing, prefer being alone, and enjoy talking to myself—that’s all! Everyone talks to themselves in their heads; everyone fantasizes. I just fantasize more!

Is that really true? Another thought crept quietly into her mind—wasn’t this just self-deception? Wasn’t this an excuse she’d fabricated to avoid the impending doom? How pitiful—to use a condition she’d always refused to acknowledge as proof!

No! She suddenly calmed down. I said it—I’ll give everything, fight, struggle, resist! As for this so-called “inevitable fate,” if I truly cannot escape it, then my resistance must be part of fate itself.

Fate is meant to be resisted.

Yang Yi sat back down on the sofa, staring at the tiny floral patterns on the light, lost in thought.

At that moment, her phone rang. It was Chris.

She remembered—she’d hung up abruptly without waiting for his reply, which was undeniably rude.

How should she explain her behavior? She stared at the ringing phone, her emotions tangled.

If he asks about what just happened, what should I say? That it was a joke? But it wasn’t funny—it’d only seem like a cover-up.

The ringtone rang for a long time; Yang Yi stared at the phone like it was a ticking bomb.

Finally, the ringtone stopped; the screen darkened.

She’d just sighed in relief when the phone rang again.

Fine. Looks like I have to answer. I’ll pick up and see what he says. If he asks about earlier, I’ll tell him I was bored and just wanted to joke.

“I hope what I just heard wasn’t a joke!” Chris’s voice was urgent. “It was indeed sudden, but I’m happy—very happy! And I’m not busy at all—I have plenty of time to talk properly. Also, if you really do fly over to beat me up, I’d be even happier… I mean, I really want to see you right now…”