Chapter 41

Yang Yi plunged him into the sea, a mental force membrane clinging to their bodies like a fish, chasing after the sea beast.

Chris stared at her in disbelief.

“Want to ride a monster through the ocean? More thrilling than the sky!” Yang Yi asked, her expression excited, a mischievous smile curling at her lips—she looked like a troublemaker ready to pull a prank.

This was the first time Chris saw Yang Yi like this. In the news, she was always calm, composed, her expression nearly unchanging—perhaps she wanted to project an image of maturity and steadiness.

In their private interactions, she had become slightly more human, yet still extremely restrained; the faint blush on the hotel balcony had been the most vivid he’d ever seen her.

Now, this mischievous side of hers was even more alive—a rule-abiding good student finally breaking free, deciding to tease a bad classmate and show off to someone she liked.

And he was that someone she liked.

Though danger loomed, Chris couldn’t help smiling. Yang Yi was utterly adorable right now.

They caught up to the giant beast—its scales dark green-black, each larger than they were. Their figures beside its towering body looked like two tiny insects; one flick of its tail could shatter them into pieces.

Facing this terrifying beast from another world, humans instinctively trembled, choosing to fight or flee—a primal instinct passed down from ancient ancestors confronting wild beasts.

Could she really defeat this beast? Would they be eaten?

He almost regretted not stopping her adventure, yet deep inside, a spark of eagerness stirred—a desire to attempt the impossible, a great leap beyond mediocrity.

The two tiny insects drew near. The beast felt its dignity insulted—it suddenly twisted its body, lashing its massive tail, stirring a thousand tons of water into a submarine hurricane. Fish around them were swept into the current like clothes in a spinning washing machine, torn apart in moments.

Shreds of flesh and fish organs floated around them, obscuring the surroundings, vision blurred, as if trapped inside a can of fish.

Yang Yi gripped his hand, her slightly upturned lips seeming to say: Come on, let’s cause some trouble—tease this big guy!

At the sight of her smile, Chris’s heart pounded. He felt his homeland gradually falling, his armies retreating step by step, and he, king of his independent kingdom, about to be captured, bowing before the enemy queen.

Yang Yi didn’t need her eyes—she knew every detail around her. She led him to a patch of mottled dark stone, and they clung to a pillar. She tapped her foot lightly; an invisible mental force rippled outward, and the entire stone began to thrash wildly.

They weren’t standing on a rock—it was the beast’s skull, and the pillar was its conical horn.

The beast thrashed wildly, shaking its head, even plunging it downward into the seabed to shake them off. The once-clear ocean floor churned with mud and seaweed, turning into a murky swamp.

Chris couldn’t see anything. He felt like a broccoli floret tossed into a blender, violently churned until his mind was mush, his stomach churning. Without Yang Yi beside him, he would have vomited immediately.

Yang Yi noticed his discomfort, squeezed his hand apologetically, then stomped hard. An invisible wave spread beneath them. The beast reared its head, letting out a pained roar—a howl from primordial antiquity, filled with resentment and fury.

Yang Yi ignored its cries, forcing her mental power to bind it, compelling it to leave the murky waters.

Every time the beast struggled in defiance, Yang Yi tapped her foot lightly. Chris didn’t know what power lay in that casual stomp, but he felt it—each time, the beast beneath them shuddered, emitting a few mournful cries steeped in ancient resonance.

She was like a warrior taming a wild stallion: when it reared in rebellion, she cracked a whip; when it kicked in pain, she overpowered it with sheer strength to twist its direction; when it finally calmed for a moment, she casually soothed it.

After several rounds, the wild stallion learned: only by surrendering its defiance could it avoid angering its rider.

“Let’s ride it to the surface and play!” Yang Yi’s eyes sparkled. Her black pupils were usually calm—even profound—but now, her eager expression resembled a little girl in a pretty dress, desperate to show off.

A jolt beneath them—the beast surged upward toward the surface. As it broke the water, moonlight spilled down, the world suddenly clear and luminous.

The beast had accepted its fate. It glided swiftly across the sea, obeying its master’s will, heading toward the moon.

Under Yang Yi’s control, it moved smoothly, as if riding a cruise ship.

The sea shimmered with ripples; distant fish occasionally leapt from the waves. Riding the beast across the ocean, they felt no longer on Earth, no longer in the human world—but in some strange fantasy realm.

Chris thought of the title online praising her: “God of the Human World.” Now he understood—it wasn’t hyperbole. He finally felt what those she saved had felt: watching her power on the news was nothing like experiencing it firsthand.

He was a leaf swept forward by an unstoppable flood, with no control over his own path.

So many awakened existed in the world, yet she was the only S-rank—perhaps even beyond S. Even if he awakened, even if he gained superpowers, what meaning would they hold before her power?

He was certain his initial fondness for her wasn’t admiration of strength—but after this display, could he honestly say there wasn’t even a trace?

He felt ashamed of his earlier confident preparations—like an ant challenging an elephant, believing it could win, while the elephant didn’t even notice it, simply stepping over it naturally.

He sensed that if he took one more step forward, he would become a meteor swallowed by a star—completely erased.

Yang Yi sat down. Chris released the horn—the beast’s horn—and sat beside her.

“Fun, right?” Her eyes sparkled, waiting expectantly for his reply.

To give any other answer would be to ruin the moment, to be ungrateful.

“Fun,” Chris said, as she hoped.

Satisfied, Yang Yi exhaled as if completing a long-held wish. She smiled shyly at him, avoiding his gaze, turning instead to watch the moon.

Slowly, she drifted into thought, her pupils swirling with something he couldn’t understand; the smile faded from her lips.

All around, silence reigned—the sea, the moon, the shimmering waves, the fish, the beast—all before them.

But Chris only watched the girl beside him, using every instinct and rational analysis to understand her—yet he knew he was merely struggling in his final moments.

For the first time in his life, he felt his mind in chaos. He even empathized with the beast beneath them—he felt not only the beast was tamed, but himself too.

His kingdom had fallen completely. He was a prisoner. All his power had been transferred to the enemy queen. He waited, heartbroken, for her judgment.

This queen was sometimes profoundly deep, as if constantly lost in thought; sometimes like a girl new to the world, shy and enchanting; now he saw another side—she was also a naive, cruel child, joyfully tormenting a giant insect for fun and show.

He was terrified. He realized he was about to lose his freedom, his self. From now on, he would be ruled by this queen—joyful for her smile, honored by her favor, sadder for her sorrow, triumphant as if her victory were his own. If she smiled shyly at him, God—he would control the entire world. If she suddenly grew cold, the entire world would abandon him…

No! No!

Chris felt a chill run through him. Run! Run! If you don’t escape now, it’ll be too late.

There’s still time to flee, still time to preserve yourself—just return and tell her: “I don’t think we’re compatible…”—his heart clenched.

Chris, hold on, hold on—just explain to her, she’ll understand. After all, many things stand between you… Then you can return to your old life, keep your heart, your self, your kingdom—you’ll remain your own king, not anyone’s prisoner…

He stared at her profile, savoring every graceful contour of her face. Her black eyes had returned to calm, her bony nose, her lips tinged with melancholy—she wasn’t particularly beautiful, yet utterly captivating. She was like a abyss—when one stands at its edge, one cannot help but want to jump down…

Step back! Step back! Don’t go further. One more step, and you’ll fall.

Chris’s internal alarm screamed. He stood at the abyss’s edge, his mind in turmoil, uncertain.

Retreat isn’t shameful. Withdraw now, before it’s too late…

He suddenly understood a truth: before true, devastating love arrives, the first human reaction is retreat.

…

Yang Yi returned from her thoughts.

The playful antics had cleared her inner gloom, releasing some of the pressure she’d carried. Now she realized how childish she’d been—since childhood, she hadn’t gone to such lengths to win someone’s approval. She was like a kid who scored 100 and showed off to someone she liked!

Remembering what she’d done, she was so embarrassed she wanted to dig a three-bedroom apartment into the beast’s skull with her toes.

Would he think I was trying to scare him? Would he believe I showed off my power to threaten him? Threaten what? That if he doesn’t date me, his fate will be worse than this beast’s?

“What are you thinking?” She hesitated a long time before finally asking—and met his blue depths. In that instant, it felt like diving into the ocean before she’d learned to swim.

As if drowning, she tore her gaze away, unable to meet his eyes, only skimming his face with peripheral glances.

In some ways, he was far more terrifying than the beast.

“I was thinking of you,” Chris said, gazing steadily into her eyes, voice low, almost a whisper, filled with infinite tenderness and longing.

Those words ignited a fire in her chest, heating her entire body—and the fire rushed to her cheeks.

She wanted to jump off the beast’s head and cool down in the icy sea.

I’m blushing!

Yang Yi was furious at how easily he stirred her emotions.

And why was his tone so gentle? How many women had he said this to? How many had he wielded that tenderness on?

Think of his list of exes—gorgeous, pure, mature, celebrities, wealthy second-generation heirs, models, athletes, even sexy bombshells!

At that moment, she wanted to gnash her teeth. His tastes were truly “diverse”!

What do you have that he’d like? Your flat, tablet-shaped body? Your plain face? Is he just curious to try something new—something he’s never tasted—and later brag about it? Yes, besides your title as the only S-rank awakened, what else makes you worth noticing?

Even if you gained his “crush” through the bridge effect, it’s just a false adrenaline rush—what does it have to do with you?

Think: you have no charm, average emotional intelligence, introverted—his culture never likes this type. Not funny, not interesting, only self-tormenting—boring as hell. And you’re even a schizophrenic!

Like a blow to the head, she snapped out of her fantasy bubble, the fire inside her instantly extinguished.

Now clear-headed, she finally looked at him properly, examining his face in detail for the first time.

He’s truly handsome, she judged coldly in her mind—no wonder he’d been voted the world’s sexiest man for two consecutive years.

Was that tender, lingering gaze real? He’s an actor, skilled at performance—he could make love to a pile of shit and make it look sincere. Could he be comparing me right now to his exes, judging who’s better?

Who knows? Male nature can sink to unimaginable depths, masked only by a veneer of pretense. And he’s an actor—he’s excellent at faking. Just follow the “deeply in love” script, and he won’t slip up.

His motive is easy to guess: he’s bedded the “superhuman,” the “God of the Human World!” What a monumental “honor”—this achievement is legendary! Men measure their worth by the number and quality of women they’ve slept with—it’s proof of their male charm!

Yang Yi sneered inwardly, growing utterly bored.