Chapter 99: A Simple Math Problem

She opened her eyes to a desert of scorched earth, the air shimmering with heat from the blazing star.

Yang Yi was utterly drained, every ounce of strength spent.

Even though the other personality had fused with her, even though the black hole vortex she had formed surpassed Him, He was still the vortex’s origin, understanding and wielding this power far more naturally.

She had only gained some abilities through parasitism, like a shrub infected by dodder—though she absorbed a portion of His power at the points of fusion, the parasite received far more. Perhaps one day, she would be drained dry of her life essence and die.

Only by combining both personalities’ power could they barely suppress the demon god’s fragment. Her spiritual form was wounded and weak, barely able to sustain her body.

Before her floated a massive energy source, larger, richer, and more tempting than the one in the Misty Village.

Like a traveler who hadn’t drunk water in a week across the desert, she instinctively reached to draw it in—then shuddered violently as she remembered where this energy came from.

The altar still glowed, its intricate patterns like blood vessels, channeling threads of energy to gather before the stone chair, waiting for her to partake.

Where did this energy come from?—She snapped awake; the delicious, tempting energy instantly turned bloody and putrid. She snatched her hand back.

Only then did Yang Yi realize she sat upright on the stone chair at the altar’s center, hands resting on the armrests, looking down upon all things.

She stood abruptly, but darkness flooded her vision, her body limp and unresponsive, limbs feeling foreign as she collapsed onto the altar.

The altar’s carved patterns seemed to sense her condition, glowing blood-red as streams of potent energy surged into her body.

She came to her senses and screamed in suppressed rage: “Get out!” She swung her hand, ready to unleash all her mental force against the altar.

But the harder she struck, the stronger the stone’s counterforce—*crack*—her fingers fractured.

Where is my mental force? Where did my mental force go?

Ignoring the pain, Yang Yi crawled and scrambled off the altar; the energy flow from the altar finally ceased.

She gasped for breath, sweat drenching her forehead—those few steps had left her panting like a dog that had run thousands of miles. Her face twisted in agony. “My mental force! Where did my mental force go? Did you do this?”

"What? After threatening me, you still expect to retain mental powers far beyond your kind? The enhancement was my gift. Without me, you could barely move a speck of dust! I can reclaim it whenever I please."

Yang Yi knew exactly where that anger came from, but this was no time for triumph. A crushing truth struck her like a fist: the altar still drained human life essence—and she had lost her mental force.

Without mental force, what could she do? Just a useless waste…

The projection in another world continued draining life essence, translucent threads glinting like the flickering scythe of Death itself.

Refusing to give up, she extended her palm, concentrating her spirit force to its peak—a few grains of sand slowly rose at her command.

Once so powerful, her mental force could now barely lift a few grains of sand.

She slammed both fists into the ground and screamed wildly: “Give it back! Give me back my mental force!!” Sand seeped into her wounds, broken bone shards piercing through her skin on the back of her hand—she didn’t notice. Fear and rage had shattered her sanity.

She had imagined countless times losing that massive lottery ticket, returning to an ordinary life—saying goodbye to colleagues she’d spent a month with, heartbrokenly leaving Chris, calmly letting go of power, status, honor—perhaps before she had them, she’d been curious; but after possessing them, she cared even less. She could have waved it all away with a casual flick of her sleeve, leaving not a single cloud behind—she had even planned her future: the state had given her a huge sum, enough to squander for life, and all she wanted was to rent a mountain peak in the deep wilderness and live out her remaining years in quiet peace…

She had prepared herself to lose her powers anytime—just not now.

Not when tens of millions of innocent lives were about to be snatched away by a stone. Not when countless living souls were moments from a horrific death.

That was sixty-seven million lives! Each one, like her, capable of laughter, tears, love, hatred.

If she heard of a war overseas claiming sixty-seven million lives, she’d only feel shock. But not this—not these sixty-seven million dying before her eyes, when she had the chance to stop it.

He laughed coldly, utterly delighted.

Yang Yi finally stopped her outburst, her vision darkening, the world spinning.

Stop! Calm down! she told herself. If she lost control now, she’d faint—and lose all chance.

She forced down her boiling emotions, scanning the surroundings for anything to destroy the altar.

Only sand. More sand. Another land abandoned by the gods, more desolate than the world of twin blood moons.

Her heart sank again; despair returned.

Suddenly, she scrambled up the altar, pounding it with her fists, stomping with her feet, ramming with her elbows, biting it with her teeth—pouring all her hatred, resentment, rage, and loathing into the altar, as if it were her greatest mortal enemy.

But the enemy stood unmoved, as solid as alloy. Her blood spilled across the ground, slowly seeping into the altar and vanishing.

“Please…” Yang Yi whispered, “give me back my mental force.”

He was delighted, yet his tone remained indifferent. “Unless you willingly let me absorb you.”

“Fool! I refuse absolutely!” It roared in fury. “What do those people have to do with us? They’re not even your own countrymen! We barely managed to suppress Him—do you want to throw ourselves away for a few measly humans? I’m not that noble! If you dare, I’ll fight you to the death!”

Silence fell, heavy and absolute.

Yang Yi pressed her forehead against the altar’s edge, her body slumping, motionless.

Suddenly, her whole body began trembling—then the tremors grew stronger, accompanied by low laughter that rose into something almost manic, filled with boundless sorrow and a strange, unnamable release.

Slowly, she lifted her head. Her pupils were black as storm clouds over a city, her forehead smeared with her own blood, lending her cold face an eerie, haunting beauty.

“Alright. I understand.” Yang Yi staggered to her feet, head bowed, hair matted with blood and filth, utterly broken. “Davies was right. This is a simple math problem…”

She stumbled toward the energy source, toward the life essence forged from her own kind, toward the very thing she had once avoided and loathed, toward the sin.

She realized: from now on, she would no longer be a pure, conscience-bound, morally grounded person. She would be transformed into a monster, a fallen addict.

She reached out. The life essence, like a long-rejected puppy finally accepted by its master, joyfully surged into her body.

Simultaneously, the altar’s projection flared brightly—all gathered life essence surged toward her.

A torrent of power flooded her body, like a long-dry riverbed finally drenched by a century’s heaviest rain.

She involuntarily closed her eyes, her expression one of blissful addiction, like a heroin user in ecstasy.

The more she suppressed her craving, the greater the pleasure upon fulfillment—such a sinful delight…

“How hypocritical…” His sigh held no anger, only quiet satisfaction.

It was ecstatic. “Good! That’s it! I told you a thousand times—you should’ve done this long ago…”

Yang Yi remained silent, as if she hadn’t heard them.

Power surged through her again—though far from her peak, it was enough to destroy the altar.

Her slender body slowly rose into the air; mental force coalesced into an invisible great blade, slashing down upon the altar with full force.