Chapter 607: Spatial-Temporal Projection

The story has reached its end; no matter how far these chosen ones have progressed, the final battle will inevitably come—whether it be him, Harris, or any other unknown chosen one, all will emerge from their hiding places to seize the chance to become the Master of Science Fiction.

And the information about the Cosmic Emperor is precisely what Ye Nan desperately needs.

As someone trapped within the scheme, Ye Nan seeks to become the Master of Science Fiction; understanding the Cosmic Emperor and learning how to achieve that status is nothing short of the key to victory.

Beth grasped this point, so she directly stated her condition.

“Once you become the Master of Science Fiction, ally with me.”

“Why?” Ye Nan did not accept Beth’s offer, but asked calmly.

This woman, Beth, is cunning and highly calculating; most importantly, no one knows how many years she has lived or how many pawns she has placed—cooperating with her is no different from making a deal with a tiger.

Yet the information she holds is crucial to him, so he did not outright refuse, but probed cautiously.

“It’s simple—I need allies,” Beth put away her harp and slung it onto her back. “Compared to you, I’ve merely taken a step ahead; my path forward is now blocked, and I’m left pacing at the cliff’s edge. But soon, a new path will appear.”

“Yet the new path is bound to be filled with hardship and thorns. To walk it smoothly, you need a reliable ally—and I believe you are that ally.”

Beth spoke thus, gazing at Ye Nan with sincere eyes, as if every word were true.

But Ye Nan would not so easily believe Beth’s words; he acted as if he hadn’t heard the trust in her voice, and continued: “Why will this path be filled with thorns? Do you have conflicts with the others?”

At this, Beth’s expression changed, as if reluctant to speak, opening her mouth yet hesitating to utter a word.

“Is there something hidden here?” Ye Nan muttered to himself, then suddenly froze. “Impossible—Beth isn’t someone who reveals her emotions.”

Any cunning old fox would never show his thoughts on his face; they always conceal themselves meticulously. Only shocking news could make them lose composure—but Ye Nan’s casual guess hardly seemed like something that would unsettle Beth. So Ye Nan concluded: she was faking it.

“This old fox,” Ye Nan cursed inwardly, then began speculating: “From how she hides her relationship with the others, their ties must be delicate—could they all be like me, mere collaborators?”

This suspicion arose in Ye Nan’s mind, and upon reflection, it seemed highly plausible.

Beth is currently the only one who can project her presence into others’ trials. Judging from her preparations, she must have projected here long ago, intervening in the trial’s progression. It’s entirely possible she’s used her knowledge to form alliances with others.

“But such alliances are based purely on mutual benefit. Once the desired object is secured, the alliance becomes worthless paper, ready to be torn at any moment.”

“Then what makes Beth certain this cooperation will hold? Does she truly rely on the moral integrity of her partners?”

Ye Nan sneered inwardly—he would never believe Beth placed her hopes on some moral code. She must have prepared some countermeasure.

“But what kind of countermeasure? Fate? Or something else… Forget it, I’ll just ask her.”

“If I cooperate with you, how do we guarantee this alliance?” Ye Nan asked loudly.

“By swearing upon one’s true heart,” Beth replied.

“Did I misjudge?” Ye Nan thought, finding her answer absurd.

What is a “true heart”? A moral code? Anyone with even a hint of cunning wouldn’t bother adhering to it. An alliance without constraints is mere empty talk—but Beth chose precisely this empty talk, forcing Ye Nan to suspect a trap.

“In xianxia stories, swearing upon one’s true heart is an extremely powerful vow. If a cultivator breaks it, they’ll never advance a single step in their life—worse than death, for at least death allows reincarnation.”

“But I’m not a cultivator—this vow holds no power over me,” Ye Nan hesitated, uncertain.

“Yet Beth’s calculations are never pointless. If she says ‘true heart,’ there must be a trap. I must assume the worst.”

Better safe than sorry. Facing Beth, this ancient fox whose age is unknown, Ye Nan was utterly wary—he treated every word of hers as a trap, choosing to believe the worst rather than risk the best.

“Forget it,” Ye Nan shook his head. “You speak of true heart? Then I’ll tell you—I won’t swear upon mine. But we can sign a written contract.”

Beth laughed—a laugh born of fury. “Are you mocking me?”

Everyone knows a written contract is the most unreliable thing—no different from a verbal promise; if anything, it’s worse, because it wastes paper.

“No,” Ye Nan shook his head seriously. “You demand I swear upon my true heart because you trust my moral code. If you trust me, does it matter whether I swear or not?”

Seeing Ye Nan’s earnest expression, Beth muttered inwardly: “Does he truly not know—or is he pretending?”

Swearing upon one’s true heart is a binding force—useless against Ye Nan now, but potentially decisive in the future, capable of determining victory or defeat.

Yet since Ye Nan refused, Beth did not press further. With a man as cautious as Ye Nan, pushing too hard would only make him more vigilant.

“If you won’t cooperate, then fine. I’ll tell you everything I know about the Cosmic Emperor, and you tell me what force erased my presence. Deal?”

“Fair,” Ye Nan replied, then smiled faintly. “Who speaks first?”

“I will,” Beth took her harp from behind and lightly plucked a string. “Rather than tell you, let me show you how I killed Aio.”

Ripples of time spread through the air, instantly transporting Ye Nan into a dazzling void, where countless worlds floated.

“This is the Toril system—you may also call it the Toril crystal sphere.”

“Is this the Toril crystal sphere from the D&D novels?” Ye Nan asked in surprise, then checked himself—he realized his body was now merely a phantom.

“Is this a phantom world or something else?”

“Just a projection on a temporal node. You can think of it as another timeline—but to this timeline, we are merely projections from outside spacetime,” Beth explained.

Boom!

A brilliant explosion echoed, and from it emerged a terrifying hundred-headed giant.

The giant stood ten thousand zhang tall, his body covered in countless heads—each head representing a race. When a head withered, that race declined; when a head vanished, that race vanished.

Conversely, when a new head emerged, a new race was born.

Yet now, the giant’s heads were withering rapidly, countless of them rolling off his body.

“You pitiful gods—how dare you defy me, Aio!”

The giant roared, unleashing boundless divine power that shook the void, as if waging war against countless deities.

And indeed, a host of deities lurked in the void, silently observing Aio—behind them stood Beth, harp in hand.

Beth plucked a string gently and smiled. “Aio, your source of power has been severed. What right do you have to flaunt your strength now?”

“Source of power?” Ye Nan seized on Beth’s words and asked her beside him.

“Aio’s power comes from souls. The prosperity of all beings in this crystal sphere fuels him. I cut off that supply—I destroyed the souls of all life.”

“Destroyed all souls? How is that possible?” Ye Nan was stunned. Destroying the souls of all life was no idle claim. Even if the Toril system was smaller than the Milky Way, it was still vast—eradicating every living being was unthinkable.

“Why not?” Beth relaxed her posture, brushing her hair. “I joined the gods in unleashing the Final Cataclysm, annihilating all life and returning the entire Toril crystal sphere to its primordial state. What’s impossible about that?”

Beth’s eyes flashed with sharp light, her voice carrying a chilling resonance.

“Final Cataclysm!” Ye Nan’s heart jolted—he fell into thought, analyzing the method of the Final Cataclysm. Though he could never replicate this scene, he could extract useful insights to prepare for confronting the Cosmic Emperor.

“Yes—the Final Cataclysm. Without weakening Aio to his absolute limit through the Final Cataclysm, how could we have dared to confront him directly? Do you understand now?”

“I understand,” Ye Nan nodded. He truly understood—whether the Cosmic Emperor or Aio, each had a weakness. Once found, that weakness could be exploited to defeat them. (To be continued.)

“I understand,” Ye Nan nodded; he truly understood—whether it was Unicron or Aeou, they all had their weaknesses, and once found, those weaknesses could be exploited to defeat them. (To be continued.)