Chapter 295: The Bonds of Knowledge

Wang Zhize's mind was completely unruffled; he even wanted to click "I have read it."

"Yo, the net admin is here," he muttered inwardly.

In the next second, the entire majestic library—or rather, the database—came to life.

In the air, countless ghost‑blue data streams materialized out of nowhere, swiftly weaving and solidifying into shimmering void chains crackling with arcs, slithering from all directions like pythons smelling blood, coiling around the two of them.

These chains were not physical; they acted directly on the level of laws, aiming to lock their very concepts of existence.

"Bro! This thing looks terrible to eat!" Wang Zhitao shouted, his body reacting before his brain could.

A black‑gold devouring vortex burst open before him, like a ravenous black hole, snapping up a dozen or so chains in one bite.

"Pah! Pah pah!"

Wang Zhitao's small face instantly twisted into a knot, as if he had swallowed a mouthful of leaking battery acid.

"It smells like machine oil, with static! Numb—my mouth's numb!"

His devouring speed couldn't keep up with the chains' generation. More chains wrapped his vortex, emitting a "zila‑zila" sound, as if corroding his primal power.

Wang Zhize lifted his gaze, looking toward the deepest part of the library.

A figure slowly emerged from the shadows.

Half of it was a humanoid clad in an ancient robe; the other half comprised pulsating data streams and twisted void matter, countless fine fiber‑optics sprouting from its body to link the towering crystal bookshelves behind it. Its eyes were two burning, ghost‑blue code flames.

The Administrator of the Void Nexus—a figure that looked like a 24/7 overworked programmer who had merged with the server.

"Low‑level permission holder, unauthorized access to high‑level database, initiating formatting purge," the administrator's voice remained that emotionless system‑synthesized tone.

Wang Zhize was even too lazy to converse with it.

He raised a finger and lightly tapped the sky‑filled swirling chains.

"I define: void chains, as spaghetti."

"Their restraint, as an embrace."

"Their energy, as tomato sauce."

The moment the words fell, the laws of heaven and earth let out an overburdened groan.

The once ferocious, lightning‑crackling chains instantly lost all rigidity, sagging limp, their surfaces shimmering with a dubious red sheen that emitted a… hmm, surprisingly appetizing sweet‑sour aroma.

In Wang Zhitao's devouring vortex, those few still‑struggling chains instantly turned into noodles, which he sucked in with a quick skewer.

"Gurgle… tomato‑flavored?" he stared dumbfounded.

The administrator's ghost‑blue code eyes flickered violently for the first time, like an old computer whose CPU usage spiked to 100% instantly.

It could not comprehend what had just happened.

Its attack was altered at the base logic level by a higher‑dimensional permission.

"Threat level… re‑evaluating… initiating Plan B."

The administrator ceased physical attacks, raised its right hand formed of data streams, and clenched it forcefully.

"In the name of the Heart of Void, activate the Despair Codex. Let logic collapse in the ruins of knowledge."

Buzz—

The entire library, billions of knowledge crystals, lit up simultaneously.

No longer a faint glimmer, but a blinding, soul‑scorching stark white glare.

"Bro! Watch out!" Wang Zhitao shouted.

It was already too late.

An endless torrent of information surged from every crystal, coalescing into an information‑level tsunami that poured straight into Wang Zhize's consciousness.

What was that?

It was a civilization's entire lifespan, from birth to being devoured by the void, the final wail of every living being before death.

It was the most venomous curse the world's will utter when a world is formatted.

It was the concentrated toxin formed from countless races' madness, paranoia, despair, betrayal… all the dirtiest, most chaotic, most negative information, compressed and refined.

This thing's intensity was over ten thousand times greater than the previous soul reaper's mental attack.

This wasn't an attack at all; it was an information‑level dimensional‑reduction strike, trying to overload your brain's hard drive with the universe's spam and net‑troll malice.

"I'm amused! Spiritual contamination on this scale?"

Wang Zhize's Newborn Realm quaked violently, the sky cracked, the ground shattered, and the newly formed stars teetered under the onslaught of the information torrent. His consciousness seemed tossed into an industrial‑grade drum washer operating on a "high‑spin" cycle.

"Bro!" Wang Zhitao, seeing Wang Zhize stagger, his eyes reddening with urgency, transformed into a streak of black‑gold light and slammed toward the administrator.

Yet around the administrator's body rose a transparent barrier of countless twisted characters. Wang Zhitao's head collided with it as if hitting an ultra‑smooth wall, the flowing characters effortlessly dissipating all his impact force.

"Firewall! Bro! This bastard activated a firewall!"

"What's the fuss."

Wang Zhize's voice rang out, terrifyingly calm.

He stood with his eyes closed at the center of the information storm, letting the god‑driving knowledge wash over his will.

"Want to play information warfare? Fine."

He used his own micro‑world as a server, the Creator's will as the supreme command, and began issuing new definitions.

"I define: all chaotic information, line up properly, auto‑categorize."

"I define: all negative knowledge, package and compress, strip falsehood, retain truth."

"I define: all spiritual toxins, transmute into nutrients, for… hmm, just use them to make a bullet‑proof coating for the world barrier of my Newborn Realm."

Under his definitions, the laws of the Newborn Realm began to operate. The incoming insane knowledge surged like garbled code into a supercomputer, instantly parsed, sorted, and reassembled.

The history of civilization's end was refined by him into the law of birth‑and‑death cycles.

The world's wail was parsed by him into the fundamental notes that compose it.

The despair of countless beings was transmuted by him into "dark matter" that nourishes the world's underlying logic.

His "Newborn Realm" not only did not collapse, but under the "feeding" of this information storm, began expanding and perfecting at an incredible speed. On the world's barrier, countless profound runes appeared, becoming more resilient than ever before.

Wang Zhize's will, also in this tempering, became like a star's core—condensed and scorching.

"By the way... let me see your company's internal data."

While parsing this knowledge, he, like a top hacker, followed the data flow and easily unearthed deeper secrets of the "Void Net."

"Oh... so it's not just about formatting the world, but also extracting the 'World Origin Law' to feed a so-called 'Ultimate Existence'?"

"And there's a headquarters server called 'Primordial Void'? The home of all Void Walkers?"

"Thanks to the bro who sent the internal intel, here's a like for you."

The blue flame in the administrator's eyes flickered wildly; it sensed its power being absorbed and transformed by the opponent. This is like eating poison as food, using a virus as a patch!

"Impossible... your logic... your existence... doesn't match any model in the Void Database!"

"That means your database needs updating."

Wang Zhize snapped his eyes open, his gaze deepened by the digestion of knowledge from billions of civilizations.

He faced the entire library, spread his palms as if to embrace it all.

"I define: all knowledge crystals here belong to no one."

"I declare this database permanently free for me personally. Now, begin download."

Swish—

As if receiving a command, the rows of flashing knowledge crystals on the bookshelves, like weary birds returning to their nests, turned into streams of light, rushing toward Wang Zhize's forehead, all being absorbed into his "Newborn Realm."

The data flow on the administrator instantly dimmed; its connection to the whole hub's power was cut at the source by Wang Zhize.

"Alert! Alert! Core Database stolen! Permissions lost!"

The administrator, terrified, raised its remaining arm, trying to send a distress signal to the massive "Void Heart."

"Requesting assistance from the main brain... purge..."

"I define: your phone has no signal," Wang Zhize said offhand.

A stricter rule was constructed thereafter.

"I define: in this space, all communication protocols are garbled. All distress signals are defined as... transmission failure."

The administrator's outstretched arm froze midair; deep within its consciousness, the communication module emitted a series of connection error messages.

It became an information island.

After doing all this, Wang Zhize clapped his hands, looked at the Wang Zhitao beside him who had been waiting with his mouth almost drooling.

"Buffet time's arrived, don't be shy."

"Got it, bro!"

Wang Zhitao had been waiting for that line!

His black‑gold giant beast incarnation, bearing overwhelming ferocity, swallowed the powerless, empty‑shelled administrator along with the ground beneath its feet in one bite.