More blood overflowed from the corners of his mouth, dripped along his jaw, and created one crimson pit after another on the white snow.
His vision was a blood-red blur, his ears filled with a sharp ringing. The shattered fragments of the throne screamed in his mind, the alarm of program errors flashed wildly, and the cold chain of logic broke inch by inch.
And that warm current of the mortal world, carrying Mu Xinrong's silly smile and the warmth of his scarf, spread and burned wildly in the cracks of his cold divine core like a wildfire!
Mu Xinrong was completely frozen in place.
The dead calmness and resigned indifference on his face were like ice struck by a heavy hammer, instantly covered with cracks of astonishment!
He looked at the blood spurting out of Youye in disbelief, watched him kneel down in the snow in pain, and watched the shadow of the throne behind him, which symbolized absolute power and cold rules, suddenly collapse.
How…how is this possible?!
The backlash of the erasure program? No! That's not right! He clearly felt the power that could easily wipe him out countless times!
But why...why, at the last moment, did his power spiral out of control? Why did he vomit blood? Why did the throne collapse?
In countless reincarnations, he had never seen Chao Youye like this. Gods were always perfect, cold, precise, and ruthlessly executed the orders to annihilate.
He will not feel pain, will not bleed, and will not be harmed by his own power.
Who is this figure kneeling in the snow, blood at the corner of his mouth, his body shaking uncontrollably from the pain?
"You..." Mu Xinrong's voice was very dry and trembling, which he himself did not even notice.
He subconsciously took a step forward, but suddenly stopped, his eyes filled with great confusion and an instinctive vigilance that even he wanted to despise.
This must be a trap! A new, crueler trick of the gods!
At this moment, Chao Youye, who was kneeling in the snow, slowly and with great difficulty raised her head.
Snowflakes fell on his bloodstained forehead and eyelashes, and the melted snow mixed with cold sweat and blood stains slid down his cheeks which were pale to the point of being almost transparent.
Those violet eyes that were always cold, deep, and like cosmic nebulae now looked like shattered glass, with a storm surging inside that Mu Xinrong had never seen or understood.
There was the absolute chaos and pain brought about by the collapse of the throne of God, the chaotic blue light of the logical chain frantically sounding the alarm after the program core was torn apart, and the silent scream when the cold divinity was forcibly torn apart.
But more than that... was something that Mu Xinrong thought he would never see in the eyes of God - an intense, unspeakable pain that came from the deepest part of his being.
It wasn't physical pain. It was the pain of having one's soul torn apart, of having the very foundation of one's existence shaken to its core, of having one's cold eternity plunged into boiling magma... the overwhelming, excruciating pain of "existence" itself.
Chao Youye stared intently at Mu Xinrong, who stood a few steps away, his face filled with uncertainty. His lips moved, blood seeping from between his teeth, and every breath was filled with a strong smell of blood and a broken, gurgling sound.
He tried to speak, tried to explain, tried to grasp the feeling that threatened to tear him apart.
"I..." He uttered a syllable with difficulty, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper.
"No..." He was interrupted by another violent coughing fit, and more blood gushed out.
Mu Xinrong's heartbeat nearly stopped at that moment. He clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging deep into his palms.
His mind was screaming, "This is a trap! Run! Don't believe it!" But his body felt like it was nailed to the spot. The inhuman pain revealed in those shattered purple eyes held his gaze like a magnet.
The pain was so real! So real that it was beyond the scope of any program that could simulate it.
Chao Youye took a deep breath, the cold air tinged with the smell of blood stinging his lungs. He no longer tried to express the inexpressible chaos in words.
He suddenly raised his hand, which was stained with his own blood and cold snow water, and used all his remaining strength to grab the long-forgotten, deep red, old scarf with crooked stitches around his neck!
The movements were rough, with a determination that was almost self-destructive!
“Sizzle!”
The rough wool groaned under the immense force, and several threads were torn off.
He roughly ripped the scarf open and pulled it off, revealing the pale and fragile neck underneath.
Mu Xinrong's pupils suddenly dilated!
On that pale skin, near the collarbone, there was a hideous wound that had not yet fully healed!
The edge of the wound was red and swollen, and slightly turned outward, as if it had been severely scratched by a sharp object, or... it was torn apart by violent energy.
The blood had dried and turned dark, solidifying around the wound, like an ugly, dark red centipede coiled on a pale background!
This wound...Mu Xinrong suddenly remembered!
Shortly after the memory shock incident on Wutong Road, he once saw Chao Youye from afar on the road.
At that time, Chao Youye's face was extremely pale, her neck seemed to be wrapped in gauze, and the collar of her school uniform was buttoned tightly. He thought it was just an ordinary accident. But now it seems...
Was it caused by the backlash of uncontrolled power during the shock of the throne's memory?! Or... even earlier?
"Look..." Chao Youye's voice was hoarse and broken, and every word seemed to be fished out from a pool of blood, with a fishy smell like rust.
He pointed at the hideous wound on his neck, his purple eyes fixed on Mu Xinrong's shocked eyes, the surging pain in them almost turning into tangible magma and erupting.
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