Between breaths
In the shattered Jintian Realm, time lost its constant flow rate, and only the flickering of regular sparks marked the awkward gasps.
That near-self-destructive forced reset, like a cold sweat after a high fever, left behind a trembling, exhausted, and devastated scene. Half homeland, half foreign, the cold metallic sheen and the broken silver light of rules were roughly spliced together to form a huge and grotesque scar, stretching between them and the foundation of Xiang Jinyang's existence.
He was still limp on the ground, unable to even lift his fingertips. Only the faint source of the Heavenly Dao in his chest was still following the inertia of billions of years, struggling to maintain the minimum "breathing" - a subtle and mysterious rhythmic fluctuation that faintly resonated with the laws of the entire world.
This was the foundation of his existence, as natural as a heartbeat, and never required deliberate attention.
But now, this "breath" has become the only perceptible, last, fragile connection with this tainted realm.
It is also the object of that virus's... clumsy imitation.
He Yuan half-knelt not far away, his brow furrowed, his face pale from excessive energy depletion. Beads of sweat even oozed from his forehead—a rare, almost physiological sign of weakness for an energy body. He stared intently at a small intersection in front of him, where tiny, regular sparks were constantly erupting. There, he had just failed in another attempt to repair it.
The reason for the failure is not insufficient computing power or poor coding.
It's an "immune reaction".
His efficient code and Xiang Jinyang's rules of heaven are like two completely different metals being forcibly welded. Their molecular structures are incompatible, and conflicts at the microscopic level continue to accumulate, eventually manifesting as macroscopic energy sparks and structural instability.
He tried every solution in the database regarding "compatibility", "adaptation", and "interface optimization", and even slightly overdrawn the potential of this body again, but the result only made the sparks fly more violently.
"No... I've corrected the energy phase seventeen times, and all the logic checks have passed. Why is it still not working?!" He growled through gritted teeth, his frustration almost tangible. The feeling of everything being out of his control made him anxious like a trapped animal.
His gaze subconsciously turned to the source of the faint breath.
Xiang Jinyang closed his eyes, his face as transparent as paper, as if it would completely dissipate in the next moment. But the extremely faint, yet remarkably tenacious rhythm of his body remained like the thinnest yet unbroken kite string, stubbornly maintaining the final connection with this shattered world.
He Yuan's gaze involuntarily fell on Xiang Jinyang's slightly heaving chest.
There is the core of the Heavenly Dao and the source of that strange "breathing".
"breathe"……
He remembered that just now, it was that extremely weak but uniquely rhythmic force that quietly smoothed out his reckless conflict.
Is it really necessary to rely on this kind of unquantifiable and mysterious "feeling"?
Reason is going crazy and all logical modules are screaming to reject this unscientific, imprecise and variable-filled method.
But looking at the reality of continuous failure, and the "administrator" who has become increasingly fragile due to his own recklessness...
He Yuan took a deep breath, as if he had made some huge decision.
Very slowly and stiffly, he closed his eyes.
Block all visible data streams. Shut down most active analysis processes. Focus all perception on one point—imitating Xiang Jinyang's faint "breathing" of the Heavenly Dao.
For him, this was a million times more difficult than cracking the most complex firewall. His world consisted of clear zeros and ones, precise algorithms, and deterministic results. And in his database, words like "breathing," "rhythm," and "feeling" were considered "noise" that needed to be filtered out.
He tried, like a toddler, clumsily to catch the tiny fluctuations.
At first, there was only chaos. The noise of its own code running, the hiss of energy flowing, the burst of sparks of rules...interference was everywhere.
He was so anxious that he almost gave up.
But at this moment, an extremely faint yet unusually clear rhythm, like a pure note penetrating through heavy noise, quietly touched the edge of his perception.
It is Xiang Jinyang’s “breathing”.
It is very weak, but it carries an indescribable, inclusive and tenacious strength.
He suddenly held his "breath" (if he had any) and tried his best to follow and imitate.
His fingers unconsciously trembled slightly in the void, trying to transform the abstract rhythm into code instructions that he could understand and control.
Output...weaken by three points. Frequency...adjusted to increase synchronization with target fluctuations by five percent. Introduce...dynamic fuzzy variables to simulate natural fluctuations...
He seemed to be groping in the dark, and every tiny adjustment was accompanied by huge uncertainty and risk of failure.
Once, twice, ten times...
The code output is sometimes strong and sometimes weak, the frequency is sometimes matched and sometimes out of control, and from time to time it causes new small-scale chaos because the introduced "fuzzy variables" are too abrupt.
Even with his eyes closed, Xiang Jinyang could clearly sense the other party's outrageously clumsy attempts to "feel" and "imitate." Every failed attempt sent ripples of discomfort through his weakened core.
Ridiculous. Funny.
He didn't even bother to mock anymore.
However, as time went on, the ripples caused by that failure seemed to... gradually weaken?
He couldn't help but open his eyes a little.
He Yuan's eyes remained tightly closed, his brow furrowed. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, trickling down his pale cheeks. But the once sharp, overbearing, and aggressive streams of code surrounding him had become... much softer. They no longer sought to dominate, but instead, like a trickle, began to follow the subtle rhythm of the surrounding heavenly environment, flowing slowly.
Although still a little awkward and still making mistakes from time to time, the attitude of trying to "fit in" rather than "conquer" is unprecedented.
Deep within Jin Yang's cold core, a taut string loosened slightly, imperceptibly.
At this moment, He Yuan once again launched a "repair" on the stubborn rule spark belt.
A stream of silver code, thinner yet more condensed than before, flowed from his fingertips. Its output was no longer constant and powerful, but instead carried a subtle pulse that mimicked the rhythm of the heavens.
It cautiously approached the conflicting intersection, like a finger testing the water temperature, blending in bit by bit.
There were no violent confrontations. No sparks flew.
That stream of code, with great difficulty, yet extremely tenaciously, followed the "breathing" rhythm of the surrounding Heavenly Power, and began to extremely slowly... smooth out those restless edges of the rules, and lubricate those clogged energy nodes.
The process is incredibly slow, and the efficiency is low enough to drive any programmer who pursues the optimal solution crazy.
But this time, it did not trigger a severe rejection reaction!
That stubborn regular spark belt, under the clumsy but in line with a certain "breathing" repair, actually... little by little... stabilized!
Although the traces after repair are still rough and not as smooth and perfect as the previous "efficient repair", it is truly integrated into the surrounding environment and is no longer an abrupt "patch" that may explode at any time!
Success?
He Yuan's eyes snapped open, staring in disbelief at the intersection that had finally calmed down. The code flow beneath his eyes seemed a little scattered due to excessive consumption and concentration, but it clearly reflected the small but significant achievement.
An unprecedented, unfamiliar emotion ran through his computing core like an electric current.
It’s not the triumph of solving a problem. It’s not the excitement of gaining authority.
But a feeling... closer to "satisfaction" and "relief"?
He even subconsciously let out a very slight sigh, as if he had really experienced a very strenuous physical labor.
He turned his head and looked at Xiang Jinyang, his eyes surprisingly bright, with a childish excitement that was eager to share, but also a cautious tentativeness due to the previous conflict.
"...I think I'm getting some feeling." He said dryly, trying to mask the unfamiliar emotion with technical jargon. "This dynamic frequency modulation method, although inefficient, seems to be able to effectively reduce the rejection reaction at the rule level."
Xiang Jinyang looked at him silently, looking at the glow on the other's pale face that could not be concealed due to "clumsy success", and looking at the eyes that were no longer purely cold and calculating.
The cold ruins in his heart seemed to be briefly illuminated by that faint light.
He did not speak, but extremely slowly and imperceptibly adjusted a tiny parameter of his own Heavenly Dao rhythm, making it clearer and more stable.
As if silently, it provided him with a more accurate "coordinate".
He Yuan immediately captured this subtle change.
He was slightly startled, and then a hint of understanding flashed across his eyes. The cautious and tentative look faded away, and turned into a more focused seriousness.
He didn't say thank you - that wasn't in his database response process - but immediately closed his eyes again, trying his best to perceive and capture the clearer "breathing" rhythm, trying to integrate this "feeling" more deeply into his next repair attempt.
In the broken Jintian realm, the two stopped talking.
One lay powerlessly, silently maintaining the rhythm of the Way, like a faint beacon lighting a storm. The other clumsily learned, struggling to adjust the pulse of the code, like an apprentice groping for direction in the dark.
The crisis of destruction has not been resolved and the dilemma remains as difficult as a mountain.
But amidst these failed attempts, clumsy imitations, and silent cooperation, some new and extremely fragile "rules" are emerging in this forced symbiotic prison.
Born quietly.
It has nothing to do with strength, right or wrong of stance, or even trust or not.
It is only about, in the deepest despair, two completely different souls, for "existence" itself,
And made, the most primitive, between breaths,
Compromise and groping.
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