Samsara Paradise: Dream Weaver of Connections.

Lin Yi didn't answer, he just lay there, panting heavily, his eyes fixed on the dome of the temple.

He raised his right hand, intending to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead.

Then he froze.

His right arm, from his fingertips to his elbow, had undergone a very serious mutation. If Lin Yi hadn't been able to control this thing that looked like an alien, he probably wouldn't have been able to confirm that it was his own arm.

The abyssal power within his arm was being activated without limit. This activation was not something he actively mobilized, but rather an instinctive surge, like a pot of boiling water churning wildly, which could not be suppressed no matter how hard he tried.

Lin Yi mobilized the energy within his body to suppress it, but the abyssal power seemed to have been stimulated by something, becoming unusually active and stubborn, and no matter how he suppressed it, it could not return to normal.

He could feel the abyssal power surging wildly inside his arm, spreading upwards along his blood vessels, through his wrist, through his forearm, and extending towards his elbow.

Lin Yi gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, cold sweat dripping down his nose and onto the hem of his snow-white skirt.

He mobilized even more energy to suppress it, building a defensive line on his shoulders to prevent the power of the abyss from spreading further upwards.

The defense line held up by a narrow margin.

The activated abyssal power was blocked at the shoulders, no longer spreading upwards, but it did not retreat either. Instead, it surged back and forth in the forearms and wrists, like a wild beast trapped in a cage, struggling angrily, trying to find a way out.

Lin Yi's arm was trembling slightly, and his fingers were spasming.

He could feel the abyssal power constantly assaulting his defenses inside his arm. Each impact made his brow furrow more tightly, and each impact made his arm tremble more violently.

Xue looked at Lin Yi with concern, thinking that this was a side effect of sealing the Abyss Hole.

Those icy blue eyes were filled with worry and fear.

The power of the abyss was a completely unfamiliar territory to her. She didn't know how to help Lin Yi, what method to use to alleviate his pain, or even whether she should touch him.

She could only watch, watch Lin Yi's arm tremble, watch the black lines writhe under his skin, watch the expression on Lin Yi's face change from pain to determination, and then from determination to exhaustion.

Just as Lin Yi was doing his best to suppress the abnormality in his arm, a figure rushed in.

The figure rushed in from outside the temple gate with astonishing speed, leaving a deep footprint in the snow, sending pebbles and ice shards flying to both sides.

He wasn't very tall, and he wore a dark gray robe that was full of wrinkles and stains, making it look like he had been out in the wild for a long time and hadn't had time to take care of himself.

His hair was messy, with a few strands hanging down his forehead, obscuring half of his eyes. He had fine stubble on his chin, looking like he hadn't shaved for several days.

Anonymous Saint.

The contractor of Apocalypse Paradise, ranked sixth on the fourth round of gladiatorial points leaderboard, the guy who sets up a stall selling ores in the lounge.

Lin Yi remembered him, not because of his strength, but because this guy was also a peculiar character.

The nameless saint didn't look well at the moment. There were several tears in his dark gray robe, and some of the tears had charred edges, as if they had been burned by something.

There was a thin, long bloodstain on his face, extending from the corner of his eyebrow to his cheekbone. The blood had dried, leaving a dark red mark on his face.

He rushed into the temple, paused for a moment, and quickly scanned the interior.

All ten frost guards turned their gaze toward the figure that had barged in.

Their bodies leaned slightly forward, and the cold light on their arm blades suddenly shone brightly.

They emerged from both sides of the gate, spreading out in a fan shape, surrounding the nameless saint in the center.

The nameless saint's face turned green.

It's not an exaggeration, it's really green (meaning it's been cheated on).

His lips twitched, and his whole face was scrunched up, like a flower wilted by the sun.

The moment he was surrounded, he had already identified the attributes of these Frost Guardians: three for them, seven for him.

If Frost Guardian lands three punches, he can pass the seventh day after his death.

In a 10-on-1 situation, what's the point of fighting?

Without a word, the nameless saint turned and ran.

His speed was astonishing. Before the encirclement of the ten Frost Guardians could completely close in, he found a breakthrough and rushed out through the gap between two guards.

Ten Frost Guardians gave chase at the same time.

They were slower than the nameless saints, but they had better stamina and a more steady pace. Each step was large, and their boots made a dull thud on the snow, sending snow flying and leaving a trail of deep footprints behind them.

After the nameless saint rushed out of the temple gate, he pulled out a palm-sized scroll from his pocket.

A golden light surged from the scroll, enveloping his body.

The next second, the nameless saint vanished from the spot.

A long, golden trail was left on the snow, stretching from the temple gates all the way into the distant forest, like a taut golden thread.

The ten Frost Guardians did not stop; they continued to chase forward, maintaining their speed and steady pace.

No matter how fast he ran, no matter what means he used to conceal his presence, in the Frost Guardian's perception, he was like a lamp lit in the darkness, clearly visible.

Because the nameless saint had entered this place, his body was also marked with frost.

Frost Mark is how Frost Guardians track their targets. Once marked, the Frost Guardians can detect the target's location no matter where they flee to in the frigid lands.

That perception is not based on sight or hearing, but on the resonance of energy fluctuations. The Frost Mark continuously emits an extremely weak energy fluctuation, which is the same as the energy frequency in the Frost Guardian's body. As long as it is within the perception range, the Frost Guardian can lock onto the target's location.

Therefore, the Nameless Saint is not facing ten Frost Guardians, but countless others. Those Frost Guardians, who have been sleeping in various parts of the frigid lands, are being awakened, rising from the snow, and joining the pursuit.

You can run away from the monk, but you can't run away from the temple.

On the ground, Waldy was still confronting the Night Witch.

The two stood on a relatively open snowfield. The surrounding gray-black trees had been mostly destroyed by the aftermath of the battle, with broken trunks lying haphazardly on the snow and branches covered with snow and icicles.

The snow on the ground was trampled into a mess, with footprints of varying depths and traces of battle everywhere. In some places, large craters had even been blasted out, with rubble and ice shards scattered all over the ground.

Waldy leaned against a relatively intact tree trunk. The Night Witch stood a dozen meters away, her dark red robe hood pulled low, revealing only a few strands of short silver hair and her pale chin.

Her hands were tucked into her sleeves, but Waldy knew that her fingers were holding something inside, ready to deliver a fatal blow at any moment.

Before entering the fifth round, Waldy tricked the Night Witch by using the Demon Clan's contract to make her sign a small contract without her knowledge.

The contract was indeed not serious; it only stipulated that the Night Witch could not attack the other party during the battle of the ten strongest warriors, and it did not impose any restrictions on the Night Witch's actual actions.

The problem lies not in the content of the contract, but in the contract itself.

Who is the Night Witch? She is a representative of the witch world, ranked third in the fourth round of gladiatorial battles, and a core member of the Night Witches Guild.

The witches' realm is the most vengeful force in the entire void, and the witches under their command are naturally not magnanimous people.

In the Void, that's how the witches are known; you can't offend them, because they'll hold a grudge for life.

If you steal one ore from them today, they will come back to steal ten from you ten years later.

If you kill one of their peripheral members today, they will come back to kill your entire family a hundred years from now.

They don't believe in repaying evil with kindness, nor do they believe in resolving conflicts rather than creating them. They believe in an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Whatever you do to me, I will do to you in return, tenfold.

Waldy wasn't afraid of the Night Witch attacking him now. With his strength, even if he couldn't defeat the Night Witch, he could at least escape unscathed.

What he feared was that the Night Witch wouldn't fight him, but would keep the matter to herself and settle scores with him slowly after the competition.

At that time, he will not be facing just the Night Witch, but the entire Night Witch Guild, and even the entire witch world.

Although the Demon Clan is not afraid of the Witch Realm, Waldy is, because he is only a member of the Demon Clan, not the clan leader or elder, and he cannot represent the Demon Clan.

If his personal feud with the Night Witch escalates to the level of a conflict between two races, then things could get really complicated.

Although given his status, Waldy wouldn't be treated like an ordinary member of the demon race, becoming a used pawn and thrown into the trash heap, offending the witch community would inevitably lead to a sharp decline in Waldy's standing.

After all, although Waldy has powerful backers, the other elders are not to be trifled with. If they have the opportunity to suppress Waldy and let their own people take the lead, they will naturally not give up such an opportunity.

For a major power or race, this kind of situation is very common; just look at how much fighting has broken out within the Eternal Planet of Anomalous Mathematics.

So Waldy is in a real bind right now.

He leaned against the tree trunk, looking at the Night Witch across from him, his mind racing, trying to figure out how to calm things down, how to appease the Night Witch, and how to turn the page on this without paying too high a price.

Just as the two were facing off, a golden light shot out from the distant forest.

The light moved swiftly, leaving a long golden trail on the snow. The trail stretched from the depths of the forest all the way to the edge of the clearing where Waldy and the Night Witch were facing off, like a straightened golden thread.

The golden light stopped in the open space, then dissipated, revealing the figures inside.

Anonymous Saint.

His condition was worse than before; several new tears appeared on his dark gray robe, one of which stretched from his right shoulder to his left waist, revealing his white shirt underneath and the thin bloodstain on it.

He also had a new wound on his face, a line that stretched from the corner of his mouth to his ear, the blood still wet, leaving a shocking dark red mark on his pale skin.

His breathing was rapid and erratic, his chest heaving violently, his hands on his knees, bent over, panting heavily.

Before he could even catch his breath, his body suddenly froze.

The nameless saint raised his head, and the pupils in his deep brown eyes contracted sharply, like the instinctive reaction of someone in extreme fear.

He turned his head sharply to look at the forest behind him, and the fear in his eyes intensified, as if he had seen something he shouldn't have seen in the dark.

Without a word, the nameless saint turned and ran.

He didn't even have time to glance at Waldy and the Night Witch, let alone greet them or say a few polite words.

His body began to accelerate the moment he turned, his boots carving a deep dent in the snow, sending snowflakes flying to both sides. He shot off like an arrow to the other side of the open space.

Waldy and the Night Witch were both taken aback.

Their eyes followed the nameless saint's retreating figure, watching him disappear into the shadows of the forest, and seeing the long footprints he left behind winding into the distance on the snow.

Both of them frowned at the same time, their expressions changing from serious to confused.

The next second, the ground shook.

Thirty Frost Guardians charged out of the forest.

They rushed past Voldi and the Night Witch, less than ten meters away, but not a single Frostguard glanced at them, nor did any of them slow down or turn.

Their goal was clear: to follow the direction the nameless saint had fled. No matter how fast or how far he ran, they would pursue him until they had driven him out of this frigid land.

The thirty Frost Guardians ignored Voldi and the Night Witch and chased after the Nameless Saint who had fled.

They moved quickly, leaving a trail of deep footprints in the snow, stretching from the edge of the clearing all the way into the depths of the forest, like a path worn into the ground.

The snow was kicked up by their feet, creating a white mist behind them that slowly drifted away in the cold wind, like a thin veil.

The open space fell silent again.

Waldy stood beside the still relatively intact tree trunk, looking in the direction where the Frost Guardians had disappeared, and remained silent for a long time.

He turned his head and looked at the Night Witch.

Their gazes met in the air. The previous tense atmosphere had been largely dispelled by the frost guards, but the vigilance and wariness remained, only no longer as tense as before.

Waldy took a deep breath, straightened up from the tree trunk, and put his hands at his sides with his palms facing outwards and his fingers spread. This was a gesture of weakness. In the body language of the demons, palms facing outwards meant that he had no weapons, no hostility, and that they could talk.

"It seems our matter will have to wait a while."

The Night Witch looked at him, remained silent for a few seconds, and then chuckled softly.

"No rush. We'll have plenty of time later."

A layer of cold sweat broke out on Waldy's back again. (End of Chapter)