Stop hypnotizing me, villain princess!

Chapter 261 The First Second of Eternity

"I think I know who you are."

His slightly self-deprecating words caused the atmosphere to momentarily freeze.

Lynn stood on this land woven from threads of fate, his gaze fixed on the countless translucent lines of destiny hanging down from the sky, each representing a possible life trajectory.

Faced with this all-encompassing power, Lynn felt that humans were like dust, merely pawns to be manipulated at will by the gods.

“From the moment you asked me to sacrifice my true name, I guessed your true identity.” He coughed a few times, his breath weak. “You are myself.”

"Of course, this is just speculation."

"What truly confirmed my guess was your earlier statement—'Better to be a broken jade than a whole tile.'"

The prisoner of fate seemed to fall silent suddenly, only the threads of destiny continued to surge.

Seeing this, Lynn smiled slightly: "This is the expression I liked to use most in my previous life on Blue Star, but the language of the Saint Laurent Empire itself does not have such a strange and awkward expression."

"Clearly, even after living for countless years, you still haven't changed this language habit."

As soon as the words were spoken, the threads that symbolized fate seemed to stop wriggling and dancing at the same time, as if a pause button had been pressed abruptly, freezing them in the void.

Unexpectedly, although the other party displayed an unprecedented loss of composure, they did not answer his question directly.

"Are you ready to accept this trial?"

The voice of the prisoner of fate is like a resonance woven from countless souls, both a distant echo traversing the torrent of time and space, and a whisper from the abyss resounding in one's ears.

Seeing this, Lynn took a deep breath.

Sometimes, no answer is the best answer.

Besides, things have come to this point, and he has long since had no other choice.

The next moment, countless threads of fate suddenly surged toward him, quickly weaving into a dense, opaque cocoon that completely enveloped him.

The space inside the cocoon was strange and distorted, and time seemed to freeze at that moment.

Have you heard this story?

The voice of the prisoner of fate pierced through the cocoon and clearly reached Lynn's ears.

Lynn remained silent, choosing to listen quietly amidst the boundless darkness.

Once upon a time, there was a king who asked a shepherd boy, "How many seconds are in eternity?"

The shepherd boy replied: "There is a diamond mountain. It takes an hour to climb it and an hour to walk around it. Every hundred years, a bird flies to the mountain and pecks at it with its beak. When the entire diamond mountain is pecked flat, the first second of eternity has just passed."

The prisoner of fate paused for a moment, seemingly giving Lynn some time to think.

"In reality, eternity is a journey without end. Finite life cannot imagine infinite eternity, just as mortals cannot truly comprehend the boundaries of the universe. The trials you are now undergoing will take place on such an eternal scale."

These words sent a chill down Lynn's spine, and an indescribable fear, like an electric shock, instantly spread from his back to every part of his body.

"If you wish to inherit my authority, you will fall into an endless cycle of reincarnation, experiencing the infinite possibilities of fate. In each of your reincarnations, suffering will be your constant companion, and the end will ultimately be tragic and devastating."

"This process will repeat itself for an eternity."

The air inside the cocoon seemed to grow even heavier, and Lynn could almost hear the echo of his own heartbeat.

"No one can maintain their integrity under such a test; they will either go completely mad or fall into utter depravity, becoming just another lost drop of water in the torrent of fate."

"No soul can withstand the erosion of eternity. No matter how resilient an existence may be, it will be crushed by the cycle of reincarnation until it completely dissipates."

Upon hearing the almost despairing reminder of being a prisoner of fate, Lynn tried to say something, but found his voice stuck in his throat and unable to come out.

At the same time, the cocoon of fate was rapidly contracting, and a suffocating sense of oppression came from all directions.

Lynn clearly sensed his consciousness sinking into an abyss, and countless fragments of light and shadow began to swirl around him—that was the first chapter of his life that awaited him.

But the trials of being a prisoner of fate have only just begun.

Lynn's consciousness was like a boulder sinking into the deep sea, constantly plummeting into endless darkness.

When Lynn woke up again, the experience of traveling through time swept over him once more.

The next second, a sharp neighing of warhorses tore through the deathly silence. What followed was not the reality of waking up, but a bone-chilling cold and an indescribable feeling of oppression.

He suddenly opened his eyes, only to find his vision blurred and he could only feel a violent jolt.

Lynn realized that he was being tightly wrapped in something soft and thick, and with each bump, his small body rose and fell uncontrollably.

The ear-piercing sound of clashing weapons filled the air, along with the rough roars of men and the intermittent wails of the dying.

Clearly, a fierce battle was taking place all around, and Lynn was currently in the middle of the battlefield on a speeding carriage!
"Protect Young Master Lynn! We must break through!"

The guard leader's voice was hoarse from shouting, and there was a desperate, ruthless edge to it.

Immediately afterwards, there was a dull thud as a blade pierced through a body, and someone groaned. A few drops of warm blood splattered onto Lynn's face, carrying a metallic, metallic smell.

Lynn tried to move his hands and feet, but to no avail; he had no control over his body at the moment.

After all, he was just an infant who had recently left his mother's womb, and was extremely vulnerable.

Through the swaying of the carriage curtain, he saw flashing swords and shadows outside, witnessing a brutal battle where lives were being extinguished.

Amidst this symphony of chaos and slaughter, a flood of memories, not belonging to him yet incredibly clear, surged into his hazy consciousness, causing him a splitting headache.

If similar experiences occur repeatedly, the excessive amount of memory can easily turn a person into an idiot or even a schizophrenic.

In this life, he is the only son of Simon Miles, the supreme commander guarding the northern border of the Scott Empire and known as the "Iron Wall General".

At this moment, they were being ambushed by the elite troops of their mortal enemy, the northern barbarians. To cover the retreat of the family convoy, the father personally led the guards to cover the rear. The carriage they were riding in was the main target of the barbarian cavalry.

The next moment, the carriage tilted violently after an even more violent impact, almost overturning to the ground, while outside came the guards' final roars and the barbarian's wild cheers.

However, the expected death did not come.

A series of heavier, more disciplined hoofbeats thundered from afar, and a familiar black tiger banner suddenly came into view—the emblem of the Miles family!
"The general is here!"

The surviving guards let out wild shouts of joy at surviving the ordeal.

Lynn strained to turn his neck, and through the swaying curtain, he glimpsed a figure as majestic as a mountain, clad in heavy armor stained with blood, wielding a greatsword, charging into the enemy ranks like a god of war. Wherever he went, men and horses fell, and the barbarian cavalry were no match for him.

The man didn't even have time to look at the carriage, but the absolute power and sense of security he brought instantly turned the tide of the battle.

That was his father, Simon Miles.

With the crisis temporarily averted, the carriage, escorted by the remaining guards and the elite troops under her father's command, sped towards the fortress.

Lying in his swaddling clothes, Lynn gazed at the sky stained crimson by the blood-red sunset, feeling the relentless jolting of the carriage beneath him.

At this moment, the cruelty of the battlefield, the power of his father, and his own extreme insignificance and fragility were deeply imprinted on his newborn soul.

In this life, Lynn was named Lynn Miles by his father. He had no warm memories of his childhood. From the time he could remember, all he heard were the sounds of clashing swords, war drums, and horns. He was accustomed to life and death at a young age.

Lynn learned to walk on the military training ground, and even his toys were broken arrowheads that his father had polished and discarded small shields.

The frontier sandstorms, the cold city walls, and the ever-present, cruel barbarians were Lynn's entire world during his childhood.

However, when Lynn was ten years old, King Otto VI personally issued a royal decree summoning the son of the great general back to the capital to study at the Royal Academy, which was only open to the sons of the most illustrious nobles.

However, although the capital city was prosperous and peaceful, a place many people dreamed of, Lynn didn't like it at all. More importantly, he couldn't get along with those pampered noble children.

Six years have passed, and instead of losing his edge, he has become even more sharp and shrewd.

At the tender age of sixteen, he did not hesitate to put everything aside and, like an eagle breaking free from its cage, resolutely chose to join the army.

A cruel twist of fate followed. In a decisive battle against the northern barbarians, the empire's iron-willed general, Simon Miles, died a heroic death.

The great shield of his father collapsed with a crash, and young Lynn took up the blood-stained family greatsword, and was appointed by Otto VI as the new commander guarding the northern border of the empire.

The baptism of blood and fire tempered him, making him even more shrewd. In just five years, he was awarded the title of the youngest duke since the founding of the Scott Empire, thanks to his outstanding military achievements and iron-fisted methods.

He was known to the world as the "Iron-Blooded Duke," and his name struck fear into the hearts of countless barbarians in the North, forcing them to sue for peace. Lynn accomplished what even his father had never done.

However, as his reputation grew, he attracted countless suspicions in the capital.

Two years later, dark clouds once again loomed over the empire. His Majesty Otto VI was suddenly poisoned by a treacherous official and was nearing death. The enormous power vacuum instantly ignited long-simmering contradictions, plunging the empire into unprecedented internal and external troubles, teetering on the brink of collapse.

Just as things were getting turbulent, Lynn was urgently recalled from the North to the capital.

The benevolent yet ultimately weak monarch, with his last ounce of strength, grasped his hand, his cloudy eyes filled with endless pleading and deep worry.

“Lynn, I knew I hadn’t misjudged you. That little fellow from back then has now become the most solid foundation of the empire.” Otto VI’s breath was as faint as a whisper, but his gaze was fixed firmly on his face. “Ailiya and the entire country are entrusted to you.”

Lynn followed Otto VI's strained gaze and saw the fourteen-year-old eldest princess, Arya, huddled in a corner, her thin shoulders trembling slightly from crying, like a young fawn lost and panicked in a storm.

At this moment, no further vows or promises were needed; an unquestionable determination to protect had been forged in his heart like steel.

He will be her shield, her sword, until his last drop of blood is shed.

The next ten years were a decade of blood and fire.

With constant warfare on the empire's borders, the resurgent northern barbarians have risen again, stirring up trouble. The governors of the southern provinces, wielding considerable military power, have completely disregarded the young empress, paying lip service to her edicts while secretly defying them. Moreover, various churches have begun to infiltrate the empire, attempting to interfere in its internal affairs.

Lynn barely slept a wink. He led the Imperial Legion in battles across the country, defeating a barbarian army of 100,000 with only 30,000 troops in the "Black Forest Canyon," and wiping out the barbarians in one fell swoop. This completely resolved the problem that had plagued the Scott Empire for hundreds of years, but it also earned him the infamous title of "Butcher."

He orchestrated events in the capital, eliminating the treacherous senators and nobles who harbored ill intentions for Arya, and gradually bringing the treasury back to the throne.

Not only that, he also personally taught Arya swordsmanship, political strategy, and the art of being a ruler, watching her grow from a timid girl into a dignified empress with a firm gaze and majestic demeanor.

He shielded her from three assassination attempts; in the most serious one, a poisoned dagger was only an inch from his heart.

Even when an unprecedented natural disaster struck and the empire's finances were on the verge of collapse, he sold all his fiefdoms and ancestral properties to replenish the national treasury and stabilize public morale.

Lynn did everything she could, and even more.

However, as Arya grew stronger, cracks quietly appeared between them.

She stopped calling him "Teacher Lynn" and instead addressed him distantly as "Your Excellency the Duke".

She began to reject his proposals on some political matters and promoted some young nobles who were good at flattery.

Rumors began to circulate in the capital that Lynn's power had long surpassed that of the Empress—he not only held considerable military power but also coveted the throne and harbored ambitions of usurpation.

Lynn heard these rumors, but simply laughed them off and didn't even bother to defend himself.

He knew perfectly well that it was time for him to leave.

But just as he resolved to completely withdraw from this vortex of power, an unexpected imperial edict was issued from the palace—

The Empress summoned him urgently.

Without hesitation, Lynn removed his sword and, as he had done countless times before, stepped into the palace he knew so well.

The palace was unusually empty, with only the crackling of the fire in the fireplace.

Arya sat on the gleaming golden throne, her face appearing both beautiful and cold in the flickering firelight.

Standing beside her were no longer her old ministers, but her newly promoted confidants.

“Lynn Miles.” Her voice was clear but devoid of warmth, echoing in the hall, “Do you know your crime?”

Lynn's heart sank, but he still knelt on one knee and bowed his head, saying, "Your Majesty, I do not know what crime I have committed." Arya did not look at him, but simply raised her hand slightly.

The newly appointed presiding judge stepped forward, unrolled a scroll of parchment, and read aloud in a emotionless voice: "Lynn Miles is suspected of conspiring with an enemy nation and plotting treason. The evidence is conclusive! He shall be beheaded!"

The so-called evidence consisted of secret letters between him and the Chancellor of the Colin Empire, Galakh Arnold, with handwriting that was imitated perfectly, as well as testimonies from several subordinates who had not yielded under torture but were forced to "confess" when their families' lives were threatened.

It was all ridiculously absurd, yet chillingly malicious.

Arya finally turned her gaze to him, her eyes devoid of their former dependence and tenderness, replaced only by the ruthlessness of an emperor and a complex emotion he couldn't decipher. "The evidence is irrefutable, Lynn. What else do you have to say in your defense?"

At that moment, Lynn understood completely.

"If you're determined to find fault, you can always find a reason." The mastermind behind all of this was the very person he had devoted his entire life to protecting. She no longer needed him; his very existence was his greatest sin. A profound sense of desolation and absurdity overwhelmed him instantly, even surpassing his anger.

The palace guards swarmed forward and pinned him down. He did not resist, but stared intently at the woman on the throne.

He didn't speak, but his gaze was intense as he met Arya's eyes.

Arya seemed to feel guilty, so she avoided his gaze and remained silent for a moment before whispering as she approached him, "For the sake of the Empire, you must be sacrificed. Your existence will make the nobles uneasy and the people will only know Lynn Miles and not the Empress."

"Lord Lynn, I think you should understand that the Scott Empire does not need a second sun."

The next moment, she waved her hand, as if brushing away a speck of dust: "Drag him away, execute him, and hang his head on the city gate for three days."

The cold blade sliced ​​into his neck. In the instant of the excruciating pain, the last thing Lynn saw was a tear sliding down Arya's slightly turned face, which she quickly wiped away with her finger.

That might be an illusion, or it might be the last lingering echo of this cruel drama.

His head rolled onto the cold ground, and his vision was plunged into eternal darkness.

In the final moment before his consciousness faded, Lynn felt not pain, but a bone-chilling cold and a mocking sense of being utterly manipulated by fate.

When Lynn awoke again, he was enveloped in the warm candlelight and found himself in a simple but tidy wooden cabin, still an infant in swaddling clothes.

In this life, he was born in a small town on the outskirts of the Duchy of Eugene. His father, Neil Silas, was the town's only priest, who wore a simple linen robe and looked kind and devout.

Lynn Silas was born with a profound understanding of various herbs and an affinity for divine magic. Under the careful guidance of his father, Nell, he quickly revealed his extraordinary talent.

Furthermore, in this life, Lynn is gentle, compassionate, and firmly believes in the benevolence and redemption in the teachings of the goddess.

The town of Vistaria is located on the border of the Principality of Eugene. The land is barren, and monsters often come out from the nearby Woma Forest to harass the town. The people live in poverty and lack medical resources.

When Lynn grew up, he took over his father's position. He used herbs gathered from the Woma Forest to brew potions that healed the wounds of countless people in the town. With his glowing palms, he used holy magic to heal the wounds of hunters who were torn apart by the claws of monsters.

Even during a terrible plague, Lynn disregarded his own safety and prayed, cast spells, and healed people day and night, ultimately curbing the spread of the epidemic and saving tens of thousands of lives.

His fame spread quickly, and he was known as "Saint Silas." People from not only Vistaria, but also from surrounding towns and even further afield, traveled great distances to receive a single healing or blessing from him.

Lynn never charged any fees, only accepting donations of food or daily necessities.

The town gradually prospered because of him, and smiles returned to people's faces.

However, shadows began to grow beneath the light.

The old priest in the town was jealous and uneasy about his growing reputation, and the bishop of the church in the provincial capital also took notice of this "unruly" country pastor - he had never received rigorous seminary training, and the magic he used seemed to be different from what was recorded in the orthodox canon, but the effect was amazing.

And so, rumors began to circulate quietly: some said his power did not come from the goddess, but from a deal he made with the monsters of the forest; some said that those he healed actually had their souls defiled.
Lynn didn't care about this; he firmly believed that the innocent would be proven innocent and continued to help all those in need day and night.

The turning point came on a rainy night. A commander of the Inquisition Knights from the capital arrived in the town with a contingent of elite knights. They claimed to have received a report that Lynn was suspected of using dark magic, colluding with demons, and was a heretic lurking among humans.

Panic spread rapidly. Some of those who had benefited from Lynn stood up to defend him, but many more chose to remain silent under fear and incitement, or even turned against him.

Will his cured illness relapse?

"The magic he used did look a bit strange."

"Otherwise, how could he be so skilled? There must be something wrong with him!"

Suspicion and ignorance grow wildly like poisonous weeds.

The trial was hastily held in the town square, and the so-called evidence was full of holes: several ancient herbalist notebooks with distorted meanings, several thugs who identified him after being severely tortured, and the commander of the trial knights' assertion of "divine intuition"—he claimed to have sensed "a dark aura" on Lynn.

Lynn was tied to the rack, and he tried to explain, but his voice was drowned out by the increasingly loud shouts of "Burn him!" and "Heretic!" from the surrounding crowd.

He saw those he had risked his life to save, now looking at him with fear and hatred; the children he had helped were being held tightly in their mothers' arms, refusing to let him look at them.

A despair colder than death slowly seeped into his soul.

There was no miracle, no salvation from a goddess.

The jury unanimously sentenced him to be burned at the stake.

On the day of the execution, the sky was overcast.

Lynn was stripped of his robes, left in only a single garment, and was tightly bound to a cross in the center of the square, with piles of dry firewood soaked in pine resin at his feet.

The commander of the Knights of Judgment raised his torch high, loudly announcing Lynn's "crimes," and finally threw the torch at the pile of wood.

Flames erupted instantly, and a wave of scorching heat rushed towards us.

The excruciating pain devoured his skin and flesh. The surrounding crowd cheered and prayed, as if celebrating the death of a demon.

Thick smoke filled his lungs, making it difficult for him to breathe, and his vision began to blur.

In the moments before his consciousness was completely incinerated, through the leaping flames, he seemed to see the threads of fate hanging high in the sky, flashing coldly and mockingly.

He suddenly realized that this was not punishment for his crimes, but rather the unilluminated darkness deep within human nature and the cruel joke of fate.

The flames eventually engulfed him, leaving only ashes and a lingering burnt smell in the air.

The town of Vistaria quickly returned to its usual deathly silence, as if a saint named Lynn Silas had never existed.

After countless cycles of reincarnation, this awakening was accompanied by the rustling sound of a quill pen gliding across parchment and the deafening applause coming from outside the window.

Lynn sat at an ornate desk, surrounded by mountains of books and manuscripts. He was Lynn West, the most renowned novelist, poet, and philosopher on the continent.

He was born into a declining but culturally rich aristocratic family and displayed remarkable literary talent from a young age.

His book "Starry Night Fables," published when he was twenty, became a sensation across the continent with its magnificent imagination and profound philosophy, and was regarded as a classic by countless nobles and scholars.

His stories are grand and magnificent, praising freedom, love and courage, and satirizing rigid dogma and hypocritical privilege.

He was exceptionally handsome, elegant, and spoke with grace. His loyal readers included powerful arcane mages, noble queens, and ordinary citizens alike.

He toured the world giving readings, drawing huge crowds wherever he went; he debated with wise men in top salons, delivering witty remarks; he even received public admiration from several queens and princesses.

Lynn's life is like a dazzling star, shining high above all living beings, radiating an enviable light.

He had almost everything: talent, fame, wealth, good looks, and a prestigious status.

He genuinely loved this world and used his pen to depict the ideal world in his heart.

However, he forgot that ultimate glory can also cast an ultimate shadow.

Disaster struck when he accepted an invitation from the Royal Academy of Norton to give lectures in the most powerful, but also notoriously harsh and autocratic, empire in the north.

The old king of Norton has just passed away, and the new king, Augustus III, has ascended the throne. This young king is violent, suspicious, and extremely insecure yet arrogant.

He craved recognition from the cultural world, yet his own knowledge was limited. He tried to win over Lynn, hoping he would sing praises of the royal family, but Lynn politely declined—his works never served any particular powerful figure.

Just then, Lynn's latest work, "The Nightingale in the Cage," was published and became a sensation across the continent.

The book describes how a cruel and foolish king, out of jealousy for a nightingale's freedom and song, imprisoned it in a golden cage, and the nightingale eventually died of melancholy.

This is a common metaphor in literature, but in the eyes of Augustus III and his sycophants who were good at guessing his thoughts, it was undoubtedly a huge humiliation and allusion to the new king.

"He's mocking His Majesty! He's challenging the authority of the monarchy with his damned words!"

The king’s close advisors whispered in his ear.

Augustus III's rage was instantly ignited. Without any trial or even public charges, on the very night Lynn was staying at the kingdom's most luxurious hotel, a ferocious royal guard broke down the door and forcibly arrested him on charges of "defaming the monarch," secretly imprisoning him in the deepest dungeon beneath the palace.

Hellish days began. Augustus III not only wanted Lynn dead, but also wanted to completely destroy everything he was proud of.

The king himself came to the dungeon, looking at Lynn, who was chained up, with a cold smile: "Lord Lynn, aren't you good at writing eternity with your pen and describing ideals with your words? Today I will teach you what true reality is."

The jailers first used red-hot branding irons to destroy Lynn's handsome face, which had captivated countless people. The smell of burning flesh filled the foul air. The excruciating pain almost made him faint, but he gritted his teeth and did not beg for mercy.

Then, the executioner cruelly smashed his knees and ankles with a heavy iron hammer, making him unable to stand or walk again, let alone embark on his beloved speaking tour.

Then they gouged out his blue eyes, which had once been insightful and shone with wisdom, and cast him into eternal darkness.

Finally, they cut off his right hand, which he used to write everything, and broke off the fingers of his left hand one by one.

The once-renowned star is now a shattered, mangled mess in a dungeon. No reader knows what happened to their revered master; the official statement is simply that Lynn West has quietly left the kingdom.

Augustus III was satisfied; he believed he had utterly crushed the "nightingale."

In the boundless darkness and excruciating pain, in Lynn's remaining consciousness, those forgotten fragments of memory—Arya's betrayal and the townspeople's backstabbing—began to flicker and connect.

A sense of enlightenment that transcends individual suffering slowly arises.

This endless cycle, this recurring despair.
When the guard threw Lynn a piece of moldy bread, he used his last bit of strength to slam his forehead against the cold, rough stone wall.

The darkness completely swallowed him.

This time, death brought not only an end, but also a chilling, accumulated mockery.

After countless cycles of horrific and desperate death, this near-eternal trial has finally passed its first second.

In the void outside the cocoon, for the first time, the prisoner of fate experienced a near-stagnant ripple.

He gazed at the soul within the cocoon, which had not dimmed but had become more refined through countless destructions, even emitting a cold, faint light, and a tremor he had never felt before quietly arose within him.

This is illogical.

This should not exist.

No matter how resilient a soul may be, under the onslaught of such despair, it will either completely collapse and become a complete madman, or it will be ground down, losing all its edges and self, and merging into another unknowing and unaware drop of water in the torrent of fate.

This is the rule, this is the predetermined course.

However, Lynn became the only exception.

He not only maintained his complete self-awareness and did not fall into depravity or lose his way, but his soul became even more unfathomable.

A premonition of being out of control, like a tiny yet cold poisonous sting, quietly pierced the vast perception of the prisoner of fate, bringing a trace of fear that even it had not anticipated.

He realized that things couldn't continue like this!

Just as Lynn was calming down from the afterglow of death in that last cycle of reincarnation and preparing to welcome the next cycle, the scene before him suddenly distorted and blurred!
It wasn't the tearing sensation of spatial transformation as before, but rather a forced overwriting and alteration at the level of consciousness.

A violent wave of dizziness washed over Lynn, and before he could even catch any trace of the Prisoner of Fate, he completely lost all perception of the "consciousness within the cocoon."

I opened my eyes abruptly, and what greeted me was not a bloody battlefield or a cold throne, but a spotless white ceiling, with a faint smell of disinfectant in the air.

A weak, aching pain spread through my body, especially in my head, which felt dull and painful as if it had been hit by a heavy object.

He turned his eyes blankly and saw several faces around the hospital bed, filled with worry and surprise.

"Lynn! You're finally awake! You scared your mother to death!"

(End of this chapter)