He has been reincarnated through countless worlds, adorned with billions of mythological terms!

Yunxi remained silent and did not speak.

"Do you think I would hate you?" Yun Yi's voice was low. "Would I think of you in every reincarnation?"

Her arms began to tremble, fine and restrained, like bamboo branches bent by the wind.

"You want to keep me here," Yun Yi's voice finally cracked, "but all you're leaving behind is a person trapped in a cage."

"Not the me who would sit on the rooftop with you and watch the stars."

"It certainly won't be the me who takes you out to eat and have fun."

The room remained quiet for a long time.

Yunxi's tears fell again, each drop landing on the fabric of his shirt, leaving dark, damp stains.

She didn't let go, but her body was trembling, like the last leaf of autumn that refused to leave the branch.

Then she spoke, her voice barely audible, like a kitten curled up in a storm: "Then... will you forget me?"

Yun Yi looked down at her, at her messy head and her shoulders trembling slightly from sobbing.

His voice was very soft, as soft as the wind brushing across water: "No."

Yunxi suddenly raised her head.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, her tear tracks were still wet, the tip of her nose was flushed, and her lips were slightly swollen from crying.

But her eyes were bright—a brightness not born of strength, but the almost stubborn brightness of a drowning person finally grasping at a piece of driftwood.

"You said it," her voice was hoarse, as if grit that had been stuck in her throat for too long was finally being squeezed out, "You won't forget me. You promised."

Yun Yi looked at her, remained silent for a moment, and then nodded gently.

Yunxi stood there, stunned, like a cat that had finally loosened its grip, unsure of what to do next.

She took a half step back, her movements somewhat sluggish, and hastily wiped away the tears on her face.

Then she unlocked the time lock.

It's very simple and very light.

She simply raised her fingertip and gently touched his chest, as if unbuttoning a button.

The barrier that covered the depths of his soul, a barrier he himself was unaware of, melted away quietly, like thin ice meeting spring.

Yun Yi sensed something dormant awakening.

The power of belief that came from all living beings—the faith accumulated and reinforced layer by layer throughout countless lifetimes—lit up like stars overturning in the depths of his consciousness.

The deities he had portrayed—Xi Sheng Yuan Tong, Tai Cang Xi Zhi, Wan Su Dao Jun, the Shepherd of All Things, the Judge of Extreme Winter, the Judge of Blazing Sun, Tian Mu, Tian Dou, and hundreds of other names from different mythological systems, which were believed by all living beings and by himself—all ignited their brilliance in this dark sea of ​​consciousness.

But this is far from all.

There are also those gods he did not play in this life, but wove in his previous life—myths from his original world, legends he fabricated in the gaps between reincarnations.

When the myths of this world are exhausted, he creates new ones; when creation is depleted, he borrows the shadows of the old.

Throughout countless lifetimes, he had already forged his faith into a key.

At this moment, the time lock is unlocked, and the eternal "belief" amplifies all the terms infinitely, turning all fiction into reality.

He felt a surge of power—not a gradual ascent, but rather as a volcano that had been dormant for millennia finally breaking through the earth's crust.

The divine power that had been revered by billions in countless worlds flowed into his body like rivers converging into the sea.

He couldn't accurately measure his current strength, but he knew one thing: the original laws and principles of this world were as thin as paper in front of him.

At the same moment, the rooftop beneath our feet changed.

The cracks healed, the sky stopped collapsing, and the earth solidified again.

Those cities, mountains, and rivers that had vanished are as if an invisible hand has repainted them stroke by stroke back into the painting.

The world has become "real".

It is no longer a prison fabricated by destiny, nor a collection of dreams and illusions, but an entity "believed" out by eternal conviction.

That power flowed into his body, soul, and every cell—not through cultivation, nor through theft, but through the accumulation of faith he had sown and reaped from the hearts of all beings in every cycle of reincarnation.

He believed that the world was real, and the accumulation of countless reincarnations had long since allowed this belief to transcend the boundaries of faith, becoming a powerful force capable of rewriting the rules of the world.

The world is changing.

The concrete on the rooftop has transformed into a warmer, more vibrant texture, like countless tiny heartbeats pulsating in unison.

The shattered sky regenerates from the depths of reality, like broken skin healing itself.

The distant hills, rivers, towns, and villages gradually emerge, no longer blurry, but becoming increasingly clear, substantial, and real.

This world is no longer a dream.

The belief that lasts for eternity has transformed illusion into reality.

Yunxi stood in front of him, her body trembling slightly.

There was a more instinctive tremor, like a dried-up riverbed finally receiving water.

She is transforming from illusion into reality.

As the destiny of this world, her existence is given a solid coordinate when the world transforms from a dream into reality.

Her demeanor became more grounded, no longer like a fleeting wisp of mist, but like a real, substantial being standing on the ground.

She looked down at her hands and slowly clenched her fist.

Then she looked up.

Deep within the pale golden pupils, an enduring light shone—the ability to turn fantasy into reality was fully formed at this moment.

From this moment on, everything she thinks and desires can come true.

But she did nothing; she just stood there, looking at Yun Yi.

The curve of her lips looked more genuine than before.

Yun Yi stood still, feeling the surging river of light within his body.

The accumulation of countless lifetimes within him formed a vast, boundless galaxy, the limits of which he could not perceive.

But he knew one thing—at this moment, he could either make the world vanish into thin air or bring it back to life with a wave of his hand.

He did not stop.

With a single step, his figure vanished from the villa's rooftop, piercing through layers of void, crossing the edge of the healing real world, passing by the ancient auras awakening from the seal, and finally landing on the other side of the crack—the core of the world that had been sealed for countless years.

Wan Su Daojun stood there.

The true, complete, and supreme being that has survived from ancient times to the present.

His body was more solid than the illusion, and his gaze was more profound.

Those golden pupils no longer held weariness, only the vastness accumulated over countless years.

He was surrounded by a time power a hundred times stronger than before, and he was raising his hand to prepare for the final absorption.

Then he saw Yun Yi.

For a moment, his hand froze in mid-air.

The moon-white divine robes were fluttered by an invisible wind—but it wasn't wind.

He himself was trembling, confused, and at a loss.

His gaze fell on Yun Yi, his pupils contracting countless times in less than a second, each time reassessing the level of the being before him.

What did he see?

A boy, dressed in black pajamas, stood barefoot in the void, his hair tousled by the wind, his face serene.