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

Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was even, as if she were asleep.

Su Muzhe stood in front of her, looking down at her.

The eight-year-old girl was thin and small, with tear stains still on her face.

The ugly rabbit slipped off her lap and fell to the ground, its ears covered in dust.

As soon as Su Muzhe raised his hand, several strands of silk wrapped around him again.

He turned his head and caught a glimpse of the already mangled and bloodied clone.

He tilted his head and gave a disdainful sneer.

"Honestly, this is the first time I've seen someone as stupid as you among the reincarnators."

"To go to such lengths for his sister in one reincarnation."

"I really don't understand how you survived your first reincarnation?"

As soon as he finished speaking, he raised his hand and waved it.

A jet-black ball of light suddenly shot backward, heading straight for the clone.

boom--!

The massive explosion pierced through several buildings behind it.

After doing all this, Su Muzhe didn't look at the clone again.

He returned to Yun Nian, raised his hand, and placed his fingertips on her forehead.

The black light appeared, much smaller than before, only the size of a pea, but brighter and more solid, like a dead star compressed to its extreme.

His hand slowly pushed forward.

Three inches, two inches, one inch.

The moment the black light touched her brow—

She woke up.

Golden pupils suddenly opened, staring directly at the point of black light.

They didn't hide, they weren't afraid, they just watched quietly.

The black light stopped in front of her brow.

It wasn't blocked—it was frozen in place.

It's like someone pressed the pause button.

Su Muzhe's pupils suddenly contracted.

His fingers were trembling, the black light was trembling, but he just couldn't push it in.

"you--"

He hadn't finished speaking.

A hand reached out from behind and rested on his head.

It was very light, like a leaf falling on my shoulder.

But Su Muzhe froze completely.

It's not that I'm frozen in place—it's that my body stops on its own.

Heart, blood, breathing, even thought—everything was put on pause in that instant.

"Have you had enough?"

Yun Yi's voice came from behind, very calm, like someone who had just woken up asking what time it was.

Su Muzhe was unable to move.

It's not fear, but something more primal—the instinct of a prey when its neck is bitten; the body knows that resistance is futile, so it chooses to give up.

Yun Yi walked out from behind him.

Its entire body was covered in golden scales, each scale flowing with light patterns, as if magma was flowing beneath its skin.

With its wings half-open, the six-meter-wide wingspan cast a huge shadow behind it, and the golden light patterns at the edges drew two arcs in the darkness.

Yun Yi placed his hand on Su Muzhe's head, without applying any force or even tightening his fingers—just leaving it there, like resting a hand on a railing.

But Su Muzhe froze completely, every muscle from head to toe was nailed to the spot.

What he felt wasn't pressure, but something more primal than pressure—gravity had changed.

Centered on Yun Yi's palm, the space within a three-meter radius was recalibrated, and the air density increased tenfold, making each breath feel like it would burst the lungs.

Su Muzhe's black light was still shining, a pea-sized object pressed against Yun Nian's brow.

He tried to push forward, but his fingers wouldn't move;

I wanted to back up, but I couldn't move my wrist.

I can't even bring myself to think about throwing my whole hand away.

Yun Yi didn't look at him.

He looked down at Yun Nian.

The little girl's golden pupils shone in the darkness, and when she looked into his eyes, it was like two mirrors reflecting each other.

She didn't cry, didn't shout, and didn't laugh; she just quietly looked at him.

"woke up?"

Yunyi said.

"Um."

"Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt."

Yun Nian's voice was a little hoarse, but steady. "Brother, the person behind us is still there."

"Yes, I know."

Yun Yi withdrew his hand from Su Muzhe's head, and the hand hung down at his side, the scales retracting one by one under the skin, like the receding tide.

Its wings also folded, shrinking from six meters to three meters, then from three meters to two bulges on its shoulder blades, and finally even those bulges flattened out.

He turned back into that eleven-year-old boy.

The first thing to do is to step back.

But he stopped as soon as his toes left the ground.

He didn't stop on his own; his body wouldn't let him move.

The knees refused to straighten, the ankles refused to rotate, and even the spine refused to straighten—the whole body was like a machine that had been unplugged; all the parts were still there, but the power just wouldn't come on.

He glanced down at it.

I didn't see anything.

There was nothing on her legs, nothing on her feet, and not even a wrinkle on her clothes.

But his skin was telling him—there was something there.

Countless fine threads, almost indistinguishable to the touch, wrapped from the ankles to the knees, from the knees to the waist, and from the waist to the chest.

Each thread was stretched taut, so taut that his skin was indented in a grid pattern, but no blood had seeped out—because the threads were so thin that they could cut into the gaps between cells without triggering pain receptors.

Su Muzhe's pupils finally contracted.

It wasn't out of fear, but because he realized he hadn't noticed at all when the net had been laid out.

When he came in, he checked the entire hall—the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the dust density in the air—and confirmed that there was nothing there.

But the net is there.

At his feet, above his head, three inches in front of him, and a foot behind him.

The entire B4 hall, from floor to ceiling, from one end to the other, was completely filled with spider silk.

It wasn't woven, it grew—like mold growing in damp air, silent, colorless, and odorless, spreading out in the darkness, waiting for him to step in and then reel it in.

He looked up at Yun Yi.

Yun Yi stood in front of Yun Nian, his back to him, talking to his sister.

"Niannian, close your eyes."

The voice was very soft, using the same tone as when I said "Awake?"

Yun Nian glanced at him, then at Su Muzhe.

"Is my brother going to fight again?"

"Um."

"Then hurry up."

She closed her eyes and buried her face in the ugly rabbit, just like every time before.

Yun Yi turned around.

Su Muzhe saw his eyes—amber, calm, and no different from before.

There was no murderous intent, no hostility, not even a serious attitude.

It's like someone standing in their living room, looking at a fly tangled in a spiderweb on the wall, wondering whether to swat it or throw it away.

"you--"

Su Muzhe only said one word.

Because Yunyi's hand had already been raised.

It wasn't an attacking motion; it was just raising his head, fingers spread, as if he were touching something in the air.

A single, transparent thread hung from his fingertip, the other end of which was connected to the net on Su Muzhe's ankle.

Yun Yi's finger twitched.

It's not a clenched fist, it's a flick.

Like flicking away a speck of dust.

The entire net tightened simultaneously.

Su Muzhe felt it—not pain, but disappearance.

His left foot disappeared below the ankle joint, the cross-section as smooth as a mirror, revealing the bone marrow inside the bone, but no blood flowed out because the spider silk contracted too quickly, so quickly that the blood vessels were sealed by the high temperature before they could react.

Then his right foot.

Then came his knees.

Then came his thighs.

From bottom to top, it's like a precision cutting machine disassembling a work of art according to blueprints.

Su Muzhe looked down at his body disappearing, starting from his feet, segment by segment, as if he were being pulled up from the ground.

He wanted to move, but he couldn't—the spider silk had entangled every muscle, every bone, and every tendon in him; it wasn't just binding him, it was locking him up.

His power was still there, his ability was still there, and his black light was still shining, a pea-sized object pressed against Yun Nian's forehead, three inches in front of her.

But he couldn't push it in because his fingers were gone.

It started to crumble from the fingertips, just like Pei Yuan's clone, turning to ash from the edges. The ash was blown away by the wind, and then it spread to the palm, wrist, and forearm.

The difference is that Pei Yuan shattered himself, while he was shredded.