Everywhere was pitch-black, like the void itself.
Shen Changqing instinctively glanced down at his feet. There was nothing beneath him.
When he looked around, he froze.
Huge, floating, indescribable forms hung in the air—abstract and twisted, embodying forbidden knowledge: the secrets of creation, the sublime heights of status, myriad paths intertwined in intricate patterns. Every line and curve seized the beholder’s soul.
If all this knowledge were poured into a person’s mind, their skull would explode in the next instant. Without sufficient capacity, the human consciousness simply couldn’t retain it. The depths of such lore were too profound for mortal minds to bear.
This was why Su Bingyao always forgot everything upon returning home. He only retained a subconscious sense of terror, without recalling its specifics.
Only those with exceptional talent could glean even a fragment—a symbolic pattern or motif—from this flowing tapestry of the void.
And with just that single symbol or pattern, upon returning to their own world, they would rise to mastery in that domain.
Yet what humans perceived was merely the “surface” layer of the void, like plankton drifting on the ocean’s waves—a tiny fraction of the whole. Deeper still lay even more profound mysteries, accessible only when one’s spiritual energy reached a certain threshold, allowing them to plunge into the abyss and behold greater symbols and truths.
This was the nexus of abstractions, the cradle of worlds.
The Endless Void.
Countless worlds were born and perished here in the same breath.
Human consciousness had no business lingering unprotected in such a place. Directly exposed to the primal information that formed worlds, an individual’s mind was less than an ant—utterly insignificant. They couldn’t preserve their sense of self. Instead, they would be infected and assimilated by the knowledge, swiftly twisting into grotesque spiritual amalgamations.
Of course, Shen Changqing knew none of this. He only remembered witnessing the world shatter at Luo Shang’s hand, only to find himself in this terrifying blackness.
Where am I? Can I go back? Is this what Su Mingyao meant by the aftermath of a world’s destruction?
Though terror gripped him, Shen Changqing forced his mind to turn, to think.
He was astonished at his own clarity. He hadn’t simply passed out.
Then the memories, once concealed by mental spells, came flooding back.
He recalled the dread of being dominated by the Bone Giant Dragon, the chilling drain of life force when facing the Necromancer head-on, and Luo Shang’s pupils turning gold. Though seated in his wheelchair, Luo Shang had gazed down at them like a sovereign on high.
Fear washed over him anew.
When did I forget all this?
How could I not remember?
The Recognition Banquet hadn’t ended with Luo Shang slinking away in humiliation after everyone’s mockery. No—instead, under the Necromancer’s mental spells, they had all dispersed like walking corpses, returning to their homes!
He had forgotten it all, dismissing the ordeal as a nightmare.
In truth, he had already escaped death once before!
“Hold on. Stop thinking.”
Su Mingyao’s voice rang out.
Shen Changqing: !!
Like a parched wanderer in the desert receiving blessed rain, Shen Changqing whipped his gaze toward the voice. There floated Su Mingyao, looking utterly drained, as if he didn’t want to utter another word.
“Yeah, yeah, I remember now too. But it doesn’t matter. So what if our memories were tampered with? I’d rather stay ignorant, keep the processed version.”
Recalling it all would only amplify the mental terror, reinforce Luo Shang’s horrifying power—nothing more.
If that was the case, better not to remember. At least his heart would feel a little lighter.
Su Mingyao had completely given up, mentally checking out.
Shen Changqing, sensing these thoughts: …
Su Mingyao wasn’t wrong. He felt the same way.
“Big Bro didn’t come in this time.”
After a moment of despondence, Su Mingyao said.
Looks like it was just the two of them.
Had Big Bro avoided being pulled in simply by keeping his distance from the world’s destruction? Makes sense. He had no connection to the cause, so it was normal for him not to be affected.
Su Mingyao hadn’t really wanted to drag Su Bingyao along anyway. He didn’t get joy from watching others suffer.
But knowing this distance threshold was crucial. Next time, he could stay far from Luo Shang—or bolt the moment the man moved to destroy the world.
But compared to Big Bro, spending an eternity trapped here with Shen Changqing felt even more unbearable—even though the man had been his partner in his previous life…
“…I can hear your Heart Voice,” Shen Changqing said.
He was speechless. In what way did he fall short of Su Bingyao?
I’m still your husband from your previous life, you know.
“To be precise, our Heart Voices are linked,” Su Mingyao replied.
The moment Shen Changqing heard that, his mind erupted into chaos, thoughts flashing across it like a barrage on a screen.
“Alright, cut it out. I don’t want to know the Shen Family’s business secrets. Just stop thinking, and I won’t pick up on them,” Su Mingyao said in exasperation.
He truly had no desire to learn those things. Still, a few of Shen Changqing’s childhood mishaps that had just crossed his mind were rather amusing.
Shen Changqing fell silent again. As someone who always kept his thoughts tightly guarded, he found this kind of direct information exchange profoundly uncomfortable. No privacy at all—his ideas, the other man’s ideas, all laid bare.
Listening in on Luo Shang’s Heart Voice had been satisfying, but now that it was his own being overheard, he grew jittery. Wait—listening to Luo Shang’s Heart Voice wasn’t satisfying at all! It had been nothing but exploitation. Shen Changqing couldn’t recall gaining any benefit from it; instead, he’d often ended up in trouble.
Is this the gap that strength creates? Shen Changqing mused inwardly.
Once someone reached Luo Shang’s formidable level, having their Heart Voice heard didn’t lead to privacy breaches or threats. Instead, those around them would cater to them even better, aligning their actions perfectly with their desires.
Shen Changqing had always adhered to the law of the jungle—survival of the fittest. That was why, once Su Shang had weakened, he’d unhesitatingly kicked him while he was down. He’d swapped their engagement for the far more appealing Su Mingyao: gentler, more virtuous, and perfectly suited to his tastes, while banishing the more strong-willed and complicated Su Shang.
Now their positions had reversed. He was the one paying the price for his actions, living in constant fear that Luo Shang might kill him at any moment.
Su Mingyao was irritated by these thoughts. He’d had no idea his husband from his previous life was such a person. Shen Changqing had treated him well back then, but who could have guessed what he’d really been thinking!
Even more tragic was that in this life, he was bound to the man with no way to switch partners. It was pure torment.
“Or if you don’t want me hearing your thoughts, just count numbers in your head or focus on something else,” Su Mingyao suggested.
Though they’d only been locked away once, that single experience had been so prolonged and vivid that he and Su Bingyao had devised ways to block their Heart Voices from being perceived.
Anything to stop Shen Changqing from brooding further—it was getting on his nerves.
Shen Changqing remained silent.
He had no desire to know how much Su Mingyao despised him.
Soon, Su Mingyao reined in his own Heart Voice and shared the details of his previous confinement with Shen Changqing.
Then he began investigating the cause, determined to avoid a repeat.
“This time, I was the root cause of the world’s destruction—and you got caught in it because you were too close…” Su Mingyao said.
He truly hadn’t anticipated that his actions would provoke Luo Shang into annihilating the world.
But who had been the one to come knocking?
Su Mingyao scoured his memories from both lives, but he’d never seen that hostile man in black.
Why did he come for me? Why ask me to go with him? Su Mingyao couldn’t make sense of it.
The key difference between this life and his last was simple: he was a reincarnator.
Did he sense my rebirth? Or was the Anomaly it caused detected?
Worse still, his presence here meant seeking Luo Shang’s help was a dead end.
So what now…? Su Mingyao sank into thought.
Shen Changqing: …
So this is all because of you—I’ve fallen this low!
~~~
Luo Shang floated in the Endless Void, as free and at ease as if he’d returned to his mother’s embrace.
He activated his Spirit Net Communications again, a smile tugging at his lips as he began replying to the messages Ke Yanjin had sent during his absence.
