“Oh?”
Qi Xia slowly furrowed his brows, then reached out and grabbed Wei Yang’s wrist. With a forceful tug, he pried Wei Yang’s hand from his collar.
“Whatever I may have deceived you about, you seem to be overstepping now.”
Clenching Wei Yang’s wrist, Qi Xia gave it a fierce twist and shoved him to the ground.
Wei Yang’s frail frame made the fall particularly harsh. He struggled for a long moment, unable to get back up.
“Dang it!” Wei Yang scrambled unsteadily to his feet, looking utterly disheveled. “Qi Xia… are you a madman or a liar? Even *I* fell for your tricks…”
“I don’t understand,” Qi Xia replied coldly. “You seem just as insane to me. I’ve seen your farm.”
“No… this isn’t right…” Wei Yang staggered forward and seized Qi Xia’s arm again. “Ask me! Qi Xia, ask me why! About the farm, about me! Isn’t this the perfect chance?!”
Qi Xia glanced up at the black orb hovering above his head and let out a deranged chuckle. “No. This orb has another purpose. Wasting it on you would be a shame.”
“Rot in Hell! You can’t just discard me!” Wei Yang snarled. “I was the one who brought you out! I sacrificed too much for you!”
“I *will* discard you,” Qi Xia said flatly. “To be honest, I’ve abandoned too many people already. One more makes no difference.”
Wei Yang’s eyes widened at those words before dulling into emptiness.
“Qi Xia…” His voice turned hoarse. “You know… no matter how many years pass here, our appearances never change.”
“Right. We resurrect every ten days.” Qi Xia nodded. “Even trying to build muscle here is impossible.”
“But… our *eyes* do change.” Wei Yang took a step back, his tone eerily detached. “The only thing that shifts in this place is our gaze. Stay long enough, and you can tell exactly what someone is just by looking into their eyes.”
“How intriguing.”
“When people first arrive, their eyes are clear, filled with terror.” Wei Yang slowly reached behind his back, fingers searching for something unseen. “But after enough time, those eyes… they *hatch* different lights. Some glow like ‘murderers,’ others ‘psychopaths’ or ‘lunatics’—each gaze radiating its own twisted hue.”
From behind his back, Wei Yang withdrew a gleaming dagger.
“Ha… haha!” Qi Xia burst into laughter at the sight of the blade. “So *this* is the grand plan of a ‘mind-reader’? Pathetic.”
“Qi Xia… what do you see in my eyes now?” Wei Yang whispered.
Qi Xia stepped closer, locking onto his gaze. “I see a stray dog. Abandoned and worthless.”
“What…?” Wei Yang’s grip on the dagger trembled. “You bastard—”
“You should’ve read my mind by now.” Qi Xia’s voice dropped to a growl. “I’ve *Echoed*. Did you really think a dagger could kill me?”
“You… you’re ‘Endless Life’…”
“Exactly. ‘Endless Life.’ You’d need a hundred daggers to finish me.” Qi Xia smirked. “And don’t forget to sharpen them.”
Wei Yang’s arms fell limp. With a heavy sigh, he muttered, “Qi Xia… when did you decide to abandon *everyone*?”
“Don’t know. Maybe from the start,” Qi Xia answered.
“I thought my ‘mind-reading’ was weakening, but you never planned to leave…” Wei Yang’s clouded eyes lifted. “You deceived them all… You don’t *want* to escape… You want to become—”
Qi Xia’s hand shot out, clamping over Wei Yang’s mouth mid-sentence. His jaw locked, reducing his words to muffled gurgles. The scene felt hauntingly familiar, as if it had happened lifetimes ago.
“Know your place,” Qi Xia hissed.
His glare sent a chill down Wei Yang’s spine, drenching his back in cold sweat. There was something unspeakably terrifying in that gaze—a warning that crossing Qi Xia meant fates worse than death.
Wei Yang could only choke out incoherent sounds, powerless to speak.
“Those who’ve helped me, I repay. But if you make an enemy of me here, don’t expect mercy.”
Wei Yang’s eyes steadied, but his thoughts spiraled into chaos. He couldn’t fathom Qi Xia’s endgame. One thing was clear: Qi Xia stood closer to becoming a “god” than anyone else.
Defying him meant doom. A mere dagger couldn’t kill “Endless Life.”
As if reading his mind, Qi Xia seized Wei Yang’s wrist and wrenched the blade free.
Only then did Wei Yang notice the brutality etched into Qi Xia’s hands—knuckles bruised blue-red, blood seeping from nail beds, as if they’d been shattered and reassembled without pain. Yet Qi Xia gripped the dagger effortlessly.
“Wei Yang, I’ll give you this one chance. Blink if you understand what’s off-limits.” Qi Xia tightened his hold. “Or we’ll meet next cycle.”
Wei Yang blinked frantically.
Qi Xia nodded, tossed the dagger aside, and released him.
Wei Yang staggered, gasping like a man spared from execution. After several shaky breaths, he finally regained his composure.
“What *are* you planning…?” Wei Yang rasped. “Are you walking a path no one else dares to?”
“Yes.” Qi Xia’s reply was ice. “Keep it quiet.”
The words sent another wave of dread through Wei Yang. He couldn’t tell if Qi Xia was lying anymore.
The thoughts swirling in Qi Xia’s mind were grotesque—every single one a hypothesis, none a certainty. Even a “mind-reader” like Wei Yang couldn’t untangle truth from the labyrinth of conjectures.
It made him wonder: Was Qi Xia speculating to hide something… or to uncover it?
“Wei Yang, you’re still useful to me.” Qi Xia’s voice cut through the silence. “You know everyone here dies. Without exception.”
“Yes…” Wei Yang’s gaze dimmed. “But so what? I can at least choose how to live before that happens.”
“Then let me pick your death for you,” Qi Xia said.
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