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Everything in hell stopped. The cyclone stilled, its molten winds frozen mid-scream. Souls, once dragged like cattle, now scattered and ran in every direction, crazed and desperate, clawing at the air as if it could save them. They were like ants in a burning nest, searching for an exit that did not exist.
Fu Yang, however, did not run. His eyes, cold and sharp, were fixed on the hole before him — a void of pure darkness yawning at the cyclone's heart. It pulsed, silent, pulling at him like a whisper.
Heuk.
Without a second thought, he jumped. The moment his body crossed the edge, a chill climbed his spine. The darkness was not just absence; it was alive, seeping into his soul with a creeping, alien feeling.
Then—suddenly—
Thump.
His body jerked to a halt. The burning chain around his neck strangled him, its links glowing red-hot, pulling him back with a violent snap. He was inches from the hole, just one breath away, when the force wrenched him backward.
Fu Yang turned his head and saw who had pulled him. He smiled.
The chains were not being dragged by the cyclone or the abyss. They were being pulled by the souls still bound like him. Their hollow eyes locked on him with a strange light, their ghostly fingers clutching his chain.
Ring, ring, ring—
"Bastard, where do you think you're going?" one hissed.
"Help us too!" another wailed.
"Let's leave together!" a third screamed, voice cracking like glass.
Their pleas were not pleas at all. They were claws.
Fu Yang's gaze did not waver. "This is what makes you and me humans," he said quietly, his voice low but cutting through the chaos.
"When we face problems or suffer, we compare ourselves to those whose problems are worse. It makes us feel better. And when another person is about to succeed, we get in their way because their escape makes our misery heavier."
His lips curled into a bitter smile. "I do not blame you for stopping me. If it were me who saw someone running, I would do the same — or worse. But alas… in my life, when was it that I got what I wanted without paying a huge price?" He laughed softly. "Never."
Hahaha… hahaha…
Ring, ring.
They tightened their grip, their chains clinking like cursed bells. They were not fools. They understood what that hole was. They knew its promise, its danger. And so, out of fear, out of envy, they bound him, pulling him back from his escape.
The cyclone stirred again. Its heat rose like a sun's wrath. The chains on all their necks began to glow hotter, hotter still, until the souls cried out and their ghostly hands burned.
Sssssss—
They dropped the chains, screeching as the heat seared them. In that instant, Fu Yang's tether snapped free. He was flung forward, directly into the hole.
.
..
Silence.
Fu Yang fell endlessly. It was like being hurled into outer space with no stars, no gravity, no sound — only darkness stretching forever. Yet this darkness was not empty. It was filled with visions.
His eyes widened. Before him, images unfolded like torn film. His life. Not only his life in the other world, but his human life before that. He saw himself as a boy, as a man, as a killer, as prey. He saw his torments, his humiliations, his betrayals — over and over, an endless loop of pain and choices.
He knew this place. He had read of it. The name rose unbidden from his memory.
"The Realm of Time and Space…"
A tremor of excitement flickered through his eyes. "Is this really the realm I've read about? They say whoever reaches here may conquer it, may control anything he wants…" His voice shook. "Yes. If this is my opportunity, then my suffering for three hundred years was not in vain."
His laugh echoed weakly in the void. "Hahaha… hahah…"
But nothing happened.
No power rose to greet him. No crown descended upon his head. No chains fell away. Only the visions remained — an endless mirror of his past, replaying his torments, his humiliations, his betrayals, his choices, his deaths.
He watched himself again and again, his soul unraveling under the weight.
"What is happening? Why am I still here?" His voice cracked. "Are there conditions for it? Did I… misunderstand?"
He paused, then whispered, realization creeping in like frost. "Wait. I am not alive. I am here as a soul. Why didn't I think of this?"
A bitter laugh escaped him. "I thought it would come to me like I was some kind of yuusha blessed by godly luck… but reality…" He closed his eyes. "…Reality is different."
The visions did not stop. The Realm of Time and Space showed no mercy. And for the first time since his transmigration, Fu Yang felt not rage, but a cold, gnawing despair — and beneath it, the faintest ember of something far more dangerous: resolve.