Chapter 196: Discovering the Spacetime Weakness

Shen Yan’s finger hovered over the send button. Just as the message “Hold on, I’m looking for an exit” was sent, Ye Shi’er turned his head.

His gaze was as cold as ice.

“What did you do?”

Shen Yan didn’t speak, simply tucking his phone into his chest. The earlier Variable Overwrite Protocol had nearly drained his Mental Power; his mind buzzed incessantly, as if thousands of lines of Code were simultaneously Error Reporting. But he knew he had gained an advantage—the channel had been established. Even with only 37% stability, it meant the outside world could receive his Signal.

That was enough.

He sat down leaning against a broken Data Stream remnant, his chest’s Source Code Spiritual Root faintly glowing with heat. He pressed his phone against it, using the weak reflux Energy to begin repairing the Local Cache. A few seconds later, the Terminal Interface flickered, displaying a compressed waveform diagram.

It was Ye Zhao’s Sword Qi frequency.

Though there were no words or Images, this fluctuation was steady, indicating they were still maintaining the Rift outside and hadn’t given up.

Shen Yan breathed a sigh of relief.

He was alive, and they hadn’t left.

Then there was still a chance to fight.

He closed his eyes, activating the offline Debug mode and triggering the monitoring Module he had previously embedded in Ye Shi’er’s Code Flow. This thing disguised itself as a System Log, lurking until now. As Data tracking started, lines of Run trajectories surfaced in his mind.

The Soul Overwrite Protocol was progressing.

Every thirty seconds, the ritual would enter a verification Node. At that instant, the entire space would experience a 0.3-second synchronization Latency. All non-native Code would be scanned by the Heavenly Dao Rules.

Shen Yan opened his eyes, a smile curling at his lips.

“Found it.”

This wasn’t a Vulnerability; it was a Backdoor.

The Heavenly Dao didn’t allow arbitrary tampering with the Cycle of Reincarnation, so it had set up a mandatory verification mechanism. If a forged termination Command could be injected within this 0.3-second window, the entire Program could freeze, even triggering self-destruction.

He quickly constructed an attack model in his mind, naming it “Spacetime Weakness.”

If the timing was precise, it would be a one-hit kill.

But the problem was, how to approach the core?

He looked up at Ye Shi’er.

That person no longer looked at him; the red light in his palm grew increasingly intense, as if he had merged into the ritual itself. The surrounding light bands were continuously drawn, twisting into the Outline of a massive Talisman Array, slowly rotating.

Shen Yan knew that if this continued, not only would he fail to stop the ritual, but he himself would be torn apart by this power.

He had to negotiate cooperation.

Even if only for a second of consensus.

“Hey,” he spoke, his voice slightly hoarse, “have you noticed that every time you push the ritual forward, the space stalls?”

Ye Shi’er ignored him.

Shen Yan continued, “It’s not that your Energy is insufficient; it’s that the Heavenly Dao doesn’t recognize your operation. It’s rejecting you.”

“Shut up,” Ye Shi’er coldly spat out two words.

“You don’t believe it?” Shen Yan raised his hand, tracing a line in the air. A Data ring appeared, marking the time points and Latency values of three verification Nodes. “Look, each time it’s exactly 0.3 seconds, no deviation. This is a System Self-Check, specifically designed to prevent operations like your forced revival.”

Ye Shi’er finally turned his head, his gaze falling on the Data ring.

Shen Yan seized the opportunity to retrieve that Audio Waveform—the words spoken by the woman in the white dress amidst the flames: “Don’t Restart… I’ve already chosen death.”

“This is a fragment of her memory.” Shen Yan stared at him. “She said not to come back. The person you’re desperately trying to save actually gave up long ago.”

The air fell silent instantly.

Ye Shi’er’s eyes trembled violently, the red glow in his palm flickering unsteadily.

But the next second, he smiled.

“You’re wrong,” he said in a low voice. “That was her despair, not her choice. She was trapped there, with no one to save her, so she could only resign herself to fate. But I’m here now, and I won’t let her die alone again.”

Shen Yan remained silent.

He knew he couldn’t persuade him.

This kind of obsession couldn’t be overturned by Data.

It was like those all-nighters he pulled at his workstation fixing Bugs, knowing full well it wouldn’t run, yet still wanting to try that last line of Code.

But he couldn’t stop.

He had to find the breakthrough point.

“Then tell me,” Shen Yan slowly stood up. “If the ritual succeeds and she returns, but she doesn’t want to stay, will you let her go?”

Ye Shi’er finally moved.

He slowly raised his hand, pointing toward the ever-expanding silver-blue pillar of light.

“I won’t ask her if she’s willing,” he said. “I want her to have the right to choose again. Even if she turns and leaves in the end, I want her to know that someone waited for her for a thousand years.”

Shen Yan looked at him.

In that moment, he suddenly understood.

Ye Shi’er wasn’t insane.

He truly loved her enough to betray the Heavenly Dao.

But precisely because of that, he was even more dangerous.

Shen Yan glanced down at his phone; the attack model was ready, lacking only an entry point. He needed Ye Shi’er to pause slightly during the next verification, even for half a second, so he could insert the termination Command.

He tentatively said, “I can help you confirm her will. We don’t need to force her awake; we can establish a connection first and see her true thoughts.”

“No need,” Ye Shi’er cut him off. “I can’t wait any longer.”

As his words fell, the ritual Initiated once more.

Ribbons of light converged frantically, the silver-blue pillar trembling violently as if something was awakening. Shen Yan immediately sensed the change in spatial structure—synchronization Latency was about to arrive.

Now!

Green light shimmered at the Tip of his Finger, ready to release the Program.

But Ye Shi’er suddenly raised his hand, a blood-red sickle shadow sweeping out, slashing directly toward him.

Shen Yan dodged sharply; the sickle blade grazed past his shoulder, slicing through his sleeve. His phone nearly slipped from his grasp.

“Don’t force me to kill you,” Ye Shi’er said coldly. “You’re the Key. I don’t want to act.”

Shen Yan gasped for breath, not advancing further.

He knew the negotiation had failed.

But it didn’t matter.

He had already obtained all the Data.

The attack path, trigger timing, termination Command Encoding—all stored within his Source Code Spiritual Root. As soon as the next verification arrived, he could launch a surprise attack.

He retreated to a corner, pretending to regulate his breathing while secretly backing up the attack plan deep within his consciousness. Every step was precise down to the millisecond, and he even rehearsed escape routes three times in case of failure.

There were still people waiting for him to return outside.

He couldn’t die here.

Time passed bit by bit.

The pillar of light grew brighter and brighter as the ritual entered its final stage. Ye Shi’er’s body had already begun to turn semi-transparent, merging with the red light, becoming part of the ritual.

Shen Yan closed his eyes, silently counting down.

Thirty seconds… twenty seconds… ten seconds…

Synchronization Latency was about to arrive.

His fingers quietly lifted, the last trace of Spiritual Power gathering at his fingertips.

Just then, Ye Shi’er suddenly spoke.

“Brother.”

Shen Yan opened his eyes.

“If you see her… ask her for me.”

“On that rainy night a thousand years ago, did she ever look back at me?”

Shen Yan froze.

Before he could react, the space suddenly trembled.

The verification Node had arrived.

All light bands instantly solidified.

Without hesitation, Shen Yan thrust out the Tip of his Finger.

A Green Code Stream shot straight toward the ritual’s core.

(End of Chapter)