Chapter 197: Cooperation or Conflict

The moment the Green Code Stream collided with the silver-blue pillar of light, the entire space trembled violently.

Shen Yan’s finger remained suspended mid-air, Spiritual Power lingering at the tip. The program had indeed struck the core, yet there was no explosion, no collapse—it merely halted the ritual for an instant. Like throwing a grain of sand into a high-speed gear, it jammed briefly before continuing to turn.

Ye Shi’er stood before the pillar of light, his body almost transparent, red light entwining him like chains. He slowly turned his head, his gaze cold enough to freeze the air.

“Do you truly believe,” his voice rasped low, “that a termination command can end everything?”

Shen Yan did not move. His mind buzzed incessantly, Mental Power drained completely, a saw-like dull ache throbbing in his ribs. He knew this strike had not succeeded, but he had not expected to succeed in one attempt.

He took a deep breath and pulled the phone from his chest. The screen glowed faintly, the Terminal Interface floating in the air, transforming into a holographic data map. A red dot marked the map—the exact location of the previous attack.

“I don’t intend to terminate the ritual,” he said. “I want you to see clearly—what you’re doing now will only cause the entire Rift to collapse.”

The data map rotated and expanded, showing the connecting lines of the Three Realms’ laws twisting. Once broken, the Cycle of Reincarnation would restart; not only would resurrection fail, but all living beings would be reset to their origins.

“If she truly retains any consciousness, she would never want you to pull her back in this way,” Shen Yan stared at Ye Shi’er. “You want to save her, right? Then let her choose herself. Not by copying a segment of Infinite Loop data.”

Ye Shi’er remained silent. He lowered his head to look at his palm, where the red light pulsed slightly, as if responding to his emotions.

Shen Yan knew he was listening. So he removed his glasses, wiping the lenses slowly, as if giving himself time.

“You said she was trapped in the sea of flames with no one to rescue her,” he put his glasses back on. “But do you know what she did on that rainy night a thousand years ago?”

Ye Shi’er finally looked up.

Shen Yan closed his eyes, his Source Code Spiritual Root trembling slightly. A Memory surfaced—the Image showed flames filling the sky, the Demon Clan palace burning. A woman in white stood at the edge of the ruins, rain soaking her long hair. She suddenly turned back, gazing toward the distance, her lips moving slightly as if calling out something.

Shen Yan opened his eyes, looking directly at Ye Shi’er: “She turned back. She was looking for you.”

The air solidified.

Ye Shi’er’s body swayed, the red light fluctuating violently. He opened his mouth but made no sound.

Shen Yan seized the moment to call up the collaborative Protocol template, his fingers swiftly sliding across the screen. A line of green Code jumped out, labeled “Bidirectional Awakening Channel.”

“We can rewrite the termination command together,” he said. “Not forcibly pulling her back, but opening a pathway. Let her decide whether to awaken. If she doesn’t want to, we close it. If you fear she’ll disappear again… then let her tell you herself whether she wishes to stay.”

Ye Shi’er stared at that line of Code, unmoving for a long time.

Just then, the entire space emitted a sharp hum. Countless Code Flows began rushing backward, like floodwaters reversing. The Terminal popped up a red Warning:

【Detected Heavenly Dao forced cleanup parsing Program】

【Countdown: 187 seconds】

The violent data turbulence swept through the surroundings, making Shen Yan struggle to keep his footing. He quickly grabbed onto a broken fragment of data debris, his fingers digging desperately into its edge.

“Listen!” he shouted. “The cleanup parsing will format the entire Rift! You, me, her—all of us will be erased! Only the two of us can operate the underlying protocol now. If we hesitate even a second longer, no one can be saved!”

Ye Shi’er finally moved. He raised his hand, and a blood-red scythe shadow slowly coalesced, floating beside him.

“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ve waited a thousand years. Every time the Cycle of Reincarnation begins, I watch her die. I don’t dare blink, I don’t dare close my eyes, for fear of missing her final glance.”

He looked at Shen Yan, his eyes no longer cold but filled with a nearly desperate stubbornness.

“If I don’t pull her back this time, who will? You said she looked back at me? But what happened after that? She still died. No one remembers her, no one mentions her, not even a tombstone exists. I can’t let her walk away like that again.”

Shen Yan froze.

He suddenly realized that Ye Shi’er wasn’t insane—he was too lucid. Lucidly aware of every failure, lucidly remembering every detail, lucidly carrying this loneliness for a thousand years.

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

“Then have you ever considered,” Shen Yan gritted his teeth, “that she might have already let go? The memories you cling to might already be in the past for her?”

“Those are still my memories,” Ye Shi’er interrupted. “They are my life.”

As his words fell, the blood-red light in his palm surged, and the scythe shadow suddenly expanded, pointing directly at Shen Yan.

Shen Yan immediately retreated, swiping his finger across his phone. The emergency shield program had only half-initiated when it was shattered by a tremendous force. He was sent flying, crashing into a data wall, the taste of blood rising in his mouth.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Ye Shi’er said, stepping closer. “But you are the Key. If you won’t help me, I’ll have no choice but to turn you into a tool.”

Shen Yan leaned against the wall, panting. His phone screen had cracked, but it was still running. The counterattack program was already preloaded, waiting only to be triggered.

He didn’t want to fight. He knew there were no winners in this battle.

But he couldn’t retreat either.

There were people waiting for him outside. Ye Zhao’s Sword Qi frequency was still fluctuating, the lingering scent of Pei Yue’s medicine had not yet faded, the residual warmth of Luo Li’s Demonic Fire remained, and fragments of Yu Xiaotang’s Talisman Paper still clung to his sleeve.

These people were not data.

They were real, living people.

“One last time I ask you,” Shen Yan pushed himself up against the wall, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. “What do you truly want—to revive her, or to fulfill yourself?”

Ye Shi’er stopped in his tracks.

The scythe shadow trembled slightly.

“I just want her to know,” he whispered, “that someone has been waiting for her all along.”

Shen Yan looked at him and suddenly smiled.

“Then you shouldn’t use this method,” he said. “True waiting means giving her the right to choose. Not making decisions for her.”

He raised his phone. On the screen, a line of green Code flickered quietly.

“Come on. Let’s open that door together. Let her walk out on her own. If you’re afraid she won’t return… then let her tell you herself whether she loves you or not.”

The wind stopped.

The data turbulence briefly calmed.

Ye Shi’er stood where he was, the blood-red scythe shadow slowly shrinking, almost dissipating.

His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something.

Just then, the Countdown jumped to one hundred and fifty seconds.

Space trembled once more as the Heavenly Dao’s cleanup and parsing program accelerated. The silver-blue light pillar shook violently, and from deep within the Rift came a tearing roar.

Ye Shi’er abruptly looked up, the last trace of hesitation vanishing from his eyes.

He raised his hand, and the crimson glow reignited.

“Sorry,” he said. “This time, I can’t take the risk.”

The phantom of the Scythe coalesced once more, more ferocious than before. The surrounding Code Flow began to twist, forming a massive sealing array that pressed directly toward Shen Yan.

Shen Yan didn’t dodge. He simply pressed the confirmation key on his phone.

The counterattack program activated, entering standby mode.

He stood atop the shattered remnants of Data, the Screen flickering, reflecting his weary yet resolute face.

The two faced each other across the storm.

One driven by an Obsession born of love, the other fighting for reason.

Within the Temporal Rift, the Countdown continued to tick.

One hundred forty-nine, one hundred forty-eight, one hundred forty-seven…

Shen Yan tightened his grip on the phone, the tip of his finger glowing with a final trace of green light.

(End of Chapter)