GRMFBS CH273

Zhan Yunkai felt his heart skip a beat once again.

After a few seconds, he connected all the known information.

The Bai Ze he had been searching for so long had been right by his side the whole time.

Looking at Yue Ming’s reaction… the Abnormal Affairs Management Bureau had probably guessed it a long time ago, they just wouldn’t give the Wan Yao Alliance any hints. And Bai Ze was clearly of the demon race… tsk.

Zhan Yunkai smiled at Ji Yueming, his beautiful voice trembling with an ethereal quality like a plucked harp string: “You guys…”

Ji Yueming squinted her eyes and smiled at him: “Now, let’s talk about that secret identity of yours.”

…

While the couple in the room discussed various strategies for the future, Zhan Yan was outside, telling tall tales with a straight face.

Even if his parents had figured out what to do, it wouldn’t hurt to help them lower the “difficulty level” a bit, would it?

“My parents have a very good relationship.” Zhan Yan’s voice sounded quite happy, but his expression looked worried.

Black Wolf was becoming impatient with the way the kid was talking: “Then what are you worried about?”

Ning Xi held his breath on the other end of the communication device.

“But their principles and stances are both so firm…” Zhan Yan sighed, vividly acting out the role of a child terrified of his parents’ discord. “If the Abnormal Affairs Management Bureau and the Wan Yao Alliance are at odds, they will definitely be in great pain standing by their respective sides. If…”

Zhan Yan’s little mouth chattered away, vividly describing various future scenarios filled with deep-seated hatred, “love-hate” relationships, and the clash between love and duty. Of course, in every future he painted, the relationship between the Bureau and the Alliance would not end well…

Both the people on-site and the person on the other end of the radio listened in terror.

Zhan Yan’s petty schemes were almost glaringly obvious, but they couldn’t deny that this could very well be the direction things were headed.

Bai Po couldn’t take it anymore: “Alright, alright, stop talking. Where does a kid like you come up with these thoughts…”

Zhan Yan activated his “chummy” skill: “Only by preparing for the worst outcome can we avoid it!”

Both Bai Po and Black Wolf were curious about the child that the Demon King and the Heavenly Master often bragged about. Knowing that his parents didn’t intend to divorce, they relaxed and started teasing the kid.

Zhan Yan wasn’t afraid at all and quickly got close to Black Wolf and Bai Po.

We’re friends now, okay? If my parents encounter a conflict of stance in the future, you must help me persuade them.

As he chatted, he was also deep in thought.

His parents had exposed each other’s “vests” (disguises) and knew everyone’s identities; he had to tell his sister. And his brother—his brother still knew nothing.

Zhan Yan opened his Gossip Feed to check the situation.

His parents were discussing. His brother was at Mount Chaofu accompanying a recovering Wan Yan. His sister was helping souls from the apocalypse world be reincarnated in the “Dawn World.”

And Little Gu had already started looking for Di Ting’s horn.

As expected of Little Gu! I hadn’t had the chance to remind him yet, but he thought of it himself!

Gu Jiancheng was reflecting.

He had been led around by the nose by Di Ting’s phantom shadow. While this was partly because Wan Yan was a lunatic, didn’t he have some responsibility himself?

Why did he let Di Ting boss him around? Why didn’t he just dump that psycho halfway? Most importantly, why did Di Ting disappear before he could even give him a beating?

Gu Jiancheng felt stifled.

In the patch of wild grass where Di Ting had disappeared, little specks of starlight—like fireflies—slowly rose.

Gu Jiancheng became vigilant instantly. Shadows swept from beneath his feet, covering the grass and weaving into a cage.

The starlight rose on its own, completely unaffected.

At first glance, Gu Jiancheng thought it was the fluorescent glow from Di Ting’s horn, but as he watched, he realized there was a big difference.

When he had seen Di Ting use his divine powers before, the brilliance on his horn flickered with a ghostly, lively intensity. But this radiance was more like starlight: stable and eternal.

The starlight traced elegant trajectories in the air.

Gu Jiancheng frowned. He saw familiar arcs within those patterns. Some of the tracks were identical to the drawing that “Approaching Science” had sent him earlier.

“Approaching Science” had inexplicably sent him a drawing without explanation, and as soon as he finished tracing it, he was pulled into this Candle Dragon phantom shadow.

Gu Jiancheng had his guesses as to why “Approaching Science” would send him this.

He still remembered their previous conversation, where “Approaching Science” said that to restore the Ghost King Linyuan’s divine powers, he needed to find Di Ting’s horn. If he found a lead, he would tell him—which was one of the reasons why he had tolerated Di Ting’s phantom shadow for so long.

As he pondered, the star trails shifted, outlining the image of a divine beast with a dragon’s head and four legs.

The sky darkened, changing from red-black clouds to a sky filled with stars.

Gu Jiancheng understood: the timeline of this Candle Dragon phantom shadow had changed.

The wild grass turned into scorched earth, and black smoke rolled out from the cracked rocks.

The divine beast formed by the starlight landed, its white four legs stepping on the charred ground. Its horns were like white jade with a hint of green, and its mane hung softly over its neck.

Gu Jiancheng’s pupils constricted.

Bai Ze…

Bai Ze lowered his dragon head, his pitch-black eyes soaked with sorrow.

Gu Jiancheng’s heart skipped a beat.

Bai Ze’s size was similar to Di Ting’s. He landed in front of Gu Jiancheng, and when he lowered his head, his gaze fell exactly on Gu Jiancheng’s position.

Those dark eyes seemed to be looking right at him, hiding something beneath the sorrow, but it slipped away before Gu Jiancheng could identify it.

“It’s not over yet,” Bai Ze said. “We cannot let them get Di Ting’s horn.”

For a moment, Gu Jiancheng almost thought Bai Ze was speaking to him.

The ethereal female voice that followed shattered that illusion:

“Where do you plan to hide it?”

Gu Jiancheng understood—this was the timeline where Di Ting had already died.

Unlike the previous timeline, he was no longer a participant, but a spectator.

Bai Ze and the Candle Dragon were more like records from the past; they couldn’t see Gu Jiancheng and would not react to him. It wasn’t like the previous Di Ting, who could talk to him and dared to bite him and shove him!

Bai Ze and the Candle Dragon were still talking.

From their conversation, Gu Jiancheng roughly gathered what had happened.

Twenty-seven years ago, Di Ting had lured the enemy’s attention away for Bai Ze, eventually dying after snapping off his own horn. Di Ting’s soul had been rescued by the Minghe River, but his horn had gone missing.

Bai Ze had found the horn, but the battlefield was too chaotic, and he didn’t have time to send it back.

Divine powers stem from the soul.

Di Ting was dead, and his soul was severely wounded. If someone was willing to pay the price, they could temporarily keep his soul from dissipating, but if he lost his divine powers, Di Ting would never recover. They could not let “Infinite” find the horn.

“Linyuan will keep his soul safe,” Bai Ze said. “We need to hide the horn first.”

“Where can we hide it?” the Candle Dragon asked in a low voice.

In this world, where was there any place that was absolutely safe and secret?

“Hide it in your time rift, and cover it with my divine powers,” Bai Ze said.

Bai Ze picked up the blood-stained horn and carefully placed it into the time rift opened by the Candle Dragon. Flickering starlight wove over the rift, flashed lightly, and disappeared along with the time rift.

He had also hidden the concept of Di Ting’s horn. People would forget its existence, and “Infinite” would ignore it. A treasure that no one came looking for was the safest treasure of all.

Gu Jiancheng raised his hand. Across the vast distance of time, the projection of Bai Ze placed Di Ting’s horn into his palm.

He gripped the crystal-like horn, looking up as the Bai Ze from the past used his powers to weave and conceal.

The Candle Dragon’s rift began to dissipate, and the images of the past gradually blurred.

Bai Ze’s flesh gradually faded, his form turning into a pattern of star trails starting from his four legs.

Before leaving the rift, Gu Jiancheng heard Bai Ze’s whisper.

“Candle Dragon, when you wake up again, remember: Di Ting’s horn is still hidden here.”

“And what about you?” The ethereal female voice was as faint and weak as wisps of silk.

“I…” Bai Ze smiled faintly. “I know how to find the core of ‘Infinite’.”

Gu Jiancheng saw resolution in Bai Ze’s pitch-black pupils.

So that’s how it was.

Twenty-seven years ago, Gu Jiancheng and “Infinite” were sitting on opposite ends of the Supreme Scale.

He used the rules of the Tribunal and the Supreme Scale to learn the location of “Infinite’s” core.

“And so what?” “Infinite” didn’t care. “You can no longer leave.”

Deep Shadow was trapped in the Tribunal; the end of the trial was the moment he would suffer the consequences.

Even if he knew the core’s location, he couldn’t leave. What difference did knowing make?

He could only sit on the Supreme Scale like a polished sculpture, delaying the final ending.

“I don’t really want you to die,” “Infinite” said with regret.

Deep Shadow was the most valuable card in its hand. But this card was finally approaching the edge of destruction.

He knew full well that even if he found the core this way, he couldn’t go find it, nor could he tell anyone else. But he did it anyway, crazily.

“Are you willing to die completely? Or would you rather sit here forever enduring the trial? How about I give you a new choice?” “Infinite” spread out the card table. “Become my Executioner, and you can leave.”

Gu Jiancheng’s brows twitched: “You still need an Executioner?”

“Infinite” admitted frankly: “I am nearly omnipotent, but I’m missing one last bit. I need a living being that belongs to me.”

“Infinite” had never birthed a living being of its own; all it possessed were patched-together anomalies. Without a living being, its mastery of the rules was incomplete. It wanted to possess a living creature that belonged to it to become its Executioner.

It only wanted the one who could win in the end.

Become its official, merge with its rules, gain infinite power, freedom, authority… what was wrong with that?

Deep Shadow let out a mocking, low laugh.

“Infinite” understood: “You are suffering for the fragile and delusional parts of human nature.”

The Tribunal continued to play Deep Shadow’s past experiences. Most of it was dark, occasionally featuring sacrifices, some love, or darkness in the name of love and sacrifice. Like sparks that flickered briefly before being extinguished.

“They are all dead. This shows that so-called human radiance, so-called sacrifice, so-called love, are actually just weaknesses.”

“Isn’t the reason you made it this far because you abandoned these weaknesses?”

“Have you not done the very things you used as excuses to reject me?”

The whispers of “Infinite” coiled around his ears.

“Your struggle is just you refusing to face the truth.”

Gu Jiancheng said nothing. He sat there, his spine slightly hunched like an old tree waiting to wither, its roots buried deep in the earth, refusing to budge.

He hadn’t helped someone without a purpose for a long, long time.

If he were still the young Gu Jiancheng who had just entered “Infinite,” full of righteousness and heroism, he would have become a skeleton buried in some unknown dungeon by now.

Yet, he still didn’t want to become an Executioner for “Infinite.”

Because it was disgusting.

He closed his eyes, waiting for a slim chance during the trial.

“Infinite” was waiting too, patiently showing him one story after another.

Later, he felt the tidal force of gravity again.

Another world was being targeted by “Infinite.”

He saw the resistance. He saw everything he was all too familiar with.

Good and evil, greatness and pettiness, sacrifice and exploitation…

Gu Jiancheng suddenly felt very tired.

“Let’s make a bet,” he said. Shadows wrapped around him.

“Infinite” smiled: “Very well.”

If the humanity of this world falls, “Infinite” wins.

If the humanity of this world remains bright but fails to bring them victory, “Infinite” wins.

If this world triumphs because of the bright side of humanity, then Deep Shadow wins.

Gu Jiancheng sat high atop the scale, overlooking the struggles of this world, his dark, bottomless eyes like two dead, withered stars.

He saw Bai Ze.

So this was why “Infinite” had targeted this world. This was the omniscient core that “Infinite” wanted.

This world had hidden him as best as it could, but he was captured by “Infinite” nonetheless.

“Infinite” swallowed his divine powers toward the core, gulping down its prey with ecstasy.

When the consumption was halfway through, the panic-stricken Bai Ze suddenly stopped struggling. He showed a faint smile and destroyed his own divine powers.

The connected core of “Infinite” shook, and the ripples transmitted to the Tribunal.

Gu Jiancheng saw those eyes—calm, sorrowful, like the deepest night sky.

He hadn’t won yet; “Infinite” hadn’t failed yet. But Gu Jiancheng didn’t want to be someone sitting at the card table just waiting for the ending anymore.

He didn’t need to sit at the gambling table; he wasn’t a lofty bystander. It didn’t matter who won or lost, he didn’t care about what was strong or weak.

Good and evil, greatness and pettiness, sacrifice and exploitation…

He wasn’t the one pondering what the “truth” of the trial was; he was the one choosing what to do.

He would rather enter the game.

Using the vibration from Bai Ze’s self-destruction, Gu Jiancheng broke free from a rift created by the Tribunal.

The stars that didn’t want to die were vibrating, forcing fire out of their dry cores, rushing out of the trial, rushing out of “Infinite,” rushing toward the night sky, and then, resolutely, rushing toward the core of “Infinite.”

Gu Jiancheng looked up at Bai Ze, who was scattering into star trails. His eyes were like the deepest, most distant night sky.

Once, he had been reignited in this night sky.

The night sky prayed for every star to shine bright.

Di Ting’s horn shimmered with flowing light. Across the span of twenty-seven years, Gu Jiancheng understood the heartbeat of Bai Ze from that moment.

Bai Ze’s divine powers had broken through; he knew why “Infinite” wanted him.

He also knew how to use this to open a gap leading into “Infinite.”

Bai Ze had been captured on purpose, using himself as bait to open a path to the core of “Infinite.”

In Bai Ze’s vision, the world was like the night sky, and every living being was a star—stars falling and extinguishing like rain.

Gu Jiancheng couldn’t help but reach out, wanting to touch that resolute smile.

The dragon-headed divine beast scattered into specks of starlight, and the shifting star trails surrounded him.

It was as if he were in the starry sky, and then the starry sky drifted away.

Gu Jiancheng returned to the place where he had entered the Candle Dragon’s phantom shadow.

The bright moon hung high above, and the vast night sky hung low.

Bai Ze was gone.

The horn in his palm shimmered with light.

It was as if it were the last heartbeat he had heard.

Do not fall anymore. Never let another star fall again.