Mo Wen had experienced death many tis. He was no novice to the realm of demise, yet occasionally, certain unique deaths could still provide him with fresh experiences.
Like this one.
As his awareness of his physical body gradually faded, he felt himself slowly sinking downward, enveloped by a warm, gentle force.
The warmth was so vivid—like stepping into a roaring fireplace during winter when your hands and feet ache from the cold and your face feels ready to peel off, suddenly catching the aroma of at stew while music plays from a music box.
It felt incredible, impossible to resist—far more potent than the allure of a warm bed.
Even as he sensed himself dissolving bit by bit, Mo Wen had no desire to move.
If he was truly dead, fine. If not, he'd just return to the [Revival Point] and start over.
But soone wouldn't allow him to sink so easily: "Wake up. Stay focused. I know you can hear ."
"Hold on. Survive."
I'm not dead yet?
The mont he heard the voice and realized there was still hope, Mo Wen tore himself away from this blissful death. He resisted the surrounding warmth, trying to shout back—but found no way to speak.
And then, sothing terrible happened to him again.
As he rejected the radiance, the radiance ceased to protect him.
Sothing leaked out.
mories.
The mories he feared most, the ones he never wanted to face, the ones he didn't dare dwell on—only mocking them repeatedly, pretending he had moved on. The unbearably long deaths.
He should have forgotten them. He believed the [Revival Point] had solved his problem—but it hadn't.
He was dying, every second of every minute.
His body decayed, flies swarming over it, insects nesting in his bones. No matter how he scread, he couldn't stop them from gnawing through his remains, rging him with dirt and stone.
But that wasn't the end of death.
Even as he turned to dust, his awareness persisted.
Plant roots sucked at him, birds pecked at fruits as red as his flesh, worms devoured the birds' carcasses, spawning countless offspring...
He scattered into the wind, the water, every living thing in the world—and thus, all suffering fell upon one soul forbidden from going mad.
When would it end?
Never.
Even if the oceans dried up, leaving only barren land;
Even if the earth withered, all life turned to dust;
Even if the stars perished, dissolving into the endless void;
Even if the void burned and all things were reborn—
It would never end.
Eternity was but a mont in this tornt. Infinity couldn't asure its length. It was the end of all life—and everything after was just illusion born from nothingness.
"I REFUSE!"
On the monitor, the line representing the patient's brain activity ceased its steady path and began thrashing violently.
Ren Yiyi wasn't surprised. She simply ordered her assistants to proceed with the next phase of treatnt.
This was her first ti seeing soone revive after brain death—but for a miracle like psionic energy, capable of shaking the cold universe, it made sense.
The patient was fighting death with everything he had, defying what people once believed to be unshakable order.
And she would give him the necessary push.
She wouldn't stop until he did.
And Mo Wen would never stop.
He had died many tis—over and over, repeatedly discovering that his desperate struggles ant nothing. Even if he spent every waking mont fighting, his enemies could effortlessly crush his efforts.
No matter how he wailed or begged, no one would ever lend him a hand. The world had no ti to listen to the cries of dust—only he could hear his own voice.
Even if he survived a few tis, living slightly longer—what did it matter?
It mattered.
He had already taken one step further than his past self. The second step wouldn't be too hard.
If a path had limits, he'd find a new one.
If everything was nothingness, he'd create aning from it.
If his entire existence was just imagination, he'd forge his own world from it.
I am my own master.
I already possess my entire world!
Face the fear. Create the future!
Every obstacle he had overco would lift him higher—this fear included. Even if it wasn't real, just a flood of mories.
Mo Wen felt himself burning. Having rejected that radiance, he seed to have beco a new source of light.
"Psionic Index: α . Current Energy Level: 5. Patient exhibiting severe loss of control. Estimated 3.22 seconds until detachnt from physical reality."
Ren Yiyi didn't panic. She was the backbone of everyone present, the one who decided the patient's life or death. She couldn't panic—so she calmly issued her order: "Install the Dreammaker VI."
No one questioned why she would use Dreamweaver Entertainnt's latest experintal product on an outsider. Those gathered here to perform what could only be called "plucking soone from the underworld" were willing to do everything possible to save a life that could be saved.
The most dangerous cybernetic in the world, in the hands of the world's best doctors, was installed into the remnants of Mo Wen's brain.
Steel and flesh rged. A drifting soul regained a vessel to anchor it. Mo Wen's consciousness began returning as their surgery continued.
"Deploy the Nightmare Breaker V. Prepare to implant the cloned aberrant organs."
An overly powerful cybernetic could cause extre discomfort due to perceptual distortion. Its abnormal performance might also trigger another loss of control—but a vessel too weak couldn't withstand psionic energy at α levels.
At the sa ti, they had to maintain as much familiarity as possible for proper consciousness integration. Those aberrant organs, aside from making the patient more comfortable, might have unknown benefits.
Given that for Type-V and above cybernetics, the line between biological and chanical was already blurred, integration wasn't an issue.
Ti passed, second by second.
Mo Wen, who had once been little more than "enough at to stir-fry a single dish," finally regained human form.
"System online. Vital signs normal."
"Welco back to the world of the living, Death-Denier."
Mo Wen opened his eyes. Floating in the tank, his gaze swept over the 1.36-ter-tall girl in an oversized white coat and the smiling doctors behind her.
He had co back to life.
And then, that adorable little girl spoke with a perfectly calm expression:
"Also, rember to pay up. We'll waive the labor costs for this rescue operation, but the dication was 15 million credits, equipnt wear-and-tear 7.28 million, military-grade cybernetics 50 million, and experintal-grade cybernetics 178.2 billion credits."
I usually get perfect revivals for free—how dare you charge such outrageous prices! Scamrs! Mo Wen wanted to shout.
But in the end, floating in the tank, he politely asked his "saviors":
"I'm broke. Got any alternative paynt options?"
The little girl nodded.
"Then sell your body."
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