NOVEL WEB Chapter 17: Chapter 17
Administrator Fang Yuan's voice cuts through the chaos, dark and menacing, as if hell itself is speaking. "You have already learned what is beyond your limit," he says, his tone dripping with warning. "You are alive not just because of my protection but also because of the forbidden power you possess—your otherworldly Dao marks. But even with just that much of your otherworldly Dao marks, you are not worthy of even knowing the term 'forbidden knowledge.' I am the one bearing all the pressure. And though this world can do nothing to me, I won't be able to protect you if you learn even a tiny part of a single forbidden knowledge."
The suffocating silence stretches on, heavy and unyielding. Even under Administrator Fang Yuan's protection, Demonic Fang Yuan trembles uncontrollably. It's as if every tiny part of his being—every fragment of his will, every shred of his memory—is rebelling against him, trying to erase itself. Despite being a mere collection of will and memories, he is still formidable, a testament to the immense power he wielded before traveling back in time. Yet, even that strength feels fragile now, like a candle flickering in a storm.
The silence is finally shattered as Administrator Fang Yuan speaks—his voice cold, calculating, and laced with a sinister amusement. "I will discuss further plans only after there is a clear victor," he says, his tone deliberate, each word landing like an iron weight.
Then, after a pregnant pause, he chuckles—a low, unsettling sound that sends shivers through the air. "You've noticed it too, haven't you? Naive Fang Yuan is devouring you. Slowly... but inexorably." His laughter deepens, dripping with mockery and malice. "Your situation is far worse than death. The body has fully acknowledged Naive Fang Yuan and is working with him to erase you. You are nothing more than a fragile collection of will and memories now—and even those remnants of your existence are rebelling against you, striving to wipe you out entirely."
His voice drops lower, heavy with an eerie finality. "Even the world itself is set on erasing you. Not even my protection is working properly. Now do you understand? Some things are better left unknown. You tried to connect the dots, to uncover forbidden knowledge—and now, this is your consequence. A hopeless situation. Ha ha ha."
A long, suffocating pause hangs in the air before another burst of laughter erupts—cold, ruthless, and devoid of humanity. "You are utterly doomed—trapped in despair with no way out. Ha ha ha!"
His laughter echoes, sharp and mocking, as if the absurdity of the situation delights him. "I don't mind anything," he continues, his tone shifting to one of cold indifference. "I will side with whoever emerges victorious in this battle. Whether it's you, Demonic Fang Yuan, or your young, inexperienced self, Naive Fang Yuan, I will execute my plans and reveal them only after one of you seizes total control over the body. Ha ha ha!"
The weight of Administrator Fang Yuan's words crushes Demonic Fang Yuan. This is no longer just a battle for control—it is a struggle for survival. Every passing moment, Naïve Fang Yuan grows stronger, devouring him piece by piece. The body, once his vessel, has turned against him, aligning itself with his weaker, younger self. Even his own will and memories, the foundation of his existence, are betraying him, striving to erase him completely.
His mind races, but the pressure is suffocating. He is running out of time. This is not merely an external crisis; it is an all-consuming war within his very being. The stakes could not be higher. If he loses, he will not just die—he will be erased. No body. No will. No trace that he ever existed. And if he wins? Then he must face an even greater horror—Administrator Fang Yuan's grand design, an unfathomable scheme where he is nothing more than a pawn.
But even in this despair and hopeless situation, Demonic Fang Yuan remains calm. He starts to plan.
The battle for control has begun. There is no turning back.
He will either conquer—or vanish into nothingness.
The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. The usual rhythm of their lives is disrupted. Fang Yuan, who is always the first to rise, doesn't wake. Instead, he lies still, his breathing deep and even, lost in a peaceful slumber. Gu Xianer stirs awake, her senses slowly returning. As her eyes flutter open, she feels the warmth of Fang Yuan's arms around her, holding her close. For a moment, she is confused. This is unusual. Fang Yuan is always the one to wake her, his voice gentle but firm, pulling her from her dreams to face the day. But today, he remains asleep, his face calm, his body still.
Then it hits her—the awakening ceremony. Today is important, a day they have prepared for, a day that demands their presence. Yet Fang Yuan sleeps on, undisturbed. A flicker of worry crosses her mind, and suddenly, she remembers. His injury. The memory of it sends a pang of guilt through her chest. How could she have forgotten, even for a moment? Carefully, so as not to disturb him, she slips out of his embrace, her movements slow and deliberate. She turns to him, her eyes scanning his body, searching for the wound that had plagued him. Her fingers hover over his skin, hesitant, as though afraid to confirm what she fears.
But as she examines him, her confusion deepens. There is no wound. No scar. Not even the faintest trace of what had once been there. It is as though the injury has never existed. Her breath catches in her throat, and for a moment, she simply stares, her mind racing. How is this possible? The question lingers, unanswered, but it is quickly overshadowed by a wave of relief so profound it brings tears to her eyes. He is healed. Completely. Her heart swells with gratitude, with joy, with something she can't quite name.
A soft smile tugs at her lips as she looks at him, still sleeping so soundly. Her thoughts drift to the mornings they have shared, to the way he has always taken care of her, feeding her, guiding her, tending to her needs with a patience and tenderness that never fails to move her. Today, she decides, will be different. Today, she will take care of him. The thought fills her with a quiet determination, and a playful glint sparks in her eyes. "Brother has always fed me," she thinks, her smile widening. "Today, I'll feed him. I'll wake him up. Ha, ha, ha."
She rises from the bed, her movements light and careful, not wanting to disturb him just yet. She washes herself, the absence of Fang Yuan's usual routine feeling strange, almost foreign. On other days, he would wake first, clean himself, and then gently rouse her, helping her wash and prepare for the day ahead. It is a ritual she has come to rely on, a quiet comfort in the rhythm of their lives. He has always been there, steady and unwavering, like a mother caring for her child. The thought makes her pause, a warmth spreading through her chest. He has given her so much, and today, she will give something back.
As she finishes washing, she glances back at him, still asleep, his face peaceful in the soft morning light. Her heart feels full, overflowing with a mix of emotions—gratitude, affection, and a quiet resolve. Today, she will take care of him. Today, she will show him, in her own small way, how much he means to her.