Reverend Half Insanity

"You called yourself Great Love Immortal Venerable, yet everything you did went against that title. You used and killed those who loved you, betrayed those who trusted you, destroyed everything you touched. So tell me…" His voice lowers to a whisper, yet it carries the force of a thunderclap. "Doesn't Demonic Fang Yuan sound like a far more fitting name for you?"

The declaration reverberates through the void, shaking the very fabric of existence. The reborn Fang Yuan stands motionless, his face a mask of indifference, but beneath that icy exterior, something stirs. Memories surface—flashes of destruction, betrayal, death. Faces of those he once knew, those he manipulated, those he annihilated. Yet, despite the torrent of images flooding his mind, he remains composed. Unmoved. Untouched.

To him, this revelation changes nothing. He has already accepted who he is, what he has done. The title "Demonic Fang Yuan" holds no shame, no regret. If anything, it feels… accurate. Fitting. A reflection of the path he chose long ago.

Meanwhile, the naive self reacts differently. Its instincts shudder violently, overwhelmed by primal revulsion at the horrors described. Even though it is just instinct but Administrator Fang Yuan's voice is so chilling that even the instinct force to understand them. This instinct's of naive Fang Yuan cannot comprehend such cruelty, such betrayal. It recoils instinctively, rejecting the very idea of becoming—or being connected to—someone capable of such atrocities.

Administrator Fang Yuan shifts his piercing gaze toward the instinct of the naive version of Fang Yuan. Though it is merely an instinct—a primal, unthinking force—it trembles violently under his scrutiny. The sheer weight of his presence crushes down on it as if stars themselves are collapsing onto its fragile essence. It does not resist; it cannot. Instead, it surrenders completely, quivering like a leaf in a storm, overwhelmed by the oppressive aura of authority radiating from Administrator Fang Yuan.

For what feels like an eternity, he observes this innocent fragment of existence. His eyes seem to peel back layers of reality itself, dissecting every nuance, every flicker of emotion and intent buried within the naive self's instincts. It delves deeper into the instinct's nature, uncovering layers of purity, selflessness, and righteousness that stand in stark contrast to the cold, calculating ruthlessness of the Demonic Fang Yuan. This version is not just innocent—it is selfless to the core, driven by an unshakable sense of love and duty. It would sacrifice itself without hesitation, endure any pain, any suffering, for the sake of Gu Xianer. Its love is not just deep—it is unconditional, unwavering, and utterly pure.

The being's voice cuts through the void, cold and measured, each word carrying the weight of a collapsing star.

"This version of you," Administrator Fang Yuan begins, his voice calm yet laced with a cutting edge of mockery, "is remarkably selfless. Innocent. Naive. It does not think, plot, or scheme. Betrayal? Cruelty? Sacrificing others for power? These concepts are entirely alien to it. Its sense of righteousness is so profound that it cannot even comprehend such darkness." A faint smirk twists his shadowy features, though it holds no trace of humanity—only cruel detachment.

"Its love is... pure. Unconditional. So selfless that it would willingly endure hell itself to protect Gu Xianer, to give her even the slightest chance at happiness. This version of you values her above all else—above life, above survival, above reason itself. If it sensed even a shred of killing intent directed at her—even from me—it would resist without hesitation. Futile as it may be, it would gladly embrace death in the attempt, happy to sacrifice itself completely if it meant the faintest hope of shielding her."

He pauses, letting his words hang heavy in the air, reverberating through the void like thunder. Then, his voice grows colder, sharper, cutting deeper into their shared consciousness.

"This version of you is righteous to a fault. It clings to ideals of justice and morality with an unwavering grip, refusing to compromise even in the face of overwhelming odds. It would sacrifice itself without a second thought—not just for Gu Xianer, but for anyone it deems worthy of protection. Its sense of duty is absolute, its commitment unyielding. It believes in doing what is right, regardless of the cost. Such blind devotion... such reckless selflessness..."

Another pause, this one heavier, more suffocating. When he resumes, his tone drips with disdain, yet there is an undercurrent of something almost like awe—or perhaps pity.

"This version of you is not just naive—it is the embodiment of innocence, of selflessness, of a love so profound that it defies logic, defies reason, defies even the concept of self-preservation. A fitting title for it... would be Naive Fang Yuan."

The name echoes ominously, branding itself into the very fabric of their shared consciousness. "Naive Fang Yuan"—it is not merely descriptive but dismissive, belittling, reducing this version's essence to something small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Yet, there is a strange irony in the choice. For all its simplicity, Naive Fang Yuan embodies qualities that Administrator Fang Yuan himself lacks: purity, selflessness, unwavering devotion. It is a stark contrast to "Demonic Fang Yuan," a name that encapsulates ruthlessness, ambition, and the absence of moral restraint.

And then comes the laughter, "Ha ha ha!".

It starts low, almost playful, but quickly escalates into something far more sinister. Each note vibrates with malice, slicing through the void like shards of broken glass cutting into their very souls. The laughter feels alive, feeding on their pain, their fear, their helplessness. It reverberates through the void, each wave of sound a reminder of the being's absolute dominion. Even death itself would seem merciful compared to enduring this torment.

Demonic Fang Yuan stands motionless, his face a mask of indifference. Inside, however, his mind races. He observes Administrator Fang Yuan's declaration with clinical precision, analyzing every detail, searching for hidden meanings, weaknesses, opportunities. The title "Naive Fang Yuan" carries implications beyond mere mockery—it highlights the stark contrast between the two versions of himself. One driven by instinct and love, the other by calculation and ambition. And now, standing before them both, Administrator Fang Yuan looms larger than ever—a being who seems to transcend such dichotomies entirely.

Administrator Fang Yuan lets the laughter fade slowly, savoring the lingering tension in the air. When silence finally returns, it feels heavier, suffocating. He tilts his head slightly, studying both versions of Fang Yuan with invasive intensity. The contrast between them is stark—one ruthless and demonic, the other innocent and naive. Yet, both are bound by the same name, the same essence, the same being. It is a paradox, a contradiction that defies understanding.

Administrator Fang Yuan's voice slices through the void, calm and measured, yet each word lands with the weight of a verdict. His piercing gaze shifts between the two versions of Fang Yuan, as if branding their identities into the very fabric of existence.

"So," he begins, his tone dripping with dark amusement, "we have Demonic Fang Yuan..." His eyes flicker toward the reborn Fang Yuan, acknowledging the cold, calculating ruthlessness that defines him. The acknowledgment isn't praise—it's a statement of fact, delivered with an edge of mockery. "...and Naive Fang Yuan." His gaze then settles on the trembling instincts of the younger self, dismissing them with a flicker of disdain, as though their purity is both admirable and pitiful in equal measure.

Then, with deliberate slowness, Administrator Fang Yuan straightens, his shadowy form exuding an aura of absolute dominion. He tilts his head slightly, studying both versions of Fang Yuan with invasive intensity before continuing.

"And I," he declares, his voice rising ever so slightly, carrying the weight of authority, "am Administrator Fang Yuan, who governs over both Demonic Fang Yuan and Naive Fang Yuan."

The title hangs heavy in the air, resonating like a gavel striking its final blow. It's not just a name—it's a declaration of power, a reminder of his supremacy. Both versions of Fang Yuan feel it, deep within their cores: this being doesn't merely rule; he commands. His will is law, his presence inescapable.

For a moment, silence stretches across the void, suffocating and unyielding. Then, after what feels like an eternity, Administrator Fang Yuan speaks again, his tone shifting to something almost casual—but no less menacing.

"Now that we all have proper names," he says, pausing briefly as if savoring the significance of the moment, "let us proceed further. After all, the real game is only beginning."

The pause lingers, charged with anticipation. His words are simple, almost mundane, yet they carry an undercurrent of inevitability, as if the next phase of this twisted game has already begun—and there's no turning back.