I picked up a boyfriend in the infinite game

The inky mist, entwined with the eternal power that formed a barrier around him, was enough to trap Song Guicheng and make it impossible for him to move an inch, even if it couldn't break through for a while.

Song Guicheng raised his hand and swung his dagger. The cold light cut a bright line in the halo and went straight into the dark mist. There was no sense of collision or tearing sound. The dagger seemed to have pierced into an empty shadow. The dark mist only swayed slightly and then immediately reformed, leaving not even a crack.

Ordinary attacks proved ineffective.

Song Guicheng lowered his hand, looking at the cold light of the dagger's tip, then at the menacing shadow.

The darkness had no physical form, yet it brought a real chill, like countless fine needles piercing through the skin and into the blood vessels.

Nothingness is like this: it has no fixed form, no trace of life, yet it can permeate every corner like air, devouring everything with resentment and coldness.

You can't kill it because it never existed, just like you can't cut off a rootless shadow or blow away a wisp of cold mist that you can't grasp.

The silvery glow within the halo grew dimmer, and the outline of the Wuzhi statue began to blur, as if it were about to be completely swallowed by the dark mist.

The resentment from the cracks continued to seep out, and the faint cries of those vengeful spirits became clearer, lingering in my ears with a seductive tone, as if saying, "Give up," "You can't defeat it."

Song Guicheng's fingertips were a little numb, not because of the cold, but because the eternal power within his body was restless. That wisp of power that had been with him since birth was echoing the halo of the statue through his skin, but it was being suppressed by the dark mist, making it difficult to even breathe.

He recalled when he was sixteen, when Song Yujie smiled and handed him a glass of whiskey, his gentle demeanor concealing a cold consideration unknown to him.

At that time, he did not know that the so-called older brother was just a hollow disguise, and that the gentle companionship and patient teaching were nothing more than a means to destroy his world.

The nihilistic thing is never to attack with brute force, but to use its most familiar methods to gradually erode people's will, making them give up resistance in despair.

But Song Guicheng did not give up.

He slowly closed his eyes, no longer looking at the dark mist before him, nor listening to the wailing of the vengeful spirits around him.

He tried to loosen his grip on the dagger and focus his attention on his body.

That eternal power, like a sleeping star, flickers faintly in the blood.

He thought of Wu Zhi, and the dazzling light that Wu Zhi used the power of eternity to dispel the vengeful spirits in the dungeon; he thought of the star temple pattern on the tattered paper, and the totem fragments carved on the statue's base.

Eternity and nothingness are mutually reinforcing and mutually restraining. Since we can't kill it, can we... use the power of eternity to trap it?

The moment the thought crossed his mind, the spark within him suddenly blazed brightly.

Song Guicheng opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the wound on his arm. Blood was still seeping out, dripping into the dark mist, but it no longer froze into ice crystals as before. Instead, it left a faint warm mark on the surface of the dark mist, like a spark in the snow, which did not dissipate for a long time.

He suddenly understood.

Nothingness has no physical form, and ordinary attacks cannot harm it, but the power of eternity is its nemesis.

Just as light cannot sever a shadow, but it can illuminate it, leaving the shadow nowhere to hide, he doesn't need to kill the void. He only needs to use the eternal power within him to awaken the power within the statue, allowing the two powers to merge, thus suppressing the void within the crack and preventing it from devouring this space any further.

The black mist seemed to sense his intention and suddenly became violent, surging towards him as if to completely engulf him in nothingness. Song Guicheng did not dodge, but instead took a step forward, letting the black mist wrap around his neck and his wrists.

He raised his arm, positioning the wound towards the statue of the sorcerer, and gently brushed the bloodstains along the edge of the wound with his fingertips.

The blood droplets seemed to come alive, drifting slowly from his fingertips toward the statue, leaving warm red streaks in the dark mist, like a red thread connecting him to the statue.

“Wu Zhi,” he called softly, his voice piercing through the dark mist and landing before the statue, “I need you.”

As soon as the words were spoken, the halo around the statue suddenly lit up, more dazzling than ever before.

The starry patterns on the black robe began to shimmer, as if real stars were dancing on the hem. A warm light overflowed from the fingertips of the statue, following the blood droplet that Song Guicheng had passed, and slowly spread towards him. It was the power of Wu Zhi, a power of eternity, carrying a frosty chill, yet wrapped in a reassuring warmth.

The dark mist began to recede in the warm light, like a scalded shadow, shrinking little by little into the crack. Song Guicheng stood at the boundary between light and mist, his long white hair tinged with light gold by the warm light, the wound on his arm no longer bleeding, but instead a faint light emanating from the wound, merging with the light of the statue.

As the black mist dispersed from his fingertips, it fell to the ground like crumpled pieces of ink, revealing the figure behind it.

Song Yujie stood three steps away from the statue, dressed in a dark gray suit with silver buttons on the cuffs gleaming coldly. The neatly pressed hem of his suit hung down without a trace of black mist.

He was still the same tall and handsome man in my memory, his green eyes shining in the halo, like jade immersed in a deep pool. He was smiling, but it made Song Guicheng feel cold all over.

Song Guicheng tightened his grip on the dagger, his knuckles turning white. His long hair fell over his shoulders, obscuring most of his face, revealing only his slightly taut jaw.

He knew this look all too well.

When I stood up for him from bullying classmates when we were kids, I had this calm demeanor; when I told him with a smile that "my friend is gone" when I was sixteen, I had this same unperturbed expression; and later, when I attacked him in a dungeon, I still had this air of complete control.

Song Guicheng knew that the real obstacle was only just beginning to emerge from this moment. Last time, Wu Zhi had his protection; this time, it was his turn to protect Wu Zhi.

Song Yujie took a step forward, his leather shoes making a crisp sound on the ground, which was particularly jarring in the silent space.

He raised his hand to straighten his cuffs, his movements as elegant as if he were attending a banquet. His gaze fell on the wound on Song Guicheng's arm, and a complex emotion flashed in his green eyes. It wasn't heartache, but rather the feeling of examining something that belonged to him.

“On the way home,” he began, his voice so gentle it could melt water, “you’re always so disobedient.”

Song Guicheng didn't speak, but looked up at him. The gentleness in his eyes had long since faded, leaving only cold wariness.

He could feel the eternal power within him stirring, as if resisting Song Yujie's approach, or as if reminding him that the person before him was never his brother, but a void god who regarded all things as worthless grass.

Song Yujie seemed unconcerned by his silence and continued walking until he was only a step away from him. He looked down at Song Guicheng, his green eyes clearly reflecting the other's pale face and blood-stained white hair, and a faint smile appeared on his lips: "How did you get yourself into such a sorry state?"

Song Guicheng sneered: "Thanks to you."

Song Yujie raised an eyebrow, completely unconcerned about Song Guicheng's hostility: "Do you think I've never loved you?"

These words were like a needle, piercing Song Guicheng's memory.

When he was a child, he was sick, and Song Yujie stayed by his bedside and fed him medicine; when he was neglected by his father, Song Yujie took him to the amusement park; when he was in a car accident, Song Yujie was seriously injured while protecting him, and he was very scared. The first thing Song Yujie did when he woke up was to ask if he was alright.

But all this warmth eventually turned into knives stabbing him. The death of his friend, the truth about his mother, and the pursuit in the game all caused him unbearable pain.

"Without me, you wouldn't have lived this long." Song Yujie's voice softened. "The eternal power within you can only keep you alive, but it can't protect you from living a good life. It was I who shielded you from those open and hidden attacks, it was I who protected you and ensured you had no worries about food and clothing."

He raised his hand, seemingly wanting to touch Song Guicheng's hair, but stopped just before his fingertips touched it, as if cherishing a fragile treasure. "In my eyes, this world is all gray, only you are colorful. You know what? This feeling fascinates me more than eternity."

Song Guicheng's voice was as cold as ice: "So you just toyed with me? Watching me struggle, watching me suffer, is this what you call love?"

Song Yujie paused for a moment, then laughed, a hint of barely perceptible grievance in his laughter: "If you love someone, why can't you watch them struggle? Pain is what makes you remember me, what makes your life more colorful."

He paused, a serious glint in his green eyes. "I want you to live forever, to become nothingness like me, so that you will never suffer again, and you will never leave me again."

He didn't say that the pursuit was meant to force Song Guicheng to accept the power of nothingness; he didn't say that holding back in the instance was because he couldn't bear to truly eliminate him; and he certainly didn't mention the mix of jealousy and excitement he felt watching Song Guicheng disregard everything for Wu Zhi—

She was jealous that Wu Zhi could make Song Guicheng so persistent, yet excited that Song Guicheng's personality became more vibrant because of his obsession.

Song Guicheng looked at him and found it ridiculous.

The person in front of me mistakes possession for affection and harm for redemption. He lives in his own self-constructed obsession, yet he thinks he is the person who understands love the most in the world.

He took a half step back, creating some distance, the dagger flashing in the halo of light: "I will not become nothingness, nor will I go with you."

Song Yujie's smile faded, and the gentleness in his green eyes was gradually replaced by coldness. He looked at Song Guicheng as if he were looking at a precious treasure about to break free of his control, his tone carrying an undeniable sense of pressure: "Guicheng, you will. After all, in this world, no one loves you more than I do."

The black mist reformed behind him, like a pair of invisible hands, slowly reaching towards Song Guicheng.

The aura emanating from the statue seemed to sense the danger and brightened a bit more, but it was firmly suppressed by the ethereal aura emanating from Song Yujie.

This confrontation between eternity and nothingness, love and possession, began many years ago, in the moment when eternity softened its heart, and in the moment when nothingness saw Song Guicheng.

It's impossible to escape, and it seems there will never be an end to it.