I picked up a boyfriend in the infinite game

The black mist behind Song Yujie condensed into countless sharp tentacles, like frozen thorns, piercing Song Guicheng from all directions.

A chill seeped from his very bones, more piercing than ever before. Song Guicheng could feel the power of nothingness pressing down on him like a tidal wave. Every breath was a painful, rusty sensation. His chest felt like it was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, and even the eternal power within him began to tremble, as if he were about to be swallowed up by this icy force in the next second.

He stood up straight, his long white hair falling over his shoulders, the bloodstains at the ends of his hair already congealed, like dark red ice crystals falling on snow.

Song Guicheng glanced down at the dagger in his hand. Its cold light flashed for only a moment in the dim light before being swallowed by the black mist. He knew better than anyone that an ordinary blade could not harm the void, just like trying to grab a shadow with your hand—it would be futile.

A direct confrontation is absolutely impossible. Song Yujie brought only a portion of the power of nothingness, yet it was enough to turn this space upside down. If they really wanted to fight head-on, he wouldn't even have a chance to get close to the statue.

We must find another way.

The moment the thought flashed through his mind, his gaze fell on his wrist.

There remained the shallow mark from before, its edges tinged with a pale red, like a crack, or perhaps a bond connecting him to eternity. The eternal power within him was the lost essence of Wu Zhi, the only power capable of contending with nothingness.

This power is usually as docile as a sleeping stream, only awakening when it gets close to Wuzhi. Now, to fight against the void, it must be made to boil completely.

Without hesitation, Song Guicheng raised his hand, pointed the dagger at his wrist, and then slashed down forcefully.

This was no longer a minor, superficial wound, but a deep cut that exposed the bone. When the dagger pierced the skin, there was no excruciating pain as expected, only a numbing burning sensation. Warm blood gushed out instantly, flowing down the forearm and dripping onto the ground with a "drip-drip" sound, like the beating of some kind of dormant rhythm.

Instead of covering the wound, he raised his arm to allow the blood to flow out more smoothly.

The blood did not scatter; guided by his will, it slowly rose and turned into thin red threads.

The red thread, carrying the eternal power within him, stood out conspicuously in the black mist, like a lost firefly, yet also like a star entering its orbit, extending straight toward the statue of Wu Zhi.

When the first red thread touched the base of the statue, the statue suddenly lit up. The starry patterns on the black robe seemed to come alive, and silver light flowed along the red thread toward Song Guicheng. The two forces converged on the red thread, emitting a faint humming sound, like the whisper of a god, or the resonance of a long-awaited reunion.

The black mist seemed to be stung by the warmth, its sharp tentacles retracting sharply, but quickly reforming and rushing towards the red line with even more violent force.

"Return journey, you've gone mad."

Song Yujie's voice came from the black mist, carrying a hint of disbelief and astonishment.

He stood on the only path leading to the Red Line, his suit stained with wisps of black mist, yet he maintained an elegant posture, though complex emotions surged within his green eyes.

There was anger, confusion, and a hint of panic that even he himself was unaware of.

He watched the red threads pierce through the black mist, watched the blood gushing from Song Guicheng's wrist, and suddenly laughed, his laughter tinged with anger: "You think you can awaken eternity with your own blood? Do you know that if this continues, you will bleed to death first?"

Song Guicheng didn't look at him, but focused intently on guiding the red thread. More blood gushed from the wound, turning into finer red threads, like a soft yet resilient net, spreading out towards the statue.

He could feel the power within his body rapidly draining away. Each condensation of the red thread felt like it was drawing away a bit of warmth from his body. The chill spread from his fingertips to his heart, making him tremble slightly, but he couldn't stop.

As long as I can reach Wu Zhi, as long as Wu Zhi can be awakened in the end, it will be worth it no matter how much I have to pay.

“I’m not crazy.” Song Guicheng finally spoke, his voice weak but firm. His long white hair swayed gently in the wind, concealing the weariness in his eyes. “I don’t want to possess him all to myself. He is eternal, he is a god, and he shouldn’t be bound to me. There are still many people in this world who need his power. They need him to dispel vengeful spirits, to mend the broken rules, and to bring true peace.”

He recalled seeing ordinary people haunted by vengeful spirits in previous instances, souls displaced by the collapse of rules, and Wu Zhi protecting the peace of his region. There was no indifference in his eyes, only compassion for all things.

He didn't want Wu Zhi to become a god belonging only to one person because of him; such eternity was too lonely and too heavy.

Song Yujie was stunned, as if he hadn't understood what he was saying. He took two steps forward, the anger in his green eyes gradually fading, leaving only deep incomprehension: "Sacrifice yourself for the sake of others? Gui Cheng, you're not only a madman, but also a fool."

He raised his hand, trying to grasp a strand of red thread that was approaching, but his fingertips recoiled the moment they touched it, burned by the eternal power it carried. For him, the red thread was a fatal burn.

"Do you know that only nothingness can grant you immortality? Only I can make you free from suffering forever?"

“Your immortality is imprisonment; your lack of pain is numbness.” Song Guicheng shook his head, his vision beginning to blur, but he still stared intently at the direction of the statue. “I would rather live in pain than live like you in a colorless world.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the red lines suddenly sped up, as if they had been given life, and rushed towards the statue.

The first red thread passed right through Song Yujie's body. There was no obstruction, no collision, yet it made his body tremble violently. A hint of surprise flashed in his green eyes. He looked down at his chest. Where the red thread had passed, the black mist was gradually dissipating, like snow melting into tiny ice crystals in the sunlight.

"No...impossible!" Song Yujie's voice became urgent, and all the previous elegance was gone.

He tried to retreat, but found his body already entangled by more and more red threads. Each red thread was cutting into the black mist on his body, and the black mist emitted a piercing "sizzling" sound, as if it were howling in agony, yet powerless to resist.

He could feel his power rapidly draining away, and his body, formed from nothingness, was gradually becoming transparent.

"You think... this is all of me?" Song Yujie looked at Song Guicheng, the resentment in his green eyes almost overflowing. "This instance can only hold a portion of my power. Next time, with all my power... I will definitely..."

His words were mumbled and fragmented, and he couldn't finish speaking.

The last strand of red thread wrapped around him, slicing his body apart like a sharp blade. The black mist struggled violently on the red thread for a few moments before turning into smoke and dissipating into the air. The void in this space also faded away, leaving only the lingering, obsessive warmth belonging to Song Yujie in the air.

Song Guicheng could no longer hold on, his legs buckled, and he fell heavily to the ground.

The wound on my wrist was still bleeding, and the warm blood flowed across my palm, bringing a sticky sensation.

The dizziness from blood loss grew stronger and stronger, and his vision began to blur. He could only see the halo of the idol flickering in front of him, like the only lighthouse in the darkness.

He tried to stand up, but found his body as heavy as lead. He had exhausted all his strength in his arms, and even lifting his arms had become difficult.

But he couldn't stop here. He was only a few steps away from Wu Zhi. He had already passed through the barrier of nothingness and awakened the power of the statue with his own blood. He had to get to Wu Zhi's side.

Song Guicheng slowly began to move, using his uninjured hand to support himself on the ground as he crawled forward little by little.

His long white hair, stained with blood and dust, clung to his cheeks and neck. With each step he took, the wound on his wrist scraped against the ground, bringing renewed, excruciating pain. Yet he didn't stop. His fingertips dug into the cracks in the ground, blood seeping from under his nails, but he continued to approach the statue step by step.

He remembered when Xiaohua first came to his side in the first instance, timidly calling him "Mom"; he remembered Shi Sui, who was carefree in the instance but always gave crucial hints; he remembered Chen Wenyu, who, although a bit timid, silently followed behind him and helped him with whatever he could; and he remembered Wu Zhi—under the overwhelming chaos, surrounded by vengeful spirits, Wu Zhi reached out and pulled him back from the brink of death, the frost and snow on his black robe being the warmest feeling in his memory.

"I am coming……"

He spoke softly, his voice so faint it was almost a whisper, yet it carried clearly into the space.

The halo around the statue grew brighter and brighter, silver light flowing down from the starry patterns, transforming into a warm band of light that enveloped him. He could feel a familiar warmth, carrying the scent of frost and snow, emanating from the band of light, gently enveloping his body, like the hand of a sorcerer tenderly supporting his soul as it was about to fall.

A faint smile appeared on Song Guicheng's lips.

He finally climbed to the foot of the statue and gently rested his forehead on the base.

The power of eternity is surging from the statue, resonating with the primal power within him, like long-lost friends reuniting, telling a story of a bond that transcends time in this boundary between light and darkness.

It was no longer the gods coming to him, but him coming to the gods.

He was not swallowed by nothingness, nor did he give up his beliefs. He walked to the side of the gods in his own way.

The darkness grew ever deeper, surging like a tidal wave—was it a harbinger of death, or the darkest night before dawn?

Song Guicheng was unwilling to close his eyes; he wanted to look at the statue a few more times, to see what was in the eyes of the deity.

He didn't want to die, and he couldn't die.

But Song Guicheng was not a god after all, and the coldness brought on by excessive blood loss quickly weighed heavily on him.

Just before he closed his eyes, Song Guicheng seemed to hear a clanging sound, like metal colliding, and then a cold object fell straight into his palm.

At that moment, the statue's eyes seemed to gently open.