National Fortune Bonus: After the new player awakens at the maximum level, he will kill like crazy

The recorder's voice was soft, even a little tired.

"Hate?!" Su Mohui suddenly laughed, the datura pollen hidden in her sleeves silently falling. Her laughter echoed through the empty netherworld, a touch of madness. "You've given me a second chance at life, allowing a lonely ghost like me the chance to be a savior in this awful world... I can't thank you enough!"

She suddenly changed the subject, and the netherworld power in her hand instantly condensed into an extremely sharp ice cone, exuding a chilling aura that almost touched the recorder's slender neck! Even if it was just a projection!

"I know what you want to do." Su Mohui's voice was like poisoned ice. "You want to be the savior, but you don't have the ability to carry the banner! So you chose the path of 'recorder'. It sounds good!"

"You're just stuffing your overflowing, untended chastity into this 'perfect soul vessel' of mine, making me carry your burdens, take the knife for you, and die for you, time and time again!!"

The coldness of the ice cone almost froze the space, but Su Mohui suddenly withdrew his hand the next second.

As the icicles dissipated into cold air, her gaze swept across the scar on the recorder's wrist. Her voice suddenly dropped, as light as the brush of a feather: "Do you know... why, in that shabby manor built with your code, I'm the only one who can grow those spiritual plants from the ancient times?"

The recorder paused in wiping, remaining silent, just looking at her quietly.

"Because I know..." Su Mohui suddenly leaned in close, almost touching the recorder's ear. Her breath was icy, and her voice was so soft that only the two of them could hear it: "You secretly inserted your own gene fragments into my underlying code as an Easter egg."

She took a step back, staring at the recorder with blood-red eyes, and a nearly cruel yet innocent smile appeared on the corner of her mouth: "Next time... if you want me to save a world..."

The ending tone suddenly rose, carrying a kind of hysterical sarcasm and resolute questioning: "Why don't you teach me first--"

"How could I find a shadow that's completely clean, doesn't belong to any system, doesn't carry any code, and belongs only to Su Mohui, in a rift where chaos has just begun and even the rules of the system don't exist?!?!"

Su Mohui's light yet venomous question was like an ice needle piercing the solidified air of the Netherworld.

The recorder froze in his tracks as he wiped away his tears and blood. For the first time, a look of distinct astonishment crossed his face, which always wore a somewhat lazy and observing expression.

She looked at Su Mohui's blood-red eyes, which were burning with anger, grievance and an almost desperate clarity. Her lips moved as if she wanted to explain something, but in the end it just turned into a deeper sigh.

She took back the tissue, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the smooth wall of the large pink water cup. Her voice was so soft that it seemed like she was talking to herself, but also like she was answering Su Mohui's almost roaring question:

"Shadow... in the chaos... looking for my own shadow..." She repeated, her eyes a little vague, "Yes... I also want to find that... the original 'me' that is not wrapped in code..."

She raised her head and looked directly at Su Mohui. Her eyes, which were always covered by a layer of data fog, now revealed a rare, almost fragile confusion: "If... If I teach you... can you... teach me too?"

Su Mohui was choked by her sudden, almost weak question. The anger and accusations in her heart seemed to hit a ball of soft cotton, stuck in her chest, unable to rise or fall.

She looked at the faint scar on the recorder's wrist, which looked like a broken data stream, and then looked at the pink water cup that she always carried with her in her arms - that thing now looked less like a tool and more like a pillow for seeking a sense of security.

Just as this strange, tense, and somewhat absurdly sad silence was about to spread—

The confusion on the recorder's beautiful face disappeared, replaced by an almost transparent fatigue, like a precision instrument that had been running for billions of years, finally showing signs of wear and tear, as if the weak conversation just now was just a discussion about what to eat in the evening.

Just when Su Mohui was about to curse, the other party spoke again.

"Shadow..." The recorder's voice was soft, without any ripples, yet it was like a stone dropped into a deep pond, creating ripples in the silence. "Untainted by the system, untainted by the code... It's like asking a drop of water not to get wet, a wisp of wind to leave no trace."

She tilted her head slightly, a few strands of hair slipped off the hood of her pajamas, and her eyes passed through Su Mohui and looked at the illusion of a "home" constructed by her code, which now belonged to Su Mohui.

His eyes swept across the gaming chair, the bay window, the lonely glass of red wine, and finally fell back on Su Mohui's body, which was covered with cracks and looked like shattered glass.

"What I planted wasn't a trap," the recorder finally spoke again, his voice strangely calm. "It was coordinates."

The coldness in Su Mohui's eyes had not yet dissipated, but the sneer at the corner of her mouth had obviously frozen.

"The scar under your collarbone, the scar on my wrist..." The recorder raised his other hand, and the loose sleeve of his pajamas slipped down, revealing the old scar that was exactly the same as Su Mohui's, clearly visible in the illusory light and shadow -

"...It's a mark left by the same 'existence'. It marks our common 'origin' and anchors our relative positions in this endless cycle of reincarnation. Without it, you would have been torn into elementary particles by the dimensional tides during your first jump."

She paused, observing the subtle tremor deep within Su Mohui's pupils, and continued, her tone as if stating a cold mathematical formula: "As for those ancient spiritual plants... they weren't 'planted'. They are fragments of information from the depths of your soul, belonging to the 'origin' that haven't been formatted and completely erased...

"My gene fragment is just like a key, helping you temporarily...connect to that forgotten 'database'. That's all."

"So," the recorder casually tossed the blood-stained tissue aside, and it dissipated into tiny streams of data in the void. She picked up the pink water cup again, her gaze refocusing on Su Mohui's face. A penetrating, all-seeing gaze shone through her tiredness. "You asked me how to find that 'pure' shadow within the cracks of chaos?"

She suddenly curved the corners of her lips very faintly, almost not even a smile.

“The answer lies in every time you are on the verge of collapse, but you grit your teeth and get up again.”

"When you know it's a 'vault' but still jump in."

"When you look at those nine big words and your blood is still cold."

"That 'purity' you desperately tried to find by stripping away the system, the code, and all the 'impurities' I gave you...it has always been there."

The recorder's voice lowered, with a gentleness that was almost cruel—