After all of them are reborn, who would still want to marry 2.5 Jo Satoru?

The world fell silent again.

It was as if endless white fog had engulfed the entire world.

Wangyue Liuli was walking on a mountain. It’s not actually accurate to call it a mountain.

Because at her feet were countless scattered gold, silver, jewelry, jade and antiques.

These treasures, which may be worth thousands of gold in the eyes of others, are piled up here wantonly, forming a mountain with no visible top.

Wangyue Liuli walked up a path paved with jade.

Her memory stopped at the moment she arrived in Yokohama. The next moment, there was only endless light and heat, and a violent explosion swallowed her in an instant.

The next day after she was reborn, she died again.

Will she survive this time? Where is this place?

She didn't know any of this, so she could only keep moving forward.

After walking for an unknown amount of time, she finally reached the end of the Golden Mountain, where there was a very wide platform.

A being whose beauty she could not describe in words was kneeling there, smiling at her.

This is definitely not human.

It is impossible for human beauty to reach this level, a level that can almost be described as shocking.

"Ji Jun, long time no see."

The unknown being said to her.

"Are you the god of death?" asked Mochizuki Liuli.

"Why do you ask?" The other person tilted his head, and his long hair as white as black satin fell to the ground.

"Because I remember that I was dead, and then I came here and saw you."

"Does Mr. Ji want to die?" the other party asked again.

"Of course not." Wangyue Liuli said without hesitation, "Who would want to die if they can live?"

"Then you won't die." The being smiled, so beautifully that it was almost suffocating.

He said, “As long as you are not willing to die, you will not die.”

The moment he finished saying this, Wangyue Liuli felt that his body seemed to become lighter, and the fog in front of his eyes became heavier, hiding the existence opposite him.

"Wait, who are you? What's your name?" Wangyue Liuli asked hurriedly.

A soft laugh came from the thick fog, as gentle as wind blowing through silk. "My name is Hei Mo."

"Ji Jun, please remember my name. Whenever you call me, I will come to you."

Wangyue Liuli woke up.

She opened her eyes and saw what seemed like an endless hell.

A large area of ​​buildings in front of me completely disappeared, leaving only a bare pit. Broken limbs could be seen scattered on the streets in the distance.

This was the explosion on Leibo Street that led to the true birth of Huang Batu.

Wangyue Liuli struggled to get up from the ground. She subconsciously knew that she had died once, but she had no real experience.

Not even phantom pain.

She remembered the existence called Hei Mo.

Could he be one of Japan's eight million gods?

If he was, why did he come to save her?

Mochizuki Liuli was too lazy to think about these distant questions, she ran towards the center of the explosion.

Now that most people and organizations have not reacted, it is the best time to take down Chuuya Nakahara.

While running, Wangyue Liuli saw a person.

A person with black curly hair, a brown coat, and a hat lying unconscious on the ground.

French intelligence agent, Arthur Rimbaud, has the ability to paint a picture, manipulate alternate dimensions, and control corpses.

In the true sense, he is a transcendent.

The strongest group of people with special abilities.

Most importantly, when he wakes up, he will lose all his memories.

Mochizuki Ruri stopped in her tracks. It was definitely not easy for two children to survive in a place like Yokohama.

More importantly, Rimbaud's special ability is very strange. He is a person with special abilities who can control the corpses of others and even his own, forming a singularity.

If he still had some concerns in his heart when he died at the hands of Chuuya Nakahara and Osamu Dazai, would he choose to read his own corpse and let it form a new supernatural singularity?

Compared to a dog with its own thoughts and consciousness, a mindless corpse is easier to control.

In this sense, Rimbaud might be a better choice.

Thinking of this, Wangyue Liuli rolled twice on the ground, wiped a handful of dust on her face, made herself dirty, and fell next to Rimbaud.

And clutched his sleeve tightly.