Chapter 138: The Final Whisper, Five Second Resurrection (5k)

"To tell you the truth, I can’t understand."

"I genuinely feel you don’t deserve it."

Upon hearing Wen Yan’s words, Fake Mo Zhicheng coughed up another mouthful of blood.

His mental defenses were shattered.

His brainwashing hadn’t just been dispelled this time; it had backfired violently.

His thoughts also began to spiral into chaos.

He looked towards the Uncle standing in the distance. A familiar feeling welled up in his heart, even though he couldn’t see the Uncle’s true face, nor could he connect the currently robust Uncle with the elderly man from the past.

When that familiar feeling surfaced, he blurted out,

"Dad..."

He was Mo Zhicheng. That was his father. He had harmed his father, resorting to any means necessary to achieve his goals.

The pain and torment in his heart surged like a maelstrom. Just as he had managed to stand up, his body suddenly shuddered. He spat out another mouthful of blood and collapsed to his knees.

"My injuries... they can recover immediately."

But the reality he constructed was based on his thoughts, his will.

Now, he couldn’t construct it anymore.

The pain came from within him—from Mo Zhicheng, from the Brother Ming without superpowers Yuxin spoke of—not from the outside world.

For a True Architect like him, for his ability, this was an absolute reality, utterly devoid of falsehood.

His thoughts began to crumble, descending into complete chaos.

Kneeling on the ground, he looked towards the Uncle in the distance, kowtowing heavily. Blood streamed from his forehead, and his face was a mess of tears and snot.

"Dad, I’m sorry..."

After kowtowing twice, he began to babble incoherently.

"Yuxin, I’m sorry..."

He raised his head again, his expression turning ferocious.

"You forced me! I didn’t want to kill you..."

Then he started crying again.

"I truly had no other choice..."

In the past, to flawlessly impersonate an identity without any weakness, he had poured everything into it: appearance, gait, thoughts, actions, and, most crucially, emotions.

To ensure absolute flawlessness, he had even brainwashed himself into believing he *was* that person.

Thus, he had manifested a Big Executor Corpse—something that should have been impossible to create from falsehood.

Because all those elements were genuine; the only lie was that he himself was not actually that identity.

That past perfection had become a boomerang, flying far and wide, only to finally return and strike him in his vital spot.

He truly could no longer tell who he was.

He thought he was the current Zhang Fan, the former Mo Zhicheng, the Brother Ming of old, or one of the many, many identities he had once assumed.

What was fatal was not the falsehood, but the truth.

His complete immersion in these identities had forged this truth.

Trapped in his internal struggle, his face suddenly contorted. With a flicker of movement, he shot towards Wen Yan like a powerful arrow cleaving the air.

The next moment, his vision went black. The Uncle stood before him, doing nothing, allowing his hand, charged with power, to pierce through his chest.

He raised his head, looked into the Uncle’s face, and his identity reverted to Mo Zhicheng.

His face was a mask of pain and despair. He grabbed the Uncle’s hand, trying to drive it into his own chest.

"Dad, please, kill me."

The Uncle retracted his hand and watched him, motionless, as the wound on Fake Mo Zhicheng’s chest rapidly healed.

In an instant, Fake Mo Zhicheng’s identity shifted to Brother Ming.

His eyes filled with pain and despair as he looked towards Wen Yan, who was shielded behind the Uncle.

"Please, kill me. It’s all my fault. I want to join Yuxin... I thought I could..."

Wen Yan no longer knew what to say. He couldn’t even tell who the other person truly was.

At this moment, including Fake Mo Zhicheng himself, no one could tell anymore.

Just then, from a large hole in the distance, thick, eerie blue tentacles shot out, flying towards them.

Fake Mo Zhicheng, his current identity unknown even to himself, broke away from the Uncle. Clutching his head, he howled and screamed in agony, rushing towards those tentacles as if he had gone mad.

"Kill them! Kill them all!"

"No, kill me! Kill me!"

"Don’t stop me! Let me die!"

"Go back! I want to die at my dad’s hands!"

His past identities descended into utter chaos, all clamoring to the surface at once, like a multitude of personalities—each one authentic—fighting for control of his body.

Finally, as he charged forward and was ensnared by a tentacle, his Soul began to flicker, as if on the verge of leaving his body.

One of the identities declared,

"From this moment on, relinquish all the power of Blessing from my body."

The next moment, the raging Yang Energy around Fake Mo Zhicheng dissipated instantly.

The wounds on his body no longer healed.

He coughed up blood. Just as one identity tried to say something more, it was Brother Ming’s turn to surface.

Pointing to the ground, he roared with all his might, his voice hoarse,

"With all my power, at the cost of everything I possess, I construct Liu Yuxin! This statement is true!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Brother Ming reached out, pulled out his own tongue, and with the grim determination of one facing death, bit it off.

On the ground, a violent wind erupted. An ominous aura emerged as a body of flesh and blood began to coalesce. The dissipated Soul seemed to be forcibly gathered back from the world itself.

Liu Yuxin, dressed in a hospital gown, was forcibly materialized.

She opened her eyes, staring blankly at Fake Mo Zhicheng—at the face so familiar, now without his Glasses.

"Brother Ming..."

Fake Mo Zhicheng’s mouth was full of blood, his expression constantly shifting. His hair began to turn white rapidly, his skin grew dull, and wrinkles slowly etched themselves onto his face.

He opened his mouth, mumbling something unintelligible.

But Liu Yuxin, standing there, smiled radiantly; she had understood his muffled words.

"Yuxin, I’m sorry. I have to use my ability now. I’d forgotten before, but now I remember who I am, and I want to tell you myself."

"Brother Ming, I knew you could do it."

The newly materialized Liu Yuxin, having existed for a mere five seconds and spoken only two sentences, turned to ash and scattered in the wind.