Ye Weibai wasn’t provoking the woman before him.

He said he wanted to die, and the wish rose like smoke from the chest, raw and honest.

When he saw Daisy’s corpse, the thought had already sprouted—if he died, the world could reset like frost on a window wiped clean.

But in that same breath, a key turned.

He realized he was a Monstrosity.

The instant he knew, there was a sharp click inside his skull, and everything about Monstrosities flooded out like a breached dam; his humanity froze between breaths, iced over like a winter lake. He could still feel anger, grief, hatred, love—each emotion a thin film peeled from his heart with effortless fingers.

Two instincts were left, swaying like wild grass in a storm.

One was a marrow-deep will to survive.

The other was an appetite running in his blood like hot wine.

Right now, as a Monstrosity, even if he truly tried to “kill himself”—his hand would stall a hair’s breadth before piercing his Demon Core, halted by the gene-burned will to live.

Which means—Ye Weibai can’t “suicide.” He can only pray for “homicide.”

Now, a thousand threads came screaming in like a thousand white lightning strikes. If he truly craved death, he should’ve stood still like a nailed post—but he couldn’t.

He slid a step, a reflex as natural as breath. A violet streak tugged through the air like ink pulled by wind. His body twisted in an impossible arc, flowed through a gap in the white web, flung that strangling net behind him, then stomped the earth and surged like thunder at the black-robed woman.

His body coiled and sprang like a violet spring. He skipped and cut through the intercepting threads, carving a chain of violet Z’s in the air, closing in, step by step.

Incredulity glazed the woman’s face like frost.

Impossible. Even veteran Monstrosities couldn’t slip unharmed from her laid web.

How is he this fast? How is he this strong?

It’s just a flesh-series boost—[Hyper-Regeneration]. How does that give a monster this crushing force?

Her gaze settled on Ye Weibai’s body, and understanding lit like a cold match.

He was spraying blood like a cracked fountain, then knitting flesh back together like time rewinding.

“[Hyper-Regeneration]—used like this?” Her voice was strained, a wire pulled tight. “Overclock your body’s parts, trade for strength in multiples, tens, hundreds—any normal Monstrosity would’ve ‘self-terminated.’ But paired with [Hyper-Regeneration], you can sustain it.”

Exactly.

The instant he sensed he had [Hyper-Regeneration], Ye Weibai’s mind dissected its pros and cons with surgical calm, searching for maximum yield like a gambler counting cards.

Most Monstrosities would think [Hyper-Regeneration] just boosts recovery. For Ye Weibai—whose craft is thought—[Hyper-Regeneration] is a key, the key that blows open his body’s buried potential.

That’s why he said—

“I just thought about it, and I might be kinda strong.”

He really only took a moment.

The woman’s thoughts flew like sparks, and she saw the source of his strength in a blink.

By then Ye Weibai had torn through the encirclement and stood within arm’s length.

His eyes burned blood-red, force knifing forward like an axe cleaving bamboo. Shockwaves burst in the air like drums.

Wind hit like water, slapping the black-robed woman. Cloth snapped back, then billowed; her hood, tugged too far, toppled like a fallen crown.

In a breath, her long hair spilled and whipped with the gusts, a dark ribbon tasting the storm.

Her face came out of shadow.

Once it might’ve been bewitching—fair skin, phoenix eyes—but a map of blade scars had eaten that beauty, leaving ugliness like cracked bark.

The gale smashed into them. Her face held no fear; she watched his claws arrow for her chest, and she smiled like a knife’s edge.

Squelch—!

Like a hand thrust into a meat grinder.

Blood sprayed wild, scarlet rain spattering the ground.

Ye Weibai’s hand became pulp in a blink.

The woman’s body was swaddled in hidden white threads.

Ye Weibai understood in an instant and leapt back, ghosting from the spot.

Once stained with blood, the threads in front of her showed a faint outline—a spinning [Cocoon] before her, near full circle, guarding almost three hundred and sixty degrees.

For some reason she didn’t press the attack. She smiled at him, voice smooth: “An impressive way to wield your [Monstrosity Art]. Even veteran Monstrosities don’t use it like this. But it’s a pity—it’s perfectly countered by me.”

Ye Weibai frowned at his right hand. It was restoring, but slow—missing meat takes time. Bone crawled back out, only halfway after a long moment.

“No.” Ye Weibai shook his head.

“No—what?” She narrowed her eyes like slits of steel.

“Your ability has hard limits.” Ye Weibai held her gaze, cool as stone. “First, your threads are finite. If you attack at range, you can’t unfold the [Cocoon]. Second, with the [Cocoon] up, it’s not truly full protection. Your soles still touch the ground. Last, when the spin slows, the [Cocoon] isn’t strong.”

Her smile thinned, then went out like a candle. She stared deep at him, long and quiet, then said slowly, “Good thing your [Monstrosity Art] is only flesh-type.”

She had admitted he was right.

She had admitted he was strong.

“But so what?” Her tone carried a hooked sneer. “Once a [Monstrosity Art] manifests, it’s fixed. You can only die by my hand.”

“Yeah. Only by your hand.” Ye Weibai’s mouth curved. “Since I’m doomed, tell me—how did you make sure you could kill Philia the instant you needed to?”

“Ha—you think—” She started to laugh.

Before the laugh finished, Ye Weibai threw a line like a pebble into a pond: “I know—your threads are wrapped around her heart, right?”

The strike was too sudden. Her mockery twitched, a tiny crack in the mask—small, but those blood eyes miss nothing.

He smiled. “Knew it. Your right hand never left Philia. That was enough.”

She stared at him. “Even if you guessed—so what?”

“Knowing it lets me breathe easy.” Ye Weibai smiled, soft as ash.

“You think you’ll ever get the chance—”

“Nope. With you alert, I’ve got no way.” He cut her off, voice steady as rain. “But [Tomorrow] will give me a chance.”

“Tomorrow?” She couldn’t parse the word’s weight, but she could feel the vow in him, a blade held upright.

“You think you’ll live to tomorrow?” Her mouth hooked into a grin. “Here’s a tip. You guessed one thing wrong—I can keep the [Cocoon] and launch ranged attacks. I just need a moment.”

She pointed at the air. A magnified [Cocoon] hung there, threads ballooned like a white storm, enclosing them both.

“Now—you have nowhere to run.”

She finished and watched him, hoping to fish a flicker of fear from his eyes.

But disappointment bloomed like bitter tea—there was none.

“Can’t escape? That’s—” He laughed, tears streaking down like warm rain. “Perfect. Then come on, we—”

Buzz!

Squelch.

—we—see you [Tomorrow].

…

…