"Do you know me?" Baimeng asked in surprise.
"I've seen some fragments," before the words had even faded, a chill of wind rushed toward her. Baimeng sidestepped to dodge the thrusting sword, forced to retreat half a step.
Failing to land the first blow, the blonde youth showed no irritation. Instead of pressing the attack, he withdrew his hand and continued.
"Just fragmentary memories concerning you."
"Oh, right, the Ley Lines."
Suppressing the sudden palpitations from the ambush, Baimeng kept her expression neutral, nodding as if struck by a sudden realization.
She had assumed no one would recognize this appearance, save for the old-timers who had lived through the Archon War. But if this youthful-looking King of the Abyss—or rather, the Prince of the Abyss—had been in contact with the Ley Lines, it made sense.
Baimeng had read in the in-game books that the Ley Lines spanning the continent served to preserve memories. If anyone managed to gain the approval of the Irminsul, they could touch the memories of this land.
Otherwise, how could someone she had never met recognize the God of Dreams, a creature who had died ages ago?
Wondering just what he had seen, Baimeng quickly retraced her glorious exploits during her gaming days. Someone as historically long-lived, fiercely powerful, and devastatingly attractive as the God of Dreams had surely... never done a single good thing!
A drop of sweat beaded at Baimeng's temple.
This was bad. For the sake of a peaceful life in the future, wouldn't it be better to silence anyone who knew her past?
Perhaps sensing the murderous intent radiating from Baimeng and her increasingly hostile gaze, the blonde youth gave an imperceptible shiver.
"Please do not misunderstand. That was merely an accident. I was not intentionally prying."
"Is that so?" The voice of the God of Dreams carried a smile, yet it sent an unbidden chill down the spine.
"Believe it or not, it is the truth." The Prince of the Abyss offered a slight, apologetic bow.
"To return to the matter at hand, what brings you to the Abyss?" Twirling the sword in his hand half a turn, the Prince of the Abyss maintained his polite demeanor, though his blade remained ready to point at the enemy before him.
"Depending on the circumstances, you may become my enemy."
Talk about smooth; they were the ones who had struck first. Feeling not the slightest bit guilty about dismantling the other's front door, Baimeng curled her lip in her mind.
Besides, if she hadn't dodged so quickly just now, there would be another pile of ashes left behind by a fallen god right here.
The initial attack was nothing more than a probe; realizing he could not easily achieve victory, the opponent had chosen to attempt a negotiated resolution.
Still, regardless of the method, she had nothing to fear.
"Well," dragging it out deliberately, Baimeng leaned forward slightly, bringing herself eye-to-eye with those golden pupils. "How about handing this place over to me?"
Looking at the barely concealed wariness and hostility in the depths of the other's eyes, the God of Dreams smiled.
"Of course, that includes you as well."
Almost the moment she finished speaking, the god leaped backward gracefully, just in time to brush past the flash of a sword lunging toward her face. Slender snow-white hair was whipped up by the fierce wind, grazing the metal blade by a hair's breadth.
"It seems a peaceful resolution is out of the question." The voice of the Prince of the Abyss was icy, matching the sharp sword in his hand that radiated a cold gleam.
That wisp of hair was reflected on the blade for a fleeting moment, falling like a silver shooting star or shimmering like a gentle moonlight caress, forming a sharp contrast with the youth's flowing blonde hair.
Baimeng moved like a butterfly; with her hands behind her back, she nimbly dodged the step-by-step pressing onslaught, her dark dress tracing a flawless arc with every movement—a truly pleasing sight to behold.
"Do you look down on me by not going all out?"
The blonde youth's handsome brows knitted together, sweat beading on his smooth forehead. Beneath his composed exterior, a subtle hint of childishness broke through.
"How could that be?"
The God of Dreams still wore an easy, effortless smile, her tone completely steady. In truth, Baimeng was pushing herself to her absolute limit, but with no way of knowing how effective her schemes would be, the anxiety in her heart swelled uncontrollably, like relentless weeds threatening to set a prairie ablaze.
"Speaking of which, are the forces here the entirety of your strength?"
After yet another graceful dodge, the God of Dreams finally touched her toes to the ground and came to a halt.
"No comment." The Prince of the Abyss stopped as well, but layers of light began to radiate from his blade, a chilling power stacking upon itself under the master's control.
"So that's all of them." Baimeng breathed a sigh of relief.
"Good enough."
The carefully maintained false smile vanished in an instant, and the girl hidden beneath the divine shell let out a sigh of grateful relief, revealing her true colors.
"Thank you for not going for the kill right from the start."
Realizing the danger, the blonde youth's expression shifted drastically. Without pausing to consider whether this might be a trap, he lunged toward the god with every ounce of his remaining strength, hesitating not a single second.
"Too late."
"Clap!" Striking his hands together forcefully, the crisp sound echoed throughout the massive palace, and wherever the layer upon layer of echoes reached, red lights flashed into existence one after another.
Thread-like red lights also lit up across Baimeng's ten fingers, their trajectories connecting with the "lines" formed by the Red Butterflies piercing through the numerous monsters, weaving an array that enveloped the entire palace.
At the very center of this formation stood the Prince of the Abyss.
"What...!"
The blonde youth's movements were locked in place. He had been mere inches away from driving the fatal blade into the god's heart, yet those inches felt like a chasm; his body was bound by the crimson threads, unable to shift even a fraction of a millimeter.
"Phew, all done."
Baimeng relaxed completely. The god, having exhausted her strength, swayed slightly, humming a melody as she forced herself to keep her spirits up.
"Sleep, sleep, my dearest children."
As if a switch had been flipped, every living being within the palace closed their eyes at the same time.
"Submit to me, obey me, fear me, love me; you are my dearest child."
The chant from the god's lips carried a unique rhythm and melody, compelling anyone who heard it to repeat it in their minds, over and over again.
With every single syllable Baimeng uttered, the red threads forming the array grew a fraction brighter. A few monsters struggled for a moment before quickly falling still. Only the master of the Abyss furrowed his brow, resisting her power.
Mimicking how she had treated Xiao, Baimeng raised a hand to cover the youth's eyes, softening her voice, slowing her cadence, and gently repeating:
"Sleep, my child."
The tense body beneath her palm stiffened for a fraction of a second before relaxing. The tightly clenched fists loosened, and the sword clattered to the ground.
His uncontrolled body hung limply, supported only by the crisscrossing red threads—resembling a butterfly trapped in a spiderweb, or a marionette tangled in puppet strings.
The lullaby did not last long, lasting merely half a minute or so. Sweating profusely, Baimeng saw black spots dancing before her eyes as she weakly spat out the final note and clapped her hands once more.
"Wake up."