"Have you ever seen Jieyin Divine Light with your own eyes?"
Ding Ling asked.
"I was killed by Immortal Palace's White Light Curse when I was eighteen."
Yang Chengxu was somewhat dejected and upset:
"In those eighteen years, I never saw Jieyin Divine Light. But some older-generation figures have seen it."
"You've never seen any similar livestream footage? Or videos?"
"No."
Yang Chengxu shook his head:
"According to what many streamers and veteran players have said, Jieyin Divine Light is invisible to the naked eye and cannot be captured by cameras. Only true mental-type superhumans can see it. Of course, some people with powerful mental strength can sense it as well. But whether those people can actually see it, I don't know either. Apart from my father, I haven't come into contact with anyone like that since I was little."
"Your father saw it?"
"He did. That's why he was exceptionally obsessed with becoming a True God and firmly believed in it. If he hadn't been so paranoid and reckless, he wouldn't have died. As long as my father hadn't died, I definitely wouldn't have remained a mere little leader, to the point that I had no voice at all among the Players. If I'd had a voice, I definitely wouldn't have..."
At this point, he paused, cautiously glanced at Xingzai and Fanger, then fell silent.
Clearly, he was still unwilling to accept the deaths of the million Players and himself. He felt that if he had become a great commander-level figure like Xin, perhaps he could have reversed the outcome?
Ding Ling merely glanced at Yang Chengxu and more or less understood what he was thinking. He did not expose him, but instead pointed at the remaining "soldiers" in the Chessboard World and said:
"Tell me, how many Players