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Inside the wooden hut covered in mysterious golden patterns, Bao Bao stared wide-eyed as it lay motionless on the Magic God Throne Chair, like a salted fish that had lost its dreams.

Confidence, bravery, fearlessness—these were all admirable qualities Bao Bao had set for Long Ao, just like itself.

"Magic God Throne, was there something wrong with my settings for Long Ao?"

Answer: Bravery and fearlessness meant being unafraid of challenges and death. Long Ao was not afraid of you being stronger than him, nor was he afraid that you would kill him.

In other words, he simply did not care.

Long Ao had long known that this endless path of ascension had no end. Dying on this path was his inevitable fate.

It was certainly good to keep winning, but losing was fine too.

Whether it was the so-called creator or the so-called Paper People replica, Long Ao did not care.

He did not care what level he had ascended to. What he cared about was whether, until the moment of his death, he would remain the Long Ao who could throw punches at the strong.

"Maybe my settings were wrong."

"That's right! There was something wrong with that 1.08-billion-layer ascension world. I shouldn't have believed what was written in that storybook!"

"Being unafraid of life and death clearly contradicts bowing down and surrendering! How did I stupidly believe it?!"

With a flick of its tail, Bao Bao sprang up. In an instant, it had escaped its salted-fish state and became a puffed-up ball of anger.

"Magic God Throne, where is the person who wrote that storybook? I'm going to settle the score with him!"

Answer: Insufficient information. Unable to locate.

Bao Bao's eyes widened, and a tentacle extended from behind it to rub its eyes.

It had forgotten.