"Grab the chain!"
His right hand slammed into the floor, sending blood flying. The Flesh-and-Blood Immortal had never been this excited. Every beat of Gao Ming's heart felt like a drumbeat that would burst his chest apart.
The past and present Gao Ming made the same movement, the connection between their flesh and blood spanning past and present.
"Aah!"
Eight ghost-god arms thrust out of Gao Ming's back. Some force tore open the back of his reflection in the floor tiles as well. Under the gazes of the wildly dancing monsters and the patients in countless Black-and-White Posthumous Photos, the Flesh-and-Blood Ghost God crawled out of the past Gao Ming's back!
Situ An's worship of the Flesh-and-Blood Immortal was doomed to fail, because from the very beginning, in a time before the past, at a moment before the future arrived, the Flesh-and-Blood Immortal had chosen Gao Ming.
No one had ever saved you. Through death after death, through starting over again and again, you had kept saving yourself.
He gripped the chain in his hand tightly, linking together the final missing piece of fate.
The gleaming tiles were like mirrors, like the surface of water. They covered the floor, yet seemed to hang upside down in the sky.
Gao Ming knelt on one knee. They looked at each other, held on to that chain, and slowly stood.
The fragments in his left eye dissolved. Gao Ming stood among the wildly dancing madmen and patients. Dead gods watched him, and misshapen monsters surrounded him.
They could not hear each other's voices. The Flesh-and-Blood Immortal was their only connection. Whether in the past or the future, the Flesh-and-Blood Immortal seemed to exist. It had escaped fate's control. Once it chose someone at a particular moment, it would live in their heart forever.