The Undying Transmigrator

Chapter 47: Walking Alone

"Mo Wen, are you alright? The communication was blocked just now, and I couldn’t reach you. But I want to tell you, while some belittle and despise you, there are others who support you."

Ren Sisi’s voice echoed in Mo Wen’s ear. She tried her best to encourage the terrifying-looking Mo Wen… Although he seemed to have been like this since the beginning of the operation.

The silent monster stared ahead. In his eyes, there was only one path, one direction, one goal. For this, he would trample all morality and crush anyone who stood in his way.

But it was as if the previous moment’s Mo Wen was just Ren Sisi’s illusion. He responded gently in a hoarse voice, "Faction conflicts are normal."

"We can’t let others’ deaths be in vain."

"Next, prepare to support me in solving seventy trillion problems. I don’t understand those things. If we want to finish in nine minutes, it depends on you."

Ren Sisi confidently said, "No problem…"

Before she finished speaking, Mo Wen felt their connection sever.

Did the remnants of the Corporation block the psychic signal? Was her computational matrix destroyed? Or was it simply that the Divine Long Staircase forbids cheating?

She should still be alive...Regardless, there was no one else around him now.

Seventy trillion-level steps, seventy trillion problems—could he answer them all?

Without thinking, Mo Wen knew he couldn’t do it alone.

His past was filled with pain: dying repeatedly, being ravaged, struggling to defeat enemies, only to be knocked down by the next stronger foe.

Fighting, dying, getting stronger… in this monotonous cycle, he had no experience ruling others and barely interacted with anyone.

Even if he forced answers, the staircase probably wouldn’t accept them.

Yet, he still wanted to reach the divine throne, to witness what the true Qi Shiming was like, whether Zero had any insurmountable flaws, and to make a final choice before the dust settled.

And... if necessary, he wanted to seize that power himself.

If he became strong enough, he wouldn’t fear death, could control his own destiny, and enjoy happiness.

Moreover, he wanted to resurrect his comrades.

Even if their connection was limited to this battle, even if they were prepared to die, even if it meant desecrating death… they shouldn’t just die like this.

"I need to break out of the Divine Long Staircase’s framework."

Not answering questions brought tremendous pressure. Even Mo Wen’s top-tier augmentations couldn’t endure it, but maybe his psychic power could.

The higher the energy level, the stronger the reality distortion—power could even be generated from nothing. But this required extreme focus, and his Dream Creator implant might not hold.

Also, if he forcibly crossed the Divine Long Staircase, its effect on distance alteration might no longer help him. He would have to forcefully leap over the abyss-like gaps between each step.

Mo Wen wasn’t sure how far that was, but 117 mentioned Qi Shiming would resurrect in 9 minutes and 20 seconds. That time, converted into the distance light travels, was roughly the distance from planet Avel to a nearby star—probably the actual physical distance he needed to cross.

With time acceleration, he moved faster relative to the outside world and should reach the divine throne before resurrection, but his actual speed hadn’t changed.

At 35 times the speed of sound, it would take 14,117,647 seconds, 235,294 minutes, 3,921 hours, or 163 days to cover that distance.

Maintaining extreme concentration alone on an endless path for 163 days was impossible for anyone on this planet except Mo Wen. But he could try.

Mo Wen focused his attention.

The pressure so heavy it could crush his augmentations into immobility was truly offset by his psychic power without interference from enemies, even leaving room for acceleration.

He sprinted full speed toward Zero’s location as sensed by his psychic perception.

Boredom struck cruelly first.

The learning device he bought earlier only stored combat techniques and hadn’t downloaded entertainment. Now without network access, Mo Wen had nothing to pass the time except his imagination.

Meanwhile, at such speed, no sound could catch up with him. The world in his ears was silent except for the sounds and alerts of his augmentations.

The Divine Long Staircase offered no scenery—only repetitive colors and shapes. There was nothing new, making one think they weren’t moving but stuck in the same space on repeat.

Luckily, psychic perception allowed Mo Wen to lock onto the target’s location, confirming the distance was shrinking.

But his mental state and augmentation stability were rapidly deteriorating.

Augmentation Stability 0%

His comrades had sacrificed their lives to defeat powerful enemies, keeping Mo Wen in optimal condition, but their efforts were exhausted before he reached the divine throne.

The atomic clock in his augmentations showed only eight days had passed—not even a tenth of this long road.

But Mo Wen didn’t stop.

Just because the augmentations couldn’t suppress his psychic power anymore didn’t mean he couldn’t keep going the next second.

His other psychic energy, jokingly called the “Super Endurance King” by Mo Wen, kicked in.

He wouldn’t die easily.

The psychic power surged through his brain, overflowing from his soul into his body, continuously eroding his augmentations and life, but his regeneration balanced destruction.

Every moment, Mo Wen felt new nerves itching and others melting away in pain. His dwindling flesh transmitted excruciatingly clear pain.

Pain, that cruel yet earnest old friend, offered him an even more stunning new gift.

Ah, perhaps not a new gift.

The endless memories of death crawled up bit by bit from the depths of Mo Wen’s consciousness.

Unlike last time when death was just a flood of memories, this time he clearly felt it.

His greatest fear, his deepest despair.

Unable to live, unable to die, unable to cry out—only letting time pass, bearing everything inflicted upon him, powerless to change anything.

But unlike before, now the power to give up was in Mo Wen’s hands.

If he lost the will to live even for a moment, regeneration would break, and he could easily die and return to the Revival Point.

He could even weep bitterly, wail loudly, vent all his pain recklessly.

But Mo Wen refused to die.

"I refuse death."

"I refuse to rest."

"I refuse this failure."

"Before my goal is achieved,"

"I will never die!"

Power—an ever-growing power that seemed capable of overcoming everything, trampling the entire world—surged forth relentlessly.

Many factors influenced psychic energy levels: talent, duration of conscious existence, pain endured and conquered, desire and determination to achieve goals.

Without a doubt, Mo Wen maxed out every single one.