# 202
**Chapter 202: The Tragedy of Yiyu**
Yiyu’s brows knitted tightly together. He stared at Lin Qiye, and after a long moment spoke slowly:
“Interesting… your secret truly exceeds my imagination.
Yet you actually dare appear before me in person—how foolish!”
Before the words had faded, cold light flared in Yiyu’s eyes. He shot forward, a hand wreathed in ghostly radiance slapping toward Lin Qiye’s chest like lightning!
Nothing happened…
Yiyu gaped at his own palm pressed against the white coat. The eerie glow was being devoured by the fabric; a peak-“Sea”-realm soul attack vanished the instant it touched the garment, like a mud-ox plunging into the sea—no ripple, no trace.
Impossible!
Yiyu’s mind reeled. Soul confrontation had always been his forte; other souls were paper before his God’s Ruins. But Lin Qiye had stood motionless and neutralized the blow?
Lin Qiye’s lips curled. Eyes half-lidded, he drawled:
“In my asylum, you still think you can hurt me?”
Here, he was sovereign.
Any strike aimed at him was void.
He seized Yiyu’s wrist and flung him backward with a sharp jerk!
Yiyu’s vision blurred. The world spun, and he slammed heavily to the ground.
He scrambled up—then froze. He was no longer in the entrance hall but in a broad courtyard.
On the lawn nearby, a noblewoman in a black star-embroidered gown rocked gently in a chair, knitting needles in hand, murmuring happily as she worked, a blissful smile on her lips.
No aura leaked from her; she seemed an ordinary mortal.
Lin Qiye was nowhere in sight. Hesitating, Yiyu stepped toward the woman.
Behind his back, ghost-light blossomed in both palms.
He understood now: this damned place was uncanny, every attack on Lin Qiye nullified. He would have to pry open another breach—
and this woman was perfect.
The instant his foot lifted, the woman in the rocker started, turned, and regarded him as if pondering…
Yiyu narrowed his eyes, pace quickening. In a blink he stood before her, hands raised—
Thud!
Nyx swept Yiyu into her arms, flipped him over like a baby, and hugged him to her bosom, beaming with grandmotherly joy.
“Great-grandson, you’ve come to visit Great-grandma?”
A hundred-forty-pound man, cradled like an infant—no trace of absurdity, and… he couldn’t resist!
Yiyu thrashed, trying to leap free, but his limbs might as well have been nailed in place.
Then the horror began: as Nyx rocked him gently, his body shrank before his eyes. In five seconds he had withered to a third his size—a little boy in grandma’s embrace.
Terror shot through him. This wasn’t flesh; it was his very soul!
He felt it being voraciously drained.
Another minute and he would be ground to nothing in her arms!
Just as despair seized him, Nyx set him down, lifted the half-finished black sweater, and slipped it over his diminished frame.
“Good boy, try the sweater Great-grandma knit for you—cozy?”
The black wool came alive, threads writhing, binding him until he could barely breathe.
Utter darkness gnawed through the garment, devouring him inch by inch; he felt his skin corroded by night itself.
Agony flooded every sense. He curled on the floor, clawing at the sweater, but it had fused with his flesh—immovable.
Sensation drained away; half his body seemed to plunge into an endless abyss of pain and cold…
“AAAAAAHHHH!!” Yiyu’s shriek echoed across the asylum.
A second-floor window opened. Lin Qiye, white coat flapping, called down:
“Mother, don’t kill him—he’s still useful.”
Nyx turned, smiling sweetly. “Of course.”
With a flick of her finger the sweater unraveled into night and flew back to her hand. She stepped to the half-dead Yiyu, expression chilling.
“For daring to harm my child, you should have been scattered soul and all… but since you’re needed, I’ll spare you—for now.”
She hoisted him by the collar and tossed him casually. Yiyu’s vision flashed again; he landed hard.
This time he lay in a plain study.
At the central desk a young man in a blue robe sat poring over *Middle-Aged Health Tips*, never glancing up.
Beside him, Lin Qiye—white coat pristine—watched the wretched Yiyu with interest.
“Lord Merlin, what do you think?”
“He’s only a projection; even if his soul is ground away here, the damage to his true body will be slight. Killing him isn’t cost-effective.” Merlin closed the book calmly.
“Is there a way to affect his original soul?”
“There is.” Merlin’s deep gaze seemed to pierce Yiyu entirely. “Though a projection, his soul is still tethered to the original by countless threads.
My abyssal sorcery can follow those threads and inflict true harm—unable to slay him at a distance, yet enough to poison his very spirit.”
“Poison how?”
“For instance… forcefully cramming a soul from a distant plane into his own.”
Lin Qiye blinked. “Two souls in one body?”
“Exactly. If the intruding soul is troublesome enough, it will erode his control, induce madness—
and if pushed far enough, even drive him to suicide.”
Lin Qiye raised a brow, a half-smile curling as he regarded the terrified Yiyu; the look sent an icy shudder through him.
“Turn him into a madman… sounds delightful.”