Suddenly, Naive Fang Yuan finds himself swimming through a river that feels like pure hell. The currents are brutal, each one slamming into him like a collapsing star. The pain is unbearable, shooting through every fiber of his being, as if his very soul is being shredded. He tries to move, to swim, but his body betrays him. Every attempt to push forward sends searing agony through his limbs, so intense it threatens to obliterate his consciousness. The river is merciless, its currents ripping at him, dragging him down, as if the world itself has conspired to annihilate him. The pain is so overwhelming that his vision flickers at the edges, darkness creeping in, threatening to swallow him whole.
Then, he feels it again—the cold, ruthless presence of Demonic Fang Yuan taking over his body. This time, Naive Fang Yuan doesn't regain control. Instead, he's trapped inside his own mind, forced to endure every excruciating second as Demonic Fang Yuan forces the body forward. Each step is a battle, each movement a defiance against the crushing weight of the river. The pain is overwhelming, but Demonic Fang Yuan doesn't stop. It moves with a terrifying determination, as if surrender is a concept that doesn't exist in its vocabulary.
Suddenly, hands—cold, clawed, and vicious—grab at his body, trying to pull him deeper into the river. He can't see them clearly, but he feels their hatred, their malice, their hunger. A voice, guttural and dripping with venom, echoes in his mind: "You have been surrounded, so give up and follow us downstream. Death is your only destiny today." They tear at his flesh, their jaws sinking into him, their voices screaming. The pain is unbearable, but Demonic Fang Yuan doesn't flinch. It keeps going, step by agonizing step, as if the hands, the river, and the pain are mere obstacles to be crushed underfoot.
Naive Fang Yuan feels the suffocating weight of fear pulling him down. Death brushes against him again and again, each second teetering on the edge of oblivion. But Demonic Fang Yuan doesn't break. It doesn't stop. It moves with a relentless, almost inhuman determination, as if surrender is a word that doesn't exist in its world.
What feels like an eternity later, they finally reach the edge of the river. Naive Fang Yuan exhales a shaky sigh of relief, unaware that his body still moves under the other's command. In this fleeting moment, he forgets about the memories that suffocated him earlier—the guilt, the despair, the crushing weight of failure. All he cares about now is escaping this nightmare, finding some semblance of salvation in this hellish place.
But then, a voice cuts through the chaos, harsh and mocking:
"This is called the Reverse Flow River. There is no end to it. You're just wasting your strength before you die. Stop suffering. Let the river carry you downstream so you can escape the Reverse Flow River. I promise I'll give you a quick and merciful death once you're thrown out."
The words hit Naive Fang Yuan like a hammer blow, shattering what little hope remained within him. The river truly has no end. No matter how far he goes, no matter how hard he fights, the current will always push him back. It's hopeless. Utterly, completely hopeless.
Yet, the man controlling his body doesn't falter. Not for a second. Determination burns in his eyes, fierce and unyielding, as if the concept of hopelessness doesn't exist for him. It doesn't even pause. It keeps walking, step by agonizing step, as if the voice and the hopelessness it carries mean nothing. Naive Fang Yuan feels the paralyzing grip of despair tighten, but the demon ignores it completely. It moves forward, its determination unshakable, as if hopelessness is a joke.
Suddenly, Naive Fang Yuan regains control of his body—but only for a brief moment. The sheer fatigue and pain overwhelm him instantly, and he collapses onto the ground. His chest heaves, his body trembling uncontrollably as he struggles to breathe. And then, horror grips him as he realizes that he can't even stop for a single moment. The river isn't done with him yet. Even though the water level is below his knees, the sand beneath his feet feels alive, shifting and pulling him backward like quicksand. If he dares to stop for even a second, the river drags him downstream, erasing any progress he's made.
Then, control slips away again. The demon takes over, and Naive Fang Yuan becomes an observer once more. He feels everything—the pain, the exhaustion, the hopelessness—but he can do nothing as the demon forces the body to stand and walk. Each step is a battle, each movement a testament to the demon's iron will. The river stretches endlessly, the banks slipping farther away like cruel mirages. Each time they near the edge, it vanishes again. There's no end. Only endless suffering.
But amidst the hopelessness, there's a flicker of something—something that burns brighter than the darkness. It's not hope; hope died long ago in this godforsaken place. What remains is something far stronger, far more primal: It's determination, raw and unyielding, a fire that refuses to die. The demon doesn't care about success. It doesn't care about his ending. All that matters is the next step, and the next, and the next. Hope doesn't matter. Its determination is enough.
And then, a voice echoes through Fang Yuan's mind, coming from every fiber of his being, every cell of his body:
"""
I had once screamed, gradually, I lost my voice.
I had once cried, gradually, I lost my tears.
I had once grieved, gradually, I became able to withstand everything.
I had once rejoiced, gradually, I became unmoved by the world. And now!
All I have left is an expressionless face, my gaze as tough as a monolith, only perseverance remains in my heart.
This is my own, an insignificant character, Fang Yuan's—Perseverance!
"""
The words hit him like a thunderclap, a raw declaration of the unbreakable will driving him forward. Demonic Fang Yuan doesn't stop. It doesn't falter. It walks on, step by agonizing step, as if the river, the pain, and the hopelessness are nothing but illusions. And Naive Fang Yuan, trapped inside his own mind, can only watch in awe and terror as Demonic Fang Yuan marches on, its determination unyielding, its perseverance unshakable.
The river may be endless, the pain unbearable, and the hope nonexistent—but Demonic Fang Yuan's perseverance is infinite. And in that moment, Naive Fang Yuan realizes something: even in the face of despair, even in the depths of hell, there's one thing that can't be broken. It's not hope. It's not love. It's the raw, unrelenting will to keep moving forward, no matter the cost.
And that, perhaps, is the most terrifying thing of all.
Because Demonic Fang Yuan inside him isn't driven by hope or redemption. It's driven by something far darker, far more primal—a need to endure, to survive, to push forward until there's nothing left to push. It's not salvation it seeks; it's simply the act of defiance itself. A refusal to yield, even when the universe demands it.
Each step feels heavier than the last, each breath a struggle against the void. The pain is unbearable, the exhaustion crippling, but Demonic Fang Yuan presses on, driven by a will that refuses to bend. Naive Fang Yuan feels it—the sheer brutality of the journey, the unrelenting grind of pushing forward against impossible odds. It's not just perseverance; it's a ferocious defiance, a roar into the void that says, "You can take everything from me, even my hope, but you will never be able to take my determination."
The river may be endless, the pain may be infinite, but so too is the man's determination. And in that realization, Naive Fang Yuan sees the truth: sometimes,
the greatest victory isn't winning—it's simply refusing to lose. Even if losing means enduring hell itself.