Stop Hypnotizing Me, Antagonist Princess!

Chapter 502: Chapter 260: The First Second of Eternity_5

He toured various countries holding recitation events, and wherever he went, the streets were deserted; he debated with wise men in top salons, with a continuous stream of eloquent remarks; he was even openly admired by several queens and princesses.

Lynn’s life seemed like a brilliant star, hanging high above all people, radiating an enviable glow.

He almost had everything: talent, fame, wealth, appearance, and noble status.

He sincerely loved this world and used his pen to depict the utopia in his heart.

However, he forgot that the ultimate glory also casts the ultimate shadow.

When he accepted the Norton Kingdom’s Royal Academy’s invitation to deliver a lecture tour in this northern empire, renowned for its strength but also its harsh autocracy, disaster quietly descended.

The old king of the Norton Kingdom had just died, and the new king, Augusta III, ascended the throne, a young king with a violent, suspicious nature, extremely insecure yet arrogant.

He craved recognition from the cultural world but was himself poorly educated. He attempted to ingratiate himself with Lynn, hoping Lynn would sing praises for the royal family, but Lynn tactfully refused—his works never served any specific noble.

Just then, Lynn’s latest work "Caged Nightingale" was published, taking the entire continent by storm.

The book describes a brutal and foolish king who, out of jealousy for a nightingale’s freedom and song, imprisons it in a golden cage, where it eventually dies from melancholy.

This was a common metaphor in literature, but in the eyes of Augusta III and those sycophants skilled at guessing his intentions, it was undoubtedly a massive humiliation and insinuation against the new king.

"He is mocking His Majesty! He is using his damned words to challenge the dignity of the royal authority!"

The close ministers whispered in the king’s ear.

Augusta III’s anger flared instantly. Without any legal proceedings, not even a public accusation, on the night Lynn was staying at the most luxurious hotel in the kingdom, a squad of royal guards, fierce as wolves, broke in, forcibly capturing him on charges of "alleged defamation and slander of the monarch," and secretly imprisoning him in the deepest dungeon beneath the royal palace.

Hellish days began, Augusta III wanted not only Lynn’s death but also to utterly destroy everything Lynn had prided himself on.

The king personally came to the dungeon, sneering at Lynn, who was shackled in chains: "Mr. Lynn, aren’t you skilled at writing eternity with your pen, depicting utopia with words? Today I’ll teach you what true reality is."

The executioners first ruined Lynn’s handsome face, which had captivated countless people, with red-hot iron, the smell of burning flesh permeating the foul air. The intense pain nearly made him faint, but he gritted his teeth and did not beg for mercy.

Next, the executioners cruelly shattered his knees and ankles with a heavy hammer, ensuring he could never stand or walk again, let alone embark on his beloved tour of speeches.

Then, they gouged out the blue eyes that had once perceived into the human heart and shimmered with wisdom, plunging him into eternal darkness.

Finally, they severed the right hand he used to write everything and broke the fingers of his left hand one by one.

The star that had once captivated the continent had now become a broken, bloody mass of waste in the dungeon. No readers knew what had happened to the master they worshiped, with the officials merely declaring that Lynn Wester had quietly left the kingdom.

Augusta III was satisfied, believing he had completely crushed this "nightingale."

In the boundless darkness and severe pain, in Lynn’s remaining awareness, those forgotten memory fragments: Ailia’s betrayal, the town residents’ backstabbing... began to flicker and connect.

A comprehension beyond individual pain slowly emerged.

This endless cycle, this repeated despair...

When the guard tossed Lynn a piece of moldy bread, he used the last of his strength to crash his forehead onto the cold, rough stone wall.

The darkness completely devoured him.

This time, death brought not just an end, but a trace of cold, long-accumulated mockery.

After experiencing billions of tragic deaths in despair, this nearly eternal trial finally passed its first second of time.

In the nothingness outside the cocoon, the Prisoner of Destiny witnessed for the first time a nearly stagnant ripple.

It observed the thread of spirit inside the cocoon, which not only hadn’t dimmed but had become more refined through billions of destructions, even radiating a cold gleam, and an unprecedented tremor quietly emerged.

This is illogical.

This should not exist.

No matter how tenacious a spirit, under such a scale of despair, it would either be completely shattered, becoming a total madman, or be worn down to nothing but another drop of senseless water in the current of destiny.

This is the rule, it’s a given.

However, Lynn became the only exception.

Not only did he maintain a complete self-awareness without falling into confusion, but his spirit also became even more unfathomable.

A premonition of escape from control, like a subtle but cold poisonous sting, quietly pierced into the vast perception of the Prisoner of Destiny, bringing with it a trace of fear—even it hadn’t anticipated.

It realized it could not go on like this anymore!

And so, just as Lynn was about to settle his mind from that last cycle of death’s aftertaste and prepare for the next cycle, the scene before him abruptly twisted, blurred!

It was not like the previous spatial dislocation tearing sensation, but more like a... forceful overlay and tampering at the level of consciousness.

Intense dizziness struck, and Lynn didn’t even have time to grasp any trace of the Prisoner of Destiny, completely losing awareness of the "cocooning consciousness."

Suddenly opening his eyes, what met him was not a bloody battlefield or a cold throne, but an immaculate white ceiling, with the faint smell of disinfectant lingering in the air.

A wave of weakness and soreness came from his body, especially his head, as if it had been struck by a heavy object, aching dully and intensely.

He turned his eyes blankly, seeing faces filled with worry and joy gathered around the hospital bed.

"Lynn! You’re finally awake! You scared mom to death!"