Chapter 941: Chapter 78: A Na That Can’t Be Written
Six hundred and sixty-four days.
Tang Xian wrote down the na “Primordial Fog.”
From this mont on, he could no longer guarantee the logical coherence between fragnts of mory. The deeper his connection with soone, the more intertwined the associated mories beca.
The brain naturally strives for logical consistency, making mories appear plausible. Yet Tang Xian’s current recollections, strained by the loss of too many people, had started to warp and fragnt.
But Tang Xian’s true descent into hell began here. He had arrived at the innermost core of this realm, only to realize that its vastness eclipsed all imagination.
On this day, he identified six targets.
Only one marker bore the na “Primordial Fog.” After writing it down, he stared at the two characters in confusion: Who was this person?
What experiences had he shared with them?
Tang Xian couldn’t rember.
The sensation terrified him. He ventured deeper into the ruins, where the sinister machinations of Eden’s master gradually ca to light.
It was an illusion—but also a passage to the real world, concealing the true form of Eden’s master.
Everything here conspired to lure Tang Xian further in.
And deeper in, he discovered it was a trap. A trap designed to irregularly slice his mories into scattered fragnts, discarding them piece by piece.
Even so… leveraging the gambler’s bias, Eden’s master ensnared Tang Xian within its web.
Several tis Tang Xian might have considered retreating, but his ultimate choice was to keep exploring. This had nothing to do with whether Tang Xian was a gambler; rather, his resolve was driven by clarity of purpose. He had always been soone who maximized resources. If mory was a resource, he refused to let it be wasted to no avail.
Yet every facet of this ntal struggle had been ticulously accounted for by Eden’s master.
Tang Xian felt as though he could understand Eden’s master—just as Eden’s master could equally comprehend Tang Xian.
In this duel, at least, Tang Xian had suffered loss after loss.
Faced with five remaining blank markers, he dared not write down another na.
On this day, Tang Xian chose not to advance further. Instead, he muttered the nas he could still use, the remnants of his identity.
He recited them over and over.
When one is trapped in a desperate situation, beyond physical survival resources, the most invaluable possessions are hope and mories of the past.
Hope was fading, little by little.
And his mories were nearly gone.
Six hundred and sixty-six days. Tang Xian wrote down more nas.
Akasi, Song Que—both included.
He had only a few nas left, and the journey to find Eden’s master’s true form still seed impossibly long.
In the land where illusion and reality intertwined, Tang Xian ca across a cave.
“Qi Yuan, Zhong Yao, Yan Xiaoling, Li Xiaoyu, Tang Jing, Qi Yuan, Zhong Yao, Yan Xiaoling, Li Xiaoyu, Tang Jing, Qi Yuan…”
In the dim cave, Tang Xian repeated these nas over and over again.
Night passed swiftly. Morning light stread into the cave, illuminating Tang Xian’s unkempt, stubble-covered face.
He resembled a prisoner who had languished in a cell for far too long, neglected and disoriented.
His beard had begun to grow; his hair unruly.
Although he existed as a consciousness, in this peculiar domain, everything felt alarmingly real.
Tang Xian stared at the void ahead, motionless for a full two hours. His once-brilliant gaze was now dull and lifeless.
His lips quivered, ever so slightly, mumbling the nas faintly audible.
Finally, he stood up.
He could no longer rember much, but he knew deep in his heart that soone waited for him in Baichuan City.
A world, long mutated beyond recognition, awaited his salvation.
His steps grew heavier, slower, yet he continued moving forward, inch by inch.
When mory dwindles and hope dissolves, what allows a person to keep venturing toward their chosen endpoint is sheer willpower.
The sunlight vanished suddenly; the sky thickened with clouds.
After over six hundred days of exploration, Tang Xian had managed to exit Eden’s most perilous zone of weather chaos. The primordial beasts conjured by Eden’s master’s consciousness had also diminished.
But occasionally, as it did today, torrential rains would arrive abruptly.
The mountain road turned to mud. Those shadow-like humans seed oblivious to the weather, continuing their conversations along the path.
Were they still human? Did they still possess consciousness?
Had Eden’s master reshaped humanity into these ambiguous forms where reality and illusion intertwined?
Tang Xian’s fear deepened—was his adversary still a traditional biological entity?
This enigmatic being, Eden’s master, had already begun influencing reality. How could Tang Xian hope to defeat it?
“Qi Yuan, Zhong Yao, Yan Xiaoling, Li Xiaoyu, Tang Jing, Qi Yuan, Zhong Yao, Yan Xiaoling, Li Xiaoyu, Tang Jing, Qi Yuan…”
As these questions churned in his mind, he never ceased reciting the nas.
Soon, Tang Xian arrived at another marker.
Decision ti again. He had to discard another person’s mory.
The tornt etched itself onto Tang Xian’s face, twisted and disoriented. If Li Xiaoyu were here, she would surely embrace him tenderly, heart aching for this devastated man.
Because Tang Xian had never seed so helpless.
He wrote down the na Tang Jing.
Zhong Yao was still waiting for him; he rembered their promise to take Zhong Yao to et soone—a relative. But who that person was, Tang Xian no longer rembered.
Yan Xiaoling had always been a patch of purity in his heart, and Li Xiaoyu might be the one who loved him most in this world. Tang Xian refused to let go of any of them.
As for Qi Yuan…
Tang Xian felt nothing but hostility.
In the face of a great enemy, you might forget a comrade—but never your foe. Qi Yuan’s existence had perated Tang Xian’s life, spanning the entirety of Pyramid civilization.
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