In the days imdiately following the loss of his sight, Lü Shu struggled to adapt.
For Lü Shu, the most painful aspect wasn’t the imdiate agony, but rather a slow sense of loss. His once proud vision, precise blade edge, clear judgnt... all transford into nothingness. He beca like a clumsy child, bumping around familiar rooms, finding even the act of pouring a glass of water difficult. The world shrank to re sounds, slls, touches.
A powerful fear engulfed him—how could one fight without wielding a blade?
However, after losing his vision, certain perceptions beca sharper.
In the weighty darkness, he could keenly perceive the shifts in soone’s sighs, detect subtle changes in their tone—lying, concealing, forced laughter, feigned indifference... A grand sense of fullness enveloped the butterfly cocooned, unable to see, yet its sensitive wings could feel every vibration of the leaves.
Su Ming’an was hiding sothing, regarding a trick that had lasted seventy years.
A sense of panic gradually filled his body—if this continued, he might indeed beco soone unable to wield a blade, like a fragile butterfly cared for within a cocoon.
Lü Shu imdiately began to adapt to the dark world, learning to distinguish between the urgency of footsteps with his ears, judge the identity of the visitors; he learned to touch objects with his palms, discern what was before him; learned to morize distances with his steps, reconstructing the world’s image in his mind. He obstinately, inch by inch, rebuilt his world until flowers and butterflies erged anew within his realm.
He returned to his post. Initially, his efficiency in handling docunts was very low, but he had enough patience. Gradually, he began using divine power to perform intricate actions, writing eting minutes, drafting policy analyses, and later, docunting more personal inquiries—recording.
Recording everything he had ever seen about Su Ming’an.
From the mont the World Ga concluded, it was determined that he would record everything about Su Ming’an as an "attendant."
From the sowhat immature, nervous, cold-joking youth he encountered at the outset of the World Ga, to the later silent, increasingly somber-eyed World Master. He wrote about how Su Ming’an secretly pushed aside food he disliked at celebratory banquets, how Su Ming’an would occasionally utter nonsensical quips, how Su Ming’an’s solitary silhouette appeared at the star map during the dead of night, how the New Year al cooked by Su Ming’an tasted excellent, how Su Ming’an at tis revealed a fatigue and bewildernt uncharacteristic of a deity. He wrote of those details simplified or overlooked by official history, writing of a more vibrant, complicated, and more... "human" Su Ming’an.
Writing of "people," not recording "god."
He and Gesang Jiacuo pursued completely different directions.
Despite its slow and arduous progression, this process soothed his inner turmoil—when his focus shifted from "what was lost" to "what could still be recorded," darkness seed less terrifying.
Clumsy words beca fluid; he finally mastered the "essay writing," these records were published, titled "Lighthouse Observation Notes," eagerly read by countless people. Without ornate rhetoric, only simple narration, yet it touched many, allowing new generations to see a World Master different from the ones depicted in textbooks and footage.
He was no longer rely a "blade"; he beca a "recorder."
He stood alongside his companions in another way, fulfilling the duty of guardianship. He could no longer discern the enemy ahead for them, but he could preserve the traces left behind.
Winter was long.
In nearly a century of darkness, Lü Shu still rembered the beauty before losing his sight—the morning light gradually revealing the Ivy on the courtyard wall, the entire wall transforming into a lively tapestry as the breeze gently trembled. Sunset sprinkled fragnted gold into the treetops of Taihua Mountain; each ti he climbed the mountain, he witnessed the smoke from cooking fires gently rising among green tiles, softening the entire lane.
Whenever he felt the biting cold, he rembered a person. That person was like a fla that never extinguished. Even though he was in the dark, as long as that fla burned, he did not feel fear.
See this bustling world for ; as long as soone lights the long night, he would never stray from the spring breeze.
Lü Shu thought that such a balance would remain until the end of destiny.
Until after close to twenty years, Su Ming’an found him and Lin Yin.
"I hope you keep your distance from ." Su Ming’an said, "The one replacing you will be the Vice World Leader."
Lü Shu looked up bewildered.
"I plan to do sothing that might ’betray’ the whole world. When that happens, those closely linked to will be implicated. And you, being second only to my strength, I hope when the ti cos, you can remain pure, able to imdiately step up and lead the situation." Su Ming’an said, "Next, I’ll reassign you away from the World Hub, so we don’t appear in the sa event."
"You seem to be getting busier." Lin Yin crossed her arms, "Are you alright? You are a deity, you shouldn’t face any troubles, right?"
"...Sorry, I’m just too busy." Su Ming’an smiled slightly, "I haven’t thought of a plan for a long ti, nor have I simulated it multiple tis... When that day arrives, I hope the casualties will be minimal."
He bent down:
"When everything ends, we’ll be free, and then we can play for as long as we want..."
That was the last sentence Su Ming’an said to them with a smile.
After that day, that person’s expression completely froze, as if encased in so heavy substance. Lü Shu had heard of the planet exploration progress; in front of him, Yizhu Star was the only hope. Was it this hope that stopped Su Ming’an from smiling?
Soon after, they were reassigned away from the World Hub; others believed Lü Shu lost his power, and sward over.
To play the part of "discord," Lü Shu concealed all records regarding the World Master, no longer continuing the seventy-plus years of observation notes. Everyone said the World Master had completely turned into an icy deity, hence Lü Shu no longer saw him as a "good guy," the two drifted apart, ceased conspiring. So said the World Master had done too many authoritarian acts over the years and the top players like Lü Shu harbored dissent, trying to seize power; after all, it was obvious, the World Master had beco increasingly frail, sotis even relying on a wheelchair.
Their exchanges becoming increasingly silent, even when occasionally passing face-to-face, it was as if they didn’t recognize each other, not a single extra word exchanged. Many years later, Lü Shu vaguely sensed he hadn’t felt Su Ming’an’s gaze for a long ti.
In his mory, only a cold silhouette remained, with a slender shadow like a deep black chasm.
One day, Lü Shu departed from the top floor of the World Hub; precisely then, Su Ming’an was absent, and Lü Shu stood alone before the vast operations table akin to a star sea, gazing at rows of cold numbers, cold starry skies, cold social models... Everything before him pertained to the fate of seven billion lives of civilization, so imnse it made him dizzy and lightheaded.
Yet, Lü Shu spotted, several objects were placed on the adjacent platform.
Like decorations, their vibrant colors clashed with the white control room, appearing like alien species.
Nailuo’s wood carvings, blooming Cursed Fire Flower, silver ring, Black Bird Sculpture, Jellyfish hairpin, Colored Sugar Cube, Feather Pen, Wang Xingkong’s Human Skin Mask... one by one, piece by piece.
"He" had never forgotten.
Lü Shu reached out, touching them through the glass, suddenly realizing sothing—
Su Ming’an had placed rings here.
The rings that followed him for decades, he no longer wore.
What does this an?
What... is he going to do, fearing repercussions on these?
Lü Shu clenched his fist, silently observing these items resting quietly in the glass cabinet, his mind montarily void of thoughts, blank as a newborn child, until he abruptly heard, within the glass cabinet, a chanical ring making sporadic sounds:
"Don’t... go..."
Don’t go.
He’s taken you off, what else is there to say about not going.
Lü Shu turned around and quickly left the place, his steps hurried as if escaping a nightmare.
He started repeatedly having the nightmare of personally extinguishing the flas. At one mont, they were still laughing at Su Ming’an’s twenty-first birthday party, making wishes under the blossoming trees. In the next instant, he awoke drenched in cold sweat, staring at the black-and-white photos hanging on the wall, rembering the love and hate that were left behind.
Why leave them behind?
Why hang a Damocles Sword over my head?
Until that day.
Su Ming’an found him in Lü Shu’s office, which was piled with old manuscripts. The World Master in white clothing entered with his usual expression, but Lü Shu sharply caught a hint of unusual seriousness.
Finally, it has co. He thought.
Let it fall.
"Lü Shu." Su Ming’an’s voice was gentle.
Lü Shu put down the carving pen in his hand and faced the direction of the voice: "I’m here."
A long silence. Only the sound of their breathing.
Then, Su Ming’an began to speak. Calmly and clearly, he revealed the truth hidden beneath the "Genesis Plan." Including the insurmountable barrier, including how "Genesis" was rely about imprinting civilization’s information on Yizhu Star, including how the idea of "saving a few people" was only a lie to make the deception more convincing, including the final step—to slay the World Tree.
Su Ming’an didn’t explain the specific reasons; he told Lü Shu to strike at the right mont.
Lü Shu’s blood seed to freeze instantly. He couldn’t see Su Ming’an’s expression, but he could imagine the calm in those golden eyes, a kind of peace that was almost cruel, one that accepted everything.
In fact, Lü Shu had anticipated this scene, but what Su Ming’an requested was even crueler than his nightmares.
"...So," Lü Shu’s voice was terribly dry, like sandpaper scraping over his throat, "you need an... executioner."
"Yes." Su Ming’an’s answer was without hesitation, "It must be you. Only you, when I’ve fully given up resisting, even actively guiding, can completely ’kill’ . And only you... can I entrust the final step."
Trust. Such a heavy trust.
To have him personally extinguish the only source of light in his dark world.
—But if from the beginning you intended to personally extinguish the hard-earned spring light, why cruelly make him the one to snuff out the flas, all while guiding him, caring for him, deceiving him into believing a bright and brilliant future awaited him for nearly a century?
Liar.
He felt a dizzying vertigo, recalling how he had gradually adapted to the darkness, supported by the thought of light, viewing the record of the flas’ existence as the aning of life. And now, this fla demanded he personally end it.
"Why..." he unconsciously murmured, his throat seemingly filled with blood,
"You’re truly cruel, Su Ming’an."
He could hardly ever utter such accusatory words.
In the face of a deity, he only responded, hardly ever rebutting.
But at this mont, he was sure beyond doubt, and without a shred of regret, he angrily accused the other, using the angriest words he could think of, hoping for so irreversible fate.
The imnse grief and absurdity nearly tore him apart. He lived a second life, found three good people, struggled through twelve instances, adapted countless tis to darkness, found a new way to stand, thinking he could finally walk to the end together, only to find that at the end of the road was a fla he must extinguish with his own hands.
A long ti passed. So long that the simulated sunlight outside the window seed to dim slightly.
Su Ming’an had been watching him all along.
Finally, Lü Shu very slowly nodded.
A slight gesture, yet it was as heavy as a thousand pounds.
"Alright."
If this is your wish, I will fulfill your ideal.
He couldn’t refuse. Not only because it was the only way to survive, but also because... it was Su Ming’an’s request. The last request from the person who pulled him out of the darkness and gave him direction and aning.
"...Tell the ti, place, and the direction of the strike." He heard himself say, with a calm voice that was unfamiliar.
At this mont, he seed to feel sothing within that had supported him for a century quietly shatter.
...
Half a month before parting, Lü Shu and Lin Yin ca to Su Ming’an’s room.
"Co! Freshly made Oden, crafted by Yamada himself, original taste! Amazingly delicious!" Lin Yin entered with a bucket of Oden, his face full of cheer.
"Careful, don’t damage these monitors." Su Ming’an shook his head, revealing a smile.
"Hey, you finally smiled, I thought sothing had frozen your face." Lin Yin crossed his arms, "Yi Song has been talking about you for a long ti. This is the first ti you’ve gone so long without a counseling session, don’t forget when you’re done with this."
...Psychological counseling? When soone’s about to be gone, what’s the point?
Su Ming’an turned his head to Lü Shu, "Your eyes are getting brighter. You’ve been using the dicine I made for you, right?"
Over the years, Su Ming’an never forgot about Lü Shu’s eyes, but ordinary dicine couldn’t restore them.
"I’ve been using it." Lü Shu said.
"How much longer until this guy fully regains his vision?" Lin Yin patted Lü Shu’s shoulder, "Su Ming’an, it’d be too cruel if by the ti you’re done, he still couldn’t see."
"Soon." Su Ming’an smiled, "The dicine has already restored his eyes; as long as there’s extrely powerful energy assistance in the future... he will see."
"Extrely powerful energy assistance, isn’t that when he becos a First Level God? How long will that take?" Lin Yin shook his head.
"Don’t worry." Su Ming’an said.
He will give him the eyes.
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