Upon hearing this call, Su Ming’an was slightly stunned.
He looked up and saw a tall, thin figure carrying a long sword, holding a bunch of jasmine flowers, looking at him.
Under the stone pavilion, the young man dressed in ancient-style clothing blended with the surroundings, appearing exceptionally harmonious.
Su Ming’an recognized this person.
In the Sixth World, White Sand Paradise, this was the only presence in the extrely dangerous and oppressive world that made one feel relaxed.
"Big brother, you look so tired," Mo Yan said, "Big brother should rest more, sleep more. It, it really pains to see you like this..."
His smile remained unchanged, still as ingratiating and heartwarming as ever.
"You... how did you get here?" Su Ming’an rembered the list of competitors, and Mo Yan was definitely not among the top hundred players.
"Big brother, I ca to bring you flowers." Mo Yan smiled as he handed over the jasmine flowers, "You said it yourself that making a flower crown to wear can restore your san value, right?"
Su Ming’an glanced at his san value, a stable 65 points, which had never dropped before.
"How did you get here?" he asked.
"? I feel sad for big brother. I thought that big brother hadn’t contacted in such a long ti, maybe you had forgotten about , so I used a special prop to co and see you, big brother. You really do look exhausted," Mo Yan said.
Mo Yan tore at the jasmine in his hand, plucking the petals one by one and stringing them together with the branches to simply make a flower crown.
"Look." He stretched out his hand, placing the flower crown on Su Ming’an’s head, "Check if you feel your SAN restoring. I specifically used twelve flowers, it’s very standard."
Su Ming’an adjusted the flower crown on his head and saw his SAN value was indeed rising.
He didn’t bother about the flower crown and started walking out.
"Big brother, where are you going now? You’re heading to the First Tribe, aren’t you?" Mo Yan followed behind him.
"Yes."
"What is big brother going to do in the First Tribe?" Mo Yan raised the sword in his hand, "—I know! You must be going to beat up that Young Tribe Leader and seize the authority to accomplish the feat of becoming one of Bai Shen!"
Su Ming’an ignored Mo Yan.
"Big brother, are you in a bad mood?" Mo Yan leaned in closer.
"No."
"I knew it... Big brother, are you influenced by so topics on the forum?" Mo Yan said, "I saw people saying that if there was no big brother, humanity would be more united."
"..."
"They say that much of the internal strife revolves around you," Mo Yan continued, "Without such extraordinary abilities, many similar factions would have divided and opposed each other, avoiding internal strife—but your existence has not reduced it."
Su Ming’an stopped walking.
"Edward and the others want to kill you—it’s fundantally about creating internal strife," Mo Yan said, "When humans start to dread their own kind, it marks the beginning of internal strife. Without you, humanity wouldn’t have so much internal strife—big brother, your existence is a mistake."
"...You entered this instance just to tell these things?" Su Ming’an said.
"Ha, hahaha..." Mo Yan scratched his head, grinning, "Isn’t it just because I felt that what they were saying was wrong that I said these things..."
"What’s wrong with that." Su Ming’an said, "Human thought is quite rich."
He felt the dampness on his body growing heavier.
He touched his face, and his hand felt utterly moist.
"Big brother, you must continue to move forward," Mo Yan suddenly said. "Play it as clear and penetrating as a piano interlude."
"..."
"Big brother, you know that in saving others, you put yourself at risk, fully aware of what you are doing and the consequences that may follow. Therefore, whatever the outco, you should accept it calmly," Mo Yan said.
"..."
"Crystal clear... like the moonlight over the sea," Mo Yan said. "Will you take her to see the ocean, or like the girl before, let her die in a hopeless dream within the instance?"
"..."
"The perforr played a piano piece for a dying old man, allowing the old man to see all the landscapes he wished to see, and the perforr saved the old man... But who can save the perforr?" Mo Yan said.
...
Su Ming’an’s eyes widened slightly.
Brilliant, multicolored light spots twinkled in his vision, with a warm aura lingering around him.
The rainbow light, symbolizing abundant dew and a bountiful harvest, caused a slight stinging sensation on his skin, signifying it was removing diseases from their bodies; it was a symbol of good fortune and health.
Colors danced before his eyes, and everything around seed to be dancing with the people, accompanied by faint whispering sounds, like the choir of angels and the church singing beside his ear.
He walked sowhat tiredly, with Mo Yan chattering unclearly beside him.
Finally, Mo Yan reached out and tightly grasped his right hand.
Next to him, Yuanyuan floated over and tightly grasped his left hand.
Their hands transmitted a warm heat, as if offering him support.
"... We will always be with big brother," Mo Yan said:
"Big brother is never alone."
...
...
[Main God World]
"Is this for real? This is no joking matter!"
Inside the office of the World Academy, Cartes asked again for confirmation.
Opposite him, in the video feed, sat a middle-aged man with graying hair.
"Edward is now in the top floor ward and a specialist team has been ford," the middle-aged man said. "He beca like this as soon as he returned, possibly under the influence of death. After all, before his death he was pierced by tentacles and subrged in black mire... it might be the lingering effects of this special ’tamorphosis’ state."
"Is this tamorphosis really that exaggerated, can a person still collapse after coming back?" Cartes’s brow would not relax.
"...It should be considered a lingering effect," the middle-aged man said. "His emotions were already extrely unstable, not in a good psychological state, and this unique ’tamorphosis’ could physically provoke his suffering, disrupt his senses, and cause a ntal collapse.
Like those who ca back from White Sand Paradise, many of them are still mad; it is a long-lasting, even permanent effect."
"I know, I know," Cartes said. "... But ordinary players are one thing, he is Edward, even he can be ntally affected..."
"Should we keep him under pressure not to participate in the ga anymore, to prevent his points from being erased, or..."
"We have invested so much..."
"... If there is a first case there will be a second, if peak players keep collapsing in the future... given their high weight, the overall points progress bar, could it..."
"... I understand."
Several cigarette butts tumbled into the ashtray, their twisted bodies revealing the anxious and heavy mood of Cartes.
"Do everything possible to heal Edward. He represents the pinnacle players, and he absolutely must not encounter any problems. Once he falls, the vast majority will lose faith, and our determination to challenge the progress bar will seem like child’s play." He switched to video chat:
"...yes, he must be healed completely. Use the best resources, the best healing plans!"
"If there are no resources, go find those ordinary patients and re-allocate them! Just say the resources are too tight to distribute to them."
"...rather let ten thousand ordinary players die than allow a pinnacle player to have an issue. Do you understand?"
"Not only must he be healed, but it must also be done before the Ninth World begins, we can’t expose Edward’s ntal breakdown."
"...If even Edward could break down, then not to ntion the others, the current situation of adventurer players would collapse in an instant, and no one would dare enter again! Do you realize how important this is?"
He took a drag of his cigarette and blew out a ring of smoke.
"Oh, right." Sothing crossed his mind: "Besides Edward, which of the top hundred players have been affected by this ’tamorphosis’? Those affected by ’tamorphosis’ are a high-risk group, and they absolutely must not have any problems—especially not under the public eye!"
He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if a player ranked in the top had gone mad right before everyone’s eyes.
Fortunately, Edward had co back before showing signs of ntal issues, rather than breaking down under the scrutiny of hundreds of millions live, otherwise their situation would have been extrely chaotic, and the entire world order would have been a ss.
"Oh, sir, there are so." The person on the other side flipped through the docunts in hand: "The forty-ninth ranked player, Ulrich, was once dragged into tentacles, but quickly, the tentacle monster retracted, and he woke up, appearing to have no issues for now. In addition, there’s the Number One Player Su Ming’an, he has been staying with the tentacle monster for a long ti, even making direct contact for a full day."
"How is the situation now?" Cartes had been busy handling affairs recently, with no ti to watch live streams, not knowing how things were progressing in the Eighth World.
"..." The person on the other side was silent for a while:
"Based on the current live stream... not so good," he said. "But he seems to think he’s still normal..."
"What do you an he still thinks he’s normal? What’s his SAN value now?" Cartes asked, frowning.
A SAN value below 60 points is already quite dangerous, symptoms can arise such as auditory hallucinations, sensory interference, and total body temperature imbalance. Below 40 points, all sorts of bizarre hallucinations occur, leading players to unconsciously do so very frightening things.
If the SAN value is even lower... it can cause irreversible damage to a person’s spirit, leading to breakdowns, reality tears, and even outright madness. Many have beco madn after their SAN value dropped below 40 points, never again waking from their delusions.
If anyone’s SAN value drops below 40... it’s basically a death sentence.
"Currently, the Number One Players’ SAN value is..." The person on the other side turned his head, seemingly switching the live stream screen.
"10 points," he said.
...
Su Ming’an wiped the moisture from his face, with Mo Yan and Yuanyuan following behind him.
He arrived at the pavilion where he had snacked and drunk tea the day before, and Yamada Machiichi was sitting there, absorbed in his ga of Flying Chess.
Bright red, pitch black, and luminescent green Chess Pieces lay scattered all over, the girl dressed in a blood-red Lolita outfit bowed her head, her fingers delicately twirling a dice that was as white as bone.
"Yamada, get ready to head out." Su Ming’an called out, turning toward Sha La’s room beside him.
Behind him, a series of fragnted whispers erged, sowhat indistinct.
"...it’s all your fault..."
Su Ming’an turned around and saw Yamada Machiichi still bowing his head, playing his Flying Chess alone. His blood-colored skirt flowed beside the stone table, like blood slowly streaming down.
...Was it Yamada who had spoken just now?
He glanced at the live stream comnts, but found they were just as blurry as yesterday.
He paid no more attention to Yamada, as Yamada Machiichi’s personality was inherently sowhat depressive.
Yesterday, he thought Yamada had suddenly beco cheerful, volleying between being sycophantic and wanting to play chess; he felt that her personality had changed a bit quickly, and now it seed, she was depressed again.
He walked toward Sha La’s room, pushed open the door, and found Sha La shrinking in the corner.
"Sha La, it’s ti to leave," he said.
The girl treated him like Bai Shen; whatever he said, she would listen.
But now, as soon as he spoke, she still shivered in the corner, not daring to lift her head.
"What’s wrong?" Su Ming’an said. "Weren’t you fine yesterday? Who has bullied you?"
Sha La didn’t speak but buried her head in her hair, her exposed eyes filled with fear, like an ostrich huddled in the sand.
As he approached, she raised her head, tears streaming from both eyes.
"You shouldn’t have co..." she said. "...the dim sum are not tasty at all, and the milk tea is terrible..."
Hearing Sha La’s words, Su Ming’an felt baffled.
"...Su Ming’an. Yuanyuan floated over. "Look at the room next door."
Su Ming’an turned around and pushed open the door of the adjacent room.
In the room, there was a body lying down. Her forehead had a hole, the blood had dried up, and it was the mark of a bullet.
Her eyes were wide open, as if she had seen sothing incredibly unbelievable before she died, her snow-white hair flowing beside her, like condensed moonlight.
Luna was dead.
It had been just one night, and this player, who had still been sharing sweets yesterday, had inexplicably died in her own room.
Colorful, dancing hues pirouetted before his eyes.
The splashed colors blurred his vision, and his sight deteriorated as if it had degenerated.
...Was it because his SAN value was too low?
He looked at the orange bar, which had risen to 75 points, a definitively healthy value.
He walked out of Luna’s room and suddenly saw Xiber running towards him.
"—Let’s go! It’s ti to leave!"
She carried her shotgun, beaming brightly, the colorful light points sprinkling over her snow-white hair, her eyes full of anticipation and joy.
"Did you kill Luna? Why?" Su Ming’an asked her.
"I didn’t kill her," she said. "She shot herself, maybe she was going insane."
"..."
"Let’s go," she suddenly stretched out her hand. "Let’s go see the sea."
"See the sea?"
"Yes, I saw the sea," she replied. "Co with to see it."
She took his hand.
"Wait, isn’t it the disaster period, could there be toxic rain at any ti?" he said.
"No," she replied. "Look, the weather outside is so good."
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