He looked up—gazing at the tall buildings.
Yasa Acto’s image was still lit, the only source of light in the night.
The young doctor smiled gently, as if he could sprinkle his intellect and wisdom into this grim world of humanity.
Su Ming’an and Acto’s likeness stared at each other for a long ti, like two travelers gazing into each other’s eyes.
In the world chat channel, players were still talking:
[Hagt (Unaffiliated): !!I can really hear the voice of Ta Wei, I feel the "Source" inside , a voice is teaching how to use the "Source"!]
[Mi Lili (United Group): Don’t listen! The deities of this world are Ta Wei, they’re not good things! Don’t be blinded by a temporary increase in Combat Power!]
[Sun Xun (Yangtze River System): Even though I don’t want to listen, this voice keeps ringing in my ears, tempting , making acknowledge them...]
[Li Yi (Unaffiliated): Uh, can we players get the "Missing" disease? If we acknowledge Ta Wei, will we gradually lose our mories and beco different from before? Missing disease is contagious, if we who are ill return to the Main God World...]
[Lou Jiqi (Unaffiliated): It shouldn’t... co to that. "Missing" seems to be a disease, a physical problem? A brain issue? I think we’ll be cured when we return.]
...
Su Ming’an withdrew his gaze.
New Year’s Eve was in a few days.
A year ago, he never would have imagined that a few days before this year’s New Year’s Eve, he would be facing such a predicant.
He took out an ID card and walked towards a small two-story building.
With a "beep", the door lock opened, and he pushed the door to enter.
The dwelling was very clean, the coffee table in the living room was dust-free, and so art books were stacked on the table.
The living room and bedroom were connected, with a narrow and tidy bed placed in the corner, next to several unopened boxes of paint.
He followed the stairs up, the wooden steps creaking underfoot, and upon reaching the sowhat cramped second-floor attic, he pushed open the door—to a broad vista.
Dim light spilled through the low window at an angle, and in the angled room, dozens of pieces of painting paper hung on wooden easels, arranged in a row like a series of reflective bust mirrors.
The owner of the house seed skilled in gouache painting, mostly depicting landscapes.
Green hills and waters are almost unseen in this era; they are like scenes from a dream, preserved on paper, beckoning the viewer with longing.
On the downstairs door, two blood-red seals were affixed.
[Owner of the house, Number IJ-1982, Qiu Li, confird dead.]
[The house will be processed.]
...
With a "rustle", Su Ming’an flipped open a book on the floor titled "Records of Landscapes Before the Century Catastrophe"— the pictures inside showed faint distant mountains, layers of peaks upon peaks, clear mirror-like waters, small hills carrying a few wisps of mist, creating a quite picturesque scene.
One could tell, Qiu Li longed for the days before the Century Catastrophe.
What would she think about when she occasionally got lost in thought as they traveled together?
Would she wonder... if she hadn’t beco "Missing", could she have strived to live long enough to witness these beautiful landscapes with her own eyes?
Su Ming’an closed the book in his hand.
He placed the ID card between its pages, bringing together the small na "Qiu Li" and the distant mountains she longed for.
Suddenly, he turned his head and saw a figure in a black robe, a long flute in hand, floating outside the low window.
The figure in black was playing the flute, and the flute music was clear and pleasant in the night.
Su Ming’an imdiately went on high alert.
...This person really appeared like a ghost outside his window.
"Lu, co take a walk with ," Lin Guang said. He put down his flute, revealing a stiff smile.
"Do you want to be friends with that badly?" Su Ming’an took a step back.
"Lu, co take a walk with ," Lin Guang repeated without answering.
Su Ming’an was silent for a mont.
"Alright," he said.
He would sacrifice so sleep tonight; after all, the other was the boss of the faction.
Lin Guang showed a smile, seemingly very pleased with the outco.
As Su Ming’an left, he looked back for a mont.
Above the walls of the room hung a large landscape painting.
The crescent moon hung quietly on a branch, while the deep sky was embedded with stars and the moon. A girl wearing a Demon Fox mask stood beneath blooming peach blossoms, her bright red sash fluttering with a scarlet arc.
It was a beautiful painting.
Qiu Li indeed had a talent for painting. Each of her paintings allowed one to glimpse the wonderful era before the Century Catastrophe.
Unfortunately, such a talent for painting was the least valuable in this era.
"Are you very concerned about the owner of this house?" Lin Guang’s voice ca from beside him.
"No," Su Ming’an said.
"She’s dead," Lin Guang said. "People don’t co back to life. Once she’s dead, she’s just dead."
He was insistent on this point.
"I know, I am just passing by," Su Ming’an said.
"It’s aningless, a waste of ti. She’s already dead," Lin Guang said.
Su Ming’an remained silent—was roaming these dark, blind streets with you not a waste of ti?
...He couldn’t reason with a madman.
"That person called Qiu Li, her room is filled with paintings from before the Century Catastrophe," Lin Guang said. "Even if only so irrelevant records like landscape paintings remain, people are still trying to restore the world from thirty years ago. Even though their mories have been erased, they still yearn for it..."
As he spoke, a gloom began to appear in Lin Guang’s eyes:
"They... don’t like this era of mine."
Lin Guang referred to it as "my era," viewing himself as the ruler of the current tis.
As the most powerful Agent of the deity, Lin Guang could kill anyone at whim and dominate any Believer in the City of Gods; he indeed had the qualifications to speak in such a way.
To Su Ming’an, however, Lin Guang was just a dog that had sought shelter with Ta Wei, betraying the World.
A dog that had luckily been the first to co into contact with Ta Wei, receiving the most favor from him and thus becoming the most powerful.
In the end, a dog is still a dog.
Lin Guang rely took advantage of Yasa Acto’s disappearance over those thirty years to seize such a dominant position.
They walked through the dim night, with only the sound of crushing frost underfoot, no scenery around, and temperatures so cold they could kill a man, but Lin Guang seed to enjoy this kind of "stroll."
It seed that simply walking like this brought him joy.
As they walked, Lin Guang took out his flute and began to play.
When they passed Beacon Shelter, Lin Guang stopped.
"What’s wrong?"
"You’re ho," Lin Guang said. "Good night."
He had no intention of encroaching on Su Ming’an’s sleeping ti.
This walk, although called a stroll, felt more like nightti protection.
Su Ming’an headed toward the Sanctuary, while Lin Guang still stood in the sa place, watching him.
Seeing Su Ming’an look back, Lin Guang forced a smile, which appeared quite distorted on his rigid features.
"—Tomorrow is my last day patrolling Zone Eleven, after which I will return to the City of Gods," Lin Guang said. "Lewis, would you like to co with ?"
Su Ming’an watched Lin Guang.
In the next mont, he activated the Ruler’s Skill.
...
[Ruler’s Skill activation failed.]
...
...Huh?
Su Ming’an was montarily stunned; he had not expected the Ruler’s Skill to fail again.
There were only three possibilities—the other party didn’t have a Favorability bar, or the other party wasn’t human, or the other party’s Favorability was already full.
Lin Guang stood in place, waiting for his answer.
"No," Su Ming’an said, "I have already joined the Freedom Faction, I won’t switch to the Deity Faction."
Hearing Su Ming’an’s refusal, Lin Guang’s expression remained unchanged.
"This is the second ti you’ve refused ," Lin Guang said.
He turned, the cold wind lifted his black cloak, and he moved away very fast, vanishing from Su Ming’an’s sight in a flash of light.
The night was silent, and the streets were quiet.
Su Ming’an stood there for a mont, then activated his teleport, precisely moving to his third-floor room.
"Swoosh—" Xike’s figure suddenly appeared.
"Doctor, soone has been in your room," Xike said.
Su Ming’an noticed it too.
The strand of hair he had intentionally placed on the door was now on the floor, the door had been opened.
"Check the recording," Xike said.
Su Ming’an’s personal terminal was on the table, the cara continuously running.
Su Ming’an played the recording.
In the footage, half an hour after he left, soone knocked on the door. Seeing no response from inside the room, the person took out a key and unlocked the door.
"...Not here?"
Two people entered. A red-haired boy and a black-haired girl.
They looked around and noticed traces of adhesive tape being torn off the window.
"He’s gone out," the red-haired boy said.
The black-haired girl stared at the empty bed: "Tretiya said he is Yasa, and I’m happy Yasa has finally co back. It’s just... it seems like he’s forgotten everything."
"Better he’s forgotten," the red-haired boy clenched his fist, "Since he has forgotten everything, we shouldn’t force him to continue leading us. Before he vanished, I felt that if he could let go of all responsibilities... how great that would be."
"Now is not the right ti for him to reveal his identity. The Deity Faction, in order to eliminate any chance of human rebellion, will do whatever it takes to assassinate the human hero. Even though Yasa’s image stands tall, it’s just God Ming An’s way of pacifying the masses; he himself absolutely cannot return," the black-haired girl said:
"Since he’s now called Lewis... from now on, that’s who he will be to us. The na Yasa Acto is too burdenso, we... let’s forget it."
They closed the door gently, their footsteps fading away.
Su Ming’an turned off the personal terminal.
He had recognized the two people—they were attendees of the night eting, Number Eight with red hair and Number Nine with black hair.
Adding to that the Lin Guang, who closely resembled Number Six, Su Ming’an could infer that Numbers Two through Nine attending the eting all belonged to this ti period.
Why did they appear in a eting seventy years later?
The audience watching the stream began giving him suggestions:
[Acto is no simple matter! Not only did he ss with the Century Catastrophe thirty years ago, but he’s also causing trouble in the City of asurent seventy years later. Now that Su Ming’an has arrived, he’s likely to stir up the Dawn War!]
[Holy shit, as the Savior during the Century Catastrophe, disappearing for thirty years and then returning to lead humans against high-level civilization—Fired up!!]
[What in the world is Lin Guang? What kind of creatures are these eight attendees from the nightly etings?]
[Reasonable guess, those attendees are no longer real people, right...? Probably sothing like images. Otherwise, it’s impossible to explain how they’ve barely aged in seventy years.]
[Then why can Lin Guang, this big villain, sit together with Tretiya and the others? He’s Number Six, after all!]
[Good thing Su Ming’an started wearing a mask, hiding that he’s Acto, otherwise what we’d be seeing now is probably the entire Deity Faction hunting down Su Ming’an. Acto is humanity’s Fireseed, he would definitely be eradicated upon his return.]
[Fired up! I want to see Su Ming’an lead all of humanity to beat down high-level civilization—hurry, waiting online!!!]
[Why do I feel like this high-level civilization is kind of like the Organizers’ way of invasion?]
[...]
Su Ming’an pushed open the door.
The hallway was quiet, with only the higher-ups of Beacon Shelter living in this building.
By chance, at the exact mont he opened the door, another door also opened.
It was a stocky little boy, holding a fiery-red sniper rifle in his arms.
Startled by Su Ming’an opening the door, the boy shrank back.
"You, are you the newcor who arrived today?" the little boy asked in a soft voice.
"Who are you?" Su Ming’an frowned. This was a residence for high-ranking mbers, so why was there a child living here?
The child imdiately puffed out his chest, a proud look on his face:
"I, I’m Beacon’s most accurate sniper! I have the best vision and can also use ’Source’ to assist in aiming at targets, no one can escape my sniping!"
"Source?" Su Ming’an said. "You’re not part of the Deity faction, yet you listen to the Whispers of the Deity?"
"Almost everyone listens; how else can you beco stronger? It’s just that we aren’t as fanatical in our faith in the Deity as those in the Deity faction," the child said, puzzled. "Anyway, it won’t imdiately cause the ’Lost Disease.’ As long as I beco very strong before I get sick and can protect the people around , isn’t that okay?"
"What if you do get sick?" Su Ming’an asked.
"Then let the people around kill ," the child said. "[Before I am lost, kill ]. Isn’t that what the adults always say?"
"..."
Su Ming’an looked at the little boy.
A child, to speak such cruel truths with such an innocent tone.
"I know you’re a very capable chanical Maker. Don’t go running around outside; it’s very dangerous. See you," the little boy waved his hand.
"——What’s your na?"
As the boy descended the stairs, Su Ming’an asked.
The little boy turned back, a bright smile on his face.
He carried a bright red sniper rifle; beneath his short, cropped hair were a pair of hawk-like red eyes.
"——Rember! I am the future sniping star of Beacon! My na is Cheng Luohe!"
...
...
"Huh..."
The pipe emitted a wisp of grey smoke, and the wind chi hanging on the door curtain jingled.
Noel was flipping through a book. This book was extrely worn, with the word "Revelation" on its title page being the only word he could make sense of; the rest was obscure and incomprehensible, not a word he could understand.
He had already been staying in this antique shop situated in the Danger Zone for two days, seeking clues while hunting so nearby exotic beasts.
As for Kaius Tower, he hadn’t attended; his blood-red eyes were not sothing that would allow him entry into the city.
"Young man, how are you finding the book?" An old voice ca through, as an elderly man with white hair and a stooped posture approached.
The old man seed to have a disability in his legs, blind in one eye, his pupil cloudy and unclear, he could barely walk with the assistance of a cane.
"Boss Cheng, this book is quite interesting," Noel said. "It’s an antique from the Dawn War era, isn’t it?"
Boss Cheng leaned against the door, as if reminiscing.
After a mont, Boss Cheng shook his head: "It’s all not worth ntioning."
"How co?" Noel said.
Boss Cheng puffed on his pipe, smoke drifting into the air. He tapped his pipe with his withered fingers, lowered his head, and chuckled softly:
"Everyone around is dead. What’s the point of talking about that history?"
"Right," Noel said curtly. "War, huh, dead people can’t be helped. You’re lucky to have survived."
"...Ha ha."
The old man let out a light laugh, turned around, the wind chi touched his forehead, jingling softly, his white hair looking wan.
Noel stepped forward, intending to continue searching through the books.
"Ding—Clang."
He suddenly bumped into sothing.
A crisp sound of sothing falling: a fiery red sniper rifle leaning against the wall clattered to the ground.
Its surface was a mix of rust and tal patterns, too damaged to shoot, and it seed to have been broken for a long ti.
Noel casually kicked the rifle, parts scattering on the ground with a rattling noise, the gun was unrecognizable.
"What a junky gun," Noel said.
He kicked it again, heard the parts shatter, and laughed maliciously.
The energy source of the gun fell to the ground, resembling a pair of hawk-like red eyes.
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