Chapter 1173: Chapter 172: Arrival
"Everyone who could be named has basically arrived."
On the west side of the first-floor auditorium, Wanli Fengdao pushed up the square glasses on his nose and whispered to Xing Hechou sitting next to him.
Little Brother Dao, as a former bounty hunter, had not shown his face in public for a long time—shortly after the Portal World battle concluded, he joined the Special Affairs Bureau’s Mobile Detachment as a special advisor, searching for Heterodox Academy’s relics, no longer working as a bounty hunter.
And his parents and friends were also brought to the Portal World, truly becoming their own people.
"Hmm."
Sitting in the Special Affairs Bureau’s camp, Xing Hechou also pushed the brown square glasses on his nose and scanned the first-floor auditorium.
In the Sky Arena, players can use their equipment, skills, and items, but cannot affect others or detect them,
so Xing Hechou, Wanli Fengdao, and other colleagues from the Special Affairs Bureau were all wearing special trait glasses provided by the technical equipment department—these glasses can record real-time images and transmit them to the data processing center outside the Sky Arena,
after computation by the data processing center, the information is sent back to the glasses.
With a quick glance, every player’s personal profile can be explored, knowing them like the back of one’s hand.
"Life-Killing Hospital and Blue Lantern from the Japan Islands,
Dahan and Feather Snake from European Heavy Industry—I thought they died at the hands of the military-industrial complex, but surprisingly, European Heavy Industry didn’t discard them as rags.
AIM from the Federal Bureau of Investigation—I heard that recently quite a few senior officials in the United States have died, and David is leading people around the world looking for murderers.
And the Justices, Temple Knights, Witch Alliance...
Oh, Brother Li is here too."
Wanli Fengdao saw the recognizable figure in the white coat amongst the crowd and also spotted Wang Congshan—the two of them had a circle of empty seats around them, and no one dared to sit next to them, making them quite conspicuous in the auditorium.
Wanli Fengdao hesitated to raise his hand and waved slowly to that side, seeing Li Ang also raise his hand in return. He wasn’t wearing that signature dragon head mask, looking in good spirits, holding a bowl with his other hand.
"It’s been a while since I saw him."
Wanli Fengdao smiled as he lowered his arm, squinting his eyes, slowly saying: "Well... It hasn’t been that long, just two months."
Players’ sense of time vastly differs from ordinary people; two months is but a blink of an eye for mortals, but to the blood-and-guts-licking, not-a-day-guaranteed Transcendents,
two months is enough for many happenings, stretching those sixty-some days long enough to feel like years.
"It really feels like... another lifetime."
Wanli Fengdao seemed to ripple with memories, somewhat melancholy: "Hey, Old Xing, do you remember the first time we met?
At the Solitary Cold Temple.
You, me, Miss Liu, Brother Li, and little Master Hui Bin, five people, counting Miss Chai, five people and a ghost, surrounded by various demons, joined their feast, watched as they prepared to slice open a live person for drinks.
If it hadn’t been for you taking the lead, I might have really witnessed an innocent die unjustly, too afraid to draw my sword."
"That time, huh..."
Xing Hechou squinted his eyes too, nostalgically: "Haha, why are you recalling the past now? Having a change of heart?"
"No, just expressing feelings."
Wanli Fengdao waved his hand, "After that, I became a bounty hunter, Miss Liu took over the Liu family inheritance rights, you became a high official in your Mobile Detachment, and Master Hui Bin... I remember you said he went to work for the National Sect Association last time?"
Xing Hechou nodded, "Yeah, he joined a project at the Social Science Academy. I haven’t been in contact with him for a while. You know, the confidentiality rules prevent contact with anyone outside except for superiors."
"Is that so. That’s good."
Wanli Fengdao sighed, hesitated for a moment, then continued: "Old Xing, tell me, how much longer can I live?"
"Hmm?"
Xing Hechou raised an eyebrow in surprise at these words, looking his friend up and down.
From the external biometric scan results of the glasses, Wanli Fengdao seemed full of energy, with a faint oily glow on his forehead, embodying vigor and spirit, far from looking like he’s near death.
"What’s wrong with you, speaking nonsense all of a sudden? Do you want the medical staff to take a look?"
"I’m not sick."
Wanli Fengdao smiled bitterly and waved his hand, his expression calming, speaking softly: "With the progress of the Killing Ground game, I feel increasingly unable to hold on.
Each mission becomes more difficult and dangerous, constantly challenging my limits, pushing me further away from what it means to be human.
I met many people as a bounty hunter, befriending those who could be called ’friends’,
but now, half of my friends list has turned gray.
Players who walked through together during the same period are dying one by one, and I don’t know how much longer I can endure, nor understand what the Killing Ground game aims to extort from us players.
This life of walking on thin ice seems endless..."
Xing Hechou gazed at the boisterous auditorium, his focus drifting.
Along the way, he buried countless comrades, witnessing numerous sacrifices and deaths.
Even those companions with will as strong as steel before becoming players, some have had their edges smoothed, lost their will to survive, and quietly disappeared along the journey in constant tests of death.
Considering the five who first met at the Solitary Cold Temple, for all to remain alive can already be called an extraordinary miracle.
"We Transcendents are capable of splitting mountains and blocking rivers, appearing mighty, but only we know we are but fortune’s ill-fated blokes chased by Death."
Wanli Fengdao self-deprecatingly said: "Only those who shed all humanity and rationality, those who disregard being human, such as the players nurtured by European Heavy Industry,
or innately gifted, capable of thriving in the environment of the Killing Ground game,
can easily ignore the tightening noose and live freely.
Ironically, there are still so many ordinary people unaware, or pretending to be unaware,
eagerly pursuing player qualifications, seeking chances to ascend beyond ordinary."
"Besieged Fortresses? Those inside wish to exit, those outside desire to enter?"
Xing Hechou smiled slightly, understanding Wanli Fengdao’s sudden melancholic anxiety, having felt such emotions himself.
He has his own parents, wife, children, and once peaceful, happy life, but all of this was taken away, never to return.
"...Don’t overthink it, before the Killing Ground game began, we were just ordinary people pushed by the times, and we still are, no different."
Xing Hechou smiled bitterly and patted Wanli Fengdao’s shoulder, offering somewhat demoralizing comfort. A heavy glint flashed deep in his eyes.
In fact, within the Special Affairs Bureau’s XK-class end-of-the-world scenarios, the worst possibility has been anticipated—
The Killing Ground game harbors grand ambitions; this current iteration, like countless previous iterations, fails to satisfy the Killing Ground game.
Thus, destruction comes, Earth reshuffles,
and humanity, even those hiding in the Portal World, must face inevitable extinction.
In such a scenario, players and Transcendents would be granted death indiscriminately, even top Transcendents like Cold Waterstone and Su Ni Sheng cannot defy fate itself.
To counter such apocalyptic scenarios, one option the Special Affairs Bureau has adopted is dreaming.
To make a dream that kidnaps all of humanity.
They will activate an unprecedented giant machine,
A machine that fuses all the wisdom and novel technology of the equipment research department, integrating the traits of dream elements like Meng Si, King of Shengnan, and Yuka Yuri.
It can forcibly and unknowingly pull all humans into a grand shared dream.
The time outside the dream will be slowed to the extreme,
while inside the dream,
billion people continue their peaceful lives.
No players, no killing games—7 billion people remain oblivious to the outside world, continuing with their births and deaths, raising children, daily dramas, pots and pans...
The dream still follows the physical laws of the real world, so the 7 billion people in the dreamworld can continue developing technology, researching anti-rocket ships, hopefully exploring the unknown universe—
Until one day, a select few sensitive sages in the dreamworld notice the falsehood of the world and, in madness, reveal the truth.
Then, the self-correcting system of the dream machine will activate, resetting all conditions to zero, and begin the next cycle.
Human civilization will, in the stable and peaceful cycle, face the real Armageddon from the outside.
Self-deception or desperate self-rescue,
The XK-level Armageddon defense program named "Dream Shore" is the memory Xing Hechou least wants to recall, yet he did not request his medical colleagues to wash away this portion of his memory.
Because "Dream Shore" can also be a form of alternative relief—within the department, there are colleagues who have suffered immense torture and pain in script missions and cannot be cured with conventional treatment,
and others who cannot maintain rational thinking, will be connected inside the machine,
slowly calming within the slow-play cycle of life.
Dream Shore is one of the ultimate fallback measures for every officer and the entirety of human civilization, although Xing Hechou hopes he’ll never need to use it in this lifetime.
Beep, beep, beep.
The vibration of the watch pulls Xing Hechou from his heavy thoughts back to the real world; he comes back to his senses and looks toward the arena.
30, 29, 28...
The countdown numbers on the watch quietly tick down,
The tens of thousands of squeezed spectators in the bleachers also quiet their mouths, waiting silently.
The vast space suddenly quieted down.
Finally, the countdown ends, and the Samsara Battle officially begins.
———
Moon, Tranquil Sea Cloud Palace.
The Drought Demon sits on a plain wooden chair, resting one hand against his chin, lazily crossing his legs, looking at the gray-brown big-headed television ahead.
The other "people" are also watching that television.
The professor stands to the side, his gaze calm and gentle,
Archille casually fiddles with the red bow-tie on his neck,
The Mirage Dragon lowers its eyelids, its dark green eyes squinting into a line, making it hard not to suspect the giant dragon is secretly napping.
Boom—
A long explosion sound penetrates through the clouds from afar.
The Drought Demon doesn’t even twitch an eyelid.
During this period, people on Earth still persistently send detectors to the moon.
They are eager to get information from the Immortal Species, time and again showing goodwill and begging for meetings.
The killing game has made moon exploration more convenient; aside from certain skills reducing the rocket-building cycle and cost, some props even reach the second cosmic speed, flying straight from Earth to the moon orbit.
But unfortunately, neither the professor, Archille, nor the Drought Demon or Mirage Dragon are interested in conversing with mortals.
All the launched detectors crash down above Tranquil Sea Cloud Palace.
Just like a clock, every so often, an explosion sound is heard.
"Finally, it’s about to come."
Archille returns the red bow-tie on his neck, his face nearly identical to Earth’s penguins, showing for the first time a heavy expression.
"Now is not the best time."
The professor sighs leisurely, looking at the gray-brown bulky television broadcasting the Sky Arena, lips slightly pursed, "The Samsara Battle came faster than I imagined."
"Worried your students aren’t ready, sir?"
Archille furrows his brows slightly at the words, slowly saying: "Or are you lamenting not choosing a better second basket to lay your eggs in?"
"No, it’s just... there’s still some concern."
The professor shook his head, "If given a little more time, they could grow better, go further.
But other worlds won’t give such chances.
I’m already very tired and weary of fleeing; Earth must succeed. My students must, certainly, succeed."
"Hopefully."
Archille the Penguin slowly nodded, his eyes skimming over the calm-faced Drought Demon and the sleepy Mirage Dragon behind.
The Samsara battle is about to officially begin,
Perhaps due to some anxiety,
Archille the Penguin has an even stronger talkative urge than usual, "Don’t you two seriously want to look?
Your old acquaintances are likely joining this war too."
"..."
Sitting upright in his chair, the Drought Demon quietly lifts his eyes, coolly sweeping over the gray-brown television and Archille the Penguin, saying calmly: "They are not my old friends.
Whether it’s the Necromancer of the Heterodox Academy or the so-called deities, they’re all dead.
Now what’s resurrected from the grave are merely undead specters.
And that includes the Sibi King."
Archille’s face displays a peculiar expression, "Cough, cough, he isn’t different from them..."
"There’s no difference; the real Sibi King is long dead too. Now alive is just a residual shadow from the past."
The Drought Demon shook his head in some disgust, seemingly harboring intense loathing towards the corpses unwilling to die obediently.
