Chapter 1722: Chapter 66: Return Road
[The tenth round of the game is a fixed level, where every participant faces the exact same game.]
[This game is called: Return Road]
[In this round, all the lives you have directly or indirectly caused to die will vote for you. If more than half support your current path, supporting you to continue moving forward, you will pass. If the supporters are less than half, you will fail.]
[You can use any method to persuade them, whether coercion, temptation, persuasion, or promises... Please make those who lost their lives because of you willing to support you in moving forward!]
[Confront your sins, pay homage to the past.]
...
"Click!"
Su Ming’an opened his eyes.
The surroundings lit up.
A total of twenty-six beams of light shone down, with a person standing under each light.
Si Nian, Evelyn, Lu, Najasha, Bai Chun, Xiao Xiao, Violet, Leslie, Rimu Sheng, Su Shi, Bonnie, Yang Changxu, Agnes, Joy...
They looked around, and some saw Su Ming’an, revealing expressions of joy. As long as Su Ming’an was still there, they hadn’t lost.
...
[Now appearing are the twenty-six people with the highest number of victories so far.]
[This level will decide who the final thirteen winners are.]
...
Subsequently, the host for this level slowly appeared.
Above the silence, the White Wolf approached.
"Welcome, group 12’s twenty contestants, to the level, point 001 · Return Road. I am the host of this level, Shen Lv." White Wolf began,
"The game begins, now transporting everyone back to their respective starting points..."
"It’s starting just like that? Wait, we need to talk first..." Su Shi instantly raised her hand.
The next moment, everyone’s vision changed dramatically.
...
Yang Changxu opened his eyes to see a void ahead.
He scratched his head and let out a sigh. Looking left and right, seeing no one, he took a few steps forward and found himself walking out to see the host, Shen Lv.
"The first." Shen Lv said indifferently.
"I... I cleared it?" Yang Changxu incredulously pointed at himself.
Shen Lv nodded: "You’ve never caused anyone’s death, so you didn’t see anyone."
Under normal circumstances, those who reach here have indirectly caused at least one death, but Yang Changxu was an exception.
Yang Changxu felt at ease, having been sent to assist Su Ming’an by the United Group’s orders, missing every game for nine complete rounds was a bit regrettable.
He stood there waiting, suddenly realizing a problem—
Wait, "indirectly caused death"...
A ruler issues a war order, those who die in war are "indirectly caused to die." A civilization’s pioneer decides the direction, and anyone not keeping up is "indirectly caused to die." In that case... how many people will Su Ming’an encounter?
Yang Changxu opened his mouth, suddenly trembling.
...
Su Shi opened her eyes and found herself in a tavern, full of debris and stains from explosions everywhere.
She recognized this place, it was her mother’s tavern.
In the nearly deserted tavern, a woman in her forties sat, holding a cup of tea, sipping elegantly.
"Who are you?" Su Shi asked in confusion.
The woman slowly lifted her head.
"I am the one who was killed by your self-destructive attack that day. Remember? During the fourth instance, you launched a self-destructive attack and detonated a bomb in the tavern." The woman said calmly.
"Impossible. My self-destruction that day caused some damage, but no one died!" Su Shi immediately said.
"Indirectly causing death also counts. That day, I was frightened and developed a mental illness. Later, due to my mental issues, I died in an instance... The source of my death is you." The woman said, "If you hadn’t shouted about ’removing those unworthy of salvation’ and detonated the bomb, I wouldn’t have died later."
Su Shi said, "After that incident, many people realized the dangers of the Main God World and chose to participate. Moreover, those who just sat in the tavern drinking tea and eating seeds, enjoying other players’ live broadcasts as if watching a game... had no value in pursuing light."
"Is that so?" The woman said, "The United Group did not hold you accountable, so does that mean you were not wrong? They just thought you had connections with Su Ming’an and wanted to use you as a link to reach him. It turns out that the theory of [Light Pursuer Grading] you adhered to early on was merely a false slogan by Su Ming’an to guide others; you thought you understood him but only caused him public trouble at the time. Those people who were munching seeds in the tavern might now be fighting heroically on some frontline. You should have tried to make more people aware, not used extreme violence to instill fear."
"—In that situation, someone with no reputation calling out, ’Everyone wake up! Get involved! Don’t waste away in the tavern, treating others’ live broadcasts as a joke!’ — would such an action be effective?" Su Shi retorted, "Now, people have faced the concept, knowing that Su Ming’an and they are fighting for humanity and are heroes. But before, during the most chaotic times when the World Game had just begun two or three weeks, if not for the self-destructive awakening that caused a sensation—what should I have used to awaken people’s numb and ignorant spirits?"
"Yes, I didn’t have the right to judge their lives and deaths; thus, they judged the pioneers’ lives and deaths through the screen with a smile. I don’t have the right to assess whether they are useless trash incapable of pursuing light; maybe they will become pivotal in the future, but what did they do at the time? They mocked Su Ming’an in the live broadcast room, questioned on the forums if he was a lackey of the Organizers, and spread the idea of not trying in the streets and alleys! Those drunkards pointing at the live broadcast screen while drinking... are as disgusting as maggots."
"I never claimed that my actions were noble, but after my explosion, the number of involved players significantly increased. It was the very beginning of the World Game, and the role of adventurer players was undoubtedly far greater than that of casual players; I made a group of lazy people, lying on the merits of players at the top of the leaderboard, stand up on their own! Do you know how many percentage points my actions advanced in the human Points progress bar?"
"You don’t love Su Ming’an at all," the woman said.
"Maybe, maybe I really only love an abstract concept, a deity I defined myself." Su Shi said.
"You’ve caused someone’s death, yet you speak so firmly." The woman said.
"I don’t regret my actions," Su Shi said.
"Have you become aware?" the woman said.
Su Shi pressed her lips together.
The person Su Shi was responsible for killing was only this woman. If she supported him, he would pass this test; if she didn’t forgive him, he would also die here.
If he begged on his knees and cried, perhaps she would be willing to forgive. But he still voiced his true heart, as if self-destructive.
"A life for a life, very fair." Su Shi said faintly, "If you believe your death was caused by me, then don’t forgive me; let me compensate you with my life."
Destiny is a ring of drama.
Su Shi in the early days of the World Game would never have imagined that his action of initiating a self-destructive attack would ultimately directly concern his own life—the person he caused to die now had to decide his life and death.
Everything has come back full circle, like a round.
The woman sat on the wooden chair, hands folded, eyes closed for a moment.
Then, she spoke calmly to Su Shi, "I believe that, regardless, no one has the right to deprive another of their life. And you believe that under such extreme conditions of the World Game, to timely advance the human Points progress bar and change the current dull atmosphere, it is necessary to use direct means to awaken people’s ignorant souls, even if it contradicts the traditional social values and laws once adhered to. Your actions have indeed proven to be effective, but effective doesn’t mean right. As a victim, I have the right to hate you."
"Yes." Su Shi said, "I cannot deprive you of the power to judge me."
"At the beginning of the World Game, you judged people like me based on ’usefulness.’ At the end of the World Game, it is my turn to judge you." The woman said.
"Yes." Su Shi said, "My behavior no longer needs to be repeated; now everyone understands his ideology, and I don’t need to remain; whether or not I’m forgiven doesn’t matter. Judge me as you please; I don’t care and I don’t regret it."
"..." In front of the woman appeared a red button and a green button.
Green is "support." Red is "refuse support."
She reached out her hand and pressed the button.
...
Si Nian stepped into a desolate wilderness.
He held an old gun, standing in the midst of a charred wasteland. The morning mist lingered like indissipated smoke around him.
Then, he saw people.
One, two, three... gradually emerged from the thin fog. They wore different military uniforms, some ragged, some stained with blackened blood.
"Remember me?" A somewhat familiar young man spoke, speaking in the accent from Si Nian’s hometown.
Si Nian’s throat tightened.
"You... are you from my hometown too?" Si Nian remembered, after a battle ended, clearing the battlefield, he found a blood-soaked literacy booklet in the enemy’s arms, with a crookedly written address on it.
"Yes." The young man nodded, "That was my first time on the battlefield; you stabbed me to death."
Si Nian couldn’t speak. He remembered the look in this child’s eyes as it ended—a great confusion, not understanding why there was a war.
"How is your family?"
"I don’t know." The young man shook his head, "There was conscription; those wielding the Creation Pen demanded each family produce a young strong man. My parents can’t walk, and I have a three-year-old sister, so I came. It’s just a pity for my mom’s pickled vegetables; they should be ready to eat that year."
"It’s a pity indeed, our mountain’s pickled vegetables grow well; they’re always delicious when pickled..." Si Nian said.
What an absurd conversation. They should have been mortal enemies, yet here they were, in the misty wilderness, chatting about pickled vegetables and hometowns.
More people gathered around.
Si Nian recognized many faces. The machine gunner he shot during the charge, the sentry he took down with a knife during a night reconnaissance, the old soldier whose neck he broke in the ruins while fighting for the last jug of water... The old soldier walked over, pulled out a canteen from his pocket, and handed it to Si Nian.
Si Nian’s hands were trembling.
"Why?" He looked at these people—people who should have hated him to the core, "Why don’t you curse me? Why don’t you demand my life?"
A soldier scratched his head: "Curse for what?"
Si Nian said, "You all died, and I’m still alive. It’s not fair."
The man with the scar on his face chuckled: "What’s fair in this world? We were dragged to the battlefield, who asked if we were willing? I still have three acres of land waiting to be tilled at home. But the orders came, the uniforms were issued, the guns were shoved into our hands, and we had no choice."
An old soldier said: "We also killed people; we also killed your compatriots. When looking through the sniper scope, who still cares who’s on the other side? You just think if he’s dead, maybe I can live a little longer."
"Kill one, advance ten meters. Kill five, maybe we can get a hot meal. Kill twenty, and perhaps we can see the sun tomorrow."
"We’ve become ghosts. It’s not just about killing. It’s about watching the living turn into the dead."
The old soldier shook his head: "Yeah, everything’s simple on the battlefield, kill or be killed. No need to think about anything. I dreamed of spring plowing last night... Tell me, Si Nian boy, even if we lived through it, when the day comes that we can really go home, can we still hold onto the plough handle?"
"Si Nian boy, you’re really lucky to have survived, to see tomorrow for all of us," said a round-faced soldier.
They gathered around, chatting animatedly. They talked about the wet lice in the trenches, the nauseating smell of grease, the terror of watching the shells fall, the longing for the smoke from their hometown, their wives’ faces, their children’s babbling...
Si Nian reminisced with them, talking about the daily life on the battlefield, talking about the war, talking about why they fought and why they pointed their guns at each other.
Some were ordinary, some knew him, and some were from the same hometown, but once they were on the battlefield, they could only be enemies. Though they were mortal enemies on the battlefield, they were no different from long-lost old friends, chatting about everyday life, talking about the past.
War turns living people into evil ghosts.
At this moment, Si Nian felt a massive, empty sorrow that had come decades too late.
"I was supposed to be at home holding my grandchild, he was supposed to go back and get married, that little kid should have been going to school... But a war broke out, the big shots wanted power, or some famous protagonist wanted to claim honor... and we had to go to war, crushed to nothing," the old class leader said,
"Si Nian boy, we were indeed a bit unwilling, why was it you who survived? But gradually, we understood that what’s wrong is the thing that turned all of us into these ghostly forms."
"It’s the war that turned living people into evil ghosts who only know to kill and be killed."
The wind of the wasteland wailed like the low sighs of countless lost souls.
The old class leader sighed: "Lord Olivius wasn’t wrong, and the Savior from the Otherworld wasn’t wrong, we cannot control our destiny and life and death... But fortunately, among us, someone survived. You survived, Si Nian."
Si Nian’s vision blurred, nodding forcefully, his adam’s apple moved, unable to make a sound.
Suddenly, through the crowd, he saw a haunting figure.
The smell of gunpowder was replaced by a faint floral scent, a mix of hyacinth and freesia, while the warm golden sunset bathed the mottled ruins. A figure was standing with its back to him, absorbed in arranging a faded bouquet of flowers on its knees.
Si Nian’s breath stopped.
So, so "she" was also considered indirectly harmed by him. If he had gone home earlier on the day the Knight killed her, she wouldn’t have died...
Si Nian’s vision blurred:
"... Chun Tang?"
The figure paused, slowly turning around. She was wearing a faded, light-colored dress, with dirt on the hem.
"I..." Si Nian had a thousand words stuck in his chest, "I’ve come back."
"Welcome back." The woman smiled. Her gaze went past Si Nian’s shoulder, looking behind him.
Si Nian sensed something, turned around.
More figures appeared in the alley’s glow.
A young man with messy curly hair who always had a silly grin—Sashari. He wore an ill-fitting old military uniform, his face smudged with dirt from training.
Beside Sashari stood Koleya. She was very quiet, wearing a simple medic’s uniform, her hair neatly tied at the back.
Further back were familiar faces—Uncle Wang who sold baked cakes at the alley entrance, Aunt Li who always handed over freshly baked cakes with a smile, and a few half-grown children who used to help in Chun Tang’s flower shop...
They were all there.
Si Nian’s vision quickly blurred. He spoke to them about his experiences afterward, about Su Ming’an’s story. He talked about the concept of high dimensions, the deities’ games, the world’s truth... explaining these things to souls that had only ever just crossed over the mountain top.
"I’ve become a wandering sinner and met Su Ming’an. He said our world is fake..."
Sashari scratched his messy curly hair: "Brother Si Nian, what do you mean by fake? I don’t quite understand?"
"It’s this world of ours, everything we’ve gone through—the beacon fires of the Eastern Territory, the sunset at the Red Tower, the scent of flowers in the alley, all thought up by the Radiant Mother God. Outside, there’s another way things were meant to be."
A moment of silence.
Sashari blinked: "So if that real story comes back, will we still be here? Will we still be dragged off to war like before?"
This question was sharper, and all the departed souls looked at Si Nian.
Si Nian remained silent for a moment: "We will. As long as there are people in this world who want to step on others, as long as there’s injustice, as long as there’s something to fight for, as long as class still exists... we little pawns will have to fight. But maybe in a more real story, our days could get a bit better? Like eating a full meal every time with steamed buns."
"Steamed buns that fill you up..." Sashari muttered, eyes unfocused, as if he saw paradise.
A man with a scarred face suddenly sneered: "Who cares if it’s real or fake! All I have are memories of peeing and playing in the mud here as a kid! My folks were real, going hungry and freezing were real! Even if some bored Immortal made up our story, this is the life I lived! If someone suddenly told me—You lived the wrong script, you were supposed to be a rich young master. I wouldn’t recognize it!"
A red-skinned soldier muttered, "Yeah, what’s the point of real or fake? I just remember my wife’s fried cakes were delicious."
Sashari said, "Real or fake doesn’t matter, even if it’s woven by the gods, it’s true to me. Suddenly telling me what a normal life was supposed to be, I wouldn’t accept it. What I’ve experienced is what’s real, right?"
Koleya said, "Brother Si, the ’real’ you’re talking about is just another kind of strange ’story’ to us."
...Is that so. Si Nian was momentarily confused.
Suddenly, a soldier with a young face asked softly, "Then... Captain Si Nian, do you hate the Radiant Mother God?"
Si Nian shook his head: "No feelings, it’s too far away, I’m just a small soldier, how could I hate Her? If it weren’t for meeting Su the God, I’d still be swindling money in some muddy ground."
"But what if the Radiant Mother God lets us stop fighting and live a fairy-tale life?"
Si Nian said, "That wouldn’t do either. I need to help Su the God; he’s my hope for resurrecting Chun Tang."
"Who exactly is Su the God? Captain, why do you admire him so much?"
"Su the God... walks a path a thousand times more tragic than ours, yet he still moves forward, wanting to give everyone a different ending. If you saw him, you’d think it’s worth following him too."
Sashari sniffed and patted Si Nian’s shoulder heavily: "Bro! Say no more! I wish you success! Make sure to bring Sister Chun Tang back!"
"Yeah! Captain! Good luck!" shouted the comrades of the sixth team.
"Children, take care... take care of yourselves..." Uncle Wang and Aunt Li wiped their eyes.
"Brother Si Nian, do you still have the little rabbit I sewed for you in the past?" Chun Tang asked.
Si Nian took it out. It was a small cloth rabbit made with scraps of blue cloth.
"Carry it with you and keep moving forward. Not as a wandering sinner but as Si Nian, as a person with a future." Chun Tang hugged him, kissing him goodbye.
She stood with all the other departed souls. Their figures bathed in the warm twilight of the alley.
Chun Tang pressed [Support]: "Go on."
Sashari pressed [Support] and shouted: "Bro! Tell me what the sweetest wine tastes like!"
Koleya pressed [Support]: "Brother Si Nian, if you meet the Radiant Mother God, ask Her who I was meant to be."
The young soldier pressed [Support]: "Ask Su the God for me, I want to know... whether tiny soldiers like dust have the chance of not walking onto the battleground in the real future."
Uncle Wang, Aunt Li, the children, all the comrades of the sixth team... one by one, they made the same choice.
Spirits wearing different military uniforms, hailing from different camps, made a united choice—they, as the ordinary Luowasha people, without the reckless freedom of players, lived as dust, died like ants... but someone can move forward.
Support. Support him moving forward.
Support an ordinary person to witness the times the departed could not reach.
...
Lu Likalpos opened his eyes.
He smelled the scent of dust and old wood.
His vision was dim, with only a sliver of light seeping through the gap of the wardrobe door. He found himself curled up, his body that of a child, clutching a brown teddy bear tightly.
...Oh, he had returned to his childhood.
He realized almost instantly what time this was, for it was this memory that was the most deeply etched into his mind.
