Chapter 1739: Chapter 83: I Wish for You to Walk in the Light
Lu lazily fiddled with the chess piece, smiling, "Don’t worry, if you defeat the Lord of Dreams, maybe I can get out."
Su Ming’an heard the cruelty behind this sentence.
... What does this mean, if I don’t intend to challenge the Lord of Dreams at all?
Could it be that you can only sit here all alone, in this small space visible to the naked eye... forever as the solitary Blue King?
No one sees you, no one hears you, you are a deity, with an infinitely long lifespan... are you to be left here to rot in loneliness?
"It’s okay, I can try to think of a way." Lu noticed Su Ming’an’s expression and comforted, "While you were out, I’ve been studying these chess pieces... This is the game space created by the Lord of Dreams, maybe if enough time passes, I can understand some of His abilities, then I can get out? I’ve always had confidence in my insight. At the time, I didn’t have a choice; if I didn’t send you out, we would both die on the chessboard. Now I’ve left myself a sliver of hope. Don’t you have Soul Ferry?"
"Yes."
"Record me, if I really am no longer, then after you’ve ended everything... see you in the future world of rebirth. Maybe I’m just tired, wanting to be lazy and not partake in the exhausting process that follows. I want to open my eyes and find it’s the future."
"... But how would I know that it’s you?" Su Ming’an shook his head.
Soul Ferry is a method of the "Fire Transmitters" from the Tenth Replica, the World of Old Days; it was precisely this method that allowed the last Su Wensheng to bear the will, belief, and personality of countless people, summoning the most similar Original Su Ming’an.
Indeed, Su Ming’an can use "Soul Ferry" to carry the souls of the deceased, finding a way in the future to resurrect them, but this inevitably touches upon a philosophical problem he’s pondered since the Ninth World—are they still the same people? It involves the authority of high-dimensional "souls," "life," and the mechanisms of the World Game, and this question is hard to answer.
Maybe, the souls of the departed are already dead, and Su Ming’an merely remembers their forms, creating an entirely identical comrade.
Perhaps, the souls of the departed haven’t died, just stored in Su Ming’an’s brain, so the resurrected is the original owner.
"Let the living struggle with this question." Lu shrugged, unusually not offering comfort, instead slyly throwing the problem back. Perhaps he also didn’t want to face it head-on, perhaps he also knew the futility in pondering it.
He stepped down from the throne, walking up to Su Ming’an.
"Earlier, through the barrage, I noticed you seem to be avoiding sacrifice," Lu said, "By the time you got here, many had sacrificed themselves around you. You regret for them, feeling their deaths were because of you, perhaps if you hadn’t insisted on moving forward, they would have lived peacefully in the small world..."
Su Ming’an pressed his lips together.
"You misunderstood," Lu said bluntly, his sea-blue eyes looking over, "You’re not sitting idly by sacrifices, nor treating them as expendables to pave a path... you must remember, we got this far because of you—there was no path, and we forcefully carved a path, which is the greatest."
"From mastering fire to building the first city-state, from gazing at the starry sky to stepping into the universe... each leap couldn’t happen without a cost, not to mention a war for civilization’s survival. Do you remember how many died in the Ruined World over a hundred years of struggle? It’s now less than a tenth of that. Sacrifice isn’t wrong because it’s brutal; those in power must learn to forgive themselves."
"Viewing sacrifice as disaster, avoiding it isn’t kindness. Once a path is chosen, someone must inevitably become its foundation. If you see every fall as your sin, that path will eventually collapse beneath your feet."
"Don’t let the observers delight in your collapse—don’t let heroes be crushed by what they protect, leaving the path desolate with the sorrow of its builders."
"Grasp the sword they’ve passed on to you, go forth, win that final battle."
Lu sat back on the throne, as if this place wasn’t his cage, but his resting place, joining his hands on his knees, bowing with a smile.
One day, when light fully enters reality, shadows will naturally find their place.
Su Ming’an.
—I hope you walk in the light, but first step into the shadow.
Su Ming’an’s gaze traveled through layers of chess pieces, seeing the smile on the man’s face. He saw gentleness, regret, expectations... as if mud and shadows never existed on the man’s face.
The chessboard spread vast as a star sea, extending to the edge of sight, deep within the forest of black and white pieces, the sea-blue king smiled. Cloaked in fur, holding a scepter. As if merely a Lamp Keeper stationed here, waiting for the captain returning from the frontline sea.
Su Ming’an didn’t quite understand, Lu didn’t seem the type to sacrifice himself, why...
Those deep eyes seemed to see through his thoughts: "Maybe because if I don’t do this, I’ll die too. Rather than perish together, I’d rather we all live. I’m not sacrificing for you, I’m making a choice for myself—have you wondered what the world would be like without you?"
"That would be a nightmare world even I would dread... If you were to fail here before leading us to our ideal, leaving a half-done world, how many would become madmen, how many would lose hope? I merely chose not to face a world without you, to keep imagining the future."
"So, let’s leave it at that." Lu withdrew his hand, turned, his back seeming somewhat thin against the star sea, "You should go now."
"If you choose to challenge, I’ll be waiting for you."
"If you choose not to challenge... I’ll keep trying to escape, until my last second, I won’t give up."
Su Ming’an stood in place, watching Lu’s back.
He suddenly remembered long ago, in the wind and snow of Qiongdi, Lu had said—
...
["Su Ming’an, I’ve always admired you."]
["If among all the Peak Players, I had to choose one I respect most... it’s you—I really like you."]
["Because you’re the Number One Player—you’re the best, the most fitting for what people need now!"]
...
Back then, Lu’s eyes held unfiltered admiration and recognition.
Now, in Lu’s eyes, there was only calm determination.
Lu sat back on the blue throne, already in a posture of sending a guest off. He had no intention of letting Su Ming’an linger, staying with him, a prisoner.
Su Ming’an did not delay either, decisively saying:
"My brain is very limited."
"Lical Bos, but you will certainly have a place."
Lu smiled, this seemed like the first time Su Ming’an had earnestly called his surname.
"It’s okay, even if I can’t save everyone. It’s okay to be greedy, Su Ming’an... you can be greedy."
"Remember to send Bei Wang a message for me, telling him to forget those childhood memories of mine, they’re not worth remembering. Also, send Yamada a message, telling him that he can definitely succeed."
The sea flowed behind him, like a deep blue velvet carpet studded with endless pieces of diamond. Soft light fell from the void, his gaze crossing the distance of the chessboard, landing on Su Ming’an:
"I am already an inescapable ’character’ in this game, like the Blue King in the story’s background."
"When you’re ready to end everything, when you’ve cleared all obstacles before you, when you’ve finally become a pure ’Chess Player’—"
The cloak edges flowed down from the throne’s border, laying on the black and white grid, shimmering like the deep sea at midnight. The man sat upright on the throne, holding a scepter, furs like night, blue hair like an abyss.
He smiled, waving his hand.
...
"When you’re ready to end everything, go and fight Him."
...
After Su Ming’an left, Lu’s shoulders slightly slumped, and his gentle expression instantly faded as he quietly gazed at the silent chessboard.
His shoulders trembled at some unknown point, and his fingers also began to shake.
Returning to the solitude of one person, possibly facing endless waiting... In his heart, he actually hoped that Su Ming’an could create a miracle again and take him out. He couldn’t deny he was afraid.
His mother was right; he was a monster without feelings, his gentleness was all a facade, and his politeness was all for benefits. Retreating in order to advance was something he was always good at. He had just spoken words like "understanding" and "it’s okay" to make it impossible for Su Ming’an to let him go.
When he joined the Peak Alliance, he had clearly stated that he was there for post-war benefits and mutual cooperation, not for friendship, bonds, or courage. Sacrificing oneself while shouting about friendship and bonds no longer applied to him as an adult.
He closed his eyes, gripping the scepter tightly, as if he could suppress his trembling with it.
If there ever came a day when he sacrificed himself for others, it would mean that his clever mind had suddenly gone mad, breaking the vicious curse that his mother left upon dying.
"...Su Ming’an."
The star sea was silent, and the stars shone brilliantly.
...
Outside the door.
On the battlefield, the dazzling golden light clashed with various colors, as the army of a million players charged like waves.
"2 points, 3 points, 6 points..." Qiuqiu fashioned one mechanical ball after another, hurling them into battle.
The players savored the exhilarating feeling of mowing down enemies on the battlefield, watching as each defeated enemy made their experience bar rise slightly. Under the assault of the World’s various species’ followers, the zealots of the Radiant Mother God were not as numerous as before, and now mostly consisted of various bizarre creatures made by the Radiant Mother God—a rock with golden wings, a one-eyed golden spirit deer, a yellow monster with twisted strange tentacles—and even any tree or flower could become an enemy.
As the battle wore on, it felt as though the whole World was rejecting them. Though they were the defenders of their homeland, they seemed like intruders. Even the air was hard to breathe, smelling dry and unpleasant—this was the Radiant Mother God, standing from the Creator God’s standpoint, rejecting this group of "troublesome" outsiders.
"Watch out!" Suddenly, a beam of golden light shot toward Qiuqiu. A bright red motorbike swerved in, and Xining, the rider, immediately raised his hand to shield Qiuqiu from the blow.
"Thanks, bro," Qiuqiu said with a smile. They were old teammates from the Remote Control Army.
"Phew... I don’t know how much longer we can hold out. Even with so many of us, it feels like there’s no end to the enemies. At this rate, the corpses we’ve killed might rise up and attack us again." Xining wiped the sweat from his forehead, looking completely exhausted.
"For created beings, it is impossible to resist the creator for their entire lives... The Radiant Mother God can create enemy troops with a flick of her fingers, whereas our energy is limited." Qiuqiu’s gaze pierced through the chaotic battlefield, pressing his lips together, he suddenly ran in a certain direction.
"Hey, where are you going!" Xining tightened his grip on the motorcycle’s handlebars and called out hastily.
"I’m going to check on Brother Wang!"
"Who? That guy standing in the Abyss? Is he still alive?"
"Watch your mouth!" Qiuqiu shot him a glare.
"Sorry, hop on. It’s too dangerous to cross on foot, I’ll take you." Xining scratched his head, stopping next to Qiuqiu.
The wind laden with the scent of smoke lifted the short hair of the young girl as Qiuqiu jumped on the motorcycle. Xining twisted the throttle, the wheels kicked up a stream of fiery clouds, speeding along with a long, red tail following.
"I saw Wang Xingkong earlier, he doesn’t look like he can hold on much longer. Standing in the Abyss for so long, it’s too much for anyone. The demonic Qi is unbelievable, just a few breaths made me feel awful. It’s amazing he’s endured for so long," Xining said, eyes ahead.
"Ah? I saw in the live broadcast room that the bullet comments said Su Ming’an is about to come out, let’s bring Brother Wang back quickly!"
"That’s what I think too. Someone should have picked him up already."
"Yes, let’s go check it out."
Amidst the chaotic and brutal battlefield, they remained composed. It was a composure unique to players, a belief that they wouldn’t die no matter what. If death was no longer the ultimate threat, then there was ample room for maneuvering in anything.
"Hey?" Qiuqiu raised her hand to shield her eyes, "So bright! What is that..."
In the distance, streams of people scurried like ants, with the warriors at the forefront, mages, and priests in the center of the army, and assassins on either flank. Under the command of the chief players, the defensive line steadily withdrew.
Xining lifted his head, the whipping yellow sand brushed past his vision, and several golden figures fell like shooting stars in the dusk-like sky, dazzlingly bright like another sun.
"It’s Hua De’s Wizard Alliance! They’ve finally come!"
"Captain Hua De!"
"Do we have more top players coming to support us?"
Countless people, seeing them as their savior, shouted incessantly, waving their hands eagerly.
"Damn, they finally arrived." Xining breathed a sigh of relief, "They’ve been fighting endlessly under the World Tree, and now they’ve finally come."
The yellow sand whirled as they raced past the edge of the battlefield, heading toward the Abyss.
Black as ink, the Abyss soil was viscous like a swamp, blooming with blood-red and deep-black wraith flowers, a field of ghostly bones. The most perilous was the poison gas wafting from the Source Point, more terrifying than any monster, lethal upon contact to ordinary life forms.
They saw a small group of four to five hundred support system players, standing orderly at the edge of the Abyss, rhythmically waving their magic wands, casting various skills toward the door at the Abyss’s center. Surrounding them was a protective guard of four to five hundred players, well-equipped, each with combat power of at least three thousand, primarily focused on close combat with shields lined up.
So orderly and meticulously arranged, deploying a full thousand players, all just to ensure Wang Xingkong could hold his ground at the gateway.
At this moment, Xining and Qiuqiu both felt a wave of awe... The tactical deployment, the awe of gathering human strength into one.
Each of these support system players was as valuable as a giant panda, and now, such critically important support players had gathered in such numbers, accompanied by bodyguards with combat power exceeding three thousand. To keep them from going to the front lines to level up kills but stay here to protect someone, what extraordinary coordination does that demand?
"Just for..." Qiuqiu murmured, "one person."
In the flower garden blooming with radiant blossoms, a brown-haired boy with a headband sat.
He was surrounded by swirling demonic Qi, everything he could see with his naked eye was darkness.
Hundreds of meters away from the nearest player, he stood here alone, deep in the tiger’s den—persisting in an environment completely uninhabitable for humans.
From the opening of the Source Point to its closing, he held his ground for a full thirteen rounds of games.
By his feet were countless unused memory spheres, each sparkling faintly like little stars. Wang Xingkong would repeatedly input the information he needed to transmit into each small sphere and throw each one into the door. He hoped some would roll into the area where Su Ming’an was, and reach Su Ming’an’s feet.
Perhaps there truly was some resonance, as some of the spheres really did roll to where Su Ming’an was passing, and were heard by Su Ming’an.
The players learned through the live broadcast room bullet comments that Su Ming’an had found an information sphere. The support players guarding the edge of the Abyss promptly shouted loudly to inform Wang Xingkong of the news. Upon hearing it, Wang Xingkong was exhilarated—it meant his efforts hadn’t been in vain, and he could indeed become a bridge between the inside and outside!
"Gululu, gululu..."
Then, one by one, the information spheres rolled in.
To transmit a single message, Wang Xingkong often repeated the same sentence hundreds, even thousands of times, throwing them into hundreds, thousands of spheres to ensure that even with only a one percent or one-thousandth chance, Brother Ming’an might hear it.
