Chapter 1744: Chapter 88: The Crossing [Choices]
Su Ming’an knew that if he absorbed the nourishment of the Demon Mother Goddess, he would drift further and further away from the term "human."
The sword spirit "Lunxue" of the Holy Sword had once said: In the Luowasha’s Twenty-seven Gods, Second-level Gods and Third-level Gods are essentially creations. But First Level Gods are completely different. They are true ’Gods,’ and just by looking at the body of the Demon Mother Goddess, you can understand Her vastness and magnitude.
Ascending from "Second-level God" to "First Level God" is equivalent to rising from a "very powerful person" to a true "God."
The essence of life, divine power, divinity... all would undergo a qualitative transformation. The recent battle with the Demon Mother Goddess proved this point — when Su Ming’an fully activated his authority, he lost the characteristics of a human.
"...Ugh."
From inside his torso came the sound of shattering that made his teeth ache, while the sound of his heartbeat grew slower and slower. The waves of agony surged like a tide, each one higher than the last. He couldn’t see the bullet screen; ascending to High Dimensions meant shedding the human body, transforming into a "monster" in human eyes, no longer bound by human form.
"If only ’monsters’ can achieve ideals..."
In the depths of chaotic consciousness, however, this thought was as clear as a needle anchoring the sea and even surpassed the pain that could shatter a deity.
"I can become a monster."
It’s not out of intoxication with power, nor out of the greed for eternal life, but purely for the ideal that carries the lives of billions. Every person obsessed with ideals to the point of madness is the most terrifying monster.
To achieve something, to grasp something, not caring about happiness and peace, which are distant and elusive, discarding even the most basic integrity of oneself—how could such an extremely twisted sacrifice not be an exhilarating beauty?
If humans refuse to save monsters, viewing them as deviants, then let monsters save the monsters.
Save the billions of "player monsters," who, like him, are struggling to survive in the game.
In a trance, he felt a fluffy, large tail sweep across his face. It was Xiao Love, crouching beside him, gently singing Zhai Xing’s nursery rhyme, as if trying to soothe him with a gentle song, stabilizing his mental anchor point.
Such a nursery rhyme should be sung by elders to children, but Lin Wang’an had never sung it to him.
In his childhood, he never received love, yet when he grew up, he became so expressive in giving love to the entire world.
No one can understand the principle behind this; a child drenched in rain grows up, and instead of tearing apart others’ umbrellas, gives his own to everyone...
This really doesn’t make any sense...
...
[Absorption Progress: 50%]
...
—The white crane spreads its wings, soaring high above the clouds.
"Hold on tight!" Cynthia shouted softly, piloting the white crane out of a fighter jet stance, diving headlong.
Qin Chunyao gently strummed the strings, and green Life Energy surged into the hollow in Yamada Machiichi’s chest, forcibly maintaining the faint heartbeat.
"Can you connect? Yamada! The curtain won’t hold!" Laine’s voice howled in the communicator, background echoing with violent explosions and screams.
Yamada Machiichi sat on the back of the white crane, gazing at the sky with blurred vision. Raindrops hit his face, icy and bone-chilling, yet they couldn’t wash away the bloody taste surging in his throat. His head felt dizzy, like experiencing low blood sugar after running a thousand meters at school... Fortunately, he grasped his gun tightly, as if all his strength had found a fulcrum.
"We’re here—!"
Below, the venue of the Creator Conference resembled an anthill. What once was absurd and joyful scenery had become shattered and desolate; ribbons and balloons soaked in pools of blood and rainwater. The most shocking sight was the people. A dense crowd filled every corner of the venue like tidewater, extending onto the surrounding streets. Among them were Luowasha’s nobles, commoners, soldiers.
Everyone’s eyes glowed red, as if they had lost themselves, becoming zombies.
At the moment when the crane group entered the shooting range, countless attacks poured toward the sky like a reverse black rainstorm!
"Is it the Lord of Dreams? He controlled these people!"
"Protect the Yamada Brothers!!"
"Shan Tiantian cannot die!"
"Charge down!!"
"Help him block it—!"
The players’ roars mingled with the mournful cries of the white crane. One white crane was struck by several light bombs, crashing down with a lament. Another white crane’s wing was corroded by Shadow, and the player on it instantly dissipated into ash, scattering to the wind.
Qin Chunyao’s pipa strumming grew extremely urgent, sound waves transformed into sharp blades flying around. Flora’s face turned deathly pale, overextending her mana to summon Meteor Fire Rain. Erwin summoned wraiths, Cyrus lifted guns, Kristin incanted spells...
"Charge!!!"
The crane group charged like moths to a flame, braving a rain of bullets, launching an assault on the tightly sealed, layered high platform.
Blood mixed with rainwater, spilling from the sky.
Constantly cranes fell, players were hit, and they screamed as they were dragged into the horde below.
"Yamada!!!" Flora screamed, her white crane struck by a colossal bolt of lightning. Amid its screeching, she clung tightly to Yamada Machiichi, using her remaining strength to hurl him forcefully towards the high platform!
"Catch him!!!"
A dark red figure leaped like a ghost from the edge of the high platform—it was Blood Prince Xi Ge. She had been waiting there for a long time, catching the falling Yamada Machiichi with precision, and crystal exploded.
"Ugh... cough..." Yamada Machiichi heavily crashed onto the cold, slippery surface of the high platform, coughing up a large mouthful of blood. His vision swirled, ears filled with deafening shouts, and roars.
"Xi... Xi Ge?" He felt surprised that Xi Ge, as a royal of the Blood Clan, had also come to support.
"The Master of the Blood Race ordered me to fully assist the players." Xi Ge’s long hair fluttered, tall figure like a banner, holding a blood crystal spear, she turned back coldly, saying, "We Blood Clan have a strict hierarchy; upon hearing orders, we fight to the death... Hang in there, young man, don’t let yourself die before me, it brings disgrace to my surname."
"The Master of the Blood Race?" Yamada Machiichi was a bit dazzled.
"Lü Shu." Xi Ge uttered the two syllables, as certain as ironclad.
Hearing this name, Yamada Machiichi was taken aback, but soon Qin Ze’s shrill scream came over the communicator:
"Quick! We can’t hold on—!"
Yamada Machiichi struggled, supporting his upper body with an elbow. The pain in his chest nearly made him fall unconscious.
Below the platform was an endless and frenzied crowd. The players’ defense lines retreated step by step, and each retreat left more blood and bodies. Cyrus roared, fists bloody and battered; Cynthia’s vines were charred en masse; Taluji’s melody was drowned by the cries of battle...
Yamada Machiichi’s heart seemed gripped tightly by a cold hand.
With innumerable people escorting him, he crawled toward the platform, drenched in blood. He had once wanted to stand on such a platform countless times, basking in the attention of the entire world, yet now that it was realized, his heart felt submerged in ice water, and he couldn’t find joy.
As he crawled, he saw familiar figures...
—Lord of the Undead Xi Ting’s White Bone Armor had mostly shattered, the ghostly blue soul fire flickered unsteadily, yet she remained steadfast by his side.
She was the first royal Su Ming’an subdued, coming under Su Ming’an’s orders.
—Dan Shuang’s strength of the Evil Dragon was nearly exhausted, her body covered in wounds, yet she clenched her teeth to persist in battle.
That was Ming Hui’s Dan Shuang... her Radiant Seal had dimmed, she had shared her Giant Dragon Power with Su Ming’an, fighting with only ability.
—Chao Yan seemed to have used some forbidden Life Magic, and the green glow flickered in her hands, while blood seeped from the corner of her mouth.
—And in the corner, the white-haired Bishop seemed to be doing something. The Bishop crouched down, drawing something on the ground.
Who is that? Yamada Machiichi’s thoughts broke for a moment, unable to recall the person’s name, as he desperately stepped over corpses and blood, inching towards the center of the stage.
His sleeves were already in tatters, revealing the cracked wounds on his pale skin, while the oil paint on his face blurred with rain and blood. Each step pulled at the wound on his chest, bringing soul-cracking pain.
Warm liquid involuntarily flowed from his eyes, mixing with the oil paint and rain on his face, dripping down his chin.
No one saw.
The makeup was too thick; tears only made the colors more chaotic.
Finally, he donned the amplifier, shivering at the cold touch of the microphone. His muddy and bloody hand clung tightly to it, as if it were a lifeline.
Then, he took a deep breath and lifted his head.
Continuing to connect the logic.
Blood trickled down the corner of his mouth, which he clumsily wiped away with his sleeve, leaving dirty marks on his painted face.
"Protect Yamada!" Below the stage, Cyrus, covered in blood, finally heard Yamada’s voice. He paused for a moment, realizing Yamada Machiichi had successfully ascended. He immediately roared louder, "Kill—!"
Cynthia’s voice trembled, urging new vines: "Kill...!"
Everyone was desperately standing in front of Yamada Machiichi.
Yamada Machiichi did not look at them.
He did not dare to look.
Tears mixed with blood flowed unchecked across his painted face. The carnage below the stage was even more brutal. Each scream was like a heavy hammer striking his heart.
His life had seven minutes left before it declared an end; he was giving his final performance.
Six minutes.
Five minutes.
Four minutes.
He spoke hoarsely, allowing the broken causality to connect.
The red rain poured, unable to wash away the blood on the stage.
He stood in the center, behind him were burning companions, before him endless crowds.
"Bang—!!!"
...
"Bang—!!!"
The gun fired.
The sound echoed loudly before the silent Abyss Gate.
Wang Xingkong’s head hung low, his wet brown-black hair clinging to his decayed scalp and forehead, his face completely unrecognizable, only a vague outline was visible.
He shakily pulled out a gun from his waist, aimed it at his own heart, and quickly fired.
However, the bullet did not penetrate his heart. At the last moment, his arm was abruptly pushed aside by the Blue Mist Man! The bullet veered off its intended path.
"Pfft!"
A dull piercing sound.
Blood mixed with shattered tissues exploded from Wang Xingkong’s right side abdomen in a burst! A ferocious bloody hole appeared instantly, hot liquid gushing out, quickly saturating his tattered clothes.
"Ugh—!!!"
Wang Xingkong fell heavily onto the cold ground. His vision blurred, life’s breath leaking like a punctured balloon, quickly fading.
This gun was given to him by Zhao Yuan earlier.
...
[Zhao Yuan looked at the colorful paper cranes, pointing at his chest: "I used to be a war photographer, saw too many soldiers begging me to end their lives, often losing half of their bodies, wanting to die but unable to. At that time, I’d think, I must prepare a ’last bullet’ for myself."]
["Last bullet?" Wang Xingkong looked up. ]
["To end my life with dignity, free from final torment, not driven by desire to become a beast..." Zhao Yuan said.]
...
A gun.
A gift from the top-ranked player Zhao Yuan. Wang Xingkong had secretly tried it, needing no skill, just pulling the trigger could easily blow off the head of a training dummy—if the target were a living person, the result wouldn’t be any different.
He imagined, in case of encountering a vicious villain, he could, like a hero in a movie, pull out this gun and solve the problem handsomely.
He never thought... one day he would stand before it, facing a cruel decision.
There were many bullets in the chamber, but he only had one chance to fire. Zhao Yuan was right, this was the "last bullet", only enough to do one thing.
—Was it to shoot the Blue Mist Man’s body standing beside, praying for the Blue Mist Man’s separated consciousness to be killed?
Or, reverse the gun... aim at his own heart.
The Blue Mist Man had already clearly told him that even if he left here, he could not survive. Combined with the unbearable melting pain... Wang Xingkong was in agony, without much thought, he shot himself.
However, he missed.
The Blue Mist Man regained body control in time, maneuvering him away from the shot.
The Blue Mist Man never thought this guy would have such courage, to commit suicide? Was this something Wang Xingkong could do? It ignored a person in extreme pain and despair, mostly thinking of ending their own life.
It quickly checked Wang Xingkong’s body, finding it completely worn out and beyond control. It had to abandon the control over Wang Xingkong’s body, the entity formed by blue mist churned violently, manifesting a vague human shape, speaking:
"Do you know what you’ve destroyed? Do you know what you could have become...no, what you originally could have become?"
Wang Xingkong lay in a pool of blood, his consciousness floating in agony. He heard the Blue Mist Man’s voice, but was too weak to respond, his lips twitched, spitting blood foam.
His gaze began to scatter, looking upward at the "sky" dyed by abyssal demonic qi:
"I... don’t have... the courage to become... a hero..."
"But I have... the courage to not become... a sinner..."
"I don’t want to hurt anymore..."
"So... I chose... to fire..."
