238 Dun… Dun… Dun…

Wen Yuhan drank the Meng Po soup in one heavy gulp, letting the entire thing rush down her throat like bitter resolve. I watched the bowl tilt and the liquid vanish, her lips barely twitching despite what should’ve been a scalding flood of memory-splitting brew.

“So?” I asked, my tone light but my eyes sharp. “How is it?”

At first, she didn’t answer. Her gaze grew hollow, like a painting with the colors washed out. I snapped my fingers in front of her face, testing her awareness. Still nothing. I leaned back in my stool and crossed my arms, tapping my fingers against the table with growing impatience. This was Wen Yuhan, an ancient soul and cunning survivor. Surely, she wouldn’t fall prey to this bowl of tea without resistance. I myself had tricked it once, by anchoring my most precious memories with threads of destiny. If I could do it, someone like her could have done the same with her Destiny Seeking Eyes.

She blinked slowly. Then again. And finally, the light of thought returned to her eyes. She looked at me, steady and serene, and said, “It was a good tea.”

That answer, simple as it was, carried weight. Her expression no longer bore that undercurrent of predation I had come to expect. There was a lightness in her features, like someone who had shed a thousand lifetimes' worth of chains. My instincts urged me to remain guarded, but the sincerity radiating from her soul, confirmed by a sweep of my Divine Sense, told me this wasn’t a trick.

“Thank you,” she whispered, then reached across the table and cupped my cheeks with both hands. 

The others behind me stirred. I raised my hand to stop them. Wen Yuhan leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“I remember being happy,” she murmured. “And a bit more. Ah. But I don't remember anymore. The sad memories, too, but I feel content. It was indeed a good tea. Still, knowing that I had been happy was enough. I had been happy, yes. That's what really mattered, isn't it? Really, thank you.”

There it was. Despite the memory-forgetting tea, some fragment of her remained. A sliver of joy so dense with fate, even the river of oblivion couldn’t wash it away. That could only mean one thing: the location, the identity, and the context of that memory had dissolved with it. Destiny had protected it… and erased the rest. At least, the 'emotion' of the memory remained, and that had been the important thing for Wen Yuhan.

“A destiny,” she said, her voice suddenly distant, “is a life lived.”

Light enveloped her before I could reply. Purple and gold motes shimmered from her skin, her form unraveling like incense smoke in the wind. I opened my mouth to stop her… maybe for a question, maybe just to complain how one-sided that contract was… but she was already dissolving. Not dying in the traditional sense, but letting her presence bleed back into the world, as if returning borrowed time.

“Let this be the seal of our contract,” she said, fading.

And then, as the last of her scattered, her voice echoed in my mind. “Sever the destiny that binds the mortals to their potential, Da Wei…”

My lips tightened. That was vague and dramatic. Just like her.

And then the world tilted again.

The golden motes she had become didn’t just fade. Instead, they bloomed. They spun slowly in place like fireflies caught in an unseen current, their dance coalescing around me, thickening the air with an aching softness. The forest around us dissolved. The scent of pine and scorched wood from the wrecked Megatron vanished, replaced by incense smoke and old stone.

I stood now before a forgotten temple, half-swallowed by vines and silence. Weathered steps climbed up to a broad, shaded landing, where the dying sun bathed everything in amber hues. There, on the steps, sat a version of Wen Yuhan far older than the one I knew… Her hair was streaked with silver, her face lined not with stress but with the calm that only came from a life settled. One of her hands rested on her knee, while the other gently patted the back of a young girl leaning against her side, head on her lap. Another disciple, a boy with his hair in a loose topknot, sat beside them with a scroll in hand, reading aloud with exaggerated inflections that made the girl giggle.

They looked content. No schemes. No blood debts. No plans to kill or possess, or manipulate. Just an old master with her students at the end of a quiet day, watching the sun set on a world that didn’t need saving.

The longer I stood there, the more I understood. This wasn’t just a memory. Instead, this was the part of her that refused to be forgotten, no matter what price she paid. It didn’t speak of power or glory, of revenge or divine defiance. It spoke of something simpler… peace. Connection. A fleeting, quiet happiness carved out from all the chaos.

I reached out, trying to touch the air around them, but my hand passed through like smoke. The mirage flickered, blurred, and then unraveled, vanishing like a dream one forgets upon waking.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Whatever else Wen Yuhan had been: a monster, a genius, a nuisance… This had been real to her. And if destiny truly was the weight of a life lived, then this was her gravestone.

Then, without warning, something ruptured in my consciousness. A surge of vision pushed through me. The world dissolved, and in its place…

An old man sat beside a tranquil lake, holding a fishing rod in one hand and a thermos in the other. He wore checkered shorts, plastic slippers, and a faded sleeveless shirt with a cartoon cat flexing its arms. A breeze stirred his graying hair as he turned slowly toward me.

“Who you?” he asked, his voice casual but impossibly deep, as if it resonated through more than just air. “This is my spot, fuck off…”

I stuttered, trying to make sense of the surreal surroundings. “Lost Supreme?”

The old man cast a sidelong glance without turning his head. “No one’s called me that in a long time…”

Without another word, I walked over and shoved him into the lake.

A tremendous splash, followed by wild flailing, greeted me. The old man thrashed and cursed as his slippers floated off, arms paddling clumsily through the water. For a moment, I worried I might’ve actually drowned a cosmic entity. Then he found his footing and staggered up to the shallows, sopping wet, wheezing like a winded dog.

“What the hell was that for!?” he barked between gulps of breath.

I gave a nonchalant shrug. “This place is strange. What if you were a heart demon or something? I’ve developed a strong prejudice toward anything with ‘heart’ in the name. Extra hate. Paranoia levels maxed out.”

Frankly, I just wanted to push the old man. I hate him. Kind of.

The old man muttered under his breath, wringing out his shirt. “Who even are you?”

“It’s me! David!” I said, pointing at myself with exaggerated indignation. “You remember Lost Legends Online, right? You practically made me… take responsibility, old man. I’ll even call you daddy.”

“Ugh. Nah.” He squinted at me like I was a rotting cabbage. “Too ugly. Can’t be mine.”

That shut me up. “…Okay, damn.”

He didn’t laugh. Just plopped back down by the lakeside and stared at the water like my whole existence hadn’t just been invalidated. Then, more quietly, he muttered, “So who are you, really? And where’s the lass? She’s the only one who comes here anymore. Every time she leaves, she forgets. Like clockwork. But I got used to her presence, I guess…”

I hesitated, then sat beside him. “She’s dead.”

The old man didn’t react right away. His eyes remained fixed on the ripples, but I saw the faintest twitch in his brow. “That’s sad,” he finally said. “But I guess she made her choice.”

“What choice?”

“To give up.”

His voice was dry as driftwood, like the words had long since lost their meaning for him but still carried weight.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “What did she give up?”

He turned to look at me properly for the first time. “Everything. Her power. Her chance at redemption. Everything she clung to. Gone.”

“But… there’s reincarnation, isn’t there? The cycle. A second chance—”

“The Wheel is broken,” he cut in coldly. “The Afterlife’s gone. The Inevitable is coming. No one knows when, only that it will. And frankly, it’s better this way. At least she chose to disappear before the end caught her.”

That landed hard. My mouth felt dry. “But she had disciples she cared about…”

He frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. I had lived through fragments of her memories, as jumbled and scattered as they were. I had seen those quiet afternoons in a temple. I had felt the gentleness she reserved only for her students. And despite everything, she had cherished them. That part, at least, had always been real.

I stared into the lake’s surface. “Man… this sucks.”

“Life sucks,” the old man replied flatly. “Everything sucks. The Heavenly Dao sucks. Better to be dead than alive sometimes.”

“That’s pretty damn pessimistic.”

He chuckled with no warmth behind it. “Humans are pessimists. That’s our default. No matter how high Wen Yuhan climbed, she was still human at the core.”

What's up with this old man? What did he know about humanity? I was honestly offended. Pessimists? Really? I digressed. Humans could be optimists, too. It was what you'd call hopeful. As for pessimists? They were what you would call a cynic. I swallowed hard. “I might be projecting here, but… I really hated her guts. She’s the worst.”

The old man tilted his head. “You’re biased. I can feel it in your heart.”

“Please don’t read my heart.”

That shut him up for a moment. I leaned back, arms resting behind me. The truth stung worse than I expected. At first, when I compared her to Nongmin, it was easy to paint him as the better man. He was noble, loyal, and wore blindfolds like a proper tragic hero. But the more I thought about it… the less clean-cut it became.

Hei Mao died because of Nongmin. I was dragged to the Summit because of him. The shitstorm that followed nearly broke me in half. Yes, he saved my soul, probably. But still…

As for Wen Yuhan? She tried to steal my body, yes. She tried to kill my father. My mother. My brother-in-law. She baited me here and tried to arm-twist me into killing the Heavenly Demon. But…

I exhaled.

“…She’s definitely not the worst,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone. “And I’m definitely being biased. But I still think, I don’t like her…”

The old man eyed me with a bemused expression, his voice gravelly yet light. “Are you sure you’re not just being biased?”

I gave a half-shrug. “A bit…”

He chuckled as if that answer satisfied him. “So you don’t actually hate her for no reason. I quite liked her, personally.”

I scoffed, rubbing the back of my neck. “She tried to steal my body. And that’s just the start.”

“Beyond that?”

I sighed. “You really going to make me say it?”

“Say it,” he repeated flatly.

“I don’t want to,” I muttered, crossing my arms like a sulking child.

“You resent this place,” he continued. “You wonder why they call it the False Earth. Why does it gnaw at you? Why does it never sit right, no matter how familiar it feels?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I told you not to read my heart.”

“I’m not,” he replied, flicking a hand. “I’m just saying shit.”

And just like that, a cigarette appeared between his lips, already lit. Wisps of smoke curled lazily toward the sky. I blinked. “Can I have one?”

“Use your own quintessence,” he said without glancing my way.

“But they’re expensive,” I complained.

He rolled his eyes and conjured one for me anyway. I lit the end with a half-hearted Searing Smite and took a drag. The flavor was earthy, bitter, and strangely nostalgic. I wasn’t sure if it was the smoke or the moment hitting me harder.

“The power of creation at your fingertips,” the old man murmured. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

I exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “So why does this place bother me?”

He gave me a deadpan stare. “How the hell should I know? You should be the one asking that to yourself!”

“You started it!”

With an exaggerated sigh, he waved his hand, and the world changed.

The transformation was seamless. The trees around the lake thinned with the passage of imagined centuries. The water receded, then dried into a cracked basin. Rocks wore down into flat plains. Then, like sprouting mushrooms, steel and glass towers rose on the far horizon. elegant, unnatural, and unmistakably modern.

I staggered as pain stabbed through my skull. Memories I had long since buried or had forcibly erased rose in waves. Earth. The twenty-first century. Neon lights. Concrete. Honking cars. Smog. Coffee from plastic lids.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. “I hate you.”

“You’re welcome,” the old man said, puffing on his cigarette.

“Now I’ll have to find Meng Po and drink another bowl of her soup. If the Supreme Beings sniff out Earth’s memory lingering in my soul, they might throw a system apocalypse just for fun.”

The old man chuckled. “System apoc-what? What even is that supposed to mean? Never mind… Anyway, you met Meng Po?”

I nodded. “Kind old lady. Let me cultivate in her dimension. Time-frozen courtyard and all that.”

His brows rose. “She controls time now? Huh. That’s new…”

“You know her?”

“We used to party together,” he said. “Hit some frogs.”

I stared at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

He didn’t clarify. Just smiled as he exhaled another long drag.

The silence returned, comfortable, almost philosophical.

Then he added, “You keep trying to annihilate your memories of Earth, but it won’t work. There’s a reason Earth’s become a mythical place. Even if you forget it, it won’t forget you.”

I looked back toward the skyline. The buildings shimmered in the distance like a mirage… a memory disguised as a possibility. “Did that happen because I introduced concrete?”

The old man snorted. “That’ll always happen. Concrete or not. This is a dream. What I dream becomes real in the False Earth. You asked me why this place bothers you? Maybe it’s because it reminds you of home. The mortality. The helplessness. The ache of being human. That’s what I think. But what do you think?”

I let the silence stretch, watching the city flicker like a ghost at the edge of time.

Finally, I said, “I think we’ve been talking too long. Let’s get to the point.”

The old man grinned. “This is the point. We talk.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I narrowed my eyes. “Then talk.”

The old man tilted his head. “Ask nicely.”

I bit my cheek, exhaled through my nose, and asked with as much restraint as I could muster, “You don’t really remember me?”

He shrugged, unconcerned. “No.”

I supposed that was fair. The version of him I met wasn’t really him, not fully. It had been a fragment, a shard of memory tucked inside Joan D’Arc’s soul in Lost Legends Online. A memory of a memory. I clarified, “You left a piece of yourself inside Joan. That memory kind of saved me from imminent demise.”

The old man blinked, then snapped his fingers as if catching a loose thread. “Ah, Joan… Lovely lady. Braver than most.” He paused. “And no, still don’t remember. Fragment-me probably had better hair, though.”

I sighed. Dead end. Fine. Time to change direction.

I leaned back, letting the shifting sky overhead cool my temper. “Before she died, Wen Yuhan imposed some kind of contract on me… something about severing the destiny that binds mortals to their potential. It was vague. And sinister. Raises about every red flag I’ve got. What the hell was that about?”

He stopped mid-drag and stared at me. “That’s not a small question. You sure you want the answer?”

I nodded. “Very.”

“All binding vows operate on equivalent exchange. Always. She offered something in return.” He gestured lazily at the space between us. “Seems to me, your reward… was this meeting.”

I blinked. “What?”

He looked utterly unbothered. “This. Right here. Talking to me. That’s your payment.”

My mouth opened, then shut. “This was her parting gift? Why would she think this was worth it?”

He gave me a deadpan stare. “That’s the sad part, isn’t it?”

I rubbed my temples. “So what happens if I don’t do it? If I ignore the contract?”

The old man spread his arms. “The 'destiny' imbued in the contract comes for you anyway, regardless. A vow like that doesn’t wait for you to care. It unfolds. You’ve been sucker punched, David.”

And now, finally, I hated her for real.

It wasn’t the scheming or the threats. It was this… a final twist, planted after death, dragging me into a metaphysical war of ideals I never signed up for. I could imagine her smug smile as she severed herself from existence, knowing full well I’d stumble into this nonsense like a blind dog with a sword in its mouth.

I muttered, “This was her final move. She knew it was checkmate. Especially with Gu Jie and Alice backing me…”

The old man didn’t disagree. He just nodded slowly.

I tried again. “Why are you being so cooperative?”

His reply was instant. “Because I can.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Be honest.”

“I am being honest.”

Frustrated, I shifted again, this time leaning forward, my tone sharpening. “Why do they call you the Lost Supreme? Where exactly are you? What the hell is this place? What happened to you? Why did you abandon Lost Legends Online? That’s insanely irresponsible for a game dev.”

He blinked at me. Then smiled. “So many questions… Do you really want to know the answers?”

“Yes,” I said, more desperate than I intended. “I want to know.”

The old man opened his mouth.

But no sound came out.

A thin wind swept across the lakeside, rustling the surface of the water like paper. I frowned. “What did you say?”

His lips moved, but again… no voice.

Then he smiled again, softer this time. “While I’d like to say we have all the time in the world to talk, that just isn’t the case… Sorry, David.”

“Why?”

He turned his head, eyes gleaming like twilight against a dying fire. “I’ve been buying time.”

Before I could respond, before I could even move, something shifted beside me.

Where the old man had sat now rested a younger man, bald and serene, his crimson and saffron kasaya wrapped loosely around his lean frame. He had a broom resting across his lap, fingers curled gently around its wooden shaft. His eyes were sharp, not cruel, but infinitely knowing.

The old man was gone.

The youth spoke, voice deep and resonant like a bell striking empty halls. “The Ascension Games are nearing their end, David. My pieces are in place. The board is set.”

I tried to respond, but the lake, the grass, the dream… everything began to melt like candlewax beneath me.

The last thing I heard was his voice, calm and deliberate.

“I’ll be waiting on the Sealed Island.”