CHAPTER 1171: CHAPTER 1168: TE: I SEAL IT MYSELF (PART 7)

The zombie virus from the BOSS attack was already beyond treatment when it struck. Fortunately, Su Ming’an did not die; instead, he underwent a mutation, gaining a hint of a dark aura, and his physique was enhanced.

However, the dark aura surrounding him always made the NPCs instinctively vigilant.

After the dual blow of being infected by the virus and Yuanyuan’s sacrifice, Su Ming’an on this world line became cautious and gloomy.

With the addition of this dark aura, his hidden occupation was no longer "White Judge," but a Darkness Series occupation.

On this timeline, Su Ming’an faced similar events as the original Su Ming’an: targeted by the United Group, hunted by Edward, distrusted by humans, and challenged by Adventurer Players. But the only difference was... the trace of dark aura on him made even friendly NPCs begin to fear him.

In the Fifth World, when he wanted to meet with the Revolutionary Army, he found two mortal enemies who loathed the Sage Master waiting for him inside the Revolutionary Army’s tent.

"We heard you were nearby, and we caught you, Sage Master." The two foes smiled: "With the aura of an Evil Dragon on you, you are truly detestable."

Su Ming’an stood at the tent entrance. At this moment, it felt as if all the blood in his body had frozen.

... He had provided the Revolutionary Army with technology, helped them build a barrier, and saved many lives by shedding his blood.

And yet... they betrayed him to his enemies.

All because the dark aura on him resembled that of an Evil Dragon.

—Ignorant masses, how could they understand that this was the aura naturally carried by the occupation?

—They believed that a person inherently evil like an Evil Dragon could never save a world descending into malice.

In the past, Holy Initiation covered Qin Wang’s Evil Dragon aura, silently hiding the truth. But the dark aura from Su Ming’an’s occupation was impossible to conceal.

The Regular Army and the Revolutionary Army could never understand each other, the truth remained unshared, unless the moment of true realization occurred.

Su Ming’an could not explain himself with any words.

"I was trying to save you... to save you!!"

No one believed the words of a young boy.

"Why, just because of a mere aura... just because of an aura... when I’ve done so much..."

He struggled fiercely. But suddenly, a third enemy appeared, firmly clasping his wrist, stabbing a blade into his shoulder, rendering him immobile with pain.

—How is there a third one...

The enemy laughed, squatting down to wipe the blood off his face, mocking:

"...What, never seen three people before?"

This malicious sentence was deeply engraved in his heart, as if mocking his naivety.

The last bit of goodness in his heart shattered.

He finally realized... some inherent things are simply an original sin. Perhaps he should not have saved so many in the First World. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have contracted the zombie virus. Without contracting the zombie virus, his body wouldn’t have mutated, and he wouldn’t have this haunting dark aura...

He did good deeds that had nothing to do with him. In the end, no one appreciated him, and those saved only stared at him in fear.

He should have died back then.

Maybe he had already died back then.

It’s just that, death was prolonged until now.

Then something extremely terrifying happened.

These three evidently hated the Sage Master to the core; no one knew what grudges Qin Wang had with them before. But now it was Su Ming’an enduring the hatred meant for his predecessors.

"Look at this guy... only water can wash away your sins!"

"Our world became like this all because of you!"

"All your efforts were just to repay your original sin, you know? Because it’s all your fault!"

He wanted to say it wasn’t him, but rather all the power users.

But people inflamed with rage would not listen to the truth.

They dunked him in water, reviving him just when he was on the verge of drowning. Then they started to sever his tendons bit by bit, cutting his flesh with blades. Every cut accompanied by a joyous laugh. The blood stained his clothes red, and even the carpet lost its color.

The agony made every second drag on endlessly, making him repeatedly plead... for someone to save him, anyone...

Every second, every second, he repeated in his heart. He had saved so many... done so many good deeds... if even one of those he helped could, please save him.

The White Tower in his heart was about to collapse. He could only repeatedly, repeatedly, recite his wish to reclaim Zhai XIng, over and over again. Because if he allowed even the slightest wavering, he feared he would succumb to this incessant pain and torment, dread continuing forward. For things like this... would surely happen more than once.

Where there’s one, there’s two.

At times like this... even one person would do; most of what he saw along the way was fear, dread, rejection, and cold stares, a massive surge of malice... at least now, could he receive a little bit of kindness, allow him to persist...

A little bit of kindness... would suffice.

Yet,

...

There was none.

There never was any.

Until he nearly bled out, no hand reached out for him.

...

On the hillside, a player squad came to deliver supplies, but looked around without finding Su Ming’an.

"Hey... wasn’t the Number One Player seen around here? Where did he go?" The chubby guy in the squad lowered his head in disappointment.

"The Mentality Recovery Potion we prepared with so much care, we couldn’t get it to him..." The girl pouted: "And all the little gifts for him..."

"So unfortunate, where did he go..."

They didn’t know, just in the forest nearby, only a few steps away... Su Ming’an lay there, even the scent of blood wafted out, the vividness of the blood tainting every inch of the tent.

The squad shook their heads and left regretfully.

As expected,

... the idealist suffering through hardships never got to see his light.

...

In the end, those three knew the gravity of the situation and spared his life.

After escaping alive, Su Ming’an completely changed.

He was no longer silent, no longer gloomy, often wearing a playful smile.

The audience discussed for a long time but didn’t know why he changed so drastically, concluding that his mindset became more optimistic.

He seemed to care about nothing, even treating most things as a joke. Whenever moral blackmail arose, he straightforwardly proclaimed he had no morality.

"I am free." He smiled: "If I want to save, I will. If not, none of you can force me."

This attitude instead made people more accepting of him—because saints often face rejection, people easily feel that saints are "out of touch," "hypocritical," "unrealistic," but now this image of flesh and blood was more in line with human nature to be selfish and self-preserving.

"See! This is the real Number One Player!" They laughed, feeling satisfied:

"It’s better this way! Like a normal person."

"Finally, no more pretending; it must have been exhausting to wear that mask of kindness all the time, saving so many NPCs who only turned on him coldly, even I felt tired watching."

They didn’t know.

Su Ming’an hadn’t removed his mask; instead... he put one on.

A mask much "safer."

His ideals in his heart remained unshakable. But everything else... he couldn’t care about anymore. Those insignificant things and people... could no longer earn his feelings. Because, they would not reciprocate, rather, they would only drag him into the abyss.

He was already trampled in the mud.

Trampled on the mud woven by human nature.

Malice tugged at his neck, transforming into a slender thread. As he slightly raised his head to glimpse the distant light, the thread tightened, causing suffocation and a stinging pain.

He captured those three enemies but did not subject them to the same torture, rather he killed them swiftly and decisively.

Go ahead and turn wicked, all of you. But don’t think you can drag me down.

I don’t care.

Except for that final wish... for everything else, I care about nothing.

He wore a playful smile, sitting on the throne, and no one could hear his inner voice.

"I don’t know what else I can do."

"I’ve truly... done my best."

...

Perhaps villains indeed thrive effortlessly.

The Seventh World, Noel still vanished into the sea monsters’ encroachment. The Ninth World, facing Edward’s provocation, Su Ming’an didn’t care at all. Because he never sent Yuanyuan onto the battlefield, the three-line deadlock never existed.

After the Ninth World ended, the organizers secretly talked with him, and both sides showed satisfied smiles.

After that, he called himself—[Shadow].

He said,

"Those who live under the shadow should have such a name."

"If everyone lived under the light, wouldn’t that be too tiring."

...

Su Ming’an’s vision returned to darkness.

He gazed at the boundless expanse of the universe, the rotation of starry skies.

Two figures, one light and one shadow, stepping on the stream of the long river of time, walking forward step by step.

They walked through the world of green mountains and clear waters, walked through the splendid blue-purple sky, walked through the burning paradise, walked through the shattered Yun Shang City, walked through the spring day where the White Birds took flight.

—until they reached the Tenth World.

Their figures suddenly vanished, seemingly colliding head-on with Su Ming’an.

Endless "possibilities" intertwined at this moment, as if billions of threads pierced through his form.

Su Ming’an, at this moment, saw countless futures that had not yet occurred, not just his own, but of others as well.

He saw the white-haired wanderer listlessly shuttling between bridge tunnels, with eyes devoid of light.

He saw Yuanyuan reverse the sword, pointing the tip at herself.

He saw Su Luoluo laughing wildly, jumping off a tall building in the pouring rain.

He saw Chao Yan burning to death on the cross.

He saw Xiao Jingsan clutching his chest, blood flowing from his heart.

—These were the "realities" yet to happen, also the "illusions" abandoned by the timeline.

Then, he saw Noel.

The golden-haired youth walked on the corridor bridge of Daylight Floating City, with White Birds perched on his shoulders, he slightly tilted his head, and the white feathers gently brushed against his cheek.

The red aristocratic robe gently fluttered, akin to a butterfly dancing in the wind, the blue rose scepter in his hand gleamed with the color of sunlight, and his high heels struck the sound of jade clashing.

The golden-haired youth approached him like this.

—This was the first encounter between the Number One Player and the Second Player.

Behind them were the sky, the azure sea, the long river.

The youth’s posture was elegant.

The blue causal lines intertwined between them—Noel Agnini approached him.

He saw countless "futures" of Noel Agnini.

Even for the brilliant genius bordering on the extraordinary, Noel was not without obstacles.

Noel died.

Among the myriad "futures"—Noel died.

He might have died from Ming Hui Shengkai’s attack, perhaps in the human wave tactics of White Sand Paradise, or maybe in the Lin Guang nuclear blast of the Ruined World. The number of deaths was numerous—Su Ming’an saw thousands of Noel’s corpses, stacked layer upon layer around him.

Noel died, yet he did not return to the Main God World, but heard a voice from the distant starry sky.

—[Come find me. Noel Agnini].

—[Embrace the High Dimensions, become the freest adventurer].

Noel smiled, unperturbed, and asked in return—[Who are you?]

That voice answered—

[I am you.]

[I am the union (in the mathematical sense) of all your "futures."]

[In the observation of billions of world lines, all the "you" who died halfway overlapped to become me.]

[I am the High Dimensions. More precisely... I am the original "you."]

Noel laughed—[Are you trying to say... the world line I’m in doesn’t actually exist. Just a reflection observed by you?]

That voice laughed too—[No, it will in fact exist, but when finally "converging" to reality, we will find the most perfect answer. Countless splintered lines will converge to a point—that is the essence of my existence. I am your successes and failures—the union (in the mathematical sense)]

Noel said—[So you’re saying there’s only one real world line, and the other world lines are merely fillers for the final convergence? They exist, yet they don’t.]

That voice said—[Exactly.]

Noel said—[May I know, which world line is the real one?]

That voice smiled and said—[It is the one I am observing. Noel, return, I will "converge" you, and when you return to me, you will see that world line, it has reached the Tenth World.]

Noel said—[The Noel on that world line, is that the real me?]

That voice said—[Yes. That is the real and absolute existence. Noel Agnini is the only one. Su Ming’an is also the only one. They are both real. As for you fragmented world lines, they will all be converged eventually, never having truly occurred, still in Schrodinger’s state, merely forming me.]

[I am Noel, yet not Noel. I am the imprint of your numerous "futures," I am a version of you that made a choice for Dimensional Ascension, and also countless versions of you who died halfway through fate.]

Noel said—[Then what is the meaning of these void world lines?]

That voice burst into laughter—["Void" itself has no meaning, just exists. But "existence" itself is the meaning. Your question, I’m afraid I can’t elaborate, as the World Game progresses further, we will all know.]

Noel said—[Are there many others like you?]

That voice said—[No. You are unique, Noel, only you possess the strong desire to ascend to the High Dimension, creating the "possibility" of me.]

"Noel" didn’t quite understand, but he didn’t say much, only asked the last question—[What is your name?]

That voice answered—[You may call me Little A, this nickname derives from your name. As for how others address me...]

It finally spoke of the meaning of its name.

...

[—I am the shadow of countless "you" overlapping. Therefore, others call me—]

...

[—"Die, Ying."]

...