CHAPTER 771: CHAPTER 769: "GOD.

Crimson blood shot up.

"Drip, drip, drip."

Liquid drops hit the ground. Bright red clashed with icy white, shocking all who saw.

Their expressions, still stuck in concern for Su Ming’an’s condition. Some had started moving but hadn’t yet finished their step, others had just begun to reach out anxiously—

And then they saw this scene.

Blood slid down the blade and dripped onto the ground.

The unbeatable Sword of Yarman pierced the deity’s body, entering through the chest and exiting from the back.

The "Mandatory Hit" effect of the Yellow Rose Lock swirled on the blade, like a rose blooming amidst the blood. Su Ming’an held his sword-forward pose, looking up at the deity close to him.

Acto’s face was still calm and unruffled, as if the deity had reverted to his usual serenity. Those gray pupils clearly reflected Su Ming’an, whose face was streaked with tears.

Then, the deity’s lips twitched slightly.

"Somewhat unexpected," the deity smiled. "You are the only variable beyond my plan, Su Ming’an. As the first leader of the world game, your perseverance and wisdom deserve acknowledgment."

Crimson blood trailed from the corner of the deity’s mouth as he retreated a few steps, pulling a long line of blood in the air.

...

"Ding dong!"

[Killed (Deity Bionic body), Exp+50000! (Experience will be supplemented after player levels up to Fifth Rank)]

[Obtained title (God Slayer): You have earned the right to understand the term "deity." You will more easily grasp the mysteries of "authority, energy, faith."]

...

In the stunned gazes of the onlookers, the deity fell.

Blood stained the ground, spreading like a slowly unfurling red map.

The scene was too sudden, too mockingly absurd. People were not mentally prepared, it even felt as though the real brutal battle hadn’t started yet, and it suddenly ended, making them feel as if it were all a setup.

With minds blank, unsure of what to say, people only saw the silhouette wrapped in the crimson tube. The black-haired youth held the bloodstained sword, his face awash with tears he couldn’t hold back. His expression was a tangle of love and hate, as if he were laughing and crying at the same time.

When excitement peaks, laughter yields tears. When sorrow peaks, laughter breaks through. Laughter and tears are inseparably intertwined.

No one knew Su Ming’an’s mood; his expression seemed to become a blank.

"..."

Su Ming’an couldn’t hear what the deity said, nor the system’s prompt.

The mad, trivial, overlapping, fine screams and cries from various humans filled his ears like a tide surge, making everything before him sway like double images in a dream—Beili Sier’s countless simulated loneliness and despair, the intense sorrow and regret of losing comrades, all rushed in, seizing every bit of his thoughts.

Rationality, as fragile as a silk thread, was nowhere to be found intact, having snapped "pop" before he was aware.

This strike was solely thanks to the Equipment Skill of the Yellow Rose Lock.

His vision was swiftly breaking, and after a cough, he felt a warm, damp sensation spilling from his mouth.

"—Su Ming’an! Su Ming’an!"

In the haze, a voice kept calling out to him, with the tone and insistence of a young man.

"—Su Ming’an!"

Then there were many more voices, all different.

They were like driftweed floating or a strand of straw dangling from the stern of a ship; he looked up from the depths of the sea—seeing these hooks hanging down towards him, as well as a deity’s statue plummeting into the deep sea.

Some say that Su Ming’an is also a kind of "deity."

Anything that bestows welfare upon humankind, inspires faith, and has strength and will that overwhelmingly surpass them can be seen as a "deity"—it’s a kind of "meaning," used to affirm the legitimacy of certain morals and collective behavior, while humanity is a "product subordinate to meaning."

A collective will, a faith, humanity cannot dispense with it. In the extreme despair of the apocalypse, humanity needs its presence even more.

In the eyes of others, Su Ming’an was omnipotent, always correct—he was the "god" of the world’s game in this apocalyptic environment.

People always believe that humanity’s future should not be forged by so-called deities, but must be conjointly shaped by the thin power of every individual. Just like in the Ruined World, even with a deity in people’s eyes like Yasa Acto, it can’t be without the commitment of the Nine Thrones, the struggle of countless scientists, the sacrifice of innumerable revolutionaries.

Therefore, humanity does not believe in everything about Su Ming’an as a "person," because he truly managed to create a future with his own being, crushing all players, with not even Noel’s combat power being able to keep up with his pace—"people" can’t achieve this.

It seems to them, "Su Ming’an" is hardly a person.

He is more like a spirit, a war in which countless people uphold the "Su Ming’an spirit" and advance towards an ideal.

This is a viewpoint from the world forum, some believe that Su Ming’an is not selfish, they think Su Ming’an is sacrificing for some kind of ideal.

Thus, rightfully this viewpoint deprived Su Ming’an of the power to be a "person," rightfully erased the spirit of sacrifice and struggle he had as a "person," denied all the rationalities of his struggle so far, believing that if he were an independent, single "person," he could not have done these.

—Unless he is a kind of "objectified spirit."

—Unless he is an incarnation of "world will."

—Unless he is a "perfect pass program."

—Unless he is a "tool sent by the organizers."

—Or ... unless he is "the organizers themselves."

These speculations are complex and confusing, with people doing their utmost to guess the name "Su Ming’an" to unattainable, unimaginable heights, and giving him all sorts of complicated honorifics, identities, and halos.

They have made so many guesses, but the one thing they think he could not possibly be is a "human," a 19-year-old student.

He’s no different from Acto, forced to solidify upon the throne of godhood.

...

[You’ve gradually become accustomed to titles such as "deity," "incarnation of the world will," you sit in this seat, using your reputation and fame to allocate resources, command armies.]

[You stray further and further from normal humanity, your persona completely metamorphosed, your emotions become indifferent, even smiling makes you feel like it’s an apology to the deceased.]

[—You are Yasa Acto.]

[Sovereign of humanity, embodiment of civilization, world will.]

[You numbly sit in the chair,]

[like you have turned into an immobilized empty shell.]

...

"..."

Drowning in the deep sea from which he couldn’t escape.

Su Ming’an’s senses had gradually fragmented; he almost forgot who he was, as if all the actions of the past few hours had been purely instinctual.

The empathy of Acto, the overwhelming empathy from Beili Sier like a tsunami, had engulfed him.

But still, someone persisted, calling out relentlessly:

"——Su Ming’an!"

"——Su Ming’an!"

Noel’s clear and high-pitched voice, Yamada Machiichi’s soft yet resolute voice, Violet’s silky smooth voice, Xi Qing’s voice as cool as a stream... and the echoes of countless others.

Grappling with the hooks that were descending towards him, he finally opened his eyes after a long struggle.

Among the crimson bloodiness, Noel was shaking his shoulders. A strand of golden hair hung in front of his eyes, the color of sunflowers.

Seeing him awake, a smile appeared on Noel’s face, one that bespeaks relief at recovered treasure.

"It’s good that you’re alright," said Noel, his voice trembling, "let us take it from here... just leave it to us."

Next to Su Ming’an, people were trying to tear away those entangled crimson tubes, but they had already affixed to Su Ming’an’s back, like a horde of leeches that wouldn’t let go; it was unclear what would happen if they were rashly pulled out.

The majority of the hall was packed with a dense crowd, some in robes, some in armor, some in plain clothes. Su Ming’an didn’t recognize almost any of them, but the look they gave him was full of trust, as if they had already adopted him as their banner.

"Can’t get this thing off, can’t even chop it off," muttered Zhang Xiaoqi, bounding up and down like a hairy monkey, fiddling with the crimson tubes.

"Can we try pulling it out from another angle? I always feel like this ending is too strange, like it’s not really over. Let’s get Su Ming’an freed from these tubes quickly," Qiuqiu insisted, sweating profusely from the effort.

"Not sure, Su Ming’an is awake, let’s leave it up to him to decide..."

"..."

Su Ming’an turned his head and saw that the deity’s corpse was gone. In fact, the moment the deity had fallen to the ground, with blood spreading out, the deity’s body had automatically decomposed and disappeared.

"...Something’s not right," he spoke up, his voice so hoarse that it shocked even himself.

"What did you say?"

When Su Ming’an spoke, everyone immediately shifted their gaze to him, all eyes riveted upon him.

The longing and admiration in their eyes gave rise to hallucinations of Acto’s memories—those who didn’t even know Acto personally were willing to entrust their lives to Acto’s mere command.

"...First, let’s find the deity," Su Ming’an said intermittently.

He didn’t believe that the deity, meticulous in planning, would have utterly failed just from being struck by a sword. If the deity’s action was deliberate, then everyone had already fallen into a trap.

"We’ve already sent people to look for him. Most have started to scour the building’s floors, and some have gone to the rooftop." Xi held his hand beside him: "We will figure out a way to free you from these tubes. If we can’t get the tubes off for now, once they’re activated again, you will fall back into emotional resonance. You’ve already done well enough; you can rest now."

...Really?

...Could he really rest now?

Su Ming’an did not believe it would be that wonderful, every time people told him "it’s all over," what followed was always a greater crisis.

"I..." he began, but then felt something sticky on his face, as if it were tears naturally sliding down.

Xi’s hand reached out.

Her somewhat rough fingertips brushed his cheek, wiping away the tears on his face. Ever since he had broken away from Beili Sier’s emotional empathy, these physiological tears would not stop.

And after her gentle wiping, the water in his eyes seemed to flow even more fiercely. Su Ming’an couldn’t help but close his eyes, trying to control these disobedient reactions.

Soon, a soothing embrace approached him, like coming near a crackling hearth in the depths of winter.

Xi hugged him with great restraint. Her hand rested on his back as if to give him strength and comfort.

"...Years ago, the rain in that forest was heavy, and you sang the Song of Freedom by the campfire. You promised that you would stick with us to the end," Xi murmured softly, "Now Sen is gone, Tretiya is gone, Noah is gone, Xia Sheng is gone, Yao Wen is also gone, but the survivors will keep accompanying you."

"If you feel sad, you certainly have the right to give up. I’ve gradually come to understand that this isn’t your world; you always had the right to choose."

"We won’t force you, nor will we dislike you. Everyone here likes you."

"Little handsome, if you want to stay, that’s great. I will continue to be with you, and so will the countless people who have survived."

"If you want to move on, that’s fine too. Maybe in the future... you will meet countless people like me."

"What we presented to you was mostly scarce survival resources, unbearable human nature, harsh wintertime environments, displaced people, and wars that spread across the land... This world is battered and bruised, seemingly nothing worth lingering over."

"But as long as you look back and remember that there was a civilization called the Ruined World, think of the names and faces of us people, recall the campfires and oases, the first bunch of lilies blooming in spring, and remember what I said to you today..."

"Then I am already very content."

"To have met you, we are already very content."

Like a burst of daylight fireworks, the warmth on her face seemed to extend along his nerve endings, with a searing heat like being scorched by fire.

Su Ming’an’s gaze trembled for a moment.

His sights went beyond Xi’s shoulder, looking at the people talking and walking, as if he could hear echoes from countless individuals in the Ruined World.

Suddenly, he caught sight of a pitch-black figure standing at the edge of the surrounding fence.

The white-haired youth stood in the darkness, always as inseparable from it as a shadow. When his eyes suddenly met Su Ming’an’s, Lin Guang tugged at the corner of his lips, revealing a smile.

Compared to the stiff smile when they first met 32 years after the Catastrophe, Lin Guang’s smile was no longer as rigid; it was like a smile from a normal person. But still, the smile bore heavy traces of imitation. It was clear that it was the result of careful practice rather than genuine happiness.

Su Ming’an stood up.

Following his movement, everyone stopped their conversations and displayed a wary expression towards Lin Guang, who had appeared suddenly.

And in the darkness, Lin Guang just moved his lips, forming the words:

"Stay, here."

Even the lip movements were in Dragon Country’s language.

After a moment, Lin Guang no longer exchanged any gazes with him. He turned around, leaving behind a back that was extremely indifferent.

"Thud."

"Thud."

"Thud."

Every step Lin Guang took, walking away with his back to the people, created a muffled sound on the tin walkway behind the fence.