CHAPTER 1038: CHAPTER 1035: SU MING’AN HAS DIED

"Who is this?"

This was the first reaction from Qingniao and the others.

None of the key figures in the intelligence matched this girl. If the story of The World of Old Days was a historical scroll, her name would not appear on any line of its pages.

"Jiang... Xiao... San?" Su Ming’an dug this name out from his memory.

A student in the church, appearing as someone who has no relation to terms like "protagonist." If not for being the friend of Tao Meng, who jumped off the building, Su Ming’an would have found it hard to remember her.

Jiang Xiaosan ran straight toward Mizushima Kawa Sora’s black blade. Mizushima Kawa Sora assumed she wanted to snatch the blade, but unexpectedly, Jiang Xiaosan collided directly with the black blade.

The black blade pierced through her body, and symptoms of the Black Mist Disease appeared on her.

"Didn’t you say this special medicated rain would trigger the Black Mist Disease?" Jiang Xiaosan said calmly, "Seems like it’s your weapon causing it. I’ve been in the rain for so long and only had issues after hitting the blade."

Mizushima Kawa Sora retracted the black blade, neither admitting nor denying it. She was never inclined to smear Su Ming’an.

Su Ming’an stared at Jiang Xiaosan.

The skin on her arms was covered in black, looking especially terrifying. People have always avoided the Black Mist Disease as much as possible, yet she dared to confront it directly, just to... make a demonstration.

Jiang Xiaosan whispered to him: "Hush... I’m an Exotic Species. Even if I contract the Black Mist Disease, nothing will happen to me."

Jiang Xiaosan’s state was already strange when the class teacher Xia Jiawen was arrested. It seems she indeed is an Exotic Species, although she appears no different from ordinary people.

"Brother Wensheng... although you’re not Brother Wensheng anymore, following his wish before leaving, I will... protect you. Even if I’m insignificant and can’t defeat them, at least I... can stand in front of you." She said.

In Dao Ya City, apart from Lv Shu, there is no high combat power. Yet an Exotic Species like Jiang Xiaosan is right here. Even though Su Wensheng has drowned, Su Ming’an is saved time and time again by the precautions left by Su Wensheng.

During the moment Jiang Xiaosan was blocking, firelight ignited in the distance—Asahi’s beautiful and powerful figure.

Su Ming’an felt weary—as the Orderly, his four hours of free action time were coming to an end, and he was about to face an hour of slumber.

He saw the surroundings begin to flow—it was as if time was about to leap forward rapidly.

"I’m here, don’t be afraid." Asahi’s light and gentle voice reached his ears, "This rain has called back about fifty years of history. Many people remembered their ancestors, their past. A portion of this world’s time was always stolen, not equivalent to real time. Now the rain has fallen, bringing back fifty years, and time should start to accelerate, to align with real time’s flow rate."

Su Ming’an could understand Asahi’s intent.

"The tower" reversed time, bringing the past to the present.

"The rain" leapt time forward, taking the present to the future.

Just like Caius Tower’s time leap, this node is over, and time will accelerate. The longer this rain lasts, the faster it will feel like time is passing through people’s senses.

The deity covered up the past and future by concealing people’s cognition. But when the special medicine awakened people’s awareness, past and future would return, like wiping away the dust on a window.

This world’s "past," "present," and "future" have always been on one plane, just like Alice in the Steam Age growing with him, and Zou Yuqing in the Louyue Era becoming his ally. Only the world’s edges separate them.

"Chao... Yan." He said.

"Hm."

Asahi shielded him, and he had run out of strength, with Mizushima Kawa Sora’s healing only keeping him minimally alive.

"Do you want me to help you reload?" Asahi’s voice was very soft.

"Please..." Su Ming’an said in a low voice.

Although he knew going back wouldn’t change much, as most likely it would just play out again. After all, the deity was blocking his reload point, with no way forward. But at least... he had to try.

"Okay." Asahi nodded.

She stood like a safe wall, shielding him from Mizushima Kawa Sora.

Mizushima Kawa Sora felt troubled. Even if Asahi couldn’t defeat everyone, she could at least help Su Ming’an reload. If that’s the case...

Everything now will be in vain.

Everything will start over.

"Deity, what should we do now..." Mizushima Kawa Sora looked toward the deity, wanting to see how the deity would react.

—She saw the deity’s exceptionally calm eyes.

As if... He had always seen every outcome. Those eyes sent chills through her body, causing a strange fear.

Su Ming’an closed his eyes. Asahi’s embrace was safe and warm, her hand rested on his forehead, seemingly to burn through his brain in an instant, minimizing his pain.

... What should he do in the next loop? How could he avoid reenacting such a scenario? Linger longer in the eleventh loop, or...

Raindrops fell on his cheeks, slowly sliding down.

—He felt a pain on his forehead.

Yes... it should indeed be very painful, considering the brain was being burned through. He’s experienced death by burning before, so it wasn’t new. Compared to being bisected or similar, it was much quicker.

But.

Why... couldn’t he feel... any... searing heat? The heat of the flame?

The intense pain shot through his forehead, lightning-like, flowing densely through his whole body, an awfully strong sensation as if his entire being was wrung into pieces, his soul was trampled—ultimate, intense pain that even he found unbearable.

"—!"

His mouth instinctively opened, but no sound came out, his throat full of blood being squeezed out.

His eyes opened unconsciously, seeing the struggle and confusion on Asahi’s face close by.

In her hand, she held a—holy, pure white, beautiful Holy Sword. Angelic engravings decorated the hilt, the blade shimmering with a bright, sharp halo that pierced his bloodshot eyes. It was identical to the Holy Sword in Mizushima Kawa Sora’s hand.

—The Holy Sword granted by the deity.

—The Holy Sword Mizushima Kawa Sora couldn’t thrust through, was instead thrust into his forehead by Asahi.

She didn’t help him reload, instead, she did the thing that made him most desperate—cut through his spiritual defense with the Holy Sword, shattering his SAN value.

This thrust severed all his retreat paths. Ended any possibility of reloading.

...Asahi.

He smirked bitterly.

... He alone had never considered this possibility.

The blinding radiance pierced through Su Ming’an’s forehead, severing his black hair, angling slightly as it almost protruded from his neck, embedding its tip on the surface of the mechanical wheel, pinning him to the mechanical wheel, like nailing down a butterfly.

Due to being a Holy Sword attacking the spirit, even such terrifying trauma would not kill him, only slash his SAN value.

The rain slid down the blade, falling into Su Ming’an’s eyes.

He seemed to hear the deity’s laughter.

Like a cat’s laughter.

"..."

Then he also heard his own laughter.

The intense pain exploded within his soul, blood filling his eyes. Instantly, he felt his thoughts turn to mush. It was like his soul being torn apart, with negative emotions howling inside him, the storm-like pain almost engulfing him. The SAN value in his vision plunged from a stable 50 points to the bottom.

In that instant, the blood-red hues gathered from all directions in his vision, even the rain in the sky was dyed into a rainbow-like multi-colored hue—he seemed to see countless elves joyfully dancing in the air.

They sang, they danced—so enchanting, so joyful. It was like the frenzied dance of a group of lunatics.

At this moment, the moment when his sanity value dropped—Even Mizushima Kawa Sora’s look of shock was twisted into a mask of seven colors in his eyes, like bright paint, like a clown’s grotesque smile.

Her terrified voice also twisted into distorted, illusory laughter:

"Ha (this) haha (one) haha (Chao) ha (Yan)—hahaha (turns out) ha (also) aha (is) haha—(fake) ha (one)?—Ha ah hahaha—!!"

"Haha (strange) — (so) haha (no wonder) ah (deity) haha (great) — (person) haha (unfazed) aha (calm) — hahaha (it turns out) ah (already) haha (had) ha (preparedness) aha—!"

"Ha—(this) haha (one) ha (fake) ha (Chao Yan) haha (made the move so) ha (viciously) aha (Su Ming’an)—(not) ha (have) (any) (issues, huh)?!—ha (I) aha (didn’t intend to drive him mad) — ahahaha—!"

Su Ming’an’s vision captured those beautiful seven colors, they were too beautiful, beautiful to the point of dizziness—how long has it been since he saw such beautiful colors? So much so that, like a child, he could not stop himself from chasing with his gaze.

It may have already been several lifetimes.

A series of clown faces danced before him, unable to see how thick the paint on their faces was, only able to see their smile outlined in bright red.

Everything was like shattered colored glass, frantically squeezed and shaken in the water. Reflected in his blood-red eyes.

They laughed so happily.

If, on the day he took on responsibility, "Number One Player" was born, it was also the day "Su Ming’an" began to fall. His life sliced a line at that moment, every second "Number One Player" was ceaselessly cutting the end of the line, until the "Su Ming’an" at the other end completely fell and died.

...In this ascent and fall, he saw an endless cycle.

When he ascended, someone laughed. When he fell, someone laughed.

...This is already how his life is.

"(He won’t die, will he) hahaha—" laughter.

"(Seems like he’s about to faint) hahaha—" laughter.

"(This way the deity can erase his memory) hahaha—" laughter.

"(He can’t go back anymore) hahaha—" laughter.

"..."

Those worried, despairing, indifferent, calm voices—all turned into maddened, twisted, distorted laughter in his ears.

He couldn’t make a sound, his throat tasted of blood.

So close to him—the girl’s green eyes filled with complete confusion, like an invisible barrier between them. Separating his equally confused gaze, also separating his questioning words.

The turbulent rain pattered fiercely.

The hysterical laughter became a chaotic mess.

The orange cat almost wanted to laugh.

He had thought of so many possibilities... He had been wary of Noel, wary of Li Mingyue, wary of distant enemies... But he truly didn’t expect...that Chao Yan at this moment would be fake. Her timing was too perfect, her touch and expression were so real.

...Even now, her face full of tears seemed so real. She probably never expected, that at that moment, she would be manipulated by a deity, raising the Holy Sword to stab at him.

"I..."

She said:

"Who..."

Su Ming’an closed his eyes.

Someone approached him.

The next moment, he could perceive the deity’s hand covering his forehead, just about to erase his memory, the deity’s hand.

...Reminding him of what seemed long, long ago, far away from him, warm like spring sunlight.

Like riding a bicycle, crushing the drowsy sunlight after evening self-study. There was the scent of osmanthus, the aroma of chestnuts, and the shadows cast by the sycamores.

And now, twilight descends. Except for blood and death, there is nothing.

Like electricity streaming through the heart, bringing painful, stimulating, hopeless... pain.

He suddenly felt heart-piercing pain, his throat full of bitterness. A vivid, intense emotion felt both foreign and fierce to him, already numb.

...Clearly, he had already put forth every effort.

...Clearly, he was relentlessly trying under this hellish difficulty.

But yet...

The rain pattered drop by drop, everyone’s faces blurred indistinctly.

In the end, he still smiled, as if neither hating nor being angry. Rain dripped onto his face, blood and water completely indistinguishable now. The black butterfly pinned to the sky, the holy Holy Sword like a cross, confining the demon in the deity’s mouth. The daylight receding, torrential rain pouring, the demon would not awaken again.

Mizushima Kawa Sora gazed at the deity.

She knew everything was already over.

Su Ming’an would have his memory erased, he would not win again.

...It’s over.

In people’s gaze, the deity touched Su Ming’an’s forehead, the posture maintained for dozens of seconds. Until the deity withdrew their hand, face full of bewilderment and regret.

Mizushima Kawa Sora slightly widened her eyes.

She perceived she might hear unexpected words—

"...He died." The deity’s hand trembled, not having anticipated this result: "His mental state could actually be so bad to this degree, this turns out to be... merely caused by mental pain leading to death... I didn’t mean to kill him."

Mizushima Kawa Sora’s pupils contracted tightly.

No, that’s not right. Su Ming’an’s clone was also sent to be killed by the deity’s men, so even if Su Ming’an died he would retrace... yet everything is still normal now.

The retrace is rooted in his soul, so he can trigger the retrace in any case. If the retrace wasn’t triggered, then there’s only one reason.

His soul...

"I didn’t expect his mental state to be far worse than I imagined... that one sword directly scattered his..." The deity’s voice trembled.

Mizushima Kawa Sora slowly stepped back.

She heard words that even made her feel fearful.

She knew what this represented.

The Main God World can’t repair mental states, including souls.

Once gone, it’s truly dead.

...

"...Soul."

...

On this day, everyone received the news of Su Ming’an’s death.

The Number One Player died.

The Morning Star fell from the altar.