Chapter 428: Snow Mountain (End) Lin Jue (NE Ending: Displaced Time and Space)

“It seems the sky won’t brighten for a while.” On the other side, Lin Jue leaned against the ice wall, looking up at the dark, distant sky.

The endless night was starless and moonless. The sky, like a cover, merged with the continuous snow mountains, seamlessly joined, allowing not even a faint glimmer to penetrate for a time. It was as if this was the darkest moment in millions of years, a scene that felt natural, where even souls were submerged in the blackness, unable to discern who was human and who was ghost around them.

Fu Jue stood before Lin Jue, asking in a hoarse voice, “What do you want to tell me, Senior?”

“I think you’ve already guessed. I will die today.” Lin Jue’s voice was calm, as calm as a lake frozen in the heart of a glacier.

He paused for a moment, enunciating clearly: “For people like us, the Final Instance was originally a dead end, impossible to clear. Fortunately, I possess the 【Dark Judge】 card, which allowed me to seize a sliver of hope in this death trap. If I did nothing, everyone would be trapped here together, which is a very uneconomical choice; sacrificing my life for everyone else to live aligns with the principles of pragmatism.”

Fu Jue’s expression changed slightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but Lin Jue raised a hand to stop him.

The young man in the white suit chuckled very lightly and continued, “The reason I sought you out before my death is because I foresaw parts of the future through a certain method. Someone told me that after I die, you will activate the effect of the 【Fallen Savior】 card to revive me within your body, is that right?”

Without waiting for Fu Jue’s answer, he spoke to himself, “Actually, there’s no need for him to tell me. I understand your behavioral patterns; such an outcome is to be expected. And my choice to die, even knowing the outcome, is arguably a selfish act of unilaterally including your death in the plan. I am relaying this information to you now out of honesty, so you might reconsider the choice you are about to make.”

“Senior, you are not selfish.” Fu Jue looked up at Lin Jue, enunciating each word, “The Ark’s purpose has never been to cling to life, fear death, or protect oneself. Necessary sacrifices are worthwhile.”

“To be generous with others’ lives, to stand on the moral high ground and make choices that can’t possibly be wrong, then let others bear the cost—how is that not selfish?” Lin Jue laughed. “Good and evil are both paths living beings walk in this world. I merely chose the path of good. How can I, therefore, have reason to coerce others? I will not do this, and I hope those I trust will not do this either.”

“Senior…”

“Fu Jue, time is running out. Finally, I have one last request.” Lin Jue raised his wrist to check his pocket watch, his tone finally showing some fluctuation. “After I die, the Ark will likely fall apart. No matter which path you choose, do not let the Ark enter its grave.”

…Not far away, Zhang Hongbin sat dejectedly on the ice, gazing into the distance at Lin Jue and Fu Jue.

Those who came from the Ark all harbored special feelings for Lin Jue. He was the leader who stood up to take charge and restore order when they first entered the instance, stumbling around like headless flies; he was the player most suited for the eerie game, who repeatedly led them out of perilous instances alive, helping them escape the harassment of ghosts; and for a long time, he was the hope for ending the eerie game and saving everyone.

And now, though no one had explicitly said it, the situation was already laid bare. The exploration of the Final Instance was on the verge of failure. The path Lin Jue represented could not lead to a good ending. He would have to use his own life to let others live, whether it was self-destruction after the demise of an ideal, or a sacrifice to preserve the embers. In short, he was doomed to die.

Zhang Hongbin felt a knot in his stomach, but he couldn’t think of a way to break the deadlock. He only resented his own weakness. He had thought his high ranking meant he could stand on his own, but in the end, he still had to rely on Lin Jue’s sacrifice.

So, what about stopping Lin Jue and seeking other routes to clear the instance? Zhang Hongbin swallowed the words before they even left his mouth. He had to admit, he desperately wanted to live. He had reasons to leave the Final Instance alive, even if the cost was Lin Jue’s death.

The moment Lin Jue proposed that plan, a secret sense of relief even bloomed in his heart. How wonderful, Lin Jue would save them all again, and he wouldn’t have to die.

It was shameful, but not unforgivable. Zhang Hongbin thought, he had a loving wife waiting for him at home, and his daughter was still young and couldn’t be without a father… “Um… can I ask you something?” A young female voice sounded behind him. Zhang Hongbin looked over to see a girl who looked like a university student standing to his right-rear, hesitating to speak.

He knew this girl’s surname was “Zhang,” the same as his, and she seemed very kind. He had always unconsciously shown her a bit more concern.

But now, with Zhou Ke and Lin Jue at odds, as Lin Jue’s direct subordinate, it seemed inappropriate to be too friendly to this accomplice of Zhou Ke.

“What is it?” Zhang Hongbin asked, his face taut.

The girl looked left and right, cautiously saying, “Do you have a daughter named ‘Zhang Yiyu’?”

Zhang Hongbin felt a chill run up his spine. How did she know? Had they investigated him? But how was that possible? They were already in the Final Instance; what kind of extraordinary means could they have to investigate his real-world identity?

The girl seemed to have read his thoughts, taking a deep breath, she said timidly, “Um… my name is ‘Zhang Yiyu,’ and I’m from 2035. I was wondering if there’s a possibility…”

Zhang Yiyu didn’t finish, but Zhang Hongbin understood what she meant. All players came from different timelines, and theoretically, it was indeed possible for him to meet his daughter in the Final Instance.

But emotionally, he still refused to believe it. Wasn’t it enough that he was dragged into the eerie game? Why wouldn’t they even spare his daughter?

Moreover, if his daughter was also a player, she should be able to hear and see information related to the eerie game. As her father, he would surely impart all his experience, so how could she be so unprepared?

Zhang Hongbin caught the anomaly and quickly thought of the worst possible scenario: “In your timeline, am I already dead?”

Zhang Yiyu nodded gently, as if recalling something sad, her voice dropping, “Yes, when I was two, you said goodbye to Mom and me, then you left and got into a car accident. We were all very sad and missed you a lot…”

Zhang Hongbin listened to the girl’s tearful words. He had received too much information in a short time, so much so that he couldn’t react. Yet, a clear thought emerged from the depths of his mind: if he still died in the end, wouldn’t that mean Lin Jue’s sacrifice might have been entirely useless?

He rose and rushed towards Lin Jue, but it was already too late. The young man plunged two daggers into his heart, and vivid blood bloomed on the pristine white fabric, spreading like the red of a sunset.

The black-clad, golden-eyed Judge’s phantom stood between heaven and earth, black mist swirling around him; a book filled with laws and regulations rapidly flipped its pages, finally settling on a certain chapter.

Lin Jue’s form suddenly shattered, his edges splintering into white feathers. The Judge lowered his eyes, descended step by step, and his phantom diffused across the world.

【Judgment complete… Criminal Lin Jue executed with extreme penalty】

The black cross above Lin Jue’s head scattered into fragments, and the gleaming, reflective identity card detached from his chest, slowly flying towards the high heavens, accompanied by the silver-white text: 【Identity card “Dark Judge” has been retrieved】.

At the same time, all players heard the system broadcast:

【Main Quest “Kill Lin Jue” completed】

【Congratulations to players for clearing the Final Instance】

What… what was going on? It was cleared so simply?

The Final Instance ended, the eerie game closed, and Lin Jue once again saved everyone with his sacrifice. It seemed like a perfect ending.

Yet, Zhang Hongbin felt an ineffable discomfort in his heart, as if it were wrapped in layers of waterlogged cotton.

He subconsciously looked at Zhang Yiyu beside him, while Zhang Yiyu turned her head towards Zhou Ke’s direction, her gaze searching for something.

Two seconds later, the girl’s eyes widened: “Qi… Where’s Zhou Ke? When did he disappear? Oh no, that ape-like human ran off on his own. There must be a trap here, right?”

…

After stepping into the mirror, all pain and discomfort vanished, and even his body felt light, as if immersed in warm water, floating in the boundless void.

Qisi walked forward, and various phantoms—people in ancient attire, those with exotic features, men, women, young and old—flickered and vanished on both sides. Thousands upon thousands of faces appeared and dissolved, turning into specks of light that merged into the void as he approached.

Everything was peaceful and silent, like embracing death with acceptance, bidding farewell to tragic or beautiful fates, and becoming part of a greater time and space.

Where did heaven and earth come from? Where will they go? When one broadens their view to the level of the entire universe, the joys, sorrows, life, and death of a single species seem insignificant.

Qisi walked for a while and then rested. The dark space was not without light; on the contrary, it was dotted with brilliant, colorful stars that, as he walked, blossomed into King chess pieces, crosses, and bird feathers.

Ancient and magnificent temples rose from the ground amidst various symbolic phantoms. Further ahead were gigantic coliseums, quaint old towns, fog-shrouded hospitals, ancient schools, and scarlet theaters… A figure in a white suit walked toward him, a large patch of blood blooming across his chest. His young face was gentle and serene, and his eyes were clear.

Upon seeing Qisi, the young man paused slightly, then muttered to himself with a sense of realization, “I often have a realization lately: people are imprisoned by fate from birth to death. An individual’s choice is nothing more than an ant trying to shake a tree in the context of the vast expanse of time and space. We can never change anything; it’s like someone is destined to die, and the only difference is who is placed in that position.”

Qisi stopped and stared at the young man. He had attended the Guild Representative Conference at the Ruins of the Setting Sun. Before the opening, the organizer had played some videos on the screen, and the image of the young man before him was among them.

He smiled, “Lin Jue, I’ve heard much about you. To be honest, I’ve never understood why people like you always dwell on such simple problems. Ensuring one’s own survival out of biological instinct, and then letting others die in your place, is the choice most people would make, isn’t it? If ‘I’ cease to exist, what necessity is there for the world to exist?”

“However, if you have something you want to tell me, perhaps you could be more direct. After all, in another timeline, ‘you’ and I established a cooperative relationship.”

“I also cannot understand extreme individualism and pure malice.” Lin Jue shook his head slightly. “I am already dead; any further words I leave behind are merely the ravings of the untimely. I was just wondering, you know I will die, and I know my death will be useless. So, is our fate already sealed? Are we destined to rush toward the same node, no matter how many bumps we encounter along the way?”

The words seemed to imply something. Qisi narrowed his eyes slightly and realized that he had unknowingly walked into a manor where roses grew wildly. Cold vines wrapped around his ankles, and torrential rain poured down from the sky, freezing into ice and snow as it neared the ground.

He suddenly looked up. The scene around him instantly collapsed into fragments of swirling dust, only to rapidly reform into a starless, moonless night and an endless glacier.

Zhang Yiyu and Dong Xiwen were standing nearby, startled almost into jumping. Dong Xiwen blurted out, “Holy crap! Zhou Ke, when did you show up?”

Qisi remained silent. The long-unseen system interface solidified in the upper left corner of his vision, like the screen of a rebooted electronic device. Lines of text refreshed upon it:

【Judgment completed… Executing the criminal Lin Jue with the highest penalty】

【Identity Card “Dark Judge” has been recovered】

【Main Quest “Kill Lin Jue” completed】

【Congratulations, Player, you have cleared the Final Instance】

【Automatic teleportation out of the Instance in three minutes】

It was over. Although incredible, the story concerning the Weird Game seemed to have truly ended here. By exchanging with Zhou Ke, he had returned to the past timeline and cleared the Final Instance. According to the long-standing belief, the Weird Game would now shut down.

But… was that truly the case? Qisi mulled over Lin Jue’s final words, momentarily unsure if they were true or just alarmist talk.

He tilted his head and waited patiently. His vision dimmed inch by inch, until a faint light broke through at one moment.

“Egg-filled pancakes, freshly made egg-filled pancakes!”

“Farewell 2013, setting sail for 2014! People spent the last sleepless night of 2013 with brilliant fireworks and melodious bells, welcoming a hopeful 2014…”

“Hey, Auntie Alan, did you hear? A building in Jinjiang Residential Area seems to be haunted…”

Shouts, news broadcasts, and casual chatter mingled noisily. The smell of everyday life wafted over him, and Qisi stood in the center of the bustling crowd.

He had clearly returned to January 1, 2014. In front of him was a familiar breakfast shop, where the greasy-faced boss held a spatula, and the proprietress sat beside him, calling out sales while nursing a baby.

Qisi strolled over and said with a smile, “Two egg pancakes, hold the sausage.”

“Coming right up!” The boss spread the batter, grabbed a sausage, and slapped it onto the pancake.

Are they all this deaf? Qisi raised an eyebrow slightly and repeated, “No sausage.”

The boss wrapped the pancake heedlessly, put it in a plastic bag, and handed it toward Qisi’s direction, his hand passing right through Qisi’s body as if nothing were there.

Qisi looked back. A middle-aged man raised his hand to take the pancake, thanked the boss with a smile, and his eyes did not reflect Qisi’s figure.

He reached out to touch the man, and his fingers lightly passed through the man’s form. He realized then: these people couldn’t see him; he was clearly some sort of ghost or phantom, untouchable, imperceptible, and undiscoverable.

The morning market was always bustling with life. Elderly men and women charged through with their shopping baskets, vendors shouted along the street, and the clanging of spatulas was crisp and pleasant. The atmosphere was overly lively, yet that liveliness no longer belonged to Qisi.

He tried to touch the ingredients on the table, but couldn’t grasp a physical form; he tried to touch the wall, and his hand passed through the bricks. It was as if he and everything in this world didn’t exist on the same layer. Whenever they overlapped, only a passing encounter awaited.

Things had become troublesome. Although Qisi was quite adept at entertaining himself, a one-man show was incredibly boring. Now, he couldn’t even play Happy Match, let alone casually kill an innocent passerby for fun. It was truly lamentable.

“Am I still in the Instance? Or is there a bug, or perhaps… some kind of mechanism?” A rare trace of chill rose in Qisi’s heart, but it was slight.

Today was January 1, 2014, the day he was born twenty-two years ago. He was the avatar of Qi in reality, a spiritual entity cast into the human world. At such a significant node, that “He” was certain to appear.

—As long as he could meet Qi, he would have a way to break the deadlock.

Qisi retrieved fragments from his lengthy memories, scavenging the pieces he needed. His parents had mentioned the hospital where he was born, and now he leisurely made his way toward the target location.

In his current state, he felt no fatigue, effortlessly traversing over ten kilometers and ascending to the floor where the operating room was located.

A faint scarlet light flickered in the void, undetectable by humans. A figure in long red robes and long hair stood outside the door, a faint smile playing on their pale face.

Qisi walked casually toward the figure and said with a smile, “Qi, we meet again. Perhaps we can discuss the Final Instance.”

There was no response. Qi stared straight ahead, seeming utterly incapable of perceiving his presence.

Qisi reached out to touch Qi’s body, but his fingers passed through the blood-colored figure without causing the slightest ripple.

He dropped his smile, feeling a long-lost sense of fear—the loneliness of a tiny creature placed in a vast universe, as if he were the last intelligent being on Earth.

In this place, at this moment, he had clearly become a prisoner trapped in the past timeline, a person who no longer existed.