Chapter 418: Snow Mountain (18) Eternal Night Without Light

“The Mother Goddess does not allow us to see her, so naturally, we drift further and further away from her. The Snow Mountain does not welcome us, so naturally, we cannot see it during the day. We can only let nature take its course and use our piety to move Them.”

Tashi spoke a long string of mystical words and continued forward on his own. The massive, sturdy herd of yaks followed behind him, forming a moving hill in the pure white world.

The players, however, did not dare to follow them any longer, no matter what.

Walking further and further into the boundless night until distant landmarks disappeared was a precursor to getting lost. Having spun around in the Snow Mountain for so long, everyone felt more or less a sense of dread about being lost here forever.

“It seems you’ve all noticed; we’ve been walking in the opposite direction.” Zhou Ke crouched down, his gaze falling on the footprints in the snow. “When moving forward, the body’s center of gravity leans forward, so the ball of the foot’s footprint is usually deeper, while the heel gradually becomes shallower.”

“When backing up, the body’s center of gravity shifts back, making the heel’s impression more pronounced. The ball of the foot might be shallower due to dragging or a lack of thrust, even showing drag marks. But look at these footprints—”

“All the footprints were made while backing up.” Dong Xiwen crouched down, observed the ground for a while, and made a judgment. “In other words, we’ve been walking all night, and we’ve been backing up the whole time? We might as well have been marching in place.”

“By the way, what kind of nonsensical mechanic is this? This instance is going to any lengths to increase the difficulty for us, even coming up with a setting where the more you walk, the further you get from your destination.”

“A mirror.” Fu Jue spoke up abruptly. “It’s known that the scene in a mirror is opposite to the outside world, and perception can become disordered due to visual errors. This basically matches the situation we’re facing now.”

Dong Xiwen nodded in agreement. “You’re right, ‘mirror’ really does seem to be one of the important clues for this instance. It looks like it applies here. Wasn’t there a mirror in the inn at the foot of the mountain?”

He was just casually agreeing, but Lin Jue adjusted his glasses, looking thoughtful. “I think we might need to go back to the inn and check. The mirror in the inn might be the key to breaking this situation.”

…【January 3, 2014, recorded at the Snow Mountain Camp:

【The date is just written randomly. In fact, since I stepped onto the Snow Mountain, I’ve been unable to determine the specific time in this instance. The sky is always dark, and I can only guess based on my physical sensations that twenty-four hours might have passed. But why hasn’t it dawned yet? When will it get light? We have no idea at all.

【Let’s talk about what happened yesterday first: Zhou Ke used a holy song to draw in all the sinners of Shangri-La, forcing Lin Jue to activate his Identity Card effect on himself, which added the main quest ‘Kill Lin Jue.’ We made a pact that if it’s still not daylight by the next day and we still haven’t found a way to clear the instance, Lin Jue will take his own life.

【I don’t understand why Lin Jue would allow himself to be coerced by that Slaughter-path player, but based on my understanding of him, he might have considered this path long ago. Zhou Ke’s actions were just the last straw that pushed him to make the decision. But is a person like him really going to die here so sloppily? I feel indignant and aggrieved for him.

【After summarizing, I, Alexei, and Zhang Hongbin have all been affected by the instance mechanic and have ‘turned back into children.’ Our memories are regressing, and our thoughts are becoming childish. Lin Jue believes that climbing the Snow Mountain will help slow down the aging regression process. Whether it’s to avoid’salvation’ or to deal with the instance mechanics, it’s time to take the next step—we climbed the Snow Mountain in the evening.

【What’s worse is that we seem to have unknowingly gotten lost in a mirror world. Clearly, we were moving forward, but the final result was backing up, getting further and further from our destination. We plan to head back to the inn at the foot of the mountain to take a look. There seem to be some mirrors there, which might be key clues pointing toward a way to clear the instance.

【Fortunately, no matter what, looking at the current sky, it’s still early before dawn. We are all still alive and will continue to survive for a while until dawn arrives.】

In the space-time where Qi Si was, a new page had refreshed in Chu Yining’s diary. Qi Si casually flipped through it for a while, learning about Zhou Ke’s movements in the other space-time.

It was similar to what he had speculated. Zhou Ke was in the same space-time as Chu Yining, Lin Jue, and the others. After Zhou Ke obtained the Ink Soul Scroll, he successfully used the Recorder to borrow momentum and coerce Lin Jue into achieving his goal.

At this point, the ending of Zhou Ke’s timeline would be without suspense. The fates of those players from twenty-two years ago were guided toward a predetermined trajectory, with no other options.

The light above gradually dimmed; it was likely approaching dusk. Everyone who had climbed the Snow Mountain gathered in the temple.

Fu Jue and his group arrived a step late, stepping through the temple gates covered in heavy snow. At the moment they arrived, several more layers of bones had been added to the sacrificial pit, leaving only a third of the distance to the ground. This was presumably Fu Jue’s contribution.

The members of Tingfeng and others from Kyushu who followed Fu Jue had various expressions for a moment. Some had known some secrets long ago, while others looked like their faith had collapsed.

But everyone knew that being in the common danger of the Snow Mountain and facing an irresistible threat of death, Fu Jue held the final decision-making power for the trolley problem. They were in no position to fret over minor details.

After everyone had sat down in the open space near the temple gates, Fu Jue stood up and walked toward the back of the temple. As he passed Qi Si, his footsteps paused slightly. “Qi Si, I want to talk to you about some things in private.”

“Coincidentally, I also have some things I want to tell you,” Qi Si stood up smoothly and said with a smile.

He had already guessed what Fu Jue was going to say and followed him leisurely, passing an instruction to Lu Li and Xu Yao through the Soul Leaf to keep an eye on the others.

This temple hidden deep in the Snow Mountain was a complete shell. Aside from the wooden skeleton, there were no other furnishings, like a skeleton hollowed of flesh and blood, standing craggily in the cold wind.

The courtyard’s atrium was filled by the sacrificial pit, making it almost impossible to find a place to step. Qi Si and Fu Jue went one after the other, climbing the ladder in the corner to the second-floor platform.

On the second floor was a row of rooms with dilapidated windows and doors. An old-looking Lama sat cross-legged in a room, his waxen flesh clinging to his bones, shriveled and decaying.

Qi Si stood outside the door, turned his head to look at Fu Jue, and showed an interested expression. “Speaking of which, I’m curious. What is so important that it must be said in private and cannot be known by them?”

“Sacrifices and offerings,” Fu Jue said calmly. “According to the mechanics of this instance, we need to kill a large number of people to fill the sacrificial pit before there’s a probability of clearing it.”

“It is known that those who are killed will seek revenge on their killers at night, and our ability to combat Ghosts is limited. Therefore, I hope we can summarize information as quickly as possible and calculate the equilibrium point between the number of offerings and our survival capability.”

What Fu Jue said was exactly Qi Si’s assessment of the situation.

The Snow Mountain instance informed players through nighttime dreams that everyone killed would gather at the Snow Mountain to seek revenge on their killers. Yet, the next morning, the Lama informed the players that a large number of people needed to be killed to fill the sacrificial pit for a chance to clear the instance.

This was equivalent to placing a dilemma before the players: killing is sinful, so how many people can you kill and how much sin can you commit for the sake of victory?

Most players who entered the Final Dungeon could view life and death calmly. Moral issues were placed outside the scope of consideration; the only thing players needed to calculate was the comparison between risk and benefit.

Qi Si tapped his chin with his index finger and smiled. “Rather than an equilibrium point, I think it’s more important to calculate how many more people need to be killed to fill the sacrificial pit.”

“That shouldn’t be a small number. If the Final Dungeon is a means for the rules to reclaim the entire world, it might not even be enough to throw everyone in the world into it.”

“Not necessarily.” Fu Jue shook his head slightly. “This instance exists in different space-times. Each space-time has a sacrificial pit. The number of offerings needed should be the total population divided by the number of space-times.”

“With a fixed total population, the earlier the sacrifice is performed, the greater the room for choice.”

His tone was extremely calm, as if he were merely discussing a simple mathematical problem rather than living human lives.

When a decision is made in the name of the world’s future, it seems that as long as this giant ship named ‘human destiny’ can continue to sail, any amount of life and death can be called a necessary sacrifice.

Qi Si laughed. “Interesting. The person those people see as a savior who can rescue them from their misery has casually made the decision to throw them into the sacrificial pit.”

“No matter how many more people so-called Slaughter-path players deceive or kill in an instance, it can’t compare to the number of people sacrificed by one of your decisions. It’s quite ironic, isn’t it?”

“I will kill all my puppets.” Fu Jue seemed unable to hear Qi Si’s sarcasm and continued in the same tone. “Slaughter-path players deserve no pity. I use the Sera Guild as a banner to gather these low-value, unstable elements under my command. Using their lives in exchange for the survival of the innocent fits the principle of utilitarianism.”

Qi Si understood, his smile remaining. “I see. I will first detonate the Insomnia Syndrome Pathogen and kill a thousand people. If a thousand isn’t enough, then ten thousand.”

He paused and changed the subject. “But there is one thing I have to be quite concerned about: what position does the Ancestor God occupy in this sacrifice? Offering, priest, or the one being sacrificed to?”

“The one being sacrificed to.” Fu Jue looked up at the distant peaks of the Snow Mountain, his lenses reflecting the white snow. “He is the deity worshipped by the Lamas in this world. If we want to do anything to Him, the only way is to lure Him out with a sacrifice.”

“A good line of thought.” The smile on Qi Si’s face finally became sincere. “Then I’ll wish us a happy cooperation in advance.”

The development of the timeline had reached this point, and there was no longer much room for maneuver. If left to take its course, the ending would likely be the same as the first era: after the apocalypse, the Ancestor God would create a new world, and all other living beings would be recycled and remade.

If the gods wanted to change their fate of being devoured, their only choice was to kill the Ancestor God and take His place in the apocalypse. Currently, the players were in the open while the Ancestor God was in the shadows. No matter how many plans they had, none could be implemented unless they used the sacrifice as an opportunity to draw the Ancestor God out.

This was an open scheme. As a tool chosen by the rules, receiving the sacrifice of sin was the Ancestor God’s duty. Even if He knew of Qi Si and Fu Jue’s plan, He could not ignore it and would have to enter the game.

The conversation only took ten minutes from start to finish. Many important matters are often decided decisively, simply because both parties had already made their decisions before the discussion began. The so-called consultation was merely a politely phrased notification.

Lin Chen sat blankly on the threshold of the temple, looking sideways at the two figures standing on the second floor. Seeing Qi Si coming down the stairs, he quickly looked away and stared at a small patch of melting snow on the ground.

He was not unaware of everything Qi Si had once done.

Those players repeatedly cursed Qi Si as a Slaughter-path player and a demented madman. He had heard it when collecting information and seen it with his own eyes. As long as one wasn’t a fool, one could speculate about the truth.

But before seeing Qi Si harm someone with his own eyes and obtaining definitive evidence, he always held a sliver of unrealistic hope that perhaps everything was a misunderstanding, a deliberate smear campaign by hostile forces.

He was not a brave person; he was even somewhat cowardly. He could never muster the courage to question or resist. He would only force himself not to dwell on dilemmas, like an ostrich in the desert burying its head in the sand when encountering danger, deceiving itself to maintain a facade of peace.

Even though he knew Qi Si was indeed not as selfless and pure as he imagined, he still habitually deceived himself: everything Qi Si did was out of necessity, only to sacrifice the few to save the many in the trolley problem, and after clearing the Final Dungeon, he would resurrect everyone… But after seeing the layers of corpses in the ice pit and hearing Qi Si’s nonchalant tone, Lin Chen could no longer turn a blind eye.

The past veil of falsehood was torn away, and the illusory reflection was shattered. For the first time, he had to look directly at the real Qi Si—

This young man, whom he had seen as a kind and righteous savior, was actually an out-and-out madman who disregarded human life.

Pain? Sadness? Lin Chen was stunned for a long time, and what he felt most was actually a sense of relief. The pending question now had a conclusion; he didn’t need to deceive himself anymore.

The remaining question was: how should he face Qi Si?

‘A person should be responsible and remember kindness. You said it yourself, he helped you. No matter what the motive was, it wouldn’t be right for you to harm him.’

His mother’s words echoed in his ears. Lin Chen discovered that this problem he had been unable to solve had an answer long ago.

In any case, Qi Si had saved him three times. He owed Qi Si three lives. Until they were paid back, he should be Qi Si’s person.

At worst… he would repay him with death.

“What are you thinking about?” Qi Si’s voice rang out from the depths of his mind, as light as always.

Lin Chen closed his eyes and answered truthfully, “I was thinking about that sacrificial pit, and the people who died in it.”

“Oh?” Qi Si was noncommittal and gestured for him to continue.

Lin Chen swallowed and asked, “Brother Qi, the Lama said the sacrificial pit needs to be filled with the dead. Will you kill even more people?”

“Yes. This is a joint decision between Fu Jue and me,” Qi Si said with a smile. “So, do you intend to oppose me?”

Silence spread through the temple. The wind and snow on the mountain grew stronger, whistling against the doors, windows, and wind chimes, making sharp, eerie noises.

After an unknown amount of time, Lin Chen said in a very soft voice, “Brother Qi, I still owe you three lives.”

…On the other side, Zhou Ke and the others gathered in the inn at the foot of the mountain.

Seventy-two hours had passed since they first climbed the Snow Mountain, but the sky above had been dark and lightless from beginning to end, as if they were in the polar regions in winter, where there would be no daylight for months.

Lin Jue, wrapped in a warm blanket, finally showed a trace of worry in his calm eyes. “I believe you’ve all noticed that the night here is exceptionally long. I suspect we’re trapped in the darkness, and I’m afraid it will never get light again.”

Xiao Fengchao, who had been lounging on the sofa, stood up at the right time and waved a white card between his fingers. “I have some even worse news to insert: I just performed a divination for several people whose birth details are known. Everyone’s fate lines end here.”

As he spoke, he condensed a black card in his hand. “I’m already considering whether to re-bind the Forbidden Scholar card. I happen to have an item that can fuse a soul with an Identity Card. Since death is inevitable either way, I’d rather leave some last words here with the Forbidden Scholar card than be an unpopular doomsday prophet.”

“Not necessary for now.” Lin Jue shook his head gently. “We’ll all climb the mountain together. Once we encounter a new death point—”

“Fu Jue.” He turned his head to look at the young man in the black suit beside him. “Please kill me immediately.”

Fu Jue’s pupils constricted. “Senior, why…”

Lin Jue raised his hand in a gesture for silence and said calmly, “Using my death alone to trade for everyone else’s survival fits the principle of utilitarianism.”