Chapter 420: Snow Mountain (20) — The Second Night

On the other side, men and women gathered in the front hall of the temple, some standing and others sitting, their expressions uniformly marked by a legible sorrow.

Not far away, the sacrificial pit seethed with screams and weeping, accompanied by the tooth-gritting sound of bones grinding together. Although death had not yet truly claimed them, the shadow it cast as it descended shrouded everyone beneath it.

Each of them knew clearly that the sacrificial pit was being filled with the deaths of the innocent; only by offering enough sacrifices could this instance possibly come to an end.

Yu Su could not stop weeping, muttering to herself as she cried, “Why is it like this? I want to go down the mountain, I want to go home…”

After a day and a night, under the influence of the “becoming a child” mechanism, her mind had already regressed to that of a twelve-year-old; compared to the other players, she was a child through and through.

Li Yunyang gripped her shoulders to prevent her from impulsively rushing out of the temple doors and causing unnecessary casualties. She remained silent, unable to offer any words of comfort.

Before today, she, like many members of the Jiuzhou Guild, had admired Fu Jue as a “savior.” The decision he made to “sacrifice the few to save the many” was something they could never have imagined.

But it had to be admitted that this was the only way. This instance was split into more than one time and space, and no one was certain what decisions players in other dimensions would make. Only by completing the sacrifice as quickly as possible and seizing the initiative could they prevent the world’s future from falling into the hands of slaughter-path maniacs like those in the Balance Church.

But what was the difference between Fu Jue’s actions and those of Slaughter-path players? How exactly did an idealist get swept up by pragmatism without realizing it, or were his previous words and deeds merely a calculated facade?

Li Yunyang couldn’t figure it out and didn’t plan to think about it any further. Things had reached this point where even a moment’s hesitation meant eternal damnation; those who could reach the top of the rankings would never be Mary Sues who dragged the team down.

Shuomeng bit down on a cigarette and lit it, took a couple of puffs, exhaled a cloud of choking smoke, then took out a perfume bottle and sprayed the air twice to freshen it up.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, no words came out, so he lit another cigarette and shoved it to Jiang Junjue beside him.

Jiang Junjue took the cigarette, looked him up and down, and said in a composed manner, “Shuomeng, I recall your mental age has regressed to sixteen. Minors shouldn’t smoke, you know?”

Shuomeng didn’t respond. This interruption, rather than lightening the mood, only served to highlight the oppressive atmosphere.

Xu Yao was probably the only one who didn’t care about human life or death. She wandered around the Jiuzhou and Tingfeng camps for a while, found it boring, and leaned toward Lin Chen. “Chairman Lin, your face looks terrible. Describe your current mood; I’m quite curious.”

Lin Chen turned his back, not intending to pay any attention to this female ghost. Lu Li sat down beside him of his own accord and spoke slowly, “Actually, I’ve known Qi Si for much longer than you think.”

He spoke in a storytelling tone, and Lin Chen subconsciously pricked up his ears to listen. Lu Li continued, “My past experience was very similar to yours. Before the age of fourteen, I was always the class monitor, a good student in the eyes of teachers, and a good child in the eyes of adults.”

“My parents were very upright people. They taught me every detail of how to be a good person, telling me what the correct way to handle various situations was. Most of the time, I didn’t know why I did it; I just subconsciously complied because I knew it was right.”

“So, when I saw Qi Si being isolated by his classmates at school, I immediately went to comfort him and keep him company. It wasn’t because of how much pity or empathy I had, but because I knew that only by doing so would I not violate the ‘correctness’ I had always followed.”

“Qi Si and I became friends, and then, Fu Jue found me. Common sense told me that complying with the federal government’s requirements was correct, so I followed Fu Jue’s orders and did many things that you might find unacceptable.”

“After the Hopeless Sea instance ended, I once lost my human body and was confined in a containment room as a non-human entity. That was a very quiet and lonely time, with only the books Fu Jue periodically sent to keep me company.”

“I finished the books quickly. I no longer had to spend too much energy absorbing knowledge and memorizing as I had before, and I finally had time to stop and think seriously about some things. I began to doubt: what exactly is right? What is wrong?”

“Good and evil are subjective measures instilled in us by society. Those involved are blind, just as a fish cannot perceive the shape of water. How can we judge our own gains, losses, merits, and faults?”

Lu Li’s voice grew lighter and more distant until it was completely swallowed by the sound of the wind, becoming impossible to grasp.

Lin Chen was suddenly startled. He looked around, and as far as his eyes could see, there was not a single person besides himself. The temple had vanished; he was unexpectedly in the middle of an ice plain surrounded by glaciers, with a mirror-like ice wall in front of him.

His own reflection appeared on the transparent ice—black hair, black eyes, and a pale face. Strangely, although he was clearly wearing a long black suit, the person in the ice was wearing a crumpled hospital gown, exactly how he had looked when he first entered the instance.

“Are you… Lin Crow?” the person in the ice reached out and asked first. “Why do you look so sad? Did something happen?”

Lin Chen was slightly startled, then remembered that his current identity was indeed Lin Crow, the leader of the Unnamed Guild, and the name corresponding to the Plague Doctor card was also “Lin Crow.”

He nodded. “Yes, I am Lin Crow. Who are you?”

The person’s expression was timid, and his voice was forced into a calm tone. “My name is Lin Chen. I am… another you.”

…Qi Si sat by the edge of the sacrificial pit, resting his chin on his hand, calmly watching the skeletons in the pit increase layer by layer, gradually approaching the ground.

The corpses screamed, their arms reaching toward the sky, their sharp fingers leaving scratches on the ice walls, yet they could never find the leverage to escape the confines of the ice pit, only sinking deeper.

The sacrifices that arrived first were soon covered by those who came later. Every sacrifice was equally unwilling and malicious, their curses torn apart by the wind and snow like the hooting of a night owl.

As time passed, the rate at which the sacrifices increased slowed down, finally stagnating at a position half a meter from the ground. The noise was incessant, becoming even more clamorous.

Fu Jue walked over and said indifferently, “I have exhausted all the pawns I could discard and all the cards I could mobilize. What about you?”

“I’m about the same. The anomalies I spread earlier have all been detonated; we’ll see if they cause more impact later.”

Qi Si stared at a corpse closest to the edge of the pit. It was a young man in his early twenties with a Western face, seemingly dead from the Insomnia Syndrome Pathogen.

As soon as he arrived at the sacrificial pit, he had shouted in terror. After realizing what was happening, his face twisted into a savage mask as he began to curse. He looked terrified and angry, and his curses were likely very foul. Unfortunately, Qi Si’s English was poor, and he couldn’t understand a single word.

Qi Si grabbed the Sea-God Scepter and thrust it into the sacrificial pit, stirring it casually to crush a few of the noisiest skeletons.

Once the environment was a bit quieter, he turned his head toward Fu Jue, but he didn’t see anyone there.

Night had fallen, and the temple was shrouded in silence, like a long-abandoned tomb. The players were nowhere to be found. The Lama sat as still as a mountain by the sacrificial pit, gently tapping a wooden fish.

The “thump-thump” sound beat in time with the wind and snow, like a soul-summoning melody drawing lost travelers home. Qi Si knew he had entered a dream again, so he simply stepped forward and asked, “Have you seen the Ancestor God?”

The Lama kept his head lowered, ignoring him. Qi Si asked again, “Then do you know where this is?” The Lama remained silent.

Qi Si found it uninteresting but didn’t care, stepping straight out of the temple doors.

Perhaps because night had just begun and the Ghosts had not yet come searching, he walked a long way without seeing any familiar faces seeking revenge.

He wandered aimlessly, stepping into an ice plain filled with ice walls, and stopped before a mirror-like ice wall at the very end.

Zhou Ke sat cross-legged inside the ice wall. Seeing him arrive, he grinned. “Qi Si, we meet again. I told you, you would come back.”

Qi Si looked down at him with an identical mocking expression. “You are not me. I don’t know what you really are, whether you follow the rules or the Ancestor God, but don’t act for too long, or you’ll even deceive yourself.”

“Oh? Is it because you’re afraid your uniqueness will be erased that you simply refuse to acknowledge my existence?” Zhou Ke narrowed his eyes and sneered. “I possess your memories and know your fears and desires. Who else but you could achieve this?”

Qi Si didn’t answer and continued from his previous words, “As far as I know, in the world line Zhou Ke was in, Lin Jue used the effect of Dark Judge on himself, thereby obtaining the winning strategy for this instance.”

“Since you call yourself Zhou Ke, I want to ask: as the same person, given that I am more complete than you and have a better chance of opening the temple in the Ruins of the Sunset, are you willing to exchange fates with me?”

“Ha.” Zhou Ke gave a dry laugh and looked at Qi Si with interest. “Why do you think you are more complete than I am?”

Qi Si also smiled. “You said it yourself last night: I have desires, and I want to live.”

“Because they possess desires, humans were elevated from the ranks of beasts. What could better demonstrate completeness than a god who is supposed to be heartless and desireless possessing desires?”

The sound of something cutting through the air came from behind his ear. Qi Si dodged the blade’s light and controlled the Cursed Pendulum to strike behind him. The sound of clashing metal was crisp and lethal, a prelude to the start of the hunt.

Tonight’s dream was a continuation of last night’s. Chang Xu, dressed in black, stood expressionless behind Qi Si, mechanically raising his scythe and swinging it down heavily.

Qi Si avoided the attack and summoned the Straw Tiger, leaping onto its back and driving the giant beast to gallop across the ice plain.

Cracks opened in the ice beneath them from time to time, and pale hands reached out from the fissures, grabbing the ice for leverage to pull heavy bodies out of the frozen depths.

A dense crowd of Ghosts stood across the endless snow mountains, all converging on Qi Si’s location. Most of the Ghosts this time had Western faces, their skin mottled with yellow lesions, clearly having died from the Insomnia Syndrome Pathogen.

Qi Si gripped the Sea-God Scepter and summoned a sudden downpour mixed with a salty, fishy smell. Before it hit the ground, it was frozen by the cold into pea-sized ice crystals.

The Ghosts were knocked down, and the Straw Tiger crashed through the crooked crowd of corpses, carving out a bloody path and charging toward the distant, rolling mountain ridges.

The dark shadows on both sides gradually thinned, and Qi Si saw those who had died even earlier.

Tribes clad in animal skins danced around altars, only to be baked into mummies by a scorching sun casually cast down by a deity; armies clad in armor and wielding weapons shouted slogans of holy war, only to get lost in the vast desert; alchemists seeking the elixir of immortality set sail, their ships smashed by giant waves on a stormy night.

As a deity, He had known of the greed and stupidity of the human race long ago, treating them as livestock that could be wiped out at will, just as humans treat even weaker animals.

And after realizing that simple slaughter could not generate more sin, He learned to induce and deceive, letting humans run around for their own desires, only to crush all hope the moment before dawn, making all efforts come to naught.

An emperor in a black dragon robe reached out a wrinkled hand and muttered to himself, “I have unfinished business; I cannot bear to fall halfway…”

A middle-aged man holding chemical reagents shook his hands and screamed hoarsely, “I’m almost there! God, tell me what to do…”

A scarred soldier lay in a trench, his breath as thin as silk. “I want to live. I want to go home and see my mother one last time…”

In an instant, everyone’s faces became savage and terrifying, their voices turning into roars of resentment. The cruel deity sat high above, treating human joys and sorrows as a play, but now He no longer possessed great power and was just a fragile mortal, so—

Take revenge on him.

The Straw Tiger beneath him scattered into pieces. Qi Si had to use the Sea-God Scepter as a walking stick to support his body as he trekked across the slippery ice and snow.

The Ghosts’ claws reached for him. The Cursed Pendulum cut off those closest to him. He dodged left and right, yet his arm was still scratched by sharp nails.

A drop of blood fell onto the ice, blooming into a pale pink hue. Tonight seemed even longer than last night; although he had walked for a long time, the sky showed no signs of brightening. The dream was black, and white meant waking up; clearly, there were too many Ghosts seeking revenge, and the culprit was still far from waking.

The screams of the Ghosts grew louder and louder, with the faint sound of “save me” mixed in. How ridiculous—they hated the deity’s heartlessness and cruelty on one hand, yet prayed for his salvation on the other. They didn’t hate God; they only hated that God hadn’t satisfied their desires.

Qi Si’s suit was torn to rags, and scars crisscrossed his body, oozing thick, pungent blood. He saw the mountain ridge line right before him, looking like the corpse of a woman lying on her side.

A massive skull of white bone lay between heaven and earth, its sharp ribs growing into a dense stone forest, and iridescent blood flowed gurgling beneath it, turning into surging rivers and great streams.

The Ancestor God.

The remains of the Ancestor God, once devoured by the various gods, had their final remnants transformed into the highest snow mountain in this world.

Qi Si and Fu Jue had joined forces to complete the sacrifice to force the Ancestor God to appear, and then eliminate Him just as they had in the Holy City instance; however, they hadn’t expected that things wouldn’t go as they wished. Upon appearing, the Ancestor God used an unknown power to separate them… A shuddering fear rose in Qi Si’s heart, like an ant crawling on a gloomy wasteland, thinking the weather today was just overcast, only to look up and realize it was merely standing in the shadow of a giant.

It seemed that since entering this instance, he had often felt fear—not directed at any specific thing, but the uncontrollable instinct of a living being facing death. Even a deity is one of the myriad living beings.

“Save me…” someone was groaning. Qi Si felt for no reason that the voice sounded somewhat familiar.

Who was it? How could that person be here? Why was he calling for help?

The sense of fear layered upon itself, growing heavier and heavier. Qi Si refused to retreat, gritting his teeth as he moved toward the Ancestor God’s remains.

At a certain moment, it felt as if he had crossed a boundary. The Ghosts and various anomalies suddenly dissipated, and a pure white altar appeared before him.

A young man in a red Tang suit with a small braid had his limbs pinned down by white feathers, lying on his back upon the altar, blood flowing like a river beneath him.

It was Jin Yusheng!

Qi Si narrowed his eyes.