first player

Chapter 1591 Final Chapter: Guarding the Coastline: "OE: Die from the Ocean (14)"

Beneath the vast, boundless blue sky, the towering mountains stand silently as if from time immemorial.

"Crack, snap."

A young shepherd boy, wrapped in coarse linen, listlessly herded a few languid flocks of sheep at his feet. The shadows stretched long, and in his utter boredom, his gaze occasionally drifted to the distant cliff face.

Suddenly, a blinding crimson color caught his eye.

The shepherd boy felt a chill run down his spine and hesitated before approaching the bottom of the cliff, only to discover that there was a corpse lying there.

The corpse's bones were broken and it was already stiff and cold. Large patches of dark brown blood scabs were splattered on the bluish-gray rocks, and its internal organs had turned into a putrid pulp. It looked like it had fallen to its death.

"My God!" The shepherd boy gasped, holding his breath as he gently poked the spot with his finger. The man was dressed in ordinary cloth, perhaps a city dweller driven to desperation.

"Sigh..." The shepherd boy sighed, squatted down, and shook his head, his childish voice filled with deep regret and confusion:

“I say, city folk, why are you doing this to yourself? Life is hard enough, what obstacle can’t you overcome? If you had met me sooner, I would have taken you home to taste the oil tea my mother makes, and then taken you to the market outside the mountains. They sell antiques from before the Lighthouse Wars, with colorful flags fluttering in the sky, that’s what you call a beautiful sight…”

"..."

The shepherd boy sighed, and the "corpse" that should have been completely silent began to tremble!
Immediately afterwards, amidst a sickeningly loud cracking sound of bones dislocating, the corpse, dragging its body covered in gruesome and horrific wounds, got up!

"Whoa—!!!" The shepherd boy's scream ripped through the silence, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. His intestines were shattered like that! How could this person still move? How could he...come back to life?!
The young man, with his disheveled white hair, got up with a limp and started to walk up the cliff.

"Are you... are you alright? Hang in there!" The shepherd boy frantically untied the wool belt from his waist and rushed forward, wrapping it tightly around the young man's bloodied and mangled calf.

But to his surprise, he found that the bleeding had stopped.

"Hey, where are you going! Are you going to jump again, you city person! I'll treat you to my mother's oil tea, don't try to kill yourself again!" the shepherd boy shouted.

The white-haired youth paused, his long hair stained with blood, looking like a homeless man, his voice hoarse: "I am the most tenacious bug in the world."

"How can you talk about yourself like that!" The shepherd boy rushed up to him and pulled him back: "Come on, come on, your eyes are all blurry. If you keep going like this, you might not even know who you are. If you're going to jump off a cliff, you should at least do it while you're sober."

This fallacious argument seemed to convince the young man, who said nothing and let the shepherd pull him down the mountain.

The mother was kneading barley flour inside the tent when her son pulled back a stranger covered in blood, startling her so much that the dough began to crumble. Without saying a word, she immediately poured warm water and dried herbs into a wooden bowl, filling the air with their aroma.

The white-haired youth sat blankly on the bed like a wooden puppet, as if his mind had already dissipated. His mother pried open his cold lips and fed him warm medicine paste, then wiped the corners of his mouth with her sleeve.

Leading the shepherd boy, the mother stepped out of the tent and whispered, "What happened? Why did you bring back a madman?"

"City people who come to jump off the cliff!"

"Oh dear, why can't people make a living in this world? I heard there was a big incident recently, many people died, but they still have food and clothing, so why can't they survive?"

"Mother, please save him!" the shepherd boy cried, waving at the woman's sleeve.

"He definitely needs to be saved, he's so young! Let him rest in peace, and once he's better, we'll take him to the market!"

Inside the tent, the white-haired youth lay on the bed, having changed into clean clothes, and quietly gazed at the tent ceiling.

He seemed to have lost his desire and the strength to speak.

He tried many, many times.

Walk into the sea and wait for suffocation to take you away.

Standing on the cliff, he calmly leaped off.

He plunged a sword into his own heart and watched the blood drain away.

Without taking any precautions, it rushed into space, allowing the extreme low temperatures of the high altitude to turn it into a statue.

However, until his lungs filled with seawater, until the feeling of suffocation reached the brink of death; until he was shattered to pieces, his internal organs turned into mud; until swords pierced him into a rag doll, his blood flowing faster than a river; until he turned into an ice sculpture and crashed to the ground, shattering into pieces...

I am still alive.

He longed to drown in the ocean.

Little did he know that the word "world" would become the chains that imprisoned him.

"Ha, hahaha..." He covered his cheeks, his hoarse voice squeezing out from his throat.

He thought that by giving the World Tree seed to Yamada Machiichi, he could trigger a death rewind and start over, but that was wishful thinking. Even if he died, he would only be a physical body; the real him could still be reborn under the World Tree until he lost his soul forever.

Gao Weinuoer did indeed kill him in the coffee shop, but Lu Shu arrived in time, burning his divine essence to hold him off for a moment, his soul reborn beneath the World Tree. After the pink-haired man died, the small world quickly left Zhai Xing.

Perhaps with Yueyue and Xinghuo's secret help, no one caught up. Some time had passed since that day, and he attempted suicide again and again, trying to undo everything.

He was indeed a mad, pathological, and incurable perfectionist. Seeing Lu Shu burn and leave behind his divine essence, seeing Lu die in his arms, seeing the 256-story tower collapse, seeing corpses lying on the road, he wanted to start over, stubbornly insisting on changing everything. He couldn't accept imperfections, couldn't accept deviations, tormenting himself into the state of a complete madman. It seemed that if the world didn't suit his wishes, he shouldn't continue living there.

If he truly harbors such fanatical ideas, how is he any different from some idealistic madmen?

He got up and went to a deserted loess hillside. There was nothing flammable nearby, so he stretched out his index finger and set himself on fire.

"Whoosh..."

Flames burned up from his legs and feet, and he could no longer feel the pain. The flames gradually engulfed his body, and when his brain was charred, his consciousness was interrupted for a moment.

When he awoke, he found himself still lying on the hillside, the daylight transformed into the sunset that blanketed the mountains. His limbs were intact, and even his hair and clothes were spotless. He picked up the charred ashes beside him and put them in his mouth, finding only bitterness.

...Even clothes, something external to him, became eternal.

He tried drowning, self-immolation, jumping off a cliff, bleeding himself... nothing changed except making his spirit even weaker. Only, the dopamine in his brain was released pleasurably, treating pain as nourishment, shaping him into an absurd statue that craved pain and an end.

Unbeknownst to him, he had become Xiao Ying.

"Hey! City folks, what are you doing here!" A shout came from down the hillside. The shepherd boy climbed up worriedly and, seeing that Su Ming'an's skin was intact, exclaimed, "You must be the 'player' they talked about on TV! You're really different from ordinary people; you healed so quickly, that's amazing!"

...players.

Su Ming'an lowered his head, and after a moment said, "Do you hate the players?"

"How could that be?" The shepherd boy looked at him, puzzled. "If it weren't for them, we would all be dead. I don't understand what those people who are always making trouble are thinking. Wouldn't it be better to have some oil tea instead of causing trouble? You're a player, so you must have fought for us. It's only right that my mother and I take care of you! Hmm... is this what they call post-traumatic stress disorder? Don't worry, it's all over!"

He took Su Ming'an's hand: "Come on, let's go down the slope!"

Under the blood-red sunset that blanketed the mountains and fields, two figures, one large and one small, descended the hillside, leaving behind a pile of ashes.

Have I seen you before?

“I used to be a novice monk in a temple. When I was two or three years old, my family needed me, so I went out to herd sheep. My mother had more than a hundred children, but she disappeared, so I went to live with my grandmother.”

"so……"

"Huh? You look familiar. I don't often see those big screens in the city. Have we met before?"

"I'm just an ordinary person."

"Oh, but you're amazing!"

"I'm not good at anything, I can't do anything."

"Who said that? Who said you have to do something amazing to prove you're great? I can herd sheep well, and the adults all say I'm the best little shepherd on this grassland!"

Su Ming'an stretched out his hand and gazed at her silently.

These hands have wielded swords, disassembled machinery, and concocted medicines. They have also brushed away wind and snow, climbed spider webs, and caressed statues. They are too weathered, and their owner is slowly growing old.

The little shepherd boy was still chattering away beside me. The wind blew across the grassland, making the horses neigh and gallop. The herdsmen, with colorful ribbons hanging from their waists, drove their horses. The knots on their wrists looked like tassels, swaying back and forth.

The tower collapsed, but this place seemed unaffected; some were brewing tea, others herding sheep, and still others going to the market. A young shepherd boy picked a flower, his rosy cheeks like a monkey's bottom, and smiled as he offered it to Su Ming'an's palm.

That night, Su Ming'an originally wanted to leave, but his five senses were extremely confused, so he could only stay and rest.

Around the campfire, the simple old woman brought out some fine wine. The pungent taste stung his throat, making him feel as if he were floating on clouds, transforming into a carefree cloud. The campfire danced in his eyes, and the herdsmen sang in circles. They weren't singing praises to the local deity, but to their ancient faith. The hymns carried the weight of thousands of years, like ancient murals etched into the walls. Su Ming'an, drunk in the firelight, watched Little Gesang dancing barefoot with enthusiasm, and saw the rosy faces of the plateau. He sensed a glimmer of life—he vaguely saw figures standing under the flowering trees, smiling and reaching out to him, telling him it was alright.

"Cough...cough cough cough!"

The wine was so spicy, so cold. As it rolled down my throat, it felt just like the cold embrace of Lu Bing back then.

If the whole world were like this wine, without those scheming, intractable knots of ideals, wouldn't it be as open and beautiful as this grassland?
"City dweller, why are you so sad? Why are you contemplating suicide?"

"I want to go home, I want to save people."

"Then you should look forward and move forward! You have to take steps forward to get home!"

"Can not go back."

"Oh dear, you should get some rest. Your eyes are all blurry... Drinking can help you relax. Maybe if you get drunk, you'll recover..."

After getting drunk, Su Ming'an collapsed to the ground. The shepherd boy, Xiao Gesang, wrapped the young man tightly in a thick woolen blanket, leaving only his pale face exposed, and helped him onto the back of his family's gentlest old yak. ​​The yak moved slowly, and the person on its back swayed gently with the bumps.

"Come on! City folks, I'll take you home! Back to my mother's house!"

The child leads the ox, and the ox carries the youth.

Stars hang low over the vast plains, the moon surges in the long stream.

A clear, resonant voice, piercing through the stars and moon, illuminated the way home:

“Ee-ya-le-”

The barley ears bowed their heads.
"The wind pushes the clouds along."

"The sparks in the fire pit danced."
"The eyes of the bull are the stars..."

“Ee-ya-le-”

"Guests in the city, do not worry."

"The meadow is wider than your brow."

"Gold and silver fall from the sky,"

"Nothing beats a bowl of piping hot tea."

"Cold wine burns the intestines but cannot warm them up."

"Worn-out leather boots wrapped around a warm kang (heated brick bed)..."

“Ee-ya-le-”

"Its horns, curving and twisting, carry the sun as it travels."
"The hoofprints are deeply imprinted on the snowmelt river."

"Go to sleep, go to sleep, your eyelids are heavy."

"The prayer flags are singing in the wind..."

The years of bloody experiments and the lofty perspective far removed from the world seemed to vanish briefly at this moment. The vast night sky, the rough and pungent aroma of the wine, the inverted and boundless starry sky, and the simple and honest masses of people all rushed into his eyes.

Su Ming'an had a good dream.

It was a one in ten thousand good dream that Yueyue left for him.

In his dream, he saw himself sitting under a flowering tree. No one had left, and no one was in pain. They had built a tall tower with love, and inside the tower, they were fearless. The world was peaceful, and they spent one happy spring, summer, autumn, and winter after another...

When he woke up, he was still on the cow's back.

As dawn breaks, all things begin to sing.

Little Gesang led the cow down the street.

"You're awake! We're at the market, almost home!" The shepherd boy turned back and smiled at him, excitedly pointing to the colorful flags fluttering in the distance: "See those colorful flags? They're all over the hillside! When the wind blows, they rustle and sway, like singing! ...And those are the items from before the World Game! They used to glow, brighter than the moon! They were supposedly called 'player equipment light effects,' but I don't know what they were, anyway, they don't glow anymore."

A dazzling array of stalls were set up on the grass, and people strolled among them.

The herders were selling the "players'" odds and ends as novelties: a red bottle that could cure all diseases with a sip, a long skirt that could hold several boxes of goods, and a white tentacle that was said to have been left behind by the world lord...

Su Ming watched all of this silently, observing these simple people who treated even the players' trash as treasures.

“We’re particularly interested in the players. Although I missed the World Game, I want to record their stories, especially that World Lord's, from the perspective of a herdsman… That’s what I want to do when I grow up!” Little Gesang said excitedly. “When I’m a little older, I’ll go to the city to learn to read… I heard that World Lord is only about ten years older than me…”

He squatted down, picked up a wooden bowl, and handed it to Su Ming'an.

"Try this, it's the best tea in the market, it's on me, it's for you! Thanks for your hard work, player brother!"

The young man hesitated, his lips slightly parted, and he took a small sip. It was scalding hot, salty, slightly sweet, with the unique richness of ghee and the aroma of roasted barley, and a strange, slightly tingling sensation on his tongue... The complex flavor spread in his mouth, slid down his throat, and brought a slight warmth all the way to his cold, numb limbs.

As he drank, he suddenly said in a hoarse voice:

"It really tastes good."

"It tastes more than twice as good as that guy's tea..."

This is the taste of hardworking and simple people.

This is the voice of the people in the fields and grasslands.

This world is really big and far-reaching.

Just then, a strong gust of wind suddenly rushed in from the depths of the valley.

"Whoosh-"

In an instant, countless colorful prayer flags hanging on the ropes of flags and tents were suddenly straightened by this great force, fluttering and billowing.

The young man instinctively looked up. The wind was blowing harder and harder, making the prayer flags flutter wildly. He saw countless strips of cloth printed with scriptures and totems, fluttering endlessly in the sky. They were tossed high into the air by the wind time and time again, and then struggled to fall back down, like countless butterflies struggling endlessly, like the cries of countless souls.

He stared at it for a long time, his eyes stinging from the intense colors, and before he knew it, they were filled with tears, blurring his vision.

Life and death once clashed at the edge of this body, like prayer flags fighting and tearing each other in the wind.

At this moment, the cracks in his body, seemingly under the gaze of the plateau, in the rough rim of the bowl and the warm tea, under the wind chanting prayer flags, were no longer numb, but exuded a vivid pain.

Where the clouds part, a thousand mountains stand resilient and unyielding.

Stars sink beneath my shoulders in the night, wild ashes cannot give rise to spring.

……

"City dweller, are you leaving already? You've only been here a little while."

"My injury has healed, I need to leave quickly."

"Hehe, be careful on the road."

"Ah."

"City dweller, what are you going to do next? Don't go looking for another place to jump."

"go back."

"Go back? Go home? Didn't you say you couldn't go back?"

"I've made up my mind, maybe I can go back."

"I don't understand, you city people are so complicated. Anyway, have a safe trip, and come visit again next time! Once I've learned to write, I'll add you to my notebook, haha!"

Before leaving, Su Ming'an picked up the gift that Xiao Gesang had given him.

A smooth, unpolished white stone with half a cow horn stuck in it.

Little Gesang's farewell words still echoed in my ears:

……

"Our old yaks here have survived the coldest winters and seen the most sunrises. The sunlight sleeps in the tips of their horns! Dr. Angela said that these things are the children of the sun; carrying one is like carrying tomorrow's sun. No matter how cold the snow-capped mountains are, no matter how long the night, the sun will always spring out from the tips of their horns! My mother also told me to put a little bit of barley, which she had obtained from the temple, under the horn. The barley will sprout, and people will regain their strength under the sun!"

……

Su Ming'an returned to the Tower of Punishment and headed towards the last floor.

In the cell, Eland looked at him.

"You've returned from hell. You seem to have rested well, and your humanity has returned. Did you encounter something?" Aland smiled.

"Who was involved in this attack?" Su Ming'an sat down.

"What are you talking about?"

“The defenses of the small world aren’t that weak. You should know who’s involved, having experienced so many times.” Su Ming’an leaned forward, the colorful knots on his wrists rustling.

Do you want to bring back those who have passed away?

I will try to win her back.

"But you can't do that now. What can you do to change it?"

“I know.” Su Ming’an touched the mark of “faith” on his collarbone, his voice calm:
"This world is too big, I want to be the dawn."

……

Upon hearing this, Aland's eyes flashed with surprise.

He gazed intently at Su Ming'an, his eyes filled with a vibrant anticipation: "This is something I've never seen before... in my memory."

"Perhaps it happened, but your memory is incomplete."

“Of course, but you have indeed made me realize a whole new possibility…” Aland clasped his hands together and said, “I do have some guesses about who was involved in this attack.”

"Who is it?" Su Ming'an looked up. He had suspected Zhao Yuan, Lin Jiang, and even Aini. But who was it really?

Aland lowered his head for a moment, then looked up and said:
Have you heard of...Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express?

Su Ming'an was momentarily stunned.

In that instant, he didn't think of Lu's smile, Lu Shu's burning eyes, or Yamada Machi's regretful expression, but rather of the words Su Bread uttered before his death, clutching his clothes—

……

"I would like to make a request of you."

"No matter when, no matter what the circumstances."

"Give this civilization at least one chance to reform."

"Please—forgive the selfishness inherent in human nature, and forgive the inherent flaws of humanity."

……