first player

Chapter 1640 Final Chapter: Guarding the Coastline: "OE: Die from the Ocean (25)"

Terminal command issued.

The official line is consistent: after seventy years of meticulous construction and debugging, the 100,000 IF line has reached a perfect state.

Su Ming stood at the world's nexus, the cold wind whipping his colorful hair, with Vice World Lord Kyleser standing behind him, hands at his sides. On the holographic star map, countless bands of light began to connect the two worlds.

A final journey toward the "ideal state".

……

Inside the life support pods of 100,000 creators, people are completing the final fine-tuning of the IF lines.

Gesang Gyatso, an elderly recorder over a hundred years old, hunched over as he came to a small hillside and took out a photograph from his pocket.

In the photo, the young man and the unshaven, blue-haired middle-aged man are crying their eyes out under the New Year's fireworks. The blue-haired man says he will never be depressed again; he will develop the technology to resurrect her and bring her home.

However, individual strength is ultimately weak. That man lived an ordinary life, and he himself spent his entire life as a recorder.

“Xiao Xiao…you rascal…” Gesang Gyatso stretched out his aged hand and stroked the photo on the stone tablet. It was an old man with white hair, holding a guitar and singing a love song from a hundred years ago—Xiao Xiao had never forgotten that when he was young, he was a resident singer in a bar.

Xiao Xiao thought she would finally be able to go home, but after ninety-three years of waiting, most of the people who participated in the World Game had passed away. Their remaining lives ended on this temporary ark.

“We… this generation… are coming to an end…” Gesang Gyatso stroked the stone tablet, burying the bottle caps of the wine they drank every New Year’s Eve in the ground. “It’s a real pity you didn’t see the moment of departure…”

He stood up and suddenly saw a black-haired woman standing behind him.

The woman was young, with pigtails, holding daisies, and had also come to pay respects to her deceased loved one. She came to a small stone tablet nearby, on which was a photograph of a smiling red-haired girl who died in 2025.

“…2025?” Gesang Gyatso murmured. “Almost a hundred years ago, madam, was this your ancestor?”

The black-haired woman silently put down the flowers and dorayaki. Just when Gesang Gyatso thought she wouldn't answer, she spoke:
"my little sister."

Gesang Gyatso was stunned. How could someone from a hundred years ago be his sister?
“That guy’s gone mad,” the black-haired woman said.

"what?"

“A lie… a colossal lie…! He actually decided to give up everything he already had…” the black-haired woman murmured to herself, “I cannot destroy his plan to resurrect her. I rejected those eyes; I chose to stand by and watch his final move.”

Gesang Gyatso couldn't understand what she was saying, but he knew that the woman was emotionally unstable, and he could be a stranger and listen to her.

“A lie?” he said.

"Do you really believe that by writing 100,000 world lines, we can break through the barrier that lies across the surface of the planet Yizhu?" The woman looked at me with eyes as black as ink. "The power of creation is not omnipotent. Two planets cannot be merged simply by writing some lines."

“So, this is a lie?” Gesang Gyatso murmured.

If this is a lie, then what has humanity been doing for over seventy years? They've staked everything on this plan!

No, he believed in the Lord of the Realm.

“It’s a lie,” the black-haired woman murmured, “but a useful lie. His audacity utterly astonished me.”

“I have already admitted... I was wrong during the game. I wrongly doubted his true intentions. I tried to make amends, but power shut me out.”

"Perhaps, after he leaves, I can make up for something."

...After they leave? Who's leaving?
Gesang Gyatso gripped the bottle cap tightly.

After the woman left, Gesang Gyatso slowly walked back. After walking for a while, he saw a young man with black hair.

He stood amidst a patch of overgrown weeds, gazing at the forest of steles.

“Lord of the Realm…!” Gesang Gyatso exclaimed subconsciously.

The setting sun rose behind them, crimson as blood, and fell upon the youth's shoulders as dusk approached.

That was Su Ming'an, whose appearance remained that of a nineteen-year-old, whose hair had not yet turned into colored hair and whose eyes were still black.

This is an avatar of Su Ming'an. His physical body remained in the World Hub, about to complete his final plan, and he created an avatar to visit his former companions.

Nearly a century has passed, and many of their companions are no longer with them. They dislike noise and being paid homage by countless people in a memorial hall, and instead asked Su Ming'an to bury them in a quiet field, where the spring sunshine and the scent of flowers can be found.

Unable to transcend the boundary between humans and gods, their lifespans are ultimately finite. Su Ming'an originally thought they would live for two or three hundred years, but unexpectedly, their souls had suffered too much damage, like soldiers retreating from the battlefield, leaving too quickly.

He stroked each of the names and softly spoke of the springs of the past century.

Luna, Isabella, Mo Yan, Lin Jiang, Aini, Higurashi, Violet...

Humans are fragile; a slight illness or injury can easily lead to death. A drafty house will cause chills, a lack of food will cause hunger, and a natural disaster can cause them to die one by one, like fallen stalks of wheat. War is an even more deadly weapon; a mere disagreement between higher dimensions, a cannonball fired between regimes, or an unintentional stray bullet can bring about death.

Yet humans are incredibly resilient. From initially being too afraid to even lift a steel pipe in the face of zombies, they eventually dared to raise a torch against the Lord of All Things. Their adaptability is extraordinary; no matter the environment, they tenaciously find the most suitable rules for survival. If their houses leak, they patch them up; if food is scarce, they research superior varieties; if natural disasters strike, they build earthquake-resistant structures, basements, and countless mansions—they always find a way.

One difficulty after another will overwhelm them; they will fall like straws again and again, only to sprout again and again in the next spring, like new buds.

Facing the spring breeze and a field full of daisies, Su Ming'an spoke of his century-long life.

Gesang Gyatso, the recorder who steadfastly upheld his duties from youth to old age; Xiaoxiao, who never forgot her childhood; Yi Song, the psychologist who saved countless lives; Isabella, who dedicated her life to scientific research; Beiwang, who recorded a great deal of information about eyes; and Mo Yan, whose students are found all over the world…

Gesang Gyatso stopped, feeling he shouldn't disturb the young man; the young man's gesture was less a tribute and more a farewell.

However, the young man noticed him and beckoned him over.

"Little Gesang?"

“You remember me…” Gesang Gyatso’s face flushed red.

"Looks like you still remember how impulsive I was." The young man shook his head and said helplessly, "You saw me at my most pathetic."

He was referring to the White Pagoda Incident, after which he attempted suicide countless times to try and rewind time, but failed and collapsed at the foot of a cliff, where he was found by Gesang Gyatso, who was still a boy at the time.

That was clearly a well-considered decision, yet he called it "the most impulsive moment," as if he were an old man looking back on his past, calmly talking about his impulsiveness when he was "young."

Gesang Gyatso didn't know what to say. He remembered the "lie" the woman had just told him, but he felt he shouldn't bring it up.

So he said, "Do you see? I have fulfilled my childhood dream."

……

"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..."

……

Gesang Gyatso left the mountains at the age of 25, became a recorder at 31, was promoted to recorder of the Eastern District of China at 45, and was promoted to recorder of the World Hub at 66. Now over 100 years old, he is still a recorder.

From the perspective of an ordinary person, with fair and approachable writing, he recorded a century of changes, from the beginning of the world's games to the creation era, and to the planet's launch. He never failed to live up to his childhood dream.

“Yes,” Su Ming’an murmured, “I saw…you…all of you.”

The two walked through the lush fields and among the towering steles.

Many top-ranked players are buried here; he walks among them like a moving tombstone.

In a daze, it felt like I had returned to the moment when the world game had just ended.

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.

The black-haired youth, clad in a Soul Hunter's outfit, wore an amber sword at his waist, carried the Yarman sword on his shoulder, had a tassel on his wrist, and wore several rings on his fingers, just like his youth, just like when he was nineteen.

His soul was weary and weathered, but his eyes were clear and bright.

"Where are you going? Will you come with us to that planet?" the white-haired old man asked.

“I’m not going there.”

"Where are you going? Don't jump off the cliff again this time, or even one of the shepherds will see you."

Su Ming'an smiled and shook his head: "Gesang Gyatso, sing me that song from back then one more time, as a farewell to me."

Ten minutes until the binary stars merge.

The white-haired old man no longer pressed for answers. He grasped the Realm Lord's imposing yet not large hand, and with an aged yet heroic voice, his voice resounded across this plain far from the plateau:

“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..."

……

A global hub.

Below the stage, most of the familiar faces had been taken away by time or retired behind the scenes. Lu Shu sat in a wheelchair, pushed by a young assistant, his empty eyes gazing in Su Ming'an's direction. Mei Yani, now in her eighties, had her silver hair meticulously combed. Lin Yin's temples were frosted, but her spine remained straight.

A huge countdown timer floated in the center of the hall, its bright red numbers jumping silently.

【00:00:10】

……

“Ee-ya-le-”

"Guests in the city, do not worry."

"The meadow is wider than your brow..."

……

Beside the campfire, an old craftsman was meticulously polishing an unfinished wooden carving—a depiction of the Realm Lord Su Ming'an in his youth, with black hair instead of colored hair, and eyes that held an undiminished humanity.

……

"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)..."

……

In the classroom, a new generation of children are having a history lesson. Their eyes are bright as they learn about history from the end of the planet Zhai Xing, the world game, the drifting era to the creation era.

……

"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..."

……

In the distant universe, astronauts gazed at the colorful lost planet and picked up a small, azure planet model.

……

【00:00:03】

The snow fell.

Snowflakes fell thickly, blanketing the silent city and the abandoned railway. Inside the World Hub, the blond-haired, blue-eyed Kelsel stepped forward, his voice carrying throughout the entire civilization:

"The 'ideal state' leap forward, countdown begins."

……

In the narrow alley, a family is crammed into a small space, having a heated discussion.

"Dad! Mom! We must choose 'Future Era'! The medical conditions there are better!" The eldest son waved a light screen, which displayed a futuristic urban promotional image.

"The 'Natural Era' has clean air and fertile land, so we should grow our own vegetables and raise chickens!" The old father pounded the table.

“But I want to go to Gensokyo, where there are talking animals and candy stores…” the little girl timidly tugged at her mother’s clothes.

……

【00:00:02】

Su Ming'an closed his eyes, and a vast, star-like power of faith gathered around him.

……

The army maintained the last vestiges of order.

A young soldier leaned against an armored vehicle and whispered to his comrade, "Hey, which line are you choosing? I signed up for 'Iron Blood Line,' at least it's similar to what we're doing now."

My companion exhaled a smoke ring: "I choose 'Pastoral Idyll'. I'm tired of fighting and killing all my life, I just want to find a place to fish peacefully."

"Do you think this plan is reliable? Ten thousand IF scenarios! Let us choose freely and live the life we ​​desire, and we can remove the barrier on the surface of that 'lost pearl planet'?"

"Shh, with so many experts endorsing it, and even the Realm Lord saying it himself, how could it be false? It's normal that we can't understand the principle, so let's just focus on doing our own thing."

……

【00:00:01】

The 100,000 Towers of Creation lit up simultaneously, weaving together to form a network that covered the entire small world.

From space, countless tiny points of light appeared on the surface of the "Earth" ark, converging into enormous pillars of light. Cities gradually dimmed, village lights went out one after another, industrial facilities ceased operation, and paper books in libraries were sealed away.

Countless rays of light extended from the star ring, like billions of tentacles, catching the flow of information representing the collective consciousness of human civilization.

Conceptual coverage, storytelling, and the transformation of possibility into reality.

People see the buildings, mountains, and rivers around them becoming transparent, like an ink painting immersed in water, with colors flowing and shapes being reshaped. Countless "possibilities" are happening; familiar streets may extend into magical spires, and the starry sky outside the window may take on the enormous outline of a starship.

Su Ming'an stretched out his hand, and a snowflake landed on his fingertip, melting instantly.

He gazed at this world that was about to become "the past," and the last ripple in his eyes faded into silence.

……

【00:00:00】

……

(End of this chapter)