Thirteenth month of death

Chapter 272 My World
Li Daosheng stood in the core space of the collapse, with projections of twelve worlds flickering around him.

Wudao's figure had vanished, leaving only his final words echoing in the void.

"I see……"

Li Daosheng looked down at his hands, which were gradually becoming transparent, and suddenly understood something.

He is composed of the characteristics of twelve worlds, and is naturally compatible with each world.

Now that the will of the Outer Gods has completely dissipated, these worlds need a completely new "cause" to sustain their existence.

Without hesitation, Li Daosheng opened his arms and let his consciousness begin to spread.

Li Daosheng's consciousness spread in the void, like a drop of ink falling into clear water, gradually spreading out.

He felt himself disintegrating—not disappearing, but merging into some grander existence.

The qualities of the twelve worlds intertwined in his soul, forming an invisible net that gently supported the world on the verge of collapse.

Li Daosheng finally understood the true reason why Wudao created himself.

It's not about leaving behind any seeds, but about taking over.

The demise of the Outer Gods took away the "cause" that sustained the world, and he, this vessel composed of the qualities of the twelve realms, will become the new "cause".

On the grasslands of the human world, Su Moshi suddenly felt a pang of heart palpitation.

The bronze mirror flew out from her waist, its surface trembling violently, reflecting a blurry face—Li Daosheng's fading face.

She suddenly realized something.

The next moment, the mirror returned to normal, only reflecting Su Moshi's pale face.

In the mechanical city, Ren Ou's mechanical pupils suddenly malfunctioned, and a line of unfamiliar code flashed through the data stream:

【goodbye】

He stood frozen in place, his core processor running at full speed, yet unable to decipher the source of that line of code.

On Yang Ya's digital screen, all the data was reassembled into a portrait, in which the person nodded gently to her.

Feng Hui stood on the edge of the tall building, a gentle breeze blowing, like a few barely audible whispers...

Wu Dao raised his head and asked softly, "Is it worth it? Once your existence is gone, no one will remember what you did."

Li Daosheng's voice was becoming increasingly erratic: "Whether you remember or not is not important."

“You will be trapped in the cracks of the world forever,” Wudao’s voice carried a rare hint of doubt, “becoming the cause that sustains the world, yet unable to truly exist; you will be very lonely.”

"So, you want me to give up and watch the twelve worlds collapse?"

Li Daosheng suddenly asked.

Wu Dao remained silent for a long time, then suddenly raised his hand, and a golden light entered Li Daosheng's chest: "This is my origin, perhaps it can allow you to retain the last trace of your existence."

Li Daosheng looked at him in surprise.

“Even stones can be curious,” Wudao’s voice faded away, and even his figure gradually disappeared. “I want to know how long a heart can endure.”

After Wudao completely disappeared, Li Daosheng felt his existence begin to spread to every corner of the twelve worlds—

He became the wind blowing across the grasslands, the undercurrents surging in the deep sea, the data flowing through the mechanized city, and the flowers blooming in the garden...

His consciousness is omnipresent, yet nowhere to be found.

Time passes, and the stars shift.

The Book of Fate was fully unfolded before Li Daosheng, each page shining with a dazzling light.

Five magical treasures—the Blood Jade Bead, the Frost Marrow Needle, the Rose Sword Hairpin, the Lifeless Seal, and the Mysterious Heaven Mirror—revolved around him, eventually transforming into five streams of light that merged into the long scar between his eyebrows.

"Let's go back……"

All the names recorded in the Book of Fate were dissipating, turning into specks of light, and drifting away to the twelve worlds.

Li Daosheng's consciousness completely dissipated and merged into the twelve worlds. At the same time, the collapse of the twelve worlds also came to an abrupt halt...

The world's protagonists seemed to sense something and all looked up at the sky.

Gold, like a tapestry, reconstructs entirely new worlds.

Perhaps they were born from the dream of a "god".

But now, it has truly become a real world.

Twelve real worlds...

However, one person has disappeared forever.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Years later.

In a remote border town in the human world, the spring sunshine lazily spills onto the bluestone road.

The market was bustling with activity, the shouts of vendors rising and falling, the air filled with the sweet aroma of roasted chestnuts and the bitter scent of fresh herbs. A young man dressed in coarse cloth squatted in front of a bookstall on a street corner, his fingertips gently caressing a yellowed ancient book.

He appeared to be in his early twenties, with delicate features, yet possessing a maturity beyond his years. Most striking was the faint, pale gold mark between his brows, resembling a birthmark or some kind of mysterious pattern.

"Young man, how much is this book?" the young man asked, looking up in a gentle voice.

The bookstall owner was an elderly man with gray hair and beard, who was dozing off with his eyes half-closed.

Upon hearing the question, he slowly opened his eyes, his gaze lingering on the young man's face for a moment before he suddenly froze.

“Young man, you’ve got it wrong. This old man isn’t a young man, hahaha…” the old man said with a smile.

The young man smiled, said nothing, and put down his book.

The next moment, his figure appeared on Cloud Crane Immortal Island.

The floating island is still shrouded in mist, and its glazed tiles shimmer with a dreamlike brilliance under the sunlight.

The monks in the market came and went, completely unaware that a young man was strolling along the street.

He stopped in front of a teahouse, looking up at the three gilded characters "Zui Xian Ju" on the signboard, his expression dazed.

In a daze, he seemed to see a woman in white sitting by the second-floor window, the bronze mirror gleaming bluish in the sunlight.
"Please come in, sir!"

The waiter's greeting brought him back to reality.

He nodded and was about to step inside when he suddenly looked to the side.

There was nothing there, but he seemed to see something, and his brows relaxed.

"you……"

A cool, clear female voice sounded from behind.

He slowly turned around and saw a woman dressed in a plain white Taoist robe standing three steps away.

She was about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with beautiful features, and an antique bronze mirror hung at her waist.

After a long silence, he broke it first: "Young lady, do we know each other?"

A flicker of disbelief crossed Su Moshi's eyes, but he quickly regained his composure: "No, it's just... you look like an old friend of mine."

"An old friend?" he asked.

Su Moshi turned to look at the sea of ​​clouds: "He sacrificed himself to save the world. I thought..."

Her voice was barely audible: "Never mind, you're just someone who looks like him."

He looked thoughtfully at her profile and suddenly said, “I often have a dream. In the dream, I am standing in the gap between twelve worlds, watching them float like bubbles. Sometimes, I can hear someone calling me, but every time I try to respond, I wake up.”

Su Moshi turned around abruptly, the bronze mirror seemingly gleaming: "What else did you dream about?"

"I also dreamt of a woman who traveled all over the world, searching for my traces..."

His voice gradually lowered, but then began to carry a smile.

“You…” Looking at the expression on the person in front of him, Su Moshi knew perfectly well that he had really returned.

She chuckled: "You really can come back?"

Li Daosheng shook his head and smiled: "Of course, it took me a lot of effort to get out."

He reached out and gently pressed his hand on Su Moshi's bronze mirror.

The mirror suddenly shone with golden light, reflecting the scenes of twelve worlds.

In every world, a figure raises its head, as if sensing something—

In the mechanical city, Ren Ou put down his tools, and a line of code flashed on the data screen.

In the digital world, crows emerge from the data stream.

Cheng Xue stopped pruning the flowers in the garden.

The wind on the high-rise building turned and looked up at the sky.
"I am back."

As he spoke, Su Moshi's bronze mirror flew out of his hand uncontrollably and rapidly enlarged in the air.

The mirror surface rippled like water, and figures emerged one after another—Ren Ou, Yang Ya, Cheng Xue, Feng Hui, and even Fei Zaixing.
Each person is connected by a golden thread, extending into their own world.

"This time, it won't disappear again, will it?"

The mechanical eyes of the puppet flickered.

Li Daosheng looked at everyone and smiled broadly:
"This time it won't happen again. I've finally found it, my world."

As soon as he finished speaking, somewhere in the realm of mountains and seas, a naturally formed blue stone suddenly made a "crack" sound.

Completely shattered.

【Complete book】

(End of this chapter)