Dragon Tribulation of All Realms

Chapter 255 - A Heart Like an Unmoored Boat
He finished speaking.

He got stuck there.

The Night's Watchmen, the barbarians, and the daughters of Caster in the fortress stared at him blankly, their eyes filled with confusion and bewilderment.

Who is this person?

Is this person very familiar with them?
What connections or agreements did this person establish with their ancestors, friends, and relatives?

Is there something wrong with this person's brain?

He just ran over and killed a bunch of people on his own, kept saying that a monster was coming, and wanted to do some adventurous thing, wanted to risk his life... What on earth is he doing?
Is he... having a fit of madness?

"Do you realize it?" Hera's voice flowed into Wu Chen's ears, her tone steady and clear. "Your mind, your thoughts, your desires, your motives. They are so easily altered by external forces."

“What did you do…” A slight anger welled up in Wu Chen’s heart, but he forcefully suppressed it before it turned into real rage. He realized that this was not Hera’s fault; he had only felt resentment towards Hera because he heard the word 'external force'.

He realized the real problem.

"...Is it the soul?"

“You don’t actually think that the soul is just a simple phrase, a simple source of endogenous magic, do you?” The doll-like Hera Morley waved her hand slightly, letting out a sigh. “You have ample calculation ability, ample skills, ample experience and combat power, but only in the past did you have a heart that could control them all.”

"And now, are you still able to focus on a single thing, instead of doing things haphazardly?"

Wu Chen remained silent, examining his brief past experiences—he had retaliated after being attacked; he had returned an arrow to the attacker's shoulder when the attacker tried to shoot him in the shoulder; and since the attacker didn't intend to kill him, he had only severed one of the attacker's arms…

No, no, that's not it... It was Hera who said she wanted to be a hero, so I subconsciously felt I should be one. It was Hera who mentioned 'death,' so I subconsciously chose a heroic death for myself. And there were other reasons besides that.

It's about infectiousness and emotional resonance.

Whether it was the King Beyond the Wall or the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, they all demonstrated loyalty to their respective factions and a willingness to sacrifice themselves in their conversations with him. And he, without a soul, inadvertently developed empathy with them.

All of this could have been controlled, should have been controlled. But now…

—But it almost got out of control.

Wu Chen pursed his lips.

Losing one's soul is indeed a symptom not to be underestimated—being free from the constraints of fate naturally means having nowhere to turn. But at least…

—This realization, this flowing wind, ultimately belongs to me.

He took a silent breath. The gentle breeze swirling around his fingers and palms became increasingly compliant with his will. The mistake had finally been corrected before it could escalate. And in the process, he had not merely reformed himself.

"...You could have waited until I actually got hurt over there before reminding me." Only then would the lesson be truly unforgettable.

“I didn’t warn you.” Hera simply waved her hand. “You discovered the problem yourself and reacted. You’ve already fixed your own mistake, and I won’t give you any further reminders now.”

That's what it says.

But if she hadn't chosen the occasion and provided continuous and intense guidance and stimulation, Wu Chen wouldn't have been able to accept this education so quickly.

Practice teaches, and you'll learn it in one go.

From this moment on, he must have a firm grasp on his thoughts.

The most important and necessary thing to do right now is to reclaim my soul.

This decision was still influenced by external factors.

It was Hera's intervention that brought this focus back. But after clearing one's mind and sorting out one's thoughts, this decision still holds considerable priority—because the root of all suffering lies in the individual's lack of ability. However, even more problematic than a lack of ability is the uncertainty of the direction.

The wrong approach is a much bigger problem than a lack of capability.

Fortunately, there is still room for improvement.

My emotions have calmed down.

His gaze shifted to the onlookers around him; their presence was an added hindrance at the moment. After abandoning the 'hero' identity that Hera had forcibly manipulated him into holding, a feeling of resentment welled up in his heart.

"We saw nothing and heard nothing!" It was the young Night's Watchman who reacted first, but his words only pushed them toward an abyss that did not exist.

Wu Chen hadn't decided what to do yet.

But he received a warning that those in the know could neither see nor hear.

His expression stiffened slightly as he suppressed and extinguished the murderous intent that had quietly welled up from the depths of his heart. However, just as he was about to turn and leave, letting those who knew the truth fend for themselves, he heard Hera clapping her hands. 'Clap—clap—'

One sound, two sounds.

Everything inside the fortress suddenly fell silent at that moment.

A magic circle had somehow appeared at Hera's feet, and the relics left behind by the fortress's owner, the now-dead Castor, were reduced to ashes in the center of the magic circle.

This fortress possesses history, and its connection to the ley lines is imbued with magic. This magic, activated by the depletion of its heritage, manifests as tangible interference. Its effects are…

"A large-scale, instantaneous bewitching ritual."

The expressions on the faces of all the survivors froze at that moment, only to vanish completely the next instant. Their minds went blank for a brief period, and their short-term memories disappeared without a trace.

“Time cannot be reversed.” Hera reached out and dispersed the magic around him and beneath his feet. “But the past can be recreated.”

"Now, everything has returned to the moment you severed the barbarian chieftain's arm and demonstrated your strength. And this is a once-in-a-lifetime second chance for you to make the next future run the way you desire."

..............................

Wu Chen returned upstairs, back to the moment he severed Mance Red's arm, securing the victory. He still hadn't learned their origins, obtained any information, or heard their resolute voices.

He tried again.

The wasted time is only a few minutes.

The undead army will need several more hours to arrive.

He already knew all the secrets he was supposed to know.

And his next words should be—

"Fine." His gaze swept over everyone.

This time, he focused on his predetermined goal.

"In a few hours at most, the ghouls will engulf this place. You will still have a chance to leave, or you can choose your own fate."

He raised the sword, and drops of blood fell to the ground.

The barbarian warriors or night watchmen whose memories had been partially erased had a moment of bewilderment in their eyes, but now they had no initiative and no opportunity to incite others to speak out.

"Wait! You're not one of those crows that migrate north—"

"What happened in the north? You saw the White Walkers marching south!?"

Familiar phrases.

But he won't listen.

He simply walked past them indifferently, because he was no longer a hero, a hegemon, a hermit, or a passerby. He neither accepted nor was defined by any definition.

He left the crowd behind.

He jumped from the second floor, his toes touching the ground on the first floor.

Hera, still cloaked, was waiting for him on the first floor, silent and still, a faint smile playing on her lips. For a moment, Wu Chen wanted to ask her how she, also without a soul, could define herself so naturally and move forward with such composure.

There's no need to ask.

With a swing of the sword towards the door, a tangible blade of energy slammed into the crack of the locked interior door, despite the strain on his mind. The crossbeam that served as the lock snapped, and a gust of cold wind rushed into the fortress's hall.

“Let’s go, to the Wall.” He nodded to Hera, this time paying no extra attention to anyone in Caster’s Castle. A young Night’s Watchman instinctively reached out to him, but could not touch his departing phantom.

He moved forward, on foot, just as he had come.

There was no communication, no interaction.

then……

A few minutes later, the night watchmen on horseback and the barbarians from beyond the Great Wall caught up with them and spoke to them in a friendly manner.

(End of this chapter)