All Realms and Worlds: The Lost Home

Looking at the steaming bowl of noodles on the table, Yao Guang's gaze remained unwavering, not even a finger twitch. The thick noodles in the bowl emitted faint white steam, mixed with a delicate wheat aroma, but in this extremely bizarre world, this "steam" seemed particularly jarring. Anything unknown could be a deadly trap, and he dared not be careless in the slightest.

In this eerie world shrouded by evil gods, human hearts are unpredictable, and everything can harbor deadly intent. A seemingly ordinary bowl of hot noodles might be a trap leading to death. He must remain vigilant at all times and cannot afford to relax for even a moment.

Despite his aching and weak body, he slowly moved to the bedside table, gently pulled open the cabinet door with his fingertips, his movements so careful that he was afraid of making even the slightest unnecessary sound.

The cool metallic touch instantly spread from his fingertips to his entire body. His pulse gun was lying quietly inside the cabinet door, its body without a single scratch, perfectly intact, exactly as it had been before he lost consciousness.

The moment Yao Guang gripped the pulse gun, his heart, which had been pounding in his chest, finally settled back into place, and even his breathing became more even. In this despairing and eerie land, this gun was his only weapon, and his greatest reliance for survival.

With a gun, he felt more confident and had more courage to fight against unknown dangers. Even if he were facing a mysterious and unpredictable evil god, he would have a chance to resist.

He carefully inspected the gun, touched the chamber to confirm that the energy was sufficient and there were no signs of damage. After making sure everything was in order, he carefully tucked the cold pulse gun back into his waistband, turned around, and gently pushed open the door.

The sight outside the door instantly tensed his nerves. A familiar, chilling aura rushed towards him, and he subconsciously held his breath, his hair standing on end.

The village, which had been deathly silent and devoid of even the sound of the wind, was now gradually filled with people, like puppets that had been asleep for a long time being suddenly awakened, slowly emerging from behind the tightly closed doors.

The villagers emerged from behind their tightly closed doors, their movements slow and stiff, each step heavy as if their feet were filled with lead. Their arms hung limply at their sides, motionless, like puppets being manipulated without any independent thought.

Silent figures, like walking corpses, moved slowly along the village paths, converging silently in the same direction without the slightest hesitation. The atmosphere in the entire village was extremely eerie, so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

Yao Guang subconsciously gripped the pulse gun at his waist, his knuckles turning white from the force. His sharp eyes scanned every corner around him, vigilantly observing the actions of every villager, not daring to be careless in the slightest.

These villagers were so abnormal, so frightening. Their every move lacked any trace of human life, as if they were merely shells controlled by some mysterious force.

It was as if they were not living people, but puppets controlled by some invisible force, repeating the same actions day after day, year after year, numbly struggling to survive.

Just then, an old and hoarse voice suddenly came from behind him. The voice was low and weak, as if the years had worn away its strength, carrying a lingering weariness.

"Young man, you're awake."

Yao Guang's body stiffened instantly, and he turned around almost instinctively. He gripped the pulse gun at his waist tightly and pointed it at the source of the sound. His eyes were full of vigilance, ready to deal with any potential danger.

An elderly man was seen slowly walking towards him, leaning on a cane. His steps were slow and unsteady, and he needed the strength of the cane to take each step, as if he would fall to the ground at any moment.

The old man's hair was as white as snow, plastered messily to his scalp. His face was covered with deep, dense wrinkles like ravines. His back was hunched over at almost a ninety-degree angle, as if he had been crushed by life and this strange world. He wore a faded, coarse cloth robe with torn edges and leaned on a dry, blackened wooden cane covered with cracks.

His eyes held a rare clarity that surpassed the other numb villagers, yet they were also filled with an unyielding weariness and vicissitude, as if he had been struggling to survive in this bizarre world for far too long, witnessing the despair and death of countless people.

Seeing Yao Guang pointing his gun at him, the old man showed no panic or flinching. He simply stopped slowly, raised his withered hand, and waved it gently, his movements slow and weak.

"Don't be nervous, I mean no harm. Here, we are all struggling to survive, there is no need for us to hurt each other."

His voice, tinged with a weariness and numbness born of worldly experience, slowly said, "I am the village chief of this village. You're new here, aren't you? I could tell at a glance."

Yao Guang didn't lower the gun, still watching him warily, his guard unwavering. His tone was cold and cautious: "How did you know?" He dared not easily trust anyone, especially in this bizarre world. (Two idiots, this is your first time in the village, one guessed and the other is wondering how you figured it out.)

The old man sighed softly, his long sigh filled with helplessness. His gaze slowly swept over the villagers walking numbly around him, his voice low and hoarse: "In this village, newcomers all have the same wariness and bewilderment in their eyes as you, unlike us, who have long been worn down by this world, losing all our edges and hope."

"Don't worry, as long as you follow the rules here and don't break the taboos, you can barely survive, or at least live a little longer."

The old man paused, slowly raised his head, and looked up at the gray sun in the sky. A barely perceptible fear flashed in his eyes as he slowly said, "Remember, whenever the evil god is watching, you must hide in the house, close the doors and windows tightly, and do not come out. Even if you hear any strange noises, even if you hear someone knocking on the door and calling for help, do not open the door. Otherwise, you will die without a burial place."

A demonic god's gaze?

Yao Guang's pupils contracted slightly, and her heart sank. She instantly recalled the evil god that Wen Xuyan had mentioned before, as well as the chilling gaze she had felt before she fainted, the fear of being locked on by something invisible, which still lingered in her mind and could not be shaken off.

"In addition, every morning, you and other villagers have to go to the withered forest outside the village to collect the ashes that have accumulated on the trees. This is the foundation for our survival."

The village chief continued, his tone completely calm, as if collecting ashes was as natural as eating and drinking. Only the fleeting fear deep in his eyes betrayed his apprehension towards the dead forest.

"Nian Hui?"

Yao Guang frowned, his tone full of doubt. He had never heard of this name before, nor had he ever imagined that those strange black hanging objects would have such a name.

"Those things you saw hanging on the trees in the dead forest yesterday, looking like black rags, that's Nian Ash, a product of the condensation of evil god's power, and our only bargaining chip for obtaining survival supplies."

The village chief slowly explained, his gaze fixed on the eerie, terrifying withered forest outside the village. The fear in his eyes grew even more pronounced, and his body even trembled slightly, as if something incredibly terrifying was hidden in that withered forest.

As the village chief slowly explained, some of Yao Guang's doubts gradually dissipated, and his previously chaotic thoughts became clearer.

He finally realized what cruel rules of survival were hidden in this strange and desperate world, and he finally understood why the villagers were so numb.

The evil god would observe this gloomy world precisely every thirty hours.

Each gaze lasts for a full thirty hours. During these thirty hours, the entire world is shrouded in a chilling aura, and that penetrating sense of being watched over every living being exposed to the elements.

During the period of the evil god's gaze, anyone who steps out of the house will be firmly locked onto by that chilling gaze, and will eventually be devoured by some unknown force in endless fear, ending up with an unclear and inexplicable fate, leaving not even a skeleton behind.

Outside the village, in the withered woods, those eerie black objects hanging from the dead branches are called Nianhui. They are remnants of the evil god's power and the villagers' only hope for survival.

Every hundred hours, the ashes will re-condense, becoming denser and heavier. When they are fully condensed, the villagers must risk going to the dead forest to collect them.

At that time, a so-called "immortal" will descend from the sky to take away the ashes collected by the villagers. No one has ever seen the true face of the "immortal," nor does anyone know where the "immortal" comes from.

In exchange, the "immortal" would leave behind some basic supplies needed for the village's survival—a small amount of food, just enough water, and some simple tools. These supplies were the villagers' only hope for survival in this desperate world, and the meaning behind their numb struggle.

"There are many time travelers like you in this village. You're not the only one. Time travelers aren't uncommon here."

The village chief looked at Yao Guang, his tone low and calm, as if he had long been accustomed to it: "There are young people who have traveled directly from Earth. Most of them, like you, were initially filled with vigilance and resentment."

"There are also some people who first traveled to other worlds, and later, for various reasons, they worshipped evil gods and were eventually brought to this world by the evil gods, becoming a member of this land, and completely losing the possibility of returning."

Earth time traveler!

Yao Guang hurriedly asked, "Village Chief, is what you're saying true? Are there really transmigrators from Earth here? Where are they?" He desperately wanted to see his fellow villagers and hear news about Earth from them.

Seeing Yao Guang's anxious expression, the village chief slowly nodded, his gaze slowly drifting into the depths of the crowd, and said in a calm tone, "The girl who saved you is one of them; she also traveled from Earth."

"Her name is Wen Xuyan and her brother Wen Yan. They have been in this village for some time now. At first, she was just like you, unwilling to accept reality and always wanted to find her way back."

Yao Guang followed the village chief's gaze and, sure enough, saw Wen Xuyan's figure at the very back of the crowd. She still had that cold and desperate look, completely out of place with her surroundings.

She was still wearing that faded, stained coarse cloth dress, her hair casually tied back, with a few stray strands sticking to her cheeks, making her look particularly haggard. She stood at the back of the crowd, with a boy of similar age standing beside her.

The boy was thin and pale, with equally numb and empty eyes, yet he always stood slightly to the side, protecting Wen Xuyan. His movements were natural and instinctive. Without asking, Yao Guang could guess that this boy must be Wen Xuyan's older brother, Wen Yan, as mentioned by the village chief.

At this moment, Wen Xuyan lowered his head slightly, his long bangs obscuring the emotions in his eyes. His face was expressionless, and his eyes were as empty as a stagnant pool, devoid of any light. He seemed to have lost all interest in the surrounding noise (even the silent gathering of the villagers), and an aura of despair and numbness that kept people at a distance surrounded him.

That deep-seated despair and numbness was even more intense than that of any other villager, as if her soul had already been swallowed up by this world, leaving only an empty shell, numbly waiting for death.

"When Wen Xuyan first transmigrated here, she was just like you, full of vigilance and resentment. She was unwilling to be trapped in this strange world, nor was she willing to give up hope of returning. She worked very hard to find a way to survive and a way back."

The village chief sighed softly, his tone full of pity and helplessness: "But in this world, if you stay too long, all hope will be worn away little by little, all resentment will be gradually eroded, and in the end, only endless despair and numbness will remain."

"She still held onto a sliver of hope that she could find her way back, and to that end, she joined the search for the coordinates to return home."

"But not long ago, she received devastating news—the sentinel was dead, and the coordinates for returning home were gone."

At this point, the village chief's voice became increasingly low and hoarse, and his eyes were filled with sorrow: "From then on, she gave up completely, completely gave up the hope of going back, and also gave up the idea of ​​resisting."

"She no longer thought about going back, no longer thought about resisting, and no longer thought about struggling; she had lost interest in everything."

"Her only wish now is to live peacefully with her brother in this strange and desperate world, without experiencing too much pain, even if it's just to live numbly."

Yao Guang listened quietly without speaking, a strange sense of pity and heaviness welling up in her heart, as if something was blocking her chest, making her feel suffocated and unable to breathe.

He could deeply understand Wen Xuyan's despair and numbness. As a fellow transmigrator from Earth, he also missed Earth, missed everything about his hometown, and wanted to find his way back.

He could imagine the despair and collapse Wen Xuyan felt when he learned that all the sentinels were dead and the coordinates for returning home were lost. The pain of all hope being shattered in an instant was enough to crush anyone.

But when all hope is shattered, when returning home becomes a distant dream, when struggling becomes meaningless, what remains may truly be only endless despair and numbness. Only by living numbly can one barely escape that deep-seated pain.

The surrounding villagers continued to gather in silence, their figures numb and stiff, like walking corpses, slowly walking towards the withered woods outside the village, without the slightest hesitation or resistance, as if they had long been accustomed to this kind of life.

In the sky, the gray sun still hung there lifelessly, without any warmth or light, casting a gloomy and lifeless shadow over the entire world.

From the distant, withered forest, a strange rustling sound faintly drifted through the air. The sound was weak and indistinct, like something crawling on the dead branches, or like the whispers of countless people, mixed with faint sobs. It carried slowly into the ears with the wind, sending chills down one's spine.

The village chief withdrew his gaze from the withered forest and slowly spoke, urging in a calm tone, "Let's go, it's time to collect the ashes."