Xing Tie: Wait a minute! How come Weng Xing has two saviors?

PS: This chapter is used to supplement the previous text's description of the cheat system and the author's settings. If you don't like it, please skip to the next chapter.

On the other side, in a strange space that transcends all other realms.

"Even in the most clichéd novels, this kind of ending would probably be criticized as hasty and outdated, right?"

The voice of the Golden Finger carried a playful tone as it slowly repeated the harsh comment, as if savoring something interesting.

Its form becomes blurred here, with only a flowing halo flickering slightly.

"I think there is probably only one person... whose mind is completely empty, unable to squeeze out a single good plot, yet still stubbornly refusing to put down their pen... who would use it... as the ending of a story."

The halo shifted to some unseen entity, carrying an undisguised mockery: "Hey, this kid's targeting you."

"Are you worried about him?" The being referred to as the "author" or "narrator" pinpointed precisely what the golden finger was unwilling to admit.

The voice was calm and undisturbed, yet it struck directly at the weakness of the cheat system.

"How...how is this possible?" The aura of the golden finger flickered suddenly, as if it had been struck in a vital spot. It quickly retorted, but that momentary hesitation had already revealed something it was unwilling to admit.

Through countless reincarnations and companionships, its relationship with the host named Bai Mo has quietly changed.

It remained silent for a moment, its halo flickering, as if it were sorting out its chaotic thoughts.

Finally, it asked a question that had lingered deep within its consciousness for a long time, but which had never received a satisfactory answer:

"I've been avoiding you storytellers who roam the myriad worlds all this time, and I've never had a chance to ask you... what exactly is your purpose, you self-proclaimed storytellers?"

“Witnessing and observing.” The narrator’s answer is simple and ancient, as if it comes from the beginning of time.

"Won't you interfere with the worlds you create?" the Golden Finger pressed, its memory bank filled with fragments of "miracles" or "divine punishments" that some narrators had brought to life on a whim.

“Rarely,” the narrator uses a simple yet profound metaphor, “like observing a colony of ants. Normally, you just need to give them two pieces of sugar or a dead insect at the beginning. And that’s interesting enough.”

Then, that invisible gaze seemed to pierce through space, landing on the halo of the golden finger, its tone carrying a hint of understanding:

"Besides, to be honest, you're more likely to intervene in the world right now than me, aren't you?"

This time, the golden finger fell into a long silence. The flow of the aura became slow and heavy, as if carrying complex emotions that even it itself did not understand. "..."

The narrator doesn't seem inclined to delve into the meaning behind the silence, instead guiding the conversation to a deeper level; the voice is like turning the pages of an ancient book, carrying a sense of reminiscence and insight:

"To be honest, I never expected to encounter a 'miracle' of your caliber. After all, in the myriad worlds created by narrators, 'settings' are intangible and intangible rules, the cornerstone of building a world. But there is only one extremely rare case where rules can condense into an independent consciousness..."

"That is when the concept or setting becomes too common, its influence covers too wide a world, and the 'information' and 'causality' it carries are so large that they can bring about a qualitative change."

"Coincidentally... there are many 'works' in the myriad worlds that never cease to wage war, and killing and plunder are among the most enduring themes. This endless 'karma' that spans countless worlds ultimately gave birth to you—the will of the fundamental premise of 'killing and plunder' itself."

The Golden Finger's will rippled slightly, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, but it neither acknowledged nor denied it. The narrator's words seemed to touch its ancient and lonely core.

Born from chaos, it is the embodiment of the most complete and purest concept of killing and plunder.

But precisely because of this, it has also witnessed countless holders lose themselves, go mad, and head towards self-destruction in the power it bestows.

People gain power through killing, but in the end, they are often crushed and devoured by the weight accumulated from the memories and lives they have ended with their own hands.

It is a shortcut to the pinnacle of power, and also a mirror reflecting the deepest desires and essence of its holder.

Bai Mo was the only one who, after looking in that mirror, didn't become obsessed with his reflection. Hmm... perhaps, in his words, he was simply being a lazy bum when it was time to be lazy?

It forcefully suppressed the ancient thoughts that had been stirred up, and the halo refocused, pointing towards the light screen in the void that displayed Bai Mo's situation: "Let's not talk about me. What about you? What would happen if he really died?"

"It'll probably end soon." The narrator's answer remained calm, as if stating a fact unrelated to himself.

"The end? You want to destroy this world?" The aura of the cheat system suddenly lit up.

“No, no, no,” the narrator calmly corrected, “it is that he has lost his value for me to continue observing. The world itself will continue to operate according to its inherent logic, and in the future, perhaps other observers of my caliber will come and take it as a new object of observation.”

This answer carried a grand, indifferent detachment that transcended individual fate, leaving the Golden Finger with an indescribable sense of desolation. It remained silent for a moment, then asked, its light dimming slightly, "So... are you going to finish it?"

The narrator did not answer directly. His "gaze" seemed to be cast upon the endless, branching river of stories, his voice carrying a profound depth that transcended individual emotions:

“We write the origins, set the rules, and then observe. We are not omniscient; the story's trajectory has its own internal logic. Nor are we omnipotent; too direct interference would taint the purity of observation. We are more like… spectators standing outside of time, only this spectator happens to possess the ability to write the beginning (opening the book), turn the pages (time), and switch between books (worlds).”

His attention returned to the screen of light, focusing on the figure struggling in the vortex of fate.

For the first time, the narrator's unchanging voice carried a subtle, almost imperceptible emotion, akin to "expectation":

"When a story itself develops a strong 'narrative inertia' that goes beyond its initial setting, a qualified narrator should respect its development and pay extra attention to it... because that is often the beginning of a 'masterpiece'."

"Therefore, whether this world ends at this moment is no longer up to my discretion."

"It depends on Bai Mo's companions, on the souls who have been influenced by him and whose bonds with him have deepened, on whether they can... use their will and actions to create a new chapter from this seemingly 'old-fashioned' ending."

Chapter 277 Who can stop Bai Mo?

The torrent of memories finally came to an end. Like a silent ferryman, the long night moon carried the consciousness of the train crew from the heavy, mountain-like past of Camoslana back to the tranquil vortex of creation.

Shortly after returning to reality, Walter, once again the most experienced, was the first to react.

He looked around, noticing the lingering confusion in Xing's eyes and the deep contemplation between Dan Heng's brows, and couldn't help but sigh softly.

He knew perfectly well that young people needed guidance and guidance in the face of such a situation that went beyond conventional ethics and choices.

“Star, Danheng,” his voice was steady, carrying a reassuring power, “If you feel lost at this moment and don’t know how to make a choice… then let us follow the tradition of the train and hold a pioneering meeting.”

He looked around at everyone and solemnly announced the agenda:

"The topic of this meeting is: whether to respond to Camerslana's request and help him complete that ultimate plan at his own expense."

Then, he turned to Chang Yeyue, who was standing quietly to the side, and said in a polite and tolerant tone: "Miss Chang Yeyue, as someone who has guided us all the way and knows the inside story, you are also welcome to express your opinion."

Chang Yeyue, who was suddenly called out, was clearly taken aback, a hint of surprise flashing in her dark red pupils. "Ah? There's something about me too?"

She seemed never to have imagined being involved in this vote that would decide Onphalus's fate. After a slight pause, she resumed her languid and aloof demeanor and waved her hand:

“My suggestion… is not worth considering. I abstain.” Her relationship with Camerslana was merely a transaction; she had no intention of interfering in the train crew’s own choices.

Immediately afterward, Dan Heng spoke up, his voice calm and restrained, yet carrying a subtle, complex emotion: "I... also abstain."

He paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully, "To disregard everything to protect those you cherish... this kind of behavior..."

He recalled some unpleasant memories belonging to "Danfeng," and finally shook his head, "I... can't comment."

At this moment, Dan Heng was not fully aware that beneath his rational exterior, deep within his soul, perhaps lay the same obsessive factor of protecting.

All eyes were on Xing.

Xing raised her head, her face filled with struggle and pain. She looked at Walter, then at Danheng. "Isn't there... a way to both protect Bai Mo and save everyone in Onpharos... a way that achieves both goals...?"

Her voice was filled with hope, but it gradually faded as she asked the question, because she knew clearly in her heart that Bai Mo had tried more than 30 million times in the cycle of reincarnation. If he had done it, he would have done it long ago. The possibility of what happened now was extremely slim.

The harsh reality, like a cold tide, drowned out the last glimmer of hope.

She closed her eyes slightly, as if unable to bear witnessing the inevitable ending, and with all her remaining strength, she uttered her decision:

"Fine... I agree. I agree to help Bai Mo... complete his plan."

Walter remained silent for a moment, his gaze behind his glasses deep and complex.

He recalled his memories of Camerslana, that resolute willingness to bear the weight of the entire world to protect a select few, that unwavering commitment to protection despite his own coldness… He spoke slowly, his voice heavy with acknowledgment:

"The train crew... has neither the power nor the qualification to stop an entity from making such a weighty choice based on its own will. I also agree to help Camerslana complete his plan."

He thought to himself: That guy who looks so much like Kevin, at least this time... he has a chance to protect everything he cherishes.

Perhaps, among countless terrible possibilities, this is... the best choice. Whether for that counterpart walking on the edge of saving the world and destroying it, or for his own heart, weathered by time and unwilling to witness any more.

The conclusion is already obvious. The pioneering spirit chose to respect that sacrifice that spanned more than 30 million cycles.

At the same time the train crew made their decision, the Dawn and Dusk Eyes appeared earlier.

The Golden Blood in this cycle are like frozen statues, standing motionless in place, as if the passage of time has lost its meaning for them.

The ten sparks, symbolizing hope and lies, still floated silently before them, unmoved, as if mocking the emptiness in their hearts after their beliefs collapsed.

boom--! ! !

Suddenly, the entire Eye of Dawn and Dusk trembled violently! Immediately afterward, Onpharos's false canopy of the sky erupted with a deafening roar, releasing a large area of ​​snowflake-like noise!

The sky flickered wildly like a malfunctioning screen, becoming precarious and seemingly about to collapse completely at any moment!

This sudden, apocalyptic upheaval seemed to finally awaken the Golden Clan from their self-doubt and nihilism, like a bucket of ice water.

They looked up blankly at the dying sky.

Aglaia's voice broke the silence. She forcefully suppressed her helplessness, glanced at her companions still lost in confusion, and spoke clearly and forcefully, attempting to pull them out of their own quagmire:

"No matter how confused we are right now, or how much we question the meaning of our existence... at least let us look at the last words left to us by those 'predecessors' who walked the same path as us and experienced the same failures and despair."

After saying that, she didn't hesitate any longer. She took the lead, resolutely reached out her hand, and firmly grasped the spark of "romance" that belonged to her!

The instant her consciousness connected with the spark, countless fragments of information and emotion flooded into her mind like a torrent.

However, the very first sentence that entered her mind made this usually elegant and composed "romantic" demigod feel as if she had been struck by the sharpest ice pick, and she shuddered violently!