Welcome to Rewind World Game-Chapter 1479 - 128: "I Finally Saw Him.

Su Ming’an was taken aback and squatted down to check.

"Be careful, some bones are sharp, watch out they don’t hurt you." Perhaps driven by his overwhelming helpfulness, this good old man worried about everything and immediately handed Su Ming’an a pair of thick gloves.

"You’re just like Doraemon..." Su Ming’an put on the gloves.

"Dora... what?" The person shook his head.

"Nothing." Su Ming’an tested out, figuring this person must be a local in Luowasha.

He fumbled around, and there lay a skeleton mostly buried in the earth. Just by the remains of tattered fabric on the skeleton, it seemed to be women’s clothing. There was a red knot on the wrist, resembling a woman’s hair tie.

"Apologies," Su Ming’an silently mouthed.

"There’s a wooden plaque here, held in the skeleton’s hand," the person beside him said.

Su Ming’an took off the gloves and touched it; it was inscribed with Luowasha language, a phrase carved on it:

...

[I finally met him, but he wasn’t what I imagined.]

...

"This shouldn’t be someone who died recently." The good man rubbed his chin: "Could this woman have been a contestant in the first Disciple Game? I’ve heard that due to the instance being too large, some contestants’ remains aren’t retrieved and are even left behind as ’little Easter eggs.’

Su Ming’an sighed inwardly.

He gently laid the skeleton flat on the ground, scooped up the surrounding earth, and gradually buried it.

The person beside him squatted silently, joining him in burying the remains.

During the burial, Su Ming’an felt heat on the back of his hand; he touched it and found a droplet.

He quickly reached for his own eyes to find them dry and immediately realized: "Are you crying?"

The person beside him was startled and touched his eyes: "Ah, yes, quite strange."

"Is it sadness?"

"I don’t know, it seems not. The tears just fell inexplicably." The man shook his hand: "I’ve forgotten the last time I cried; it must be a physiological reaction."

Such a strong and robust man, suddenly shedding tears.

In the silent darkness, they finished burying the skeleton and stood up.

Suddenly, Su Ming’an heard rustling sounds.

He immediately looked at the person beside him and found the silhouette was still.

... Is there a third person in this safe room?

"Rustle, rustle."

Su Ming’an was prepared to punch, slowly moving closer.

Yet, he saw a thin, small silhouette.

The figure sat in the corner, vaguely shimmering with a few reflective silver strands.

... An elderly person?

"Is it Kong? Kong, is that your voice?" The person spoke, the voice of an old woman. Perhaps, fearing upon Su Ming’an and the other entering, she huddled in the corner not daring to make a sound.

Su Ming’an squatted down, carefully observing her with the subtle glow of his bracelet.

Silver-white hair, a face full of wrinkles, long cloudy eyes, spotted lips; her features hinting at past beauty. A silver chain hung on her chest, a silver cotton coat, her legs and feet swollen.

"Kong, it really is Kong!" The elderly woman touched his clothes, seemingly recognizing him.

Su Ming’an remembered, in the third stage of the Disciple Game, Wang Xingkong was always with an elderly woman named Jia Xiqin, he was protecting her throughout.

... Despite not knowing each other before the game, within a short instance, Wang Xingkong and Jia Xiqin became like family, whereas some blood relatives acted like enemies.

Su Ming’an closed his eyes briefly, suppressed his emotions, and nodded to the person beside him: "Someone I know."

"Grandma?" the person asked.

"..." Su Ming’an paused: "Yes, my real grandma."

Jia Xiqin’s condition seemed poor, perhaps from inhaling some poison gases, not very lucid. She held onto Su Ming’an’s hand, continuously muttering. She talked about her experiences over the last few days, mentioned that without the weapons Kong left her, a disabled elderly woman, she’d already be dead.

"Money, money, everything needs money." She clung tightly to Su Ming’an’s hand, speaking incoherently:

"Eating needs money, firewood needs money, medical treatment needs money."

"Son lacks a leg, attaching a leg costs money. Granddaughter’s heart is weak, medicine costs money."

At this moment, the good man came over with a medical kit, helping Su Ming’an apply medication to his calf again.

Su Ming’an sat down, quietly lowering his hand.

"So many mouths to feed, eating, eating... never enough. One night, I got up and heard them discussing sending me to the deep forest like many old men and women over seventy."

"I figured, if they’re sending me into the forest to starve to death, I’d rather join this game, at least, it saves one mouth at home. Ah, I’m really upset..."

Poison gas tapped against the glass door, like raindrops on banana leaves.

A "click" sound, the person beside him closed the medical kit, instinctively lit a cigarette at his mouth, and then remembered someone was beside him, extinguishing it immediately.

Like a peaceful island amid endless waves, the storm outside couldn’t harm the glass room inside.

Su Ming’an was held by Jia Xiqin, their bracelets ticking calmly.

As if outside the world, all chaos, pain, confusion, and fear were briefly isolated outside.

At this moment, he seemed merely Wang Xingkong, a boy without any savior responsibilities; life felt like it would stretch long and far, shouldering only the hope for the future.

The old lady talked about her home, a remote village to the east of Luowasha, brimming with golden wheat fields; when the wind blew, autumn was rich with heavy crops.

Come winter, it’s the season of Genesis. Whatever the village lacks, people pick up pens and write down needs—brown sugar, sesame, tomatoes—all things they cannot grow.

Farmers can’t produce them, so collective brainstorming and a bit of writing suffice.

But everyone still wasn’t full; most of the grain was taken away. Those people up there had large wings, flying high in the sky. A light command from them would starve many, would force many elderly and infirm to fight.

Su Ming’an asked who those people were.

The old lady thought briefly, shook her head.

She said, those people are too high up, she can’t see clearly; they stand in the sunlight.

Furthermore, one group leaves, another comes; there are always people above, it never ends.

Su Ming’an then asked, if someday everyone enters a new world without worrying about the Master of the End of All Things and the High Dimensions, will this change?

The old lady paused, then looked at him, spreading her sparsely toothed lips.

Kong, what is the Master of the End of All Things? What are High Dimensions?

Whether they exist or not, what does it matter to us?

Su Ming’an hadn’t spoken for a long time.

His fingers clenched tightly, as if his nails were about to dig into his flesh.

Then, he said softly, "It’s those bad guys who will take our lives."

"Is Kong fighting those bad guys?"

"Yes."

"Then Kong must win, once he wins, it will be safe." The old lady revealed her sparsely spaced teeth.

"Yes."

"I will definitely win."

He rested with his eyes closed; she was still rambling, even mentioning things he was familiar with.

She talked about the orange cat lying outside her sewing shop, not knowing where it came from, basking under the parasol tree every day, guarding a valuable long wooden stick, refusing to leave with anyone adopting it, as if waiting for its owner.

She also said that the pendant around her neck contained her old man. He was clever and was the first to participate in the first Disciple Game, made a strategy, and left it for her. That’s why she could make it this far, all thanks to the wisdom of her late husband...

She then talked about their village. The third son from the eastern side of the village reportedly joined the branch temple of the Radiant Mother God to become a glorious Divine Presence Hymn singer, to change everyone’s destiny. The blacksmith at the village entrance, blessed by the God of Inspiration a few years ago, threw away his hammer to become a minstrel, and is now said to be living free and happy on Sky Island, writing songs for giant dragons and the Celestial Clan...

Su Ming’an quietly listened.

These were all areas he had never ventured into, stories he had never heard.

Beyond the limits of his perspective, this world was vast and perpetually fascinating.

The green gas tapped against the glass, like rain hitting lotus leaves, and the three sat in the dark room, accompanied only by a sleeping skeleton.

"...Kong, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have survived the third stage. My family would rather have one less mouth to feed; only you think I’m still human..." Jia Xiqin clung tightly to Su Ming’an’s hand, her voice gradually lowering.

Having spoken so much, she was probably tired.

Su Ming’an gently released her hand, placing it on her knee.

She mumbled, turning over, seeming to talk in her sleep: "...You little brat, you haven’t even done your homework yet today, you’re going to make your grandma angry to death..."

Su Ming’an got up, walked back to the bench, and slowly lay down.

He stared into the darkness, recalling when he was three, after his grandma spoke to him, she sat at the bedside pedaling the sewing machine, making him a pair of gloves.

"These are the hands of a future pianist, they must be well protected..." Grandma held him and spun around, back then, even the air seemed colorful.

The old sewing machine from the last century creaked, as if one could hear the rust of distant time. But later, it was sold along with the piano...

He bit his lip, feeling a pain; it turned out his calf was bleeding slightly. The person beside him reopened the medical kit and tended to him.

"When the poison gas lifts, are you going to take her along?" The person whispered while applying medicine.

"If I don’t take her, she’ll surely die." Su Ming’an glanced at Jia Xiqin, who was asleep in the corner, her silver hair all settled. He knew that regardless of what he thought, this person would definitely take her along.

"Yes, rest for a while." The person patted his shoulder and also closed his eyes.

Beep, beep.

Amid the ticking of the wristband, time passed little by little.

Su Ming’an rested, his eyes occasionally glancing at his wristband; his survival time initially was only a bit over thirty minutes, now only five minutes remained. Yet, there was no sign of the poison gas abating.

The residual poison made his head heavy and dizzy, so he closed his eyes, trying to rest, striving to be in a slightly better state.

"Later, I’ll go out and see if I can find any wristbands left behind by other participants, to give you more time." The kind-hearted person said softly.

"I’ll go with you." Su Ming’an said.

"I have healing abilities and can resist the poison gas for a while, you don’t need to follow me." The kind-hearted person reached out, closing his eyes: "You’re nearly unable to open your eyes, Tian Ying’s poison is formidable, letting your body rest is the best way to combat it, sleep. If you keep moving your body like this, you might not even be able to stand."

Su Ming’an felt a deep sense of remarkability at the ordinary player’s body...

He lay down as instructed, not forcing himself.

The kind-hearted person also closed his eyes to rest, quietly recovering physical strength, preparing to resist the poison later. Even though they both knew that in this pitch-black poison fog, finding another participant’s wristband was nearly impossible.

In a daze, Su Ming’an felt someone stand up.

That person stood beside him for a while, then took something off and gently placed it in his palm.

He tried hard to open his eyes, but felt the residual poison continually pulling at his eyelids, rendering him unable to rise.

Then, he heard a "beep".

In his blurry haze, he heard a voice.

"Kong."

"Grandma’s home is in a nameless village in Longchao Country, east of Luowasha. If one day you win the game, go take a look, the bread made from wheat there is delicious, much better than the city’s, truly."

A warm touch came from the palm of his hand.

Then, through the slits of his heavy eyelids, he saw a small hunched figure touch the glass door and slowly walk out.

The poison gas could not enter the safe house; she merely walked out.

She heard his and the other person’s discussion, knowing his time was running short.

It was as if a voice in his throat screamed out, howling, wishing to extend a hand towards the poison gas, causing a spatial vibration to drive away these rotten things; to grow divine white wings and fly out, enduring the poison gas to tear apart all mechanisms, beat the masked men, bringing everything back to peace...

But he could only lie there, lying on the bench.

Watching that hunched figure, slowly walk out.

The residual poison numbed his shoulders, making him unable to even reach out his hand.

The wristband ticked steadily, [Survival Time: 3 minutes], it had already changed to [Survival Time: 12 minutes].

Jia Xiqin was quite lucky; perhaps the old man’s ashes protected her, allowing her to pick up a few wristbands from deceased participants. But she knew, this was it.

This was it.

One less mouth to feed at home, one more child in the world ready to fight the bad guys.

In the blurry vision, the hunched figure disappeared just after exiting the door.

Su Ming’an used all his strength to move his hand, finally feeling a bit lighter in his body, dispelling some residual poison. He forcefully lifted his hand, instinctively making a spatial vibration gesture towards those damned poison gases.

"Whirr——whirr——"

White baby’s breath bloomed beautifully in his palm, draping like ribbons on his hand.

Aside from that, there was naturally no spatial brilliance.

It was a long silence.

The young man with brown-black hair fell silent.

Only a string of silver necklace, engraved with dates of birth and death, swayed at his fingertips, swinging...

...