Welcome to Rewind World Game-Chapter 1505 - 9: He, She, They (Female), They (Male)
"’Welcome to the World Game’?" Thirty-seven people looked at each other in shock at Su Ming’an’s "United Story" proposal.
Su Ming’an smiled slightly, without much explanation, and said only, "In order, next, Luna, please continue your report."
On the fifth chair, Luna on the screen said, "Everything is going well on my side. It has been over a hundred years for the small world. Considering the issue of soul lifespan, the initial players and I are taking turns sleeping, with only a few moments of wakefulness."
She turned her shoulder, revealing the skyscrapers behind her, showing scenes reminiscent of the Oriental Pearl and West Lake, almost identical to the original Zhai Xing.
Behind her, thousands of players in modern T-shirts, short sleeves, long coats, down jackets, and windbreakers waved and laughed at the camera in unison:
"Just waiting for you all to come in!"
"Don’t worry, we’ve built this place very well! It’s no different from our original home!"
"No, no, it’s still different! The benefits are better, resources are richer, and the environment is more beautiful!"
Over thirty people craned their necks, scrutinizing this small world on the screen, while billions of viewers in the live broadcast room were equally fixated.
...
[The small world has been completed! It really looks like the original!]
[Wow, black technology!]
[Was the original Zhai Xing really naturally formed? Could it have undergone a similar process?]
[Previously in the Atlanda live broadcast room, I heard Xiao Na invited Su Ming’an to be the "brain" of the World Game. As long as Su Ming’an solves this final instance and scores full points, the World Game will leave... then we can all go home, right!]
[Hmm? You guys can send such in-depth messages now, it seems the system rules have relaxed the restrictions on bullet comments a lot.]
[Does this mean we are so deep into the World Game that we are about to penetrate it...?]
[So strange.]
[In my view, the World Game is still quite charming.]
...
While comforted, Su Ming’an felt a faint sting in his heart.
The identical scenes on the screen were, to him, clearly replicas, a sandbox, a pearl in the palm of his hand.
Returning home.
This concept had haunted him since eight months ago, from September 30th, until today’s May 31st, as he obsessively pursued this notion, hypnotizing himself to get here.
To return home, must it be the original home, or is it enough just to return to a place that feels like home with everyone, to count as going home?
If a person’s body returns home, does that count as going home? If a person’s ashes return home, does that count as going home?
If the home is no longer the original home, does that count as going home? If everything at home is a replica, does that count as going home?
He knew the regret in his heart; he ultimately did not reach a perfect ending. Yet, perfection seemed like a kind of falsehood. Everyone was aware of this.
At this moment, a voice rang out:
"...Exactly the same as the original Zhai Xing?" The speaker was a man on the thirty-fifth chair, curly-haired, with thick eyebrows and tense facial muscles, "But the original Zhai Xing wasn’t good... I have no homeland filter for that planet; it was a terrible place."
His name was Alauddin, a man from a certain region of Africa, who had endured oppressive hardships, separated from his family, and though ambitious, could only work in the lowest jobs due to his status. Until the World Game changed his fate, he fought tooth and nail to finally reach this position.
He knew this seemingly unnoticeable conference table actually held more weight than the world’s highest-scale meetings had before, with countless eyes fixed upon it. He wanted to say something for the people of his homeland:
"Some of you were born in peaceful countries, and may not know what kind of life we used to live. Going hungry, drinking sewage water was the norm. Though I seem bright now, I used to handle sewage every day to survive. My wife had to sell her body to earn money for rice, and I could only cover my ears and accept it."
"Our girls would be sold at twelve years old, and now I see some of them healthy and strong on the leaderboard; I’m so proud. But I worry that once the World Game ends, they will immediately face blame from those back home, accused of not following the rules."
"Our boys, as long as they’re taller than a car wheel, would be sent to the army. While you were playing in the mud, they were already in it clearing mines with their bodies. Some didn’t even have their own names, because their families were all buried in the mud."
"The arrival of the World Game makes me feel like I’m soaking in honey, whatever Henggang Apocalypse, whatever White Sand Paradise, to me it is the real Paradise. Hell is unnecessary, we were already in Hell. Heaven is unnecessary because this place is Heaven."
"Everyone can eat their fill, even sea cucumbers and abalone are the norm; we don’t have to work every day, just enjoy leisure. I’ve heard the World Game has reincarnated many times, this way of living could potentially continue for a long time... Of course, I’m not asking for this life to continue, I just want to say, judging from public opinion, many people actually don’t want to go back."
"We’re ending their ’sweet dreams’."
"Going back? What for? Can you guarantee an eight-hour workday? Two days off every week? Can we refuse overtime? Can we stop struggling until death? What’s the difference between being ruled by aliens and being ruled by capitalists? At least the former lets us eat and dress properly, without real death, while the latter is all about exploiting every resource, exhausting every blade of grass to feed horses, who even have to struggle just to buy a restroom home."
"If I go back and face my children in the sewage gutters, see the tired and depressed faces, see twelve-year-old girls with big bellies..."
Alauddin wiped his lips as he spoke, suddenly sighing:
"Did you know? Last night, I ate a cake, costing 0.01 Points, with fresh cream and ice cream, and it was delicious."
"It was the first time I tasted cake. I always thought it was bitter."
"Before my mother died, she always lied to me, telling me cake was bitter."
He lowered his hand, silently bowing his head, not daring to meet the gaze of everyone else. He feared seeing contemptuous eyes, feared hearing them call him a "traitor," that he could have such thoughts.
The table fell into an extreme silence.
Until Su Ming’an clasped his hands and said:
"Do you know the situation in the City of Measurement?"
"Yes... I understand," Alauddin said.
"Before I left the small world, it had already developed to the level of the City of Measurement, and now it’s even higher. I can’t guarantee that everyone can eat their fill, but the current situation should be far better than the original Zhai Xing," Su Ming’an said:
"I dare not make decisions on behalf of everyone, believing that ending the World Game is surely the best, but this is a one-way road; the World Game can’t nurture us forever, and one day we will reach the end."
"The flaw of the small world is that it is not a natural world. It will have deities, world masters, and the Ming’an system, but these are also its advantages. Deities can pacify disasters, world masters can control the larger picture, and the Ming’an system can allocate resources."
"War is not the goal but a means. I will make this means completely eliminated as well."
"Besides, the path upward still exists. The issues concerning girls you mentioned, I am also pondering over. I know that in many countries, there are still bad practices of early marriage and discrimination; once the World Game ends, they will continue with their old ways. My energy is limited, and I may not be able to take care of everything, or protect everyone, but I believe those girls who achieve success in the World Game will strive to give back to those who were once in their shoes."
He placed his hands on his chin:
"—Because there has never been just one savior in this world."
"I am merely providing a small world, a space for you all to survive. More happiness, beauty, joy, and delight still lie in the hands of the countless saviors among you to create. They could be saviors who ’care for the elderly,’ saviors who ’protect young girls,’ saviors who ’stop war,’ saviors who ’end overtime work’..."
"Like you, Alauddin, you who climbed out of the slums, and now you are contemplating how to change the slum’s status. For them, you are already a ’savior of the slums.’"
"I am just a Pioneer, lighting the first star in the dark universe, and you, are the starlight."
Alauddin’s eyes widened slightly.
"Of course, there is no perfect world. There are many bad people in this world, and we inevitably have to tread deeper into the long night," Su Ming’an said, looking around:
"Beyond that, I lack understanding. I will consult people from the United Group and my companions."
"As for those who indulge in beautiful dreams and are unwilling to wake up, they can abandon their physical bodies and enter the Ming’an system, continuing their dreams, as long as they’re willing to pay the price of never waking up. I don’t mind. After all, there are just too many people in this world."
His voice was gentle, yet the meaning conveyed subtly bore a god-like stance.
Alauddin stared, only to realize that Su Ming’an’s temples were tinged with frost. This young Second-level God had been pondering for a long time, long before Alauddin posed these questions.
What he expounded on had already far exceeded Alauddin’s expectations. Alauddin thought a young person would be more driven by passion, with visions set on higher universal truths and high-dimensional disputes, not realizing he had already lowered his head, seeing the vast earth.
Indeed, he was different from many heroes and champions.
He always looked down with compassion, rather than arrogantly raising his head."
"—You mean, you will become the ’God’ of the small world?"
A man with a large round face, exquisite features, and yellowed skin seated at the thirty-third chair spoke. His name was Guang Xing, a Southeast Asian who was once a film director.
He worried whether Su Ming’an would replicate the acts of the Tenth World God, becoming extremely indifferent, neglecting human happiness for the sake of the world’s overall situation.
"Yes, regrettably, no matter what I try, I cannot escape the position of ’God,’ after all, the small world comes from me," Su Ming’an said:
"But you need not worry about divine rule issues; once the initial order is established, I will gradually retreat, no longer appearing in public."
"I once said, ’Pulaya does not need deities’... ha, this statement applies to Zhai Xing as well; our homeland doesn’t need an Immortal Emperor sitting on top. I trust humanity’s governance, with the presence of Su Mianbao, the Ming’an system, the Peak Alliance, the guilds, top players, and the balance of the existing old class, this world will not fall into chaos without me."
"When everything settles, perhaps I can return to an ordinary person’s life and continue living as I did before. Who knows, one day the game streamer you see, behind the screen, might just be me."
He chuckled a few times, and the others couldn’t help but laugh along.
It seemed that beautiful scene was near... very close, almost within reach if they just extended their hand, that described day would surely arrive.
Lü Shu, sitting at the nearest right position to Su Ming’an, was one of the few who didn’t laugh.
He distinguished once more the unnaturalness in Su Ming’an’s words.
This unnaturalness had appeared when Su Ming’an hid things from them and gambled his life with the Organizers.
What had Su Ming’an concealed this time? What resolution had he made again?
He always liked to promise ungraspable wishes.
... We cannot guarantee a hundred percent victory; you are trapped in some predicaments, even you can’t reach tomorrow, right? Lü Shu wanted to ask this question, but there were too many people around him, and he was in a small screen himself.
The bustling noise buzzed in his ears, his heart became quiet, seemingly standing by the distant lakeshore.
After the laughter, the Sixth Thrones Isabella began to report: "The God of Intelligence favors me as a Divine Envoy. Here... well, I’ve gathered many crazy scientists."
Seventh Thrones Lin Yin said: "We are launching Strawberry Crisps; when the temperature rises to a certain height, Strawberry Crisps will fall all over the sky."
The Eighth Thrones Eni said: "I’m staying in the Wraith Territory, avenging Aier the Little Prince."
The Ninth Thrones Borili smiled and said: "I’m still hosting the Lighthouse Church."
Su Ming’an raised his eyebrows.
Borili was a blond, blue-eyed man, well-dressed, wearing a bow tie, exuding a scholarly air. It was said that he was Boris’ brother, and Anthony couldn’t find Boris himself, so he brought in his brother.
Just as Su Ming’an met Borili’s gaze for a moment, Su Ming’an saw a hand in those green eyes, a hand holding an infant, accompanied by an emblem of flames and eyes.
"Careful" rolled in his throat for a moment, too late to shout, he felt the blazing heat of the sun.
"Boom—!"
A golden sun burst on the conference table, burning the flowers in the vase, toppling thirty-seven chairs, causing the screens on the table to shatter.
The building collapsed, flames swallowed the view, Su Ming’an swiftly grew white tendrils, pulling back the flustered Anthony and others, with a swing, tossing them like fireworks to the sides, his spine shuddering as he soared to the sky.
