Welcome to Rewind World Game-Chapter 1567: Final - : Guardian Shore Line: “OE: Perished from the Ocean (Part 1)”
[Hayek believes that any attempt to guide an entire society through central planning is essentially based on a "fatal conceit." A society should not rely on the greatest and wisest individuals to formulate order and rules, but rather, it should be formed through the pursuit of individual goals within the framework of general rules, leading to spontaneous evolution.]
[- Hayek "Individualism and Economic Order"]
...
The first landing.
Su Ming’an chose the time point of "a month later."
When he settled, there was a bronze-inlaid statue before him, depicting the appearance of the "new god" with ancient techniques. The notably young countenance and gentle almond-shaped eyes formed a stark contrast with the nearby Buddha statue, the juxtaposition of ancient and modern making the scene feel absurd.
By the flickering candlelight, a child like a little monk knelt on a cushion, staring dumbfounded at the suddenly appearing young man.
"You... are you...?" the child murmured, "...a deity?"
Su Ming’an raised a finger to his lips, gently saying, "Shh."
Wearing a multicolored mask, he did not reveal the face identical to that of the statue. However, only a deity could descend in such a form.
The child nodded vigorously, covering his mouth to show he wouldn’t speak out.
Su Ming’an initially wanted to find his companions right away, but he was more curious about how ordinary people viewed him, so he turned to the child: "Are you my believer?"
...Wasn’t he said to be the World Master? How did he become a god?
"My mother and her 109 children are all your believers," the child said seriously. "Half a month ago, a Tower Master worshiped you as a deity, saying that by believing in you, you could grant us divine power to better protect us."
Su Ming’an thought for a moment and asked, "Who proposed this?"
...Who suggested turning him into a god statue? Isn’t this just going down the same path as the World of Old Days?
"It was Lu Likalpos, the Third Tower Master."
Su Ming’an’s heart suddenly contracted tightly.
Despite knowing this likely was Lu’s idea of the best current peacekeeping strategy, he felt a budding vigilance growing.
"Deity." Seeing that Su Ming’an wasn’t so frightening, the child’s courage grew a bit, eyes sparkling with star-like light: "I heard you have black, purple, and white gradient hair, and when you smile, heavens shower us with blessings; when angry, it’s like thunder descending upon the world; when sad, your tears are like gold and pearls..."
Su Ming’an: "..."
How did this thing also get passed down?
He flickered and disappeared at the spot.
The child looked around, slowly hugging himself... Before, he was very afraid of this dark room, but now, he knew that a deity was watching over him, so he didn’t have to be afraid.
...
Su Ming’an walked invisibly through the streets.
He noticed that the smiles of people weren’t as many as he imagined, so he slowed his pace and silently listened.
"...Did you watch yesterday’s Judgment?" In the park, two middle-aged men were playing chess and chatting: "Those Tower Masters actually didn’t execute the war criminal Atlanda during the World Game. Even though he defected to the High Dimensions, the reason for not executing him was that Atlanda, being a top-ranked player, made a significant contribution to the progress bar of human Points."
"Bah!" The middle-aged man with thinning hair spat: "Someone like Atlanda, in the past, would be called a traitor! A major traitor! He should be shot!"
"The document said it was because Atlanda still had contact with the High Dimensions, so the Tower Masters needed to keep him alive."
The middle-aged man’s chess playing grew more intense with frustration, and he couldn’t help but slam the table, saying: "Don’t we have nuclear bombs, aerospace satellites, and super missiles to deal with one alien? If they offend our Great Dajiang, even if they are far away, they must be punished! How can we listen to a spy’s words? Every man of Great Dajiang can take up arms and go to battle!"
"Uh... You didn’t participate in the World Game, even if you have the memories, you might not be able to understand them..."
Su Ming’an passed by a pavilion near the park runway and overheard a young couple whispering.
"Ha! If I had participated in the World Game, those ’Sky Dragon People’ wouldn’t stand a chance. Why should seven out of ten luck put them a cut above us?" The woman, scrolling through short videos, couldn’t help but complain.
On her phone were high-intensity highlights of various players during the World Game, making one’s blood boil. Most comments expressed praise for the heroes, but there were also a few discordant voices.
"Watch your words, they are heroes after all." The man waved his hand dismissively.
The woman pried his hand away, full of indignation: "I am not annoyed by the real heroes, but those slacker players. They vacationed for most of the year, only watching live streams and tapping keyboards all day, yet twenty-odd days ago, their [Contribution Settlement] is higher than ours? Just because we weren’t chosen to participate in the game. That Old Liu next door used to be a hooligan, killed a few people in the game, and now he’s better off than us."
"Sigh... The world isn’t fair. Compared to the massive wealth gap at birth, the arrangement by Tower Masters concerning the contribution settlement of the World Game is already considered fair; after all, we did nothing yet still received some resource compensation... I vaguely heard that the purpose of that [Contribution Settlement] wasn’t to reward the heroes but to bridge the gap. Countries have tried their best."
"Damn it, is luck a contribution too? That’s just unfair."
"Think back to the Acto period when there was still a world war. We’re already doing quite well."
"I’m just a bit unwilling, not resenting the Tower Masters..."
Su Ming’an walked to the park’s entrance, where some mechanics were selling candied haws, roasted sweet potatoes, and corn.
The small world was already highly developed, but high technology had also brought problems—the seller of roasted potatoes had become mechanical. Where had the original vendors gone?
Su Ming’an continued walking and saw a mother and child sitting on a nearby bench.
They looked worried and had a low demeanor.
"Mom, I really can’t find a job..." the son said despondently. "Those jobs prioritize players, and someone like me, with mediocre education, no one wants me."
"Wasn’t there a law prohibiting the distinction between players and ordinary people in job recruitment?" the mother frowned.
"They say it’s prohibited, but what company actually follows that? There used to be an eight-hour work rule; what company followed it? Where I used to be in civil engineering, it was filled with all kinds of unspoken rules, bribery, washing feet, nepotism. One company, all with the same surname; not a single newcomer didn’t get in through relatives’ bribes, interviews are just a show for outsiders without connections... What’s the use?" the son shook his head, saying: "They say it’s a ’double-blind’ interview, but just one look and they know your vigor and spirit. Ordinary people are just not as good as players; no matter how good the quality, it’s useless."
"Sigh... There will always be law-abiding companies. It’s just the beginning; the ’Ming’an System’ is already monitoring, saying it will arrange jobs for people. Hang in there," the mother couldn’t help saying: "Compared to our era, you are already much happier. Young people, you must endure more hardships."
"Endure hardship, endure hardship, born to endure hardship, enduring through middle school, through high school, through graduate school, then come out job hunting still enduring hardship, full of the black benefits of the time, not even getting a chance to be part of the World Game..." the son ruffled his hair in anger, shouting: "Till when must we endure?!"
"Why am I one of the top three who came out from a class of over fifty candidates, studying bitterly for twelve years, clearly your and dad’s pride, but in the end, I can’t even find a job paying four thousand a month?!"
"Is there a ’one-click death’ red button that I can press?!"
The son roared in anger, while the mother silently wept.
Their figures among the countless bustling crowds were unremarkable.
The two figures on the white bench were like two drops of water about to melt, melting into the vast world.
Su Ming’an watched quietly, knowing there would be numerous problems at the beginning of a revolution, and that the pain of the times was inevitable. He could certainly speak out and give the unfortunate young man a job, but that would only further breed privilege.
In a trance, he seemed to return to his divine position of the World of Old Days.
"...If it really doesn’t work out, let’s aim for the ’Tower Exam’." The mother took a deep breath.
She took out an old phone, tapping on the screen: "Look, there are currently 256 operating towers, and millions of small towers built around the big towers; our city has two, one in the East City District and one in the Dajiang District."
The son leaned in for a look.
...
[Position: Information Department Clerk of the East City Tower]
[Job Content: Organizing instance information and material summaries from the World Game.]
[Education Requirement: Bachelor’s Degree]
[Number of Positions: 2]
[Number of Applicants: 29,181]
...
Son: "..."
The son covered his mother’s phone and sighed.
But the mother continued to persuade: "How about this? You can tackle multiple things at once: preparing for the tower, studying for your master’s degree, looking for a job, and getting certifications all at the same time... Oh, I heard the street nearby is recruiting for trash collection, and you only need a bachelor’s degree to qualify. You could go there too..."
The son immediately turned off the phone and shook his head: "Mom, don’t think too much. I have a better path. I heard that the ’Ming’an System’ collaborated with the Twelfth Thrones Spiritual Dream-Maker earlier to develop the power system of the World Game. Once the situation stabilizes, they will appropriately release the skill books and player systems of the World Game. At that time, even those of us who didn’t participate in the World Game can turn our lives around."
The mother showed a look of panic: "How can that be? Isn’t this equivalent to giving everyone a gun?"
The son rubbed his hands: "Mom, the world is different now. As the computing power of the ’Ming’an System’ is gradually liberated, just like the Dawn System of the Ruined World, the Eyes of Heaven will monitor everyone, so even if there are crimes, they won’t be that rampant. However, the world is indeed becoming a bit more dangerous."
He sighed, lifted his gaze, and looked towards the distant gray-blue sky: "But, compared to living my whole life miserably under others, I would rather have this world be a little more dangerous."
Su Ming’an passed by this sorrowful pair of mother and son.
"... It’s still too risky." The mother shook her head disapprovingly: "Son, during this time, read more books and take part in the ’Full Tower Exam Tour’. You never know if you might get in. Counting on training yourself up is not as reliable as living steadily."
"In the end, stability is always best in this world..."
Their voices gradually faded away from him.
On this journey, Su Ming’an didn’t rush forward but slowed his pace, relaxed his breathing, and heard many, many voices.
These are the voices he couldn’t hear from that position.
Perhaps, they are called "noise," or perhaps, they are called "the voice of the people."
"... If I had tried a bit harder during the World Game, traded more contributions, I could be living in a big house by now."
"... I should have chosen to become an Adventurer Player back then. If I just tried a little harder, my contributions wouldn’t be low. Only those particularly excellent Casual Players received high contributions."
"... Luckily, the World Game is over, or my mom would have gone crazy. Thank you to the players at the top of the rankings, thank you Number One Player."
"... Am I the only one who wants world destruction? I don’t want to go to school..."
"... When the ten billion countdown is over, we’ll all be dead, really like a never-ending yearlong vacation. It’s already miraculous that humanity survived, it really wasn’t just playing a game. Think about how many ancestors gave you the chance to go to school now."
"... Too many people died, my sister, she didn’t return from the instance..."
"... At least, this is our victory against the deities and High Dimensions. Thankful for the Number One Player’s lies and bets, because of which we got this chance to see the light again..."
...
The room filled with sunlight was furnished with antique wooden furniture.
Lü Shu sat in front of the mahogany desk, browsing the files displayed on the Light Brain.
He knew nothing about these things before, but he knew very well, to oversee this world properly, he couldn’t remain ignorant, or one day, those with ulterior motives would deceive him with lies, fooling him, the clueless one.
During his breaks, he would pet the sleeping white cat on the table, its furry body laying by the window, shimmering with a golden edge from the Sun.
The calendar on the wall was marked with thirty red circles, the starting day was the day Su Ming’an left.
"Tap." Footsteps sounded.
Lü Shu, sensing an intuition, lifted his head. He didn’t need to look to feel it; the only one who could silently step into the room was that person.
——Under the bright sunlight, a masked young man pushed the window and entered, his dyed black hair fluttering, exuding a faint scent of sandalwood, as if he had just walked out from a shrine.
The mask grew increasingly thick, revealing a vivid smile like a clown, silent and solidified.
"Welcome back." Lü Shu’s voice was a bit dry.
They had always been suspicious, wondering if Su Ming’an was lying, maybe his life was nearing its end, and he only said he would jump through time to comfort them. It’s not impossible for Su Ming’an to do this kind of thing, after all, he’s a world-renowned liar, his lies deceived the High Dimensions, deceived the Organizers, and even deceived humanity during most of the World Game phases. His lies won back this world.
Luckily, he waited for that person.
"You’re..." Su Ming’an was surprised for a moment, looking at Lü Shu’s keyboard: "Writing official documents?"
Lü Shu nodded: "My lifespan will be very long, since that’s the case, I must learn these." He bit his lip, bowed his head: "I’m not eloquent, nor good at writing essays. To prevent those schemers from fooling me and replaying my parents’ tragedy, I must learn these... Back then, my parents were too focused on practicing martial arts, not good at scheming, so they were killed in a fire, never knowing who harmed them..."
He originally intended to be a pure blademaster, born to Pursue Light, die for those who understand him.
However, the era didn’t accommodate a pure person.
——He picked up the blade, but also needed to be able to put it down.
During wartime, people needed blades and fire. But eventually, people would need pens and cameras.
Su Ming’an looked at the document on the screen, it was obvious that Lü Shu was practicing hard, someone who had never touched official documents before was writing... writing...
Somewhat like the tea Su Rin brewed.
"You’re good at writing essays, you’ll learn quickly, don’t worry." Su Ming’an comforted.
Lü Shu quickly realized the "essay" Su Ming’an referred to, it was... during early World Game, a forum essay praising the Number One Player.
That essay was his True Heart work written before deeply understanding Su Ming’an, a product influenced by the Lighthouse Theory. A True Heart creation at the time, yet now full of holes looking back.
"I’ll rewrite a book for you," Lü Shu promptly said: "As your fellow traveler, recording my thoughts and transformation about you during the entire World Game... The world needs such a book. People already know your achievements, your great name, but haven’t perceived from close-up what a detailed person you are."
Just as heroes need history books, myths, they also need autobiographies and memoirs.
Since Su Ming’an doesn’t have time to write, let him do it.
"When you have time. Don’t forget to also write one for yourself, you’re a hero too." Su Ming’an smiled, he saw Lü Shu’s motivation.
He went outside.
Behind him, a slight pulling force emerged, which quickly released, as if acknowledging it shouldn’t hold on.
Su Ming’an turned around: "What’s wrong?"
Lü Shu’s hand was frozen in the air, before quickly retreating, placed beneath the desk: "You’re leaving again? How long?"
"I won’t, I’m going to consult Su Mianbao about some policies, then stay here for a time before returning." Su Ming’an said: "I’ve sensed things deviating, I’ll handle it before leaving."
"Then..." Lü Shu opened his mouth, swallowed the remaining words.
... Then when will we keep the promise made, after the World Game ends, to travel together, when can it be fulfilled?
Are they being too greedy? Even after fulfilling the "return home together" promise, they still want to fulfill "travel together" too...
No, the former hasn’t fully come true either, Lin Yin, Boris, Qin Si... haven’t made it back.
For an instant, Lü Shu felt everything he was experiencing was like an inevitable tragedy, sliding towards a vague direction, firmly yet incessantly. The next moment, this feeling quickly dissipated.
He watched Su Ming’an gradually leave, the sunset through the glass bathed him, sculpted his image into a copper statue glowing with gold.
The light floated over the tiles below, like a splendid, distant path paved with golden leaves.
Lü Shu leaned against the wall to stand up, his fingers scraped the calendar marked with red circles, turned his head to look, picked up a pen, and inscribed a mark on the thirty-first day. Lü Shu was accustomed to marking with "正," this mark represented Su Ming’an’s first return.
He caressed this mark, for an instant, he imagined he was caressing a tree trunk.
——As if a tree trunk engraved with thousands of marks.
...
