Welcome to Rewind World Game-Chapter 1586: Final - · Across the Sea [51] · "Who Killed the Robin (5)
In the hidden basement, Fengchang gathered all the people of the tribe.
Xiber stood silently in a damp corner, ignored by all.
"The Mother Goddess demands we hand over the white stone." Fengchang looked around and spoke.
"We cannot hand it over." An elder immediately stepped up to oppose: "The white stone is the precious treasure left by the Seven-Colored Holy God for our tribe, it is also something our tribe has always protected. We cannot hand it over!"
...The Seven-Colored Holy God? Who? Xiber’s eyes shifted.
"Why has the Mother Goddess set her sights on our tribe’s treasure? Although it is an ancestral legacy, in our eyes, it is just an ordinary stone, of no use," Kael Nashe questioned.
"I’m afraid... it’s the Red Tower Empire eyeing us," Candoya’s words silenced the crowd: "We recently won the war, the Empress fears our tribe’s strong power and wants to find a reason to burn bridges, as long as we refuse to hand over the white stone, we have grounds to be executed..."
The room fell silent.
"Damn it, let’s fight them!" A young man stood up and shouted angrily, "Is this how heroes are treated? We might as well destroy that Empire! We don’t believe in that Mother Goddess, it was she who suddenly descended and forced us to believe in her!"
"Yeah, fight them, fight them..." A big foolish guy drooling, stutteringly echoed.
"Fight! Might as well fight to the last moment! Our tribe is the lineage of the Seven-Colored Holy God, if we hand over His treasure, how is that different from betraying our ancestors and our faith!" Lucia exclaimed.
Xiber stood in the corner, watching all of this.
"... Do you have any thoughts?" Suddenly, those eyes like the Heavenly Sea looked at her, a young man in a black robe gazed at her.
Hundreds of eyes gathered, looked at her.
In Xiber’s memory, such a thing had never happened in Qiongdi.
Clear your mind, Xiber, they are just people with similar appearances, similar personalities, similar memories. They are a race that someone called the "Seven-Colored Holy God" created in Luowasha, they grew up in Luowasha, and are not those you know...
You know, time has passed too long, your brother and them have already...
These are merely Fengchang and others’ "The Original" born in Luowasha.
Xiber quickly calmed her mind and said: "I don’t know the situation, so I won’t make any comments."
The gaze of Kael Nashe and a few young people became disdainful: "Why ask a small cultist’s opinion, her thoughts are not important."
Fengchang looked at her steadily, then turned his gaze back to the crowd.
"Fight them..." His voice paused: "And then?"
The crowd quietly gazed at him.
"The Red Tower Empire has a population of millions, the believers of the Radiant Mother Goddess number in the billions, yet our tribe has only a hundred people, even if our bloodline is noble, our abilities strong, fight a hundred alone... we fight them, each one dies, and then?" Fengchang’s voice was calm, he slowly spread his hands:
"Then there will no longer be any tribesmen like us in the world, our name completely buried in history. We have just won a million-level war as generals, if we are wiped out, who can stand up when faced with a brutal war again?"
A young man retorted: "They burn the bridges, should we fight for them in the future!?"
Fengchang gently shook his head, his blue eyes, as serene as the Morning Star: "Not for them, but... for our descendants, for tribal legacy, for not betraying our ancestor, the Seven-Colored Holy God, for protecting that stone."
"Enduring humiliation, suffering disgrace... we must preserve the last bloodline."
"At the very least, someone has to carry that white stone and survive. Even though we don’t know the purpose of that white stone, it must not fall into the hands of the Radiant Mother Goddess. I sense... she already shows signs of demonization."
"For the hope of this world, we cannot lead to complete annihilation due to hotblooded impulses."
The room was extremely silent.
A few young tribe members began to sob, realizing the dead end. The Empire burning bridges, the Mother Goddess eyeing the tribe’s treasure, what could they do? Even if fighting desperately, there was no path to survival.
The atmosphere of sadness spread, everyone’s face was heavy, full of deep sighs and sobs.
And the Young Tribe Leader on the stage kept a serene look on his face, a few drops of water dripped in the damp basement, he wore the Sacrificial Crown, had already resembled a leader.
Xiber always hated him like this, a righteous, luminous appearance, talking ideals just to die the same way every time, leaving her without a word.
But this wasn’t Qiongdi, nor was there any Reincarnation Authority.
Death was real death here, irreversible, this guy... was still obsessed with the word "death."
People discussed for a long time, also fell silent for a long time, in the end, it was an elder named Feng Le who stood up.
"We will follow the Clan Leader’s arrangements." He kneeled on one knee, bowed his gray-headed head. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢
Following him, people exchanged glances, gradually knelt down.
"We will follow the Clan Leader’s arrangements."
"Clan Leader, you arrange it, we will all follow."
"Clan Leader, to prevent that Radiant Mother Goddess from benefiting, we are willing to give everything to protect our tribe’s treasure, the white stone."
They changed the title from "Young Tribe Leader" to "Clan Leader."
Ultimately, they decided to draw lots. Out of three hundred seventy-six tribe members, ten young people would be chosen to escape with the white stone, while everyone else feigned submission, but secretly intended to burn bridges, walk towards the Radiant Mother Goddess with the fake stone, to buy time for the escape.
"Ten people, divided into five teams to disperse and escape, only one team carrying the real white stone," Fengchang quickly arranged: "The remaining three hundred sixty-six people, follow me to pay respects to the Mother Goddess."
"Aren’t you drawing lots?" Xiber finally couldn’t hold back, breaking the silence.
The pair of eyes identical to hers looked over, swirling with indifference and tranquility, not a hint of affection.
He was always like this, even towards his own sister, he was ruthless.
But this time, he was dealing with himself.
"As the Clan Leader, I am the one who most certainly cannot escape, you’re no longer young, why ask such a question," Fengchang said calmly.
...You think I don’t know the answer, you bastard brother!
Xiber clenched her fists, she almost thought she was back to the past, everything was so similar, everything filled with déjà vu. However, the rationality in her heart so clearly told her, she had already lost them.
Ascending to High Dimensions cost her too much time, by the time she returned to Qiongdi, more than one generation had passed. Former friends, family... all had turned to dust.
Did they miss her before their end? A deity being sacrificed, a misunderstood girl.
She regretted not having been able to say goodbye before his end, when "he" appeared before her eyes again, it turned out to be time to say goodbye once more.
She drew a sign from the wooden box, it was a red sign.
Laughably, her luck was good this time.
"Lucky, go and escape." Fengchang glanced at her sign, waved his hand:
"Those who didn’t draw a sign, come with me."
Xiber watched the faces of familiar and unfamiliar tribespeople gradually fade away.
Though they looked down on her, Kel Nashe still mouthed "Little cultist," but at this moment, Kel Nashe merely glanced at her before silently following Fengchang outside.
—What is controlling them?
The foolish belief, the collective conformity, the lack of self-preservation instincts, or the deeply rooted tribal faith?
"Faith" is the ability Xiber has followed all her life, yet now she finds herself somewhat unable to understand what it is. People can exist because of it, can become hostile because of it, can look ugly because of it, and can even die because of it.
They each walk out of the basement, like carrying torches, exiting the narrow, dark cave.
"It’s not shameful; it’s about survival." Fengchang’s words still linger in her ears:
"To live isn’t for revenge, isn’t to appeal to blood and fire, but to let our voices echo in this forest again, to echo again—the voice of the Nightingale."
Swish—swish—
Suddenly, Xiber noticed that the three hundred and sixty-six tribespeople walking out each grew a pair of wings behind them.
The wings extended silently from the shoulder blades of each silent marcher, with bones stretching and shaping like resilient vines sprouting in the moonlight. Then, a thin halo spread, presenting a dark green and deep blue soaked in the nighttime.
Swish—swish—
Three hundred and sixty-six pairs of wings unfolded. Instead of the imagined grandeur blocking the heavens, they were silent, tragic, and graceful. They did not flap, only quietly extending and drooping behind the marchers, resembling solemn sacrificial robes covering their backs as they faced the abyss.
—At this moment, Xiber became acutely aware that they were indeed not "them."
They were not the First Tribe of Qiongdi.
But Luowasha’s "Nightingale Clan."
Fengchang and others were the "Original" in Luowasha’s perspective, a group of Nightingale Clan.
The Empire betrayed, the Empress feared the powerful voices of the Nightingale Clan showcased in the war, and under the guise of the Radiant Mother God’s name, she forced the Nightingale Clan to hand over their tribe’s treasures, seeking excuses to annihilate these post-war heroes.
What era has she indeed come to?
"If we die, if no one avenges, who sings in the future?" A young man nervously asked, his ear feathers trembling, his heart filled with fear.
The Young Tribe Leader of the Nightingale Clan walked at the forefront, holding a wooden box with fake stones, looking at the distant Black Wall and the sky:
"An ideal era will come, where there will be one or several ideal World Masters, people of brilliant justice. They will allow us to sing, to boldly chant our ballads, to loudly celebrate freedom. Fairness and justice can be achieved without blood and fire."
"When that era arrives, you shall sing freely. As for us, we will dye the Red Roses with our heart’s blood. One day, someone will open the pages of history and witness our story, vindicating us."
He turned back to gaze at the three hundred and sixty-six tribespeople and then at the ten young tribespeople remaining in the "cave," including Xiber.
The walking silhouettes gradually blurred, and the outlines of the people melted into the dim light, only to make the expansive, drooping wings clearer and heavier in Xiber’s vision.
They replaced the human shapes, like singing nightingales.
The Young Tribe Leader turned back, silently looked at Xiber for a moment, his eyes holding the free, magnificent sky, while Xiber’s eyes were the vast, encompassing sea.
...
"Go." The Young Tribe Leader looked at her:
"—You walk towards the daylight, and we walk towards the firelight."
...
Su Ming’an awakened amidst the dark ruins. He reached beside him to find Shi Ying was gone.
He awoke in an instant, noticing only bloodstains beside him.
...Did she run? She mustn’t swallow the white stone!
He speculated the white stone was part of the "Synthetic Big Jellyfish." If swallowed, the Rin Clan couldn’t manifest in reality. Previously, the Radiant Mother God nearly killed the nascent Rin Clan, leaving Hui Bai and Xiao Bai without a trace; this time, the Radiant Mother God’s scheme couldn’t succeed.
He intuitively sensed insider collusion, otherwise, how could the Lord of Dreams infiltrate Luowasha easily? The Radiant Mother God was the most suspicious candidate—Her attitude changed drastically, with more and more events related to Her.
"Shi Ying isn’t a great person; she’s faced too much malice, and she might be unable to resist the temptation of becoming a World Master, vindicating her family..." For a moment, Su Ming’an even doubted whether her gentle lullaby to him was just to blind his eyes and secretly swallow the white stone?
He must remain suspicious, for he had been deceived too many times.
He used Spatial Vibration to blast open the rubble, walked to the surface, and found a trail of blood trickling continuously, flowing from beneath his feet to the distance.
...Indeed, Shi Ying had run away.
Su Ming’an took a deep breath, cursed himself for resting after all. Because if she hadn’t secretly swallowed the white stone, she would surely return to find him, rather than sneak away alone.
Of course, another possibility was she was being pursued by enemies, trying to draw them away. But he found no trace of others.
He followed the blood trail, running all the way. Along the way, he found his five senses had recovered, indicating good sleep.
"Let’s see if I can catch up to her..."
He ran for a long time before witnessing a shocking scene—
The setting sun sank heavily toward the distant horizon, the sky flowing with flame-like orange-red dripping onto the uneven ruins.
Dozens of cold metal cameras floated in the air like silent monocles. Judging by the model, they were Phoenix’s cameras.
Phoenix himself stood at the center of this blood-red dusk, atop a small hill constructed of concrete and twisted steel. He was covered in blood, his clothes were tattered, and his pupils unfocused as he stared below.
Beneath the ruins lay a young man with black hair in a well-tailored white suit, like an expensive porcelain piece discarded roughly, lying in cold rubble and debris. The once pristine white was completely stained deep red, with blood seeping from his seven orifices, covering his handsome features, flowing and winding.
A bit further away, a pink-haired person with a floral mask was wrapped in a heavy robe, their expression and injuries obscured, their posture unnaturally tilted as if suspended by invisible strings.
Near a partially collapsed waste wall’s corner, the most shocking for Su Ming’an was—a red-haired girl’s body had been brutally impaled by a thick, rusty steel bar, the cold metal piercing her chest cavity.
Her heart was torn apart by the steel bar, warm and bloody chunks rolling down, presenting a bizarre, cruel, suffocating beauty in the twilight, like precious yet shattered Ruby.
Her head hung low, her disheveled red hair covering parts of her cheeks, frozen in a clear expression of fear.
The white stone’s whereabouts were unknown, leaving only a bloody hole in her chest.
High in the sky, a solitary seagull circled and glided, letting out a few monotonic, drawn-out calls.
Su Ming’an stood atop the ruins, surrounded by the blood-stained wind, gazing in shock at the scene, clearly hearing the sound of his own breathing.
...
—Who cruelly pierced her heart, defeated Phoenix and others, and took the white stone?
—Who killed her?
...
