prynovel Chapter 1742 Final Chapter: Crossing the Shore [87] "Turn back, move forward."
Chapter 1742 Final Chapter: Crossing the Shore [87] "Turn back, move forward."
Chapter 1742 Final Chapter - Crossing the Shore [87] - "Turning back, moving forward."
Outside the door.
The swamp was covered in darkness, with bone claws and ghostly spirits floating heavily. In the center of this deadly realm, where even the gods dared not set foot, a sea of flowers miraculously bloomed.
A figure is crawling.
His skin was badly ulcerated in large patches, and his legs below the knees were almost completely gone, with only a few charred strips of cloth and shrunken, blackened flesh hanging from them, leaving a wet trail. The muscles in his arms were atrophied and deformed, and the skin clung tightly to the bones, making them look like a pair of jagged bony claws.
A thick aura of demonic energy lingered, making it impossible for anyone who saw this person to recognize him.
—Apart from the support players who have been guarding the abyss, and Qiuqiu and Xining who have stopped there.
"Brother Wang..." Qiuqiu looked heartbroken as she watched Wang Xingkong crawl back, and said anxiously, "Wasn't his mission over? We were just about to pick him up, why is he crawling back?"
Xining thought for a moment, then shouted towards the abyss:
"Woof—Star—Sky!"
"Climb this way! You're going the wrong way!!!"
Perhaps the dog had been in the sky for too long, and its five senses had become completely blurred, causing it to mistake the direction.
Xining's shouts jolted the bewildered support players into action, and they immediately joined in, shouting and waving frantically.
"Over here!!"
"Brother Wang, crawl this way!! We're over here!!!"
"Brother Wang, can you hear me!"
"Here! Here!!"
One shout after another came from men and women, young and old. Several young men, their faces flushed, adopted the spirit of internet cafe MCs, shouting until they were hoarse.
They stood on the edge, witnessing Wang Xingkong, an ordinary person, persevere in the very center of the abyss from the first round of the game to the end of thirteen. The transport team threw over ten thousand balls, and Wang Xingkong tossed the information into the doorway one after another—what terrifying perseverance! Even from that distance, they felt the biting wind, and not one of them failed to admire Wang Xingkong.
So what if you get scolded in class every day? So what if you fail exams? When it comes to times like these, those who stand up are the heroes.
Who could have imagined that such an ordinary young man would now shine so brightly, leaving the world speechless? They didn't even know whether to be happy or sad; without this experience, no one would have seen his brilliance.
They shouted desperately, but Wang Xingkong kept crawling back.
"No, he can't hear me!" Support player Kecha shouted more than a dozen times until his voice was hoarse.
"The demonic energy is too strong, blocking out sound and sight..."
"He could still hear before, could it be that he was deliberately crawling back?"
"on purpose?"
"Yes, he has Lin Yin's communicator, right? If he goes the wrong way, Lin Yin will remind him. Maybe he still wants to hold on until Su Ming'an comes out."
"Wow, that's awesome! A true hero, a true buddy."
"Brother Wang looks like he can't hold on any longer. He probably won't last even ten minutes..."
"If they can hold out for ten minutes and bring out the first player, then this wave will be truly invincible. Brother Wang and Brother Chen, one inside and one outside, are simply heroes."
"Go, Brother Wang!"
"Brother Wang! Brother Wang! Brother Wang!"
"Brother Wang, I'm waiting for you outside. We're here to take you home!"
Their address gradually changed from "Wang Xingkong" to "Brother Wang." Wang Xingkong himself was unaware that a group of people, from a great distance, recognized him as their elder brother. This was a genuine affirmation of his character and a true expression of their admiration.
Under normal circumstances, he would be overjoyed to know he had gained such a large group of skilled gamers. What does he crave most? It's recognition, being seen, and shining in the spotlight.
A guy who died young on Mingxi campus has now had his "potential" revealed to the whole world. It turns out he wasn't just a student who died suddenly while working on assignments; he was a friend, a hero…
"Splash... splash..."
Sticky, damp, painful, burning.
Wang Xingkong could barely feel his own existence. Flames licked at his flesh, causing him to tremble uncontrollably from the pain, as if his bones were being shattered inch by inch by a giant hammer...
The moment the blue mist rushed towards him, he realized something—the blue mist being stood there, preparing to finally possess him. He had previously informed Lin Yin of the blue mist being's existence, but since it was completely invisible from the outside, no one could deal with it.
The Blue Mist Man manipulated his body, crawling back little by little, until he stopped less than five meters from the door. This was the spot where Wang Xingkong had been lying.
Wang Xingkong had already realized what the Blue Mist People were up to—they wanted to mislead Su Ming'an and even set a trap here!
"Stop...!" Wang Xingkong's consciousness trembled amidst the excruciating pain.
The man in blue mist said calmly, "Those in high positions never care whether an ordinary person lives or dies."
"What do you mean?"
“You’ve been deceived,” the Blue Mist Man said. “If you stay here for more than a few minutes… the residual poison from the Source Point will remain in your body. For players blessed by the World Game, this kind of rejection reaction is nothing; the system will clear it for them after they clear the game. But for you, this is a sure-kill weapon. Do you really expect an ordinary person to stand outside the Source Point unharmed? A few minutes might be possible, but this long is impossible. Otherwise, wouldn’t everyone be able to get in using their domain skills? You would have been beyond saving long ago.”
Wang Xingkong trembled all over.
“You’ve always been an outsider. Even if you give your all, those old men still see you as a prop… They only need to preach ‘righteousness’ to awaken your spirit of sacrifice.” The Blue Mist Man said, “You’ll die whether you crawl out or stay here… You’re giving your life for a group of humans who don’t even recognize you as a life.”
Wang Xingkong bit his lip, almost too shocked to think after hearing the news. After a moment, he murmured, "Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Why should I have an obligation to remind you?" the Blue Mist Man asked, arms crossed.
Wang Xingkong realized... Yes, this guy is an enemy and has no obligation to remind me... At least He has told me the truth now.
"I don't understand..."
"That's human nature. They don't care how much you love them. As long as you're willing to give, you'll become their nourishment."
“No,” Wang Xingkong denied. “I don’t understand why you’re telling me all this.”
The Blue Mist Man suddenly fell silent.
Wang Xingkong found it strange. He was just an ordinary person; the Blue Mist Man had possessed his body, so there was no need for him to waste words on him. Why was he saying so much? Rather than mockery, it was more like…an explanation. To prevent him from being completely confused. This small act of kindness seemed particularly unusual.
It seemed like the Blue Mist Man was cursing him with every word, but in reality, he was telling him the truth.
"Do we...know each other?" Wang Xingkong asked.
The Blue Mist Man, who had already begun setting up a trap, said calmly, "I know him."
...He actually knew him! Wang Xingkong was even more confused. He searched through his meager memories but still couldn't figure out when he had met such a powerful being.
impossible.
"Does it matter whether it's true or false?" The Blue Mist Man shook his head. "Accept it, Wang Xingkong. Ordinary people shouldn't be in this position in the first place."
Wang Xingkong felt his festering, purplish-black hand, under the control of the blue mist, aimed at the core of the door.
Do not!
Without a second thought, Wang Xingkong roared, "Get out! Give me back my body!!"
He wanted to live!
He struggled to escape the fake campus, stood here desperately, and endured inhuman suffering, all just to live and see the real world!
But the reality is that he will not only fail to become a hero, but will also become a pathetic "sinner" who sets a trap for Su Ming'an at the door!
Tears streamed uncontrollably down his purplish-black, festering cheeks. The Blue Mist Man tried to suppress Wang Xingkong's violent emotional turmoil. But the tears were like a spring; once they began to flow, they were impossible to stop.
Wang Xingkong cried silently but vehemently.
He wanted to drink his mother's soup, hear his father say "I'm proud of you," play games with that brat Chen Yuhang again, and see everyone laughing and gathering together after Ming'an saved the world...
He would become an accomplice in killing Ming'an and shattering all hope...
If the whole world doesn't acknowledge his existence, doesn't consider him, a fellow being who is neither a Zhai Xingren nor a Luowasha, as a compatriot, then Ming Ange is different. In Ming Ange's eyes, there is no distinction between civilizations, nor the idea that "those who are not of our kind must have different hearts." He will only be grateful to him and regard him as a friend.
He suddenly had an idea.
Perhaps it was this situation that reminded him of it.
There was a gun on his side.
……
"Gun! Take this gun!"
Flora handed a silver pistol to Yamada Machiichi and instructed him, "This is the 'Spirit Gun' forged by the blacksmith Seror. It is a red-level equipment that combines the wisdom of hundreds of mental players. It can directly attack the soul of the enemy when it hits."
Yamada Machiichi was genuinely shocked and exclaimed, "This is too strong! Did you all anticipate this situation before Rovasa even started?"
Sirius waved his hand: "How could that be! They were all made on the spot. The Allied Forces went to great lengths to send people over! There are hundreds of them, one for each of us, and another batch is being sent to the battlefield."
Yamada-cho was even more confused. Made on the spot? How was it delivered?
……
The World of the Main Gods.
Twelve hours ago, after learning of the situation, the joint mission immediately organized a response plan.
A massive machine called the "Human Civilization Emergency Collaboration System" began to operate. Led by the joint mission, it integrated official representatives from various continents, top research institutions, large-scale civilian strategy groups, resource guilds, and logistics support networks. In the oval-shaped command center, more than three hundred screens of various sizes lit up.
At the same time, all players who had registered master-level or higher blacksmithing or enchanting skills, regardless of which safe zone they were in, received a call to arms and gathered at the workshop within half an hour.
Through repeated deductions and machine calculations by tens of thousands of mental energy research experts, rune masters, ancient occult scholars, and mental-based players, they initially devised a targeted weapon after ten hours. Seror named it the "Soul Spear."
Some adventurers who did not participate in the eleventh instance were urgently mobilized. Their task was to become couriers and bring the first batch of "Soul Astral Projection Guns" into the instance after they were produced in the workshop.
Meanwhile, the player teams still fighting in Rovasa, such as the main teams of major guilds and elite strategy groups, have received the information that, due to their relatively fixed locations, they have been designated as temporary supply receiving points and need to transfer these weapons to key teams like Yamada Machiichi first.
Even before the start of Rovasa, some players in the alliance had already predicted the idea that "this instance has the opportunity to leave midway," so they prepared a batch of strategic reserves, and a special communication team entered the instance in batches to update the status of each transport line in real time.
Like electrical signals in a neural network, this is a vast and complex process involving the precise collaboration of thousands of individuals.
Humanity has always had a swift and effective process for dealing with sudden, catastrophic crises. Therefore, the heavy silver pistol in Yamada's hand... it represents the sleepless nights of analysis by tens of thousands of analysts, the hard work of thousands of top craftsmen, and the efforts of countless transport teams, all to deliver a dozen guns to their team.
Not only the gun, but Yamada Machi also received a small metal box containing "soul stabilizer" and "spirit charm"... No one knows if these things will be of any use, since even the World Game can't restore one's spirit, so perhaps these are just psychological comforts.
Christine, standing nearby, said, "The Alliance means that the main battlefield relies on top players. But for this kind of collective disaster, they must establish a standardized process that allows ordinary players to participate in the fight. That's... how an entire civilization wages war."
Erwin's hoarse voice rang out: "The leadership of the Alliance knows very well that civilization cannot go far with just a few 'heroes.' We must transform the strategies and models for dealing with each disaster into systems and tools that even the most ordinary people can do."
Machiichi Yamada gripped the gun tightly in his hand.
This was a feat achieved through the collective effort of millions, reaching the very limits of divinity. The small pistol was utterly insignificant. Yet, as he gripped it, he felt his hands were no longer empty.
He glanced around. On the backs of dozens of white cranes, each player was checking their newly acquired, uniform silver firearms and donning their faintly glowing amulets. No one cheered; everyone was silent, confirming their presence and preparing.
They all chose to turn back, no matter what lay ahead, they were no longer afraid.
The gears turned together perfectly.
For survival.
For the sake of civilization.
"Hold on tight!" Cynthia, who was controlling the white crane, shouted softly.
The white crane's wings tore through the crimson rain, the edges of its feathers tinged with a tragic dark red. Dozens of white figures traced resolute trajectories in the air, like a school of fish swimming against the current towards a waterfall, swooping down towards a perilous end.
Under the scorching rain, no one can remain unaffected.
……