“Some people still alive in the Tower have been here for too long. Even with the different flow of time inside and outside, there are those who have been missing from the outside world for over a decade.”
“That’s inevitable. I came in neither too early nor too late, and it’s been about four or five years now? If everyone were to leave all at once, wouldn’t that cause chaos? Those who want to return must be sent out in batches, and their memories of the Tower must be erased, replaced with ordinary memories that can fill the gap and explain their disappearance. This isn’t something that can be done overnight, so you…”
“Did you stop the time inside the Tower?”
Yan Wei slightly bent over the low coffee table in the apartment’s living room, gently picking up the hourglass with a flick of his wrist, causing it to reverse.
The thin blue sand fell through the narrow slit.
He was startled as Yan Mingguang walked up from behind, leisurely pulling him up: “I didn’t stop it, just adjusted the time flow ratio.”
Yan Wei, having wandered in the high-level Solo Instances for who knows how long, with no rest in life and death moments, finally relaxed, his entire body soaked in laziness. The man behind supported him, and without turning his head, he leaned directly into Yan Mingguang’s embrace.
A clear, snow-like chuckle came from behind, as the man naturally embraced Yan Wei from behind.
Yan Wei thought to himself, indeed, after devouring that malice and merging with the myriad emotions of the Tower, the once cold and somber aura around this man had dissipated quite a bit. Even Yan Mingguang, painted with countless emotions, would now embrace him from behind and laugh.
Yan Wei yawned and said, “Did you speed up the time flow inside the Tower as much as possible?”
“Yes,” Yan Mingguang replied with great patience, word by word, “This way, one day in the outside world equals ten years inside the Tower, giving me enough time to slowly handle those who want to leave. I can start with those who have been here the longest, adjust the time flow after dealing with some, and then send out a new batch after some time has passed in the outside world.”
In this manner, Yan Mingguang could gradually handle those people’s memories, and every so often, a batch would return to the outside world, avoiding chaos.
At the same time, as the absolute ruler of the Tower at this moment, Yan Mingguang could also change the rules of the Tower, completely erasing life and death from the Instances. Those who failed wouldn’t die; they would have their memories erased and return to the outside world.
The Tower wouldn’t perish and would continue to operate, absorbing the myriad positive and negative emotions from the world, sending those chosen to enter.
Those inside the Tower would continue to follow the rules of ascending, maintaining the operation of both inside and outside. Those willing to stay could exist in a world with entirely different social rules, while those unwilling could leave after failing, with no one dying because of it.
Perhaps, as Yan Wei’s friend said when he entered, some strange “supernatural phenomena” would appear in the outside world. But these phenomena, like the unsolved mysteries of centuries, would become one after another legendary tales, hard to distinguish between truth and fiction, and over time, they would turn into mere anecdotes.
The world’s grievances, hatreds, loves, and emotions would continue to flow, needing an outlet—that is the Tower itself. The Tower, through the operation of Instances, consumes these emotions, cycling endlessly, thriving eternally. They couldn’t change this transcendent existence, but they could make Mingguang the rule.
Yan Wei’s fingertips brushed over the Black Ring, watching the continuous influx of information in his panel—farewells, gratitude, and the nonsense chatter from Lin Zhen.
He sighed, “Even though people like Lin Qing and Lin Zhen, who were like rootless duckweed, chose to stay here, there are still many who want to leave. What a massive project. Do you need my help?”
“With so many Solo Instances, you’ve already had enough,” Yan Mingguang said, “Leave it to me.”
Yan Wei finally stood straight, turned around, and met Yan Mingguang’s gaze.
Yan Mingguang still wore those silver-framed glasses, his dark eyes appearing even clearer under the reflection of the lenses. His hair, once white symbolizing benevolence, was now tinged with black, only faint traces of the previous color remained, slightly gray in the twilight.
He looked like someone who would only attract attention on the street for being too striking.
He looked like a normal person who could walk under the sun and on the snow with him.
Yan Wei smiled, “Then why did you return the Immortality Skill to me? There’s nothing left for me to do in the Instances now, and you won’t let me handle this mess. Should I just enshrine this skill? I—”
Yan Mingguang’s fingertip pressed against his lips.
Yan Wei was startled, almost biting the man’s finger.
Mingguang looked down at him.
“It’s not a return,” Yan Mingguang said slowly, “That was the first gift I gave you.”
Yan Wei raised an eyebrow and said no more. Yan Mingguang had never explicitly told him about the past of the consciousness that attached itself to the Tower before they met, but just this one sentence was enlightening.
Although that consciousness couldn’t be called the Tower, it was still a soul born from the myriad mixed emotions. Before the good and evil were completely separated, had it also watched the players from the first to the ninety-ninth floor with the cold and indifferent Tower?
Skills were the Tower’s gifts to the exceptional players, and as for what skills were given, there was no absolute rule. How could that consciousness not be involved?
Was it him who first discovered that consciousness, using the Moon Wheel to accidentally carve out benevolence, or was it that consciousness who first noticed him among the masses, deliberately exposing itself to him, gifting him the unique Immortality Skill in the Instances, allowing him to step by step reach today, letting the skill circle around, perfected, and becoming the tool for the giver to control the Tower’s rules, eventually returning to him.
Yan Wei turned his head, watching a distant bird flash by, and whispered, “Busy for so long, back and forth without stopping, now suddenly nothing to do, feeling empty.”
As he spoke, he walked to the window, Yan Mingguang slowly approaching from behind.
They had the window open, outside, the endless black stele was close at hand, towering into the clouds, the cool breeze at the height slightly ruffling Yan Wei’s hair.
Outside, voices were mixed, even some cheers, the new rules had already spread through the Black Ring, it was the players’ chatter.
In the center, the long-standing black stele was engraved with the names of the exceptionally talented players, preserving the classic Instance records. But at this moment, while the records remained, those crimson names suddenly began to slowly disappear, as if something was wiping them off the stele, bit by bit, until finally, the code names “Yan” and “V” at the top were erased.
The next moment, neat white fonts started appearing from the bottom of the stele, one after another unfamiliar names crowded onto the stele, slowly climbing up, turning the originally sinister and eerie black stele into a kind list.
Xu Miaomiao, who had already come out of the Instance, stood among the crowd, slightly looking up, seeing the name “Ding Xiao” appear among the names above.
She turned to Ding Xiao, who could only inhabit a Puppet now, retaining a small fragment of his soul.
Ding Xiao gently looked at his name and said, “So many people died on the way up the Tower. Miaomiao, aren’t you leaving?”
“If I leave, what about you? Before I entered the Tower, I had already experienced a smooth life. My parents had me late in life, they were already old then, so many years have passed, they probably…”
Better to stay here, maintaining the Staff of Witchcraft that can control Puppets, at least to keep telling myself that Ding Xiao once came.
She looked up at the names of the dead on the stele and said, “Staying is good too.”
In the distance, Gao Ming looked at these names, sighed, and finally chose to leave.
The white names were neatly aligned, finally settling, at the very top of the stele that soared into the clouds, staying on the three characters “Song Cheng’an”.
Xiang Ying glanced at it, then said to Xue Wan, “……It’s good too, some things, not brought in life nor taken in death, but they just make people miss them. I still have many concerns in the outside world, I need to go back. Kid, are you leaving?”
Xue Wan sneered, “Going back is boring.”
Xiang Ying said no more, turned, and murmured to himself, leaving against the flow of the crowd.
“Yan Wei……Yan Wei……I rarely see such a memorable name, a pity, after leaving the Tower, I won’t remember.”
These words drifted into Zhong Bufan’s ears as he passed by, he looked around but still couldn’t find Yan Wei’s figure, instead, he saw Geng Liang clicking on something on the Black Ring’s information panel.
He raised his hand, nudging Geng Liang beside him, “What are you doing?”
“Leaving the Tower requires erasing memories,” Geng Liang said, “Old Song told me something before he left, I dare not forget, I’m asking Yan Mingguang if I can keep this memory.”
In the apartment near the stele.
Yu Feizhou and Lin Zhen sat across the coffee table, looking helplessly at the young man muttering to himself.
The rather unrestrained tone spoke first: “Ahhh I don’t want to, I think it’s good as it is!! If we wish for us to separate, you can control me again!!”
Before the words fell, the tone instantly turned to calm seriousness: “I don’t want to stay in the same body with you anymore, you’re too annoying. Since our points are combined, enough to exchange for Pandora’s Box, wishing to completely separate and sever the connection would be better, wouldn’t it?”
“No no! I think it’s great now, I can do whatever I want without you controlling me!”
“Wish to completely separate.”
“No!!”
“Wish.”
“Can’t!!!”
“Then wish to kill me.”
Lin Zhen:
Yu Feizhou:
Upstairs in the apartment, Yan Wei withdrew his gaze from the window.
He sighed, “So many people… but the stele is enough to engrave, the dead are not as many as I thought. If the Tower is formed by absorbing emotions, formed over countless years, how could there be only these people?”
“Because the Guardians are not just us.”
Yan Wei turned around, looking at Yan Mingguang.
Yan Mingguang continued, “Over these countless years, it has continuously absorbed emotions to regenerate, and under the hands of those who, in the long years, would occasionally appear with sheer courage, it was wished to be destroyed. Generation, destruction… until the Tower we are in now, no one knows which one it is.”
“Which one we don’t know,” Yan Wei’s eyes slightly curved, bright, “But we know—this must be the last one. Oh right, can you leave?”
“Yes. The Tower originally had a mechanism to exchange points to leave, I just need to modify the rules, and we can leave anytime.”
“After leaving, there will be so much for you to learn.”
“Yes.”
“Where do you want to go first? To the far north to see the snow, or to the beach to play?”
“Either is fine.”
“-1……”
