“Huh?
Why are you crying?” March 7th had appeared behind Ye Cang at some point.
Leaning forward, she popped her head curiously over his shoulder, her eyes scanning the tear tracks on his face with a giggle.
“Don’t tell me it’s because sitting all alone in the Parlor Car made you feel cold, empty, and lonely?” Ye Cang turned his head blankly, his deep, dark eyes meeting Little March’s gaze with absolute composure.
“If I told you I got sand in my eyes, would you believe me?” “Sure!
Want me to blow it out for you?” “Thanks, but if possible, I’d rather you blow somewhere else.” “?” “Never mind.
Just stick to my eyes.” “Hey!” With a quick grunt, Little March tumbled over the sofa and slammed onto the cushion right beside Ye Cang.
Pulling a light-blue handkerchief embroidered with Stellar Jade patterns from her pocket, she wiped his face with rough, unceremonious swipes.
“Here, wipe it off!
If Aunt Himeko sees this, she’s going to accuse me of picking on you again.” Ye Cang felt a surge of gratitude…
or he would have, if Little March’s handling of his face were a little gentler instead of treating it like a rag scrubbing a dusty table.
“So…” Although March 7th was usually careless and hyperactive, her feminine intuition was sharp.
Recognizing that the young man beside her was having an emotional moment, she leaned in close and whispered like they were sharing a secret, “What actually happened?” “Nothing.
Just lovesick…
er, no, homesick.” Ye Cang shook his head.
Naturally, he couldn’t say he missed his mom in front of a girl who didn’t even have parents.
Even if he couldn’t hold it in, he had to be mindful of her feelings.
“Pfft, keep it to yourself then!” Little March propped her hands on the sofa, swinging her long legs back and forth.
She seemed unexpectedly in a good mood.
“What?
Are you really that happy to see me cry?” Ye Cang couldn’t help taking another glance, musing silently that whether it was Asta or March 7th, none of them treated him like a stranger.
“Yeah!
Thinking that someone as uninhibited as you actually has such a sensitive side just makes me want to laugh,” March 7th teased.
Ye Cang shrugged.
“If my suffering brings you joy, then I guess it served a purpose.” Little March shot him a dissatisfied glare.
“Hey, hey, hey—don’t paint me as some big villain from a fairy tale!” “Then act a bit more like a good guy!” “I’ll hit you!” “See?
There you go again.” Their playful banter dispelled most of the sorrow weighing on Ye Cang’s heart.
Along with his rebirth, the memories regarding memetic pollution and Ascension were fading as well, so much so that after this brief conversation with March 7th, he had almost completely forgotten the pain and distress.
He reflexively flipped open the *Death Diary*.
On the page for that day, ten bloody words were starkly written: “Death” “Ascension” “Blood-tears” “Do not answer” A sudden pang gripped Ye Cang’s heart.
Unfurling his pen, he quickly wrote his own notes beneath those bloody words: *Second Loop — To track the number of deaths, I’ll refer to each death rewind as a ‘loop’ from now on.* *1.
Upon death, one enters the [Ascension] state.* *2.
Blood and tears might be the crucial medium for modifying the Death Diary while in the [Ascension] state.* *3.
Do not answer.
Answering results in memetic pollution.* It seemed he had made a bold and crazy attempt in his second loop.
Yet, he still hadn’t grasped the true nature of that memetic influence.
So, should he try again?
Ye Cang thought it over and decided to heed the warning from his second loop.
There was no need to look for trouble over this.
Since touching that memetic hazard meant instant death for him, he probably wouldn’t find any more clues anyway.
Besides, this time, why hadn’t he respawned inside his room?
Did this mean the time and place of each death rewind weren’t fixed?
Or did it mean he might have a chance to control the timing of his resurrection, or even retain more memories?
While he was lost in thought, Uncle Yang, Dan Heng, and the others, having finished their preparations, returned to the Parlor Car.
Clearly, Himeko had explained to them the plan Ye Cang proposed in the second loop.
Both felt it was worth a shot, though Uncle Yang’s sole condition was that he take the lead himself.
Although Ye Cang had forgotten the memories after coming into contact with the memetic pollution, the memories prior to that remained firmly stored on his mind’s “hard drive,” so he wasn’t completely clueless about what was happening.
He had initially wanted to stop them, but on second thought, even if memetic pollution could instantly kill him, could it really instantly kill Uncle Yang and Dan Heng too?
If even those two could be killed in a heartbeat, then this trip to Herta Space Station would be a guaranteed death trap, and there would hardly be any survivors left up there.
Everything was prepared.
Himeko held a first-aid kit, Dan Heng carried a defibrillator—fully equipped and standing on high alert.
Welt Yang stood before the public communication terminal holding his cane.
Leaning down slightly, he pressed the reply button, cleared his throat, and slowly spoke, “This is the Astral Express.
I am Welt Yang…” After a brief silence, a deep, raspy male voice sounded from the speaker: [Why do birds fly?] Welt Yang: “???” Ye Cang: “…” Others might not understand the turbulent waves crashing inside Uncle Yang’s heart right now, but Ye Cang understood all too well!
That fucking Honkai is still chasing me!
Wait, no!
Why don’t you look at the prefix of *Honkai: Star Rail*?
Welt remained silent for a moment, looking at Ye Cang with a heavy gaze.
The latter reflexively shook his head.
Was this a joke?
He had already died once; he wasn’t looking to get tortured again.
Knowing Ye Cang couldn’t be relied upon, Uncle Yang didn’t dwell on it.
Hesitating, he spoke: “Because…” “Because they *must* fly into the sky—when the meteor of Finality descended in the Cretaceous Period, only free birds could escape their predestined demise.” These were the exact words of a certain man bearing the signet of Deliverance.
Uncle Yang was merely reciting them once again.
Because others might not understand, but he would never mistake this voice.
This was *that man’s* voice!
Kevin Kaslana, Deliverance, the hero who willingly turned into an evil dragon and became a stepping stone for human civilization all to save the world.
The voice and visage felt as vivid as ever.
But immediately following that, the man spoke once more: [O Herrscher, why were you born?] [In the name of the World?
Do you think you’re worthy?] Welt Yang: “…”