[Year 174.
You wrote everything you could remember in your mind upon that pillar of white jade, using nothing but your blood.]
[You wrote down the Nihility Infection Equation.
You wrote that your body’s hole-digging talent had reached its apex.
You wrote that the planet beneath your feet had already been killed by you.
You wrote that the people buried beside the tallest gravestone were very important to you…
though you could no longer remember who they were.]
[After that…
it seemed there was nothing else…]
[No, no, wait.
You pulled out the wooden carving from your pocket.
Ever since you had saturated her with “Nothingness,” she had remained frozen in that single moment, unchanging.]
[On the pillar of jade, you added another line—This little girl carving is important.
Her name has the character “Bai” in it.]
[Year 175.
You felt so bored.
So lonely.
The time stretched so endlessly long.
You went to the two graves that were so important to you.]
[On the headstones were four names that felt deeply familiar.
But you could no longer remember who they were.]
[You knew that if you didn’t find something—anything—to occupy yourself, you might very well die of boredom.
And it would be the real death.
The kind where you dissolved completely, utterly, into nothingness.]
[Suddenly, it was as if a thought struck you.]
[That wooden carving—after being saturated by “Nothingness,” it had remained frozen in that state.
This was sufficient proof that objects saturated by “Nothingness” indeed gained a sliver of indestructible permanence.]
[If…
if the entire universe could be saturated by “Nothingness”…
then wouldn’t all those things that had once caused you such agony—wouldn’t they never happen again?]
[You agonized in deep thought.
You paced back and forth.
And then—a grand enlightenment dawned upon you!!!]
[A flicker of light sparked within your dull, ashen eyes.]
[But then you remembered—your personal capacity for infection was, in the end, limited.
You looked down at the Activated Planet beneath your feet.]
[And suddenly, you had another idea!]
Xianzhou Luofu.
“Breaking news—an urgent dispatch from the Connate-Farrell Star System.
Under the command of Strike Guard Jingliu, the Spring Thunder Guard, one of the four elite divisions of the Luofu Cloud Knight Fleet, has swept through and annihilated all local Abominations of Abundance with lightning speed…
A great victory!”
The evening news broadcast a report that stirred the hearts of all who heard it.
For the people of the Xianzhou, there was nothing quite so gratifying as the death of the Abominations of Abundance.
“Whoa, this Strike Guard is insane!”
“I think I know her.
Pretty sure she’s from around Aurum Alley!
I saw her last New Year’s when I went to pay respects at my uncle’s maternal uncle’s son’s second uncle’s grand-aunt’s grandson’s daughter’s brother’s stepfather’s place!”
“The guy above me is also insane. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Who goes all the way to someone’s stepfather’s place for New Year’s visits?”
“Derailing the thread!
Aren’t we supposed to be discussing the war report?”
“She’s really beautiful.”
“I heard she came from the Xianzhou Cangcheng, and she’s not even two hundred years old!”
“Whoa.
Is this what a real-life protagonist template looks like?
A young prodigy, carrying a blood debt, barely surviving, then rising to exact vengeance!
Damn, that’s epic!”
“Do yourself a favor and build up some good karma.
Watch your mouth, or you won’t have a pleasant time when you end up before the Ten-Lords Commission one day.”
“What’s so epic about it?
Where’s the epic part?”
“The epic part is—”
“This update’s been kinda weak…”
“Weak where?” (Message retracted.
Account has been banned.)
Aurum Alley.
Jingliu’s master, recently rotated back from the front lines, gazed at the battle report that had come through.
A glimmer of pride and satisfaction shone in her eyes.
The average lifespan of a Cloud Knight was considerably lower than the Xianzhou mean.
Come to think of it, she was nearly six hundred years old herself.
Just then, her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Master, it’s me.” Jingliu’s voice was a touch softer than usual.
“How’s the weather over there?”
“Fine.”
Hearing Jingliu’s characteristically curt reply, a helpless smile crept onto her master’s face.
The two of them had been together for over a hundred years now.
She had long since come to see Jingliu as her own child.
She felt that she herself didn’t have many years left.
And yet, she couldn’t help but worry about the girl.
If she passed away…
would Jingliu be lonely by herself?
Would she be sad?
Would she fall apart?
“Have you ever thought about finding a partner?” From her perspective, finding a companion would be for the best.
At least then, after she was gone, there would be someone to look after her.
There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
“…I can manage perfectly well on my own.”
“Don’t you ever feel so tired?
Let go of the past.
Let go of yourself too.
Won’t you?” Hearing her disciple’s stubborn tone, her heart ached.
Such a good child…
how… New chapters come out on g.com first.
how had she ended up like this?
“…I’m a little tired.”
The silence hung between them for a moment.
In the end, she sighed helplessly.
“Get some good rest.”
“Mm.”
Connate-Farrell Star System.
Xianzhou Fleet Rest Quarters.
Standing before the window, Jingliu ended the call.
After every battle, she would always call her master—just to let her know she was safe.
As the years had passed and her experience had deepened, she was no longer the innocent, carefree little girl she had once been.
Tempered by the fires of war, she had grown ever more silent and withdrawn.
But in the deepest quiet of the night, her gaze would always drift to two small wooden carvings.
One was as delicate and beautiful as the little girl she had once been.
The other was lumpy and misshapen—so crude it was hard to tell what it was, barely recognizable as a human form.
She had, at times, thought about forgetting the past.
About welcoming a new life.
But the beautiful memories of those bygone days always resurfaced in her mind without fail.
—In that warm little house, with thick snow piled outside the window and incense burning by the door.
He would always come over to share exquisite little pastries with her.
—She would lie in her mother’s arms, listening to stories, dreaming that each and every one of those beautiful fairy tales could come true.
—Her father would be outside sweeping the snow from the path, occasionally glancing their way, a warm, gentle smile tugging at his lips.
—He would secretly clutch a plum blossom freshly plucked from the tree, running over to tuck it into her hair.
—She would always use the dragon and lion dances on the streets as an excuse to drag him out to play on New Year’s night.
The Cycrane Skewers were delicious.
Pranking strangers with Resonant Lotus Cake was so much fun.
The elder sister at the flower shop was so gentle.
The old candy grandpa was so kind.
—And in the end, they would always lie on the rooftop of his house.
She would look at the sky.
But he would always look at her eyes.
—She still remembered that year they were eight.
He had grabbed her hand and stood before both sets of parents, declaring that they were going to get married.
—Both parents, seeing they couldn’t talk him out of it, had no choice but to agree to a childhood betrothal first…
Every time these memories surfaced, no matter how far from home she was, she would always let out a soft, unbidden laugh.
But in the aftermath, there was nothing left but an endless expanse of sorrow and loneliness…
[Year 200.
You were somewhat troubled.
You wanted to convert the entire Activated Planet into a Nihility Infection Device.
The sheer scale of it was indeed rather large, but if you really set your mind to it, it wouldn’t be overly troublesome.]
[The only thing that vexed you was the countless graves that covered the planet’s surface.]
[You wanted to simply bulldoze them flat.
But the memories of the past told you—these were mounds you had built, one by one, with your own two hands.
Buried beneath them were the bones of your own people.
So, naturally, you could not flatten them.]