Welcome to Rewind World Game-Chapter 1644: Final - · Guardian Shore Line · "OE · Death from the Ocean (28)

Chapter 1644: Final Chapter · Guardian Shore Line · "OE · Death from the Ocean (28)

In the days immediately following the loss of his sight, Lü Shu struggled to adapt.

For Lü Shu, the most painful aspect wasn’t the immediate agony, but rather a slow sense of loss. His once proud vision, precise blade edge, clear judgment... all transformed into nothingness. He became like a clumsy child, bumping around familiar rooms, finding even the act of pouring a glass of water difficult. The world shrank to mere sounds, smells, touches.

A powerful fear engulfed him—how could one fight without wielding a blade?

However, after losing his vision, certain perceptions became sharper.

In the weighty darkness, he could keenly perceive the shifts in someone’s sighs, detect subtle changes in their tone—lying, concealing, forced laughter, feigned indifference... A grand sense of fullness enveloped the butterfly cocooned, unable to see, yet its sensitive wings could feel every vibration of the leaves.

Su Ming’an was hiding something, regarding a trick that had lasted seventy years.

A sense of panic gradually filled his body—if this continued, he might indeed become someone unable to wield a blade, like a fragile butterfly cared for within a cocoon.

Lü Shu immediately began to adapt to the dark world, learning to distinguish between the urgency of footsteps with his ears, judge the identity of the visitors; he learned to touch objects with his palms, discern what was before him; learned to memorize distances with his steps, reconstructing the world’s image in his mind. He obstinately, inch by inch, rebuilt his world until flowers and butterflies emerged anew within his realm.

He returned to his post. Initially, his efficiency in handling documents was very low, but he had enough patience. Gradually, he began using divine power to perform intricate actions, writing meeting minutes, drafting policy analyses, and later, documenting more personal inquiries—recording.

Recording everything he had ever seen about Su Ming’an.

From the moment the World Game concluded, it was determined that he would record everything about Su Ming’an as an "attendant."

From the somewhat immature, nervous, cold-joking youth he encountered at the outset of the World Game, to the later silent, increasingly somber-eyed World Master. He wrote about how Su Ming’an secretly pushed aside food he disliked at celebratory banquets, how Su Ming’an would occasionally utter nonsensical quips, how Su Ming’an’s solitary silhouette appeared at the star map during the dead of night, how the New Year meal cooked by Su Ming’an tasted excellent, how Su Ming’an at times revealed a fatigue and bewilderment uncharacteristic of a deity. He wrote of those details simplified or overlooked by official history, writing of a more vibrant, complicated, and more... "human" Su Ming’an.

Writing of "people," not recording "god."

He and Gesang Jiacuo pursued completely different directions.

Despite its slow and arduous progression, this process soothed his inner turmoil—when his focus shifted from "what was lost" to "what could still be recorded," darkness seemed less terrifying.

Clumsy words became fluid; he finally mastered the "essay writing," these records were published, titled "Lighthouse Observation Notes," eagerly read by countless people. Without ornate rhetoric, only simple narration, yet it touched many, allowing new generations to see a World Master different from the ones depicted in textbooks and footage.

He was no longer merely a "blade"; he became a "recorder."

He stood alongside his companions in another way, fulfilling the duty of guardianship. He could no longer discern the enemy ahead for them, but he could preserve the traces left behind.

Winter was long.

In nearly a century of darkness, Lü Shu still remembered the beauty before losing his sight—the morning light gradually revealing the Ivy on the courtyard wall, the entire wall transforming into a lively tapestry as the breeze gently trembled. Sunset sprinkled fragmented gold into the treetops of Taihua Mountain; each time he climbed the mountain, he witnessed the smoke from cooking fires gently rising among green tiles, softening the entire lane.

Whenever he felt the biting cold, he remembered a person. That person was like a flame that never extinguished. Even though he was in the dark, as long as that flame burned, he did not feel fear.

See this bustling world for me; as long as someone lights the long night, he would never stray from the spring breeze.

Lü Shu thought that such a balance would remain until the end of destiny.

Until after close to twenty years, Su Ming’an found him and Lin Yin.

"I hope you keep your distance from me." Su Ming’an said, "The one replacing you will be the Vice World Leader."

Lü Shu looked up bewildered.

"I plan to do something that might ’betray’ the whole world. When that happens, those closely linked to me will be implicated. And you, being second only to my strength, I hope when the time comes, you can remain pure, able to immediately step up and lead the situation." Su Ming’an said, "Next, I’ll reassign you away from the World Hub, so we don’t appear in the same event."

"You seem to be getting busier." Lin Yin crossed her arms, "Are you alright? You are a deity, you shouldn’t face any troubles, right?"

"...Sorry, I’m just too busy." Su Ming’an smiled slightly, "I haven’t thought of a plan for a long time, nor have I simulated it multiple times... When that day arrives, I hope the casualties will be minimal."

He bent down:

"When everything ends, we’ll be free, and then we can play for as long as we want..."

That was the last sentence Su Ming’an said to them with a smile.

After that day, that person’s expression completely froze, as if encased in some heavy substance. Lü Shu had heard of the planet exploration progress; in front of him, Yizhu Star was the only hope. Was it this hope that stopped Su Ming’an from smiling?

Soon after, they were reassigned away from the World Hub; others believed Lü Shu lost his power, and swarmed over.

To play the part of "discord," Lü Shu concealed all records regarding the World Master, no longer continuing the seventy-plus years of observation notes. Everyone said the World Master had completely turned into an icy deity, hence Lü Shu no longer saw him as a "good guy," the two drifted apart, ceased conspiring. Some said the World Master had done too many authoritarian acts over the years and the top players like Lü Shu harbored dissent, trying to seize power; after all, it was obvious, the World Master had become increasingly frail, sometimes even relying on a wheelchair.

Their exchanges becoming increasingly silent, even when occasionally passing face-to-face, it was as if they didn’t recognize each other, not a single extra word exchanged. Many years later, Lü Shu vaguely sensed he hadn’t felt Su Ming’an’s gaze for a long time.

In his memory, only a cold silhouette remained, with a slender shadow like a deep black chasm.

One day, Lü Shu departed from the top floor of the World Hub; precisely then, Su Ming’an was absent, and Lü Shu stood alone before the vast operations table akin to a star sea, gazing at rows of cold numbers, cold starry skies, cold social models... Everything before him pertained to the fate of seven billion lives of civilization, so immense it made him dizzy and lightheaded.

Yet, Lü Shu spotted, several objects were placed on the adjacent platform.

Like decorations, their vibrant colors clashed with the white control room, appearing like alien species.

Nailuo’s wood carvings, blooming Cursed Fire Flower, silver ring, Black Bird Sculpture, Jellyfish hairpin, Colored Sugar Cube, Feather Pen, Wang Xingkong’s Human Skin Mask... one by one, piece by piece.

"He" had never forgotten.

Lü Shu reached out, touching them through the glass, suddenly realizing something—

Su Ming’an had placed rings here.

The rings that followed him for decades, he no longer wore.

What does this mean?

What... is he going to do, fearing repercussions on these?

Lü Shu clenched his fist, silently observing these items resting quietly in the glass cabinet, his mind momentarily void of thoughts, blank as a newborn child, until he abruptly heard, within the glass cabinet, a mechanical ring making sporadic sounds:

"Don’t... go..."

Don’t go.

He’s taken you off, what else is there to say about not going.

Lü Shu turned around and quickly left the place, his steps hurried as if escaping a nightmare.

He started repeatedly having the nightmare of personally extinguishing the flames. At one moment, they were still laughing at Su Ming’an’s twenty-first birthday party, making wishes under the blossoming trees. In the next instant, he awoke drenched in cold sweat, staring at the black-and-white photos hanging on the wall, remembering the love and hate that were left behind.

Why leave them behind?

Why hang a Damocles Sword over my head?

Until that day.

Su Ming’an found him in Lü Shu’s office, which was piled with old manuscripts. The World Master in white clothing entered with his usual expression, but Lü Shu sharply caught a hint of unusual seriousness.

Finally, it has come. He thought.

Let it fall.

"Lü Shu." Su Ming’an’s voice was gentle.

Lü Shu put down the carving pen in his hand and faced the direction of the voice: "I’m here."

A long silence. Only the sound of their breathing.

Then, Su Ming’an began to speak. Calmly and clearly, he revealed the truth hidden beneath the "Genesis Plan." Including the insurmountable barrier, including how "Genesis" was merely about imprinting civilization’s information on Yizhu Star, including how the idea of "saving a few people" was only a lie to make the deception more convincing, including the final step—to slay the World Tree.

Su Ming’an didn’t explain the specific reasons; he told Lü Shu to strike at the right moment.

Lü Shu’s blood seemed to freeze instantly. He couldn’t see Su Ming’an’s expression, but he could imagine the calm in those golden eyes, a kind of peace that was almost cruel, one that accepted everything.

In fact, Lü Shu had anticipated this scene, but what Su Ming’an requested was even crueler than his nightmares.

"...So," Lü Shu’s voice was terribly dry, like sandpaper scraping over his throat, "you need an... executioner."

"Yes." Su Ming’an’s answer was without hesitation, "It must be you. Only you, when I’ve fully given up resisting, even actively guiding, can completely ’kill’ me. And only you... can I entrust the final step."

Trust. Such a heavy trust.

To have him personally extinguish the only source of light in his dark world.

—But if from the beginning you intended to personally extinguish the hard-earned spring light, why cruelly make him the one to snuff out the flames, all while guiding him, caring for him, deceiving him into believing a bright and brilliant future awaited him for nearly a century?

Liar.

He felt a dizzying vertigo, recalling how he had gradually adapted to the darkness, supported by the thought of light, viewing the record of the flames’ existence as the meaning of life. And now, this flame demanded he personally end it.

"Why..." he unconsciously murmured, his throat seemingly filled with blood,

"You’re truly cruel, Su Ming’an."

He could hardly ever utter such accusatory words.

In the face of a deity, he only responded, hardly ever rebutting.

But at this moment, he was sure beyond doubt, and without a shred of regret, he angrily accused the other, using the angriest words he could think of, hoping for some irreversible fate.

The immense grief and absurdity nearly tore him apart. He lived a second life, found three good people, struggled through twelve instances, adapted countless times to darkness, found a new way to stand, thinking he could finally walk to the end together, only to find that at the end of the road was a flame he must extinguish with his own hands.

A long time passed. So long that the simulated sunlight outside the window seemed to dim slightly.

Su Ming’an had been watching him all along.

Finally, Lü Shu very slowly nodded.

A slight gesture, yet it was as heavy as a thousand pounds.

"Alright."

If this is your wish, I will fulfill your ideal.

He couldn’t refuse. Not only because it was the only way to survive, but also because... it was Su Ming’an’s request. The last request from the person who pulled him out of the darkness and gave him direction and meaning.

"...Tell me the time, place, and the direction of the strike." He heard himself say, with a calm voice that was unfamiliar.

At this moment, he seemed to feel something within that had supported him for a century quietly shatter.

...

Half a month before parting, Lü Shu and Lin Yin came to Su Ming’an’s room.

"Come! Freshly made Oden, crafted by Yamada himself, original taste! Amazingly delicious!" Lin Yin entered with a bucket of Oden, his face full of cheer.

"Careful, don’t damage these monitors." Su Ming’an shook his head, revealing a smile.

"Hey, you finally smiled, I thought something had frozen your face." Lin Yin crossed his arms, "Yi Song has been talking about you for a long time. This is the first time you’ve gone so long without a counseling session, don’t forget when you’re done with this."

...Psychological counseling? When someone’s about to be gone, what’s the point?

Su Ming’an turned his head to Lü Shu, "Your eyes are getting brighter. You’ve been using the medicine I made for you, right?"

Over the years, Su Ming’an never forgot about Lü Shu’s eyes, but ordinary medicine couldn’t restore them.

"I’ve been using it." Lü Shu said.

"How much longer until this guy fully regains his vision?" Lin Yin patted Lü Shu’s shoulder, "Su Ming’an, it’d be too cruel if by the time you’re done, he still couldn’t see."

"Soon." Su Ming’an smiled, "The medicine has already restored his eyes; as long as there’s extremely powerful energy assistance in the future... he will see."

"Extremely powerful energy assistance, isn’t that when he becomes a First Level God? How long will that take?" Lin Yin shook his head.

"Don’t worry." Su Ming’an said.

He will give him the eyes.