Chapter 1213: I Didn't Tell Him About Zhao Xishi's Death

Foolish Game of the Gods

What Mo Shu wanted to hear was clearly not such ethereal platitudes. He wanted to know how a True God that had annihilated Itself could still carry out Its own will.

All along, he had believed that [Oblivion]'s will was "while everyone else sleeps, I alone am awake."

Only "I" can bring rebirth to this world. Everything living aside from "me" is a bookworm gnawing the world to ruin.

That was why [Oblivion] ceaselessly annihilated world after world, and why Its Envoy bore the title Hand of Purifying Weevil.

But the moment news of his Benefactor's death arrived, Mo Shu shattered completely.

He couldn't comprehend why the only god capable of bringing rebirth to the world had chosen self-annihilation.

Looking at it from the old perspective, [Oblivion] annihilated the bookworms dragging the world down without knowing it. So wouldn't self-annihilation amount to admitting that It Itself was the world's greatest bookworm?

And even so — what good did annihilating oneself do?

The world was crawling with bookworms. What was left to bring about rebirth?

Mo Shu didn't understand. Just as he didn't understand why his father had stubbornly insisted on marrying that woman and abandoned the family without a backward glance. Why his mother would rather leave him behind than leave the stepfather who beat and cursed her every day. Why his little brother had injured someone over a pittance and then pinned the blame on him. Why those bakery owners — whose businesses were thriving — would still hire thugs to overturn his stall at peak hours...

This world was rotten to the core. The ones who deserved annihilation were them. So why annihilate himself?

Mo Shu wept.

It was hard to imagine the scene. A Scavenger who had been cold, ruthless, merciless, and twisted was now sobbing aloud beside that long table.

In that moment, the pastry chef seemed to have returned to a certain day before the game descended — watching the cart he had painstakingly decorated and the pastries he had spent all night baking get shoved to the ground and trampled underfoot. Then, just as now, he had cried, helpless and lost.

"Don't rotten people deserve to die?

Don't bookworms deserve to vanish?!

Why is it that when I finally have the power to make them disappear, the one who has to disappear is still me?!

Why?!"

As it turned out, empathy between people was very hard to come by.

Cheng Shi watched the scene unfold with cold detachment. From those few fragmented words, he roughly pieced together Mo Shu's past. But he felt not a shred of sympathy. Instead, he let out a cold laugh:

"Bad people absolutely deserve to die.

But you're no good person either.

If you hadn't forced your own will upon others, plenty of good people would've pulled you out when you were down.

Too bad — you're no different from them. The only distinction is that one version of you lived before the game arrived, and another after.

Looking back at the mud you've slogged through — it would be one thing if you left no footprints. But instead, you flooded the trail and made it even harder for those who came after. If that is your method of cleansing the world of bookworms, then all I can say is...

You had it coming.

The dragon-slaying hero became the very dragon. The power [Oblivion] granted you turned you into the thing you hate most.

Sure enough — some people don't hate the bullying. They just hate that they're not the bully."

Cheng Shi scoffed, growing visibly impatient:

"I don't have time to listen to you whine about your failures, and I have no interest in a grown man blubbering.

Scavenger, answer my questions. Afterward, I can grant you a release — at least let you die like a human being."

Mo Shu's sobs gradually subsided. His expression remained tangled. He lifted his gaze to Cheng Shi and asked with eyes full of desperate hope:

"Is there rebirth after death?"

"Tch—

Dream on.

If dying was all it took to get what you wanted, the Creator sitting atop the Real Universe shouldn't be called Origin — It should be called [Death].

I'll tell you the truth. I didn't inspire [Oblivion] to self-annihilate. It simply couldn't find a path that belonged to It in this world any longer, so It chose to annihilate Itself.

To put it kindly, It had an epiphany about its own will, and with immense courage and resolve, set out to seek rebirth.

To put it bluntly, Wasn't Its method of self-annihilation just another form of running away?

It knew that in this era of [Void], It no longer had the means to build a world that belonged to Oblivion, nor could It spread Its will of annihilating everything to the end. So Its only option was to gamble on self-annihilation — to win Origin's gaze — so that He would know It had finally understood His will.

Desire unfulfilled, and so — annihilate.

Laughable. If that isn't running away, what is?

When the people of that age could no longer salvage their decaying world, of course they wanted to destroy it immediately and usher in rebirth.

What they didn't realize was that even if rebirth came, it wouldn't be the mud buried in the old world that was reborn!

Scavenger, it's useless. Stop dreaming about rebirth. Even if this world truly has a rebirth, it won't be brought by you and your Benefactor.

The only thing you and It have in common is that you both walked into a dead end in this world's script.

This world — with or without you — is the same."

Cheng Shi's words were razor-sharp and merciless. But in truth, there was one sentence he kept locked inside:

'This world — with or without us — is also the same.'

'This is a world He created with His own hands. Perhaps in His eyes, we are all "bookworms."'

Those words clearly shattered the last defenses of the already-broken Mo Shu. He slumped to the ground, every trace of a warrior's bearing gone.

"Why is it like this?"

Cheng Shi was thoroughly impatient. He waved a hand: "Su — that Master of Trickery, does he have a second faith?"

Mo Shu answered like a deflated puppet, his voice mechanical: "No..."

"What is Jie Shu's plan?"

"They're searching for a world without you — as their final refuge."

"!!??"

Cheng Shi's blood ran cold. This confirmed it beyond all doubt: Jie Shu and the Master of Trickery suspected to be Su Yida really had come from other worlds.

But the question remained: how did they get here?

Cheng Shi asked again, but Mo Shu didn't know. He shook his head:

"Jie Shu didn't say much. He was just rallying people for his plan.

The pool of usable people is too small. He needed to wait for Zhao Xishi's response before launching the next phase..."

At those words, Mo Shu suddenly straightened up, his expression complicated: "I didn't tell him that Zhao Xishi is dead, Fate Weaver. Consider this the second exchange. Thank you for scolding me awake.

But I still don't think I was wrong.

When the world treats me with cruelty, why can't I be cruel in return?!

Yes — I'm evil. But this world made me this way!

My kindness, my gentleness, my dignity — they were annihilated long ago!

Kill me.

Let me go to another world and reclaim the things that once belonged to me!"

With that, Mo Shu lifted his head, closed his eyes, and bared his neck to the blade.

He listened to the approaching footsteps, first clenching his fists in tension, then letting them relax in acceptance.

But a long time passed, and the Void fell utterly still.

He opened his eyes in confusion — and found no trace of the Fate Weaver anywhere. Only two letters neatly written on the topmost sheet of paper on the long table.

"SB."

Mo Shu's face flushed crimson in an instant. His gaze grew even more lost. He could almost hear that man's voice delivering a single verdict: "You don't deserve it."

'I don't deserve to live — and I don't deserve to die either?'

The helpless Mo Shu stared at that sheet of paper, drowning in endless bewilderment.

...