Chapter 1780: The Return of the God
Even for one about to become a True God, survival in this darkness was an immense struggle. To say nothing of that eternal world.
It was like a candle flame snuffed out, utterly defenseless.
Fortunately, there was Zhang Fan's clone. Wielding the True False Transformation, he could reverse fate with a single thought, rekindling life from dead embers.
But...
this was the extent of his power.
Just like the Mountain and Sea. The new ark, upon which the God-Becoming Guests had pinned such high hopes, had only just set sail before it fell into the same Unending Samsara.
In fact, its plight was far more brutal than that of the Mountain and Sea!
Given the sheer scale of the Mountain and Sea, each of its cycles could stretch on for hundreds of billions of years.
The new ark of the God-Becoming Guests, however...
lasted only for a few breaths.
Each time it returned to the moment of its departure from the Mountain and Sea, it became a guttering candle in a gale, trembling on the brink of collapse.
A moment later, it would be extinguished completely, only to be reset by the power of [Truth and Falsehood], returning once more to that instant of departure.
Again and again, the cycle repeated.
If, within the samsara of the Mountain and Sea, the God-Becoming Guests could find a strange peace in the hundreds of billions of years they were afforded, then on the new ark, they were trapped in an unrelenting death loop.
There was no hope, no future.
There was no grand cycle, only ceaseless suffering.
In the cold, dead darkness, the concept of time did not exist.
But from Zhang Fan's perspective, the candlelight had already flickered millions upon millions of times.
After the millionth time, Zhang Fan began to sense a faint thought emanating from his clone—a longing for release.
But Zhang Fan's reply was a firm "No."
To exist in this darkness was to face the inevitable end of decay.
Thankfully, the ceaseless flickering of the new ark's candlelight served as a warm anchor, greatly slowing Zhang Fan's own process of decay.
"Don't blame me," he thought. "This is the only way to try and survive."
As he struggled against the darkness, this thought would occasionally surface in his mind.
At first, there was a flicker of guilt, but it was quickly replaced by hardened resolve.
"To escape destiny, someone must make a sacrifice."
"Rest assured, once I endure this darkness like a True God..."
With the flame as his guidepost, Zhang Fan fought for survival.
Slowly, he came to a new understanding of the surrounding darkness.
This was the universe in its most primitive, fundamental state—its beginning and its end.
The womb of all creation, and its grave.
"Even a True God cannot alter this cycle of life and death. They can only use the divine power of [Truth and Falsehood] to maintain their own existence."
"If this is true even for a god, what hope is there for anyone else?"
"All the living beings of the Mountain and Sea, even the God-Becoming Guests, are but derivations of the God's power. Without the protection of Truth and Falsehood, they could not last for even an instant."
...
The candlelight, serving as a guiding anchor, could only delay the inevitable; it could not stop the tide of decay.
Once again, Zhang Fan caught the scent of his own corruption.
"The Sages, the Mountain and Sea, the God-Becoming Guests, the Star."
"They are all just fleeting players on a grander stage, one act following another in a bustling play."
"But eventually, the curtain must fall."
"The only one who can reemerge from annihilation is the God."
"Because the God is the original anchor of [Truth and Falsehood]."
In his mind, a thousand whispering voices rose at once.
This time, Zhang Fan felt none of his initial panic. He gazed at the distant flame, striving to keep his thoughts calm.
"It's just like how I anchor a single year."
"No matter what happens in a cycle, with a single thought, I return to a fixed point in time."
"The God is truly the master of the Great Dao of Truth and Falsehood. Its application of this power is far beyond my own. It requires no conscious thought to activate; so long as everything perishes and the conditions for the God's fall are met, it will trigger automatically."
"Returning to the initial anchor point, to a time when the [True God] still existed."
"And the true nature of the universe is the absolute foundation that ensures this plan will always be carried out."
"Even the God itself must rely on Truth and Falsehood to survive. Everything born from it, naturally, cannot escape this fate."
"No matter what, all things will perish within this play of truth and falsehood, heralding the return of the True God."
"The main body's countless uses of 'Return to True' were nothing more than the creation of smaller cycles within the grander one."
...
The clamorous voices grew louder, making it impossible for Zhang Fan to think clearly.
Yet, an instinctual despair welled up within him.
What he faced was, it seemed, a dead end.
To break free from the samsara laid by the True God, the only method he could conceive of was to nullify the power of Truth and Falsehood, to invalidate the God's anchor.
But Zhang Fan already knew that the power of Truth and Falsehood was itself subject to its own rules.
He was merely the temporary wielder of this Great Dao, a successor after the True God's fall.
How could he possibly rewrite the rules of [Truth and Falsehood]?
"The only thing to do is to 'Return to True' again and again, clinging to a fleeting existence, just like..."
Zhang Fan's gaze fell once more upon the distant flame.
"Different paths, same destination. There's no difference at all."
Hundreds of billions of years, or a few mere breaths.
At first glance, the two seem worlds apart. But when the number of cycles stretches to infinity, there is no difference between them.
They are both just pitiful creatures, struggling endlessly.
"It's all meaningless..."
The stench of decay grew stronger, and Zhang Fan's will was slowly consumed by the rising cacophony.
"Enough. You may go."
He granted the clone, Zhang Xiaofan, the release he sought.
When the tiny flame, after having shone for hundreds of millions of cycles, was finally extinguished, Zhang Fan's own destruction accelerated.
Instinctively, he wanted to 'Return to True,' but a thousand images flooded his mind—scenes from his own experiences, and those of his main body.
A weariness washed over Zhang Fan's heart.
"There's no meaning to it..."
Despair, a profound and utter nihilism, enveloped him, allowing him to completely ignore the sense of crisis that came with his impending demise.
He calmly and serenely accepted his death.
His attention was no longer focused on himself.
Instead, he began to contemplate the master of [Truth and Falsehood], the True God of a bygone era.
Suddenly, Zhang Fan felt a faint sense of wrongness.
"If everything is already set in stone, then why did it go to such great lengths to bring me, an outsider, into this place?"
A sudden doubt seized Zhang Fan.
Then, in an instant, he understood. "An outsider possesses a trait that not even the God has: the ability to maintain one's own change amidst the unchangeability of 'Return to True.'"
"The God, just like every other living being in the Mountain and Sea, was also trying to break this Unending Samsara. That is why I was brought here."
"Its purpose..."
Zhang Fan's mind raced, connecting countless dots.
He thought of his main body spreading clones far and wide, seeking a variable.
He thought of the fragmented parts of his own conscious memories.
"So that's how it is."
Zhang Fan should have been furious.
But at this moment, he was unnervingly calm.
"To escape destiny, someone must make a sacrifice."
He murmured this sentence again.
Before, he had said it to his clone, Zhang Xiaofan. This time, he was saying it to himself.
For someone of Zhang Fan's disposition, making such a decision was extraordinarily difficult.
He struggled for a long time before his furrowed brow finally smoothed.
"Then, let me fall into the God's finality."
At this moment, Zhang Fan no longer feared death. He knew that after he perished, his main body would surely reappear.
A sky-high wave of decay utterly consumed him.
The clamorous noise came to an abrupt halt.
A god was reborn.
A god had returned.
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