050 Farewell

The black figure gradually materialized, yet he remained entirely clad in black.

That person wore a black scholar's robe—white-lined with black borders, secured at the waist by a black cloth belt, from which hung an ancient folding fan. A scholar's headband bound his long black hair, which, paired with his jade-like, gentle countenance, presented the complete picture of an ancient man of letters.

At his left waist hung a sword in an ordinary black scabbard with a plain white hilt. Only its simple yet imposing design, archaic patterns, and a jade-like ornament tied with a red cord to the tassel spoke of the weapon's extraordinary nature.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk..."

Upon seeing this figure, Duan Qing clicked his tongue and shook his head. He simply sat down cross-legged on the pitch-black ground, pressing one hand against his knee while propping his chin with the other, and began speaking to himself.

"Let me think..."

"You guys are really committed to playing out this illusion to the end, aren't you?" he said unconcernedly, as if posing a question to the figure opposite him, who seemingly paid him no mind. "So you... made a place like this."

"Heh, this place is way too dark. Didn't the production team have the budget for a background..." His eyes darted around. "At least put out some furniture, or build a platform. Well... this should be the top of the tower right now, you could have blown off the roof and made something like the Peak of Emerald... Ha, having played for so many years, I suppose I could become a game planner or something..."

The figure extended his right hand, stretched it forward, palm facing upward, and crooked his fingers in a gesture of provocation.

Duan Qing likewise ignored it.

"To be honest though, you did a pretty good job modeling this guy..." Duan Qing chuckled as he sized up his opponent. "Got quite a bit of... my style back in the day."

The figure still did not speak. He reached his right hand toward the hilt and drew his sword.

"However..." Duan Qing continued to rub his chin as he looked around. "Since you were able to make me so well, why couldn't you render the surrounding environment..."

"Well, could I take this to mean... there is some other reason? Because of character stats? Hidden stats? Or pure luck? Hey, let's talk this out, I haven't figured it out yet..."

Seeing the figure begin to walk slowly toward him, Duan Qing waved his hands repeatedly. "Or is it because I touched something I shouldn't have earlier? But the others didn't run into anything unusual along the way, even though they don't seem to be here either..."

Water-like ripples stirred in the air. The swordsman who had been advancing suddenly vanished from where he stood. The violent force of his footwork left ripples expanding outward from the ground and air he had just occupied.

"Hey, a gentleman uses his words, not his fists..."

The figure suddenly appeared right in front of Duan Qing, yet maintained the exact posture of holding his sword as he advanced, as if the space between them had been instantly erased. The scholar halted his steps and thrust forward the sword in his hand.

As if echoing the thunderous attack, a piercing whistle echoed from the distant darkness, tearing through the space around them and reverberating into the farther night sky.

The next moment, the whistling sound transformed into faint whispers, echoing right beside Duan Qing's ear.

Duan Qing upwardly parried with all his might, deflecting the lightning-fast sword strike, and used the momentum to roll backward, trailing bright red blood as he escaped the enemy's attack range.

"That must be the Shadow-Flash footwork... I have to admit, I was startled..."

That single sword strike had still sliced open his chest. Although the bloody upper body looked terrifying, the wound did not appear fatal.

"Mengzhu and the others haven't appeared, which means... they ran into the exact same situation as me, cough, cough..." He slowly rose from a semi-kneeling posture, clutching the wound on his chest as blood seeped between his fingers, dripping drop by drop onto the ground. "I'm curious... did they encounter the illusion too?"

"Do they... also share the past that I have?"

The figure still remained silent, as if those murmuring whispers had nothing to do with him. Struggling, Duan Qing leveled his sword before him in a defensive stance.

"Hah... hah..." He breathed heavily, bloody froth seeming to spill from the corner of his mouth. "No, but... to be able to see you under circumstances like this..." He looked at his opponent and grinned broadly. "I'm genuinely glad..."

"Blade That Severs Heaven."

Like sword light guiding a shadow, accompanied by the ringing of a blade, the scholar in black rushed toward him once again with blinding speed.

Though his eyes were sharp and his hands quick to adopt a parrying posture, the immense force still crashed against Duan Qing's short sword. The weapon, along with his arm, was knocked violently aside, and he staggered backward before tumbling clumsily to the ground. Perhaps due to the overwhelming rebound force, Duan Qing was now practically drenched in his own blood. He struggled for a moment across the blood-red, pitch-black ground before lying motionless, as though he would never rise again.

The sword-wielding scholar maintained his raised-sword posture, remaining completely still for a long time.

"Tch, couldn't fool you after all..." Duan Qing, who had been lying on the ground playing dead for quite a while, flipped up with a "whoosh" and casually patted the non-existent dust off himself. "Could it be that this illusion is tied to me? As long as I don't die, it won't disappear?"

The black-clad scholar offered no reply.

"Forget it." Duan Qing raised his hands. "When I was young, I wasn't nearly as taciturn as you... So I'll just have to do it myself."

The scholar took a step forward and continued walking onward.

"From the moment we entered the Emerald Forest to climbing up to the top of this Emerald Tower, we've seen a lot of things." Duan Qing continued to ignore the phantom that constantly sought to kill him, rambling on to himself. "But there is truth and illusion here. Even though your power is immense and you've accumulated it for all these years, turning the fake into the real so that thousands of players and NPCs couldn't tell the difference should still be quite difficult. I can even boldly say... it's impossible to achieve."

"Because you are not a living creature and have no thoughts. To attain reality, you must borrow from reality."

Duan Qing shook his head. "How pathetic."

***

The black-clad scholar vanished from his spot once again.

"Oh please, the trope of fighting one's own shadow has been run into the ground. I've fought it at least eight or ten times before..."

Amidst the clashing of metal, the hilts of their swords collided. Duan Qing looked into the familiar face just inches away, pushed hard with his arms to shove the opponent back, and slashed with his sword.

The opponent slashed back in kind.

"Or could it be that your abilities can no longer find an opponent stronger than me..."

Duan Qing swept his sword horizontally, intending to knock away the enemy's momentum. The opponent mirrored his exact movement, and when their forces crashed together, their figures abruptly separated. Due to the disparity in strength, Duan Qing was forced back a greater distance than his foe.

"Tch, you're cheating..." Duan Qing protested. "What kind of skill is it to fight a dozen-something-level me with a max-level character of mine? Though I have no idea how the stats of this character translate to the stats in the New World..."

The scholar still gave no answer, slowly closing in as usual.

"Looks like I have to rely on real skill." Duan Qing snorted, then suddenly charged forward. The very instant the scholar raised his sword to block, Duan Qing abruptly retracted his strike, dropped low, shifted his footing, and slipped to the opponent's flank.

Then, the opponent also sidestepped a few times and moved to the side Duan Qing had just vacated. The two of them mirrored each other's positions like dancers, once again standing in a standoff.

"Damn it, I have to hand it to you, your mimicry is spot-on..." Duan Qing hopped backward and shook the sword in his hand. "But that just makes you give yourself away even more..."

"The circular footwork system has undergone several modifications over the last few years, especially the minute movements and the evolution of the steps... At any rate, I never practiced those, and neither did you."

Duan Qing charged again. "Failing to keep pace with the times..."

"Starburst Stream Slash!"

Though the name of the technique sounded flashy, the strike itself was entirely ordinary. The opponent did not seem phased by Duan Qing's bluff in the slightest, effortlessly swatting the blow aside. The tremendous force once again sent Duan Qing's arm swinging wildly out of control, leaving a massive opening.

The scholar thrust a sword straight at his chest. Duan Qing leaned back, dodging the fatal blow, but due to a lack of stamina, he tumbled directly to the ground.

With a swift swish, the scholar pressed the tip of his sword right against Duan Qing's neck.

"Tch, pure stat suppression, absolutely nothing to say about that. If I had a few more skills and a bit more stamina..."

Seeming to have no intention of resisting further, Duan Qing simply sat sprawling on the ground, leaning back on his hands, tilting his head up to gaze at the enemy before him.

In the vacant space, the black sky that served as a backdrop seemed to flicker continuously. A rumbling sound echoed from the distance, resembling an oncoming storm or an impending earthquake and mountain collapse.

The noise finally drew closer, then transformed once again into a low murmur: "Leave... Death..."

"Heh, what's this supposed to mean? Am I being given a choice?" Duan Qing muttered to himself. "What happens if I don't choose..."

Black light flared within the eyes of the black-clad scholar, and the pressure in his grip gradually intensified, yet that final sword strike was delayed in piercing downward.

"Why aren't you striking yet? Either you're stalling for time, or... you genuinely can't kill me." Duan Qing tilted his head back entirely to look at the sky. "Hm, you want me to die, or to leave... but you can't force it. In other words, if my will makes a choice, these two options will become reality..."

He shifted his gaze back to the scholar. "Is that it?"

The scholar remained expressionless, the black radiance in his eyes growing even more intense.

"Such incompetence." Duan Qing sneered, glancing down at the hem of the scholar's robe. "I'm sure there are plenty of things you could never learn... Concepts like emotion are something you might not understand even in tens of thousands of years, so..."

"My strongest move is definitely something you don't know either."

Seeming to finally lose its patience, a biting murderous intent slowly began to bleed from the scholar's body. An immense pressure washed over them, and the world blanketed by night seemed to sense the oppressive might of the dark figure, beginning to emit earth-shattering roars.

"The illusion is becoming unstable." Out of the corner of his eye, Duan Qing glanced around and said nonchalantly, "Is this you putting pressure on me? Fine, I choose..."

"Starburst Abandon-Therapy Slash!"

He lunged to the right, abruptly raising his right hand which had been propped behind him, and swept his short sword toward the opponent.

The black-clad scholar did not react, because the strike grazed past the front of the black-clad scholar without touching so much as a hair of him. However, Duan Qing rolled to the side and sprang back up to his feet. The black-clad scholar still did not move.

Duan Qing clutched his neck where he had grazed himself while getting up, but let out a whistle as he tossed a small stone in his hand. It was the tassel that had previously hung from the archaic long sword—during that last strike, he had sliced the cord of the tassel and snatched it into his hand.

"Your appearance is my avatar from the game *Wuchao Knights*, and your moves are nearly identical... But, if I remember correctly, 'Keen Edge,' the sword that accompanied me for the better part of my life, never had a tassel."

He gripped the green stone attached to the tassel in one hand and held it up to his eyes. "Hmm..."

"This shouldn't be your true form, right?"

"Though I don't know what you've been trying to achieve over these past millennia, I imagine... this place, this entire forest, is your masterpiece."

***

The stone flickered, beginning to emit an eerie green glow.

"Ah, I know. You must possess immense power. If I were to claim you as my own right now, perhaps it would allow me to leap straight to greatness in this world..."

"Well, perhaps not." Duan Qing shook his head. "These fabricated and genuine things might just be the evolution of nature itself."

He turned and looked back. The scholar's figure still stood quietly there, motionless. Yet the pitch-black world grew even more turbulent due to the flashing of the green stone.

"Hello, Emerald," Duan Qing said, shifting his gaze back to the stone before him. "In my world, there is also a stone called jade. Some of them are green, some are not, but they are all crystal-clear and extraordinarily beautiful stones, however..."

With a firm grip of his right hand, the stone shattered right on cue: "...I still prefer jade a little more."

Vibrations rumbled from beneath his feet. Sensing something, he turned back to look, only to find that the scholar's black silhouette had begun to blur.

"I've made my choice," he said softly. "Farewell, my past."

The dark curtain shattered like broken glass, cascading outward from the distance into the endless void. White light filtered through the tiny cracks, expanding as the fissures spread until it gradually occupied the entire space.

The howling of beasts echoed from far away, sounding like the agonizing shrieks of that giant serpent.

The dazzling light, transitioning from black to white, filled Duan Qing's vision. The next moment, the white canvas was daubed with colors, gradually forming a scene Duan Qing had never witnessed before.

It was a vista composed of pure colors.

Fiery red blended with earthy yellow, while vast expanses of emerald-green particles were punctuated by specks of water-blue that continuously flickered and flowed, appearing and disappearing like a dream. In the distant sky, a spherical object seemed to float motionlessly in mid-air, yet simultaneously appeared to be in constant rotation. Amidst Duan Qing's uncomprehending, dazed gaze, that spherical object, reminiscent of an extraterrestrial visitor, gradually vanished into a mist composed of multicolored micro-particles, but the sound echoing across the firmament still pierced through layers of barriers straight into Duan Qing's soul.

It was the sound of a bell.

This was the ocean of elements.

***

Beneath the Emerald Tower, beside the winding river.

Christine and Freya stood on opposite sides, utilizing their respective powers to erect dual defensive lines of ice and fire around them, holding back the fearlessly advancing army of black-armored beetles. The air was filled with the cacophony of countless insects, which quickly transformed into deathly shrieks and the crackling sounds of being reduced to ash by fire. On the other side of the river, another defensive line composed of purple-black mist drifted silently, echoing the defensive anchor on this side.

Beads of sweat covered the brows of the two grand magi—they had already consumed a vast amount of mana. Even with their level of mastery allowing them to draw upon the boundless elemental power in the surrounding space, the depletion of their mental stamina was still more than they could sustain.

Yet their expressions remained calm and focused, as if what they were doing had nothing whatsoever to do with their own survival.

In the distance, countless black-armored beetles surged forth like an endless black tide erupting from the forest. At some point, some of the insects began fluttering their wings, lifting off the ground before wobbling closer through the low air.

The expressions of the two women tightened—within their forward field of vision, more black insects lifted off the ground, gradually turning into a towering, sky-darkening black cloud.

"This feeling of fighting against the entire world is something I haven't experienced since the 'Battle of Udes'..." Christine's tone remained calm, but her sister did not respond.

Freya bit her lip, stabbed her staff into the soil, wrapped her arms around her sides, and assumed an embracing posture.

One of her arms was pressed down by Christine beside her.

The elegant, blue-robed figure shook her head. "Don't do this, my dear sister. Even if it comes to that step, it should be me..."

Suddenly, she turned her head and looked upward.

At the summit of the Emerald Tower, a white light ignited in the gloomy sky, then gradually spread, expanding and swelling until it was as bright as the sun. The people below raised their heads one after another, yet were blinded by the radiance, unable to keep their eyes open.

Then, that sun exploded into tens of thousands of four-colored rays, shooting outward in all directions.

Red light, blue light, yellow light, green light, varying in size, burst forth endlessly. Among them, the scarce red light dissipated into the air before flying far, while the abundant green light continuously expanded and erupted, gradually straightening upward to shoot straight into the sky.

The green light gradually formed a pillar of light standing upright between heaven and earth. The turbulent air was gradually pushed and whipped up, transforming into a violent, untamable gale that swept outward in all directions.

The fierce wind soared upward, blasting a massive hole in the dark clouds of the sky, dispersing the gloom above the Emerald Tower and forcibly turning the overcast day into clear weather. True sunlight streamed downward through the widening hole in the clouds.

A faint ripple diffused outward into the surroundings along with those gales, brushing past the feet where Christine and Freya stood. As the two struggled to maintain their footing in the violent wind, the endless black armored beetles vanished like sand in the wind, turning into black dust that was carried off to unknown distances by the storm. The ground beneath their feet also shifted with that ripple, transforming from vibrant emerald green into a barren, yellowish-brown wasteland.

In the distance, the giant trees that had survived the black tide also shed their original appearances as the ripple spread. The two grand magi stared in open-mouthed astonishment at the former forest they had traversed several times before.

Even with their vast experience, they had never witnessed such an anomalous spectacle—the boulders of various sizes that stood upon the yellowish-brown earth, revealing their true forms after being swept over by the storm, appeared as abruptly before everyone as if they had crossed a thousand years of dust.

That was a forest of stones composed of glowing green rocks.