Chapter 185

Ahomatova Ainhorn knelt before Su Lin with a reverent and serene expression, both hands holding a Class-3 War Bishop's Extraordinary Characteristic, alongside the remaining dozens of officers and soldiers who knelt on one knee in devotion.

Su Lin gathered the Extraordinary Characteristics collected for him into his possession.

"The rest of you return in a few days—everything remains as usual."

Ahomatova Ainhorn nodded; since resistance was futile, better to become the divine emissary—He could still think normally, now merely an angel beneath the Great Light God.

His consciousness had certainly been altered, but what did it matter?

Ainhorn's glory still shone within his heart, as did his faith in the Great Light God; the merciful Lord had not demanded he abandon all.

This state was oddly comfortable, like having a team of psychologists providing four-hour personal service, with no fear of losing control. Perhaps I should seek a Class-1 Extraordinary Characteristic to better spread my Lord's radiance among mortals.

Su Lin did not know what this angel was thinking; he looked toward the corpses behind the soldiers, faintly understanding Kleine's feelings in the original.

If I had crippled the Fasak fleet just for satisfaction, the happiest would likely be King George III of Ruin—the true mastermind, one of the architects of this war.

There are too many truths in this world, yet only through direct experience does one realize that sometimes, no matter what you do, it's never quite right—it leaves the heart full of contradiction…

Solving George III in a few days would remove the contradiction.

After Su Lin departed, Ahomatova Ainhorn swept his hand and burned most of the airships.

"You were attacked by an unknown mechanical puppet—possibly Ruin's secret weapon. I will personally verify your account later," Ahomatova Ainhorn arranged the aftermath.

"From now on, you are my direct subordinates."

"You can feel it, can't you? This power, utterly unlike that of ordinary transcenders."

"The seed of holy light has been sown—we shall become the first pure ones of this world!"

Due to this incident, years later, the legend and illustrations of Ruin's war machine—the White Unicorn Devil—continued circulating within Fasak Empire's military, until…

Several "transmigrants" from ancient eras saw this dossier and, inexplicably, joined the secret organization "The Church of Light."

Su Lin hadn't cared—his actions were meant to vent his annoyance over their bombing of civilian districts, and to test reverse "corruption."

Had he known Ainhorn's thoughts and actions, he would have applauded and said: You're truly a genius.

————————

"I'm deeply sorry, Mr. Mora," Chef Lampero clutched his white chef's hat, his mind already elsewhere—the war filled him with dread.

"It's fine. None of us wished for this to happen."

"In fact, I just happened to pass by and came to cancel your lunch reservation."

Zhongli's tone was gentle, his words laced with concern: "Are the staff at Serenzo alright?"

"Thanks to the protection of the Lord of Storms, this restaurant suffered no damage, and everyone is safe," Chef Lampero made a symbol over his chest. "Thank you for your concern—I'll contact the manager to refund your payment."

"No need." Zhongli glanced at the anxious waitstaff: "After this storm passes, I will return."

Moments later, Zhongli stepped out of Serenzo Restaurant, walking along a bumpy, rubble-strewn street filled with hurried civilians rushing home and scattered Ruin soldiers arriving from all directions.

He turned back to the ruined Memorial Square—broken trees, dried fountains, scorched earth. Whether past, present, or future—even in another world—history repeats itself like a play, with only the actors and backdrop changing.

Sobs and wails merged with the cold wind, unable to disperse the smoke that hung over the city.

These people had never enjoyed much of prosperity's sweetness, yet when war came, they were the first to swallow the bitterest fruit.

Zhongli's gilded eyes swirled with complex emotion; scenes from many years ago reappeared before him.

He was not one to mourn the world's suffering—he simply realized once again that even gods cannot change everything.

Zhongli walked away from the neighborhood, arriving at the church, where Su Lin already sat on a bench near the door, a basket of black bread beside him.

"How do you feel about this world?" Zhongli asked, sitting beside him.

"Living in this era would be unbearable," Su Lin said, holding a piece of black bread and tapping it lightly—it clacked like a brick.

Zhongli's lips curved slightly, his voice rich and soft: "So, you've come to appreciate the beauty of your own time?"

"No," Su Lin said seriously.

"I don't believe merely working day after day for survival is what I want—needs always rise, and human desire is an endless abyss."

"What I want is precisely this life: breaking free from worldly chains, even if the world's end lies ahead."

"Of course, I must admit, this fearlessness stems from my near-total lack of adversity."

Cheating feels great now; cheating forever feels even better.

Zhongli smiled without comment: "You are now a divine being with humanity—a god with a true ideology."

"And such a god cannot be omniscient or wholly benevolent—his actions must carry bias."

"To humanity, a god is inherently a threat, a direct catalyst for intensified contradiction. Even if, at some point, we guide humanity as its protector, someday we will become irreconcilable due to an unresolvable ideology."

"The gods of Teyvat are like this. The gods of this world are like this too."

"I thought you'd discuss class and class struggle with me," Su Lin said, returning a Russian book to his chest.

"Gods and humans are also different classes," Zhongli said, tilting his head to gaze at the church's holy emblem. "Su Lin—if one day humanity in your world sees you as an enemy, what will you do?"

Su Lin glanced at Zhongli, puzzled, then answered without hesitation: "Beat them senseless. They're asking for it."

"Is that so," Zhongli's smile remained. "You haven't become a god yet."

"You're probing my limits," Su Lin sighed, realizing this old man feared his power was growing too fast and his mindset shifting.

As Su Lin suspected, Zhongli wanted to see how Su Lin perceived things now.

Too rigid breaks; too soft becomes useless. Extremes are never good.

"Want some?" Su Lin handed Zhongli the basket of bread—the black bread bought by the two children, Levi and Vina, for their lunch.

Zhongli nodded, took a piece, and bit into it. He frowned slightly—sour, bitter, hard; inside the grain were traces of other things.

Su Lin broke off a corner, chewed twice—his mouth filled with strong buckwheat flavor, nothing but sourness and bitterness left.

Clearly different from the black bread the butler had bought that night.

"Many in the group have different goals—some want to protect the world, some seek the Dao, some wish only for one person's peace. Of course," Su Lin paused, implying something, "there are those who just want to slack off every day."

"Before I was reborn or transmigrated, I thought—if I could live a different life, I wanted to live it well."

Before I was reborn and transported, I had already been thinking that if I ever got the chance to live a different life, I wanted to live it brilliantly.

As he spoke, Su Lin bit off another mouthful of the bread in his hand and swallowed it with difficulty.

"The moment I woke up in the Parallel World, I thought: if I had a cheat system, I'd win everything."

"I must consider whether this might be my only chance in this lifetime."

"Reforge. Never mind, I won't reforge."

"Anyway, how did that saying go again? Do as one pleases—"

"Do as one pleases, but do no harm." Kleen's voice drifted slowly into the air as he stepped out from the Historical Gap, smiling gently: "Thank you both for your help. You are the heroes of Beckland."

"No, there's no second half," Su Lin corrected. "And you, my friend—you are the true hero."

"." Kleen's smile froze, and he instinctively stepped back.

This guy seems a bit dangerous—could his eyes suddenly glow red?

Everyone's fine, but why does your vibe feel so off!?

————————

At the edge of a hidden island, a pirate fleet lay anchored.

Lu Mingfei hadn't been completely oblivious to the outside world these past few days—these pirates always found ways to get the latest newspapers. Well, in a supernatural world, anything was plausible.

He could also learn what was happening beyond the sea from the chat group; the stories shared by Zhongli and Kleen made Lu Mingfei feel reflective.

As someone who had slain two Dragon Kings, Lu Mingfei had seen his share of grandeur—even if those Dragon Kings were his dearest friends, and he had no intention of proving the path of emotional detachment.

Old Zhou had it tough—saving a world riddled with internal strife and external chaos. They say this world still has over a decade before doomsday? Lu Mingfei understood that feeling perfectly; he too had once suddenly feared that one day the Black King would awaken and destroy the world.

Oh, so I'm the final boss? Then never mind.

There were plenty of people like Old John, but few who struggled to survive like him. After learning about the Great Smog of Beckland these past two days, Lu Mingfei felt a heaviness in his chest, especially toward that old bastard George III.

But righteous anger was useless—he lacked strength and couldn't help anyway. In truth, he didn't need to help.

I should've brought Lu Mingze along. He'd rather have Yan Xiao Mo fuse with him than that middle-aged, overcooked version of himself—boring, always chasing thrills, eyes like dead fish, drowning in memories.

Now that I think about it, I haven't seen this guy in days. Good riddance.

Now that I think about it, my own world is just as chaotic—a mess of wildly different tech and architecture. In a few years, it might turn into Cyber Dragon Clan 077.

Tsk.

When I, Lu, attain the Supreme Dao, I'll send this guy back to his own timeline—cut and done with!

"Strength," Lu Mingfei sighed. He wasn't ungrateful—his cultivation speed wasn't slow at all. The real issue was figuring out how to break through that old dragon's upper limit.

Thump

A hand slapped against Lu Mingfei's back.

"What are you daydreaming about here?"

It was Chief Sailor John Proto, a pirate whose features showed slight age, his head wrapped in bandages. Lu Mingfei felt a pang of guilt and turned his head away—it was an injury from last time, when he'd been dragged into it.

"Nothing," Lu Mingfei replied. "Just taking in the view."

"By the way, Chief Sailor, why have we been staying here since leaving Selos Island?"

"It's the wise and beautiful Captain, my light, the jewel of this sea, the brilliant decision of the Sick Girl—we need only obey," John Proto said.

"Go to the Captain's cabin. You lucky, envied, jealous little brat—you're the first man to enter our Captain's boudoir."

I heard the last one was Germain Sparrow—

Lu Mingfei didn't understand why every pirate turned into a sycophant whenever they mentioned the Captain—even though the Captain was undeniably breathtakingly beautiful.

Fine, men were one thing, but the most absurd part was that many female pirates were equally obsessed with her.

Back in high school, he could've sold photos of Traci online to earn internet fees.

Stop licking—it won't work. As someone who's been there, he couldn't bear watching these fools fall into the pit. Lu Mingfei flatly refused to admit his reason for boarding the ship was mutual attraction between kindred souls.

Thus, lost in thought, Lu Mingfei reached the main deck, walking calmly forward through the knife-like glares of Traci's maids.

A upright man has nothing to hide—he was a seven-foot man, not here to do anything shameful.

A blonde maid shot Lu Mingfei a disgusted glare and led him inside.

At a half-open door, a warm, fragrant scent drifted out—not overpowering, but lingering, evoking involuntary fantasies of bedchamber pleasures.

Lu Mingfei's eyes widened. He swallowed hard. Wait, this plot—

Old Zhou, brother, my self-control is solid! But don't make her test me with this!

Knock knock knock

The maid gently tapped on the door.

"Let him in himself."

A melodious, enchanting voice rang out.

The maid's face darkened. Her gaze at Lu Mingfei brimmed with jealousy and confusion—the last person to enter the Captain's chamber alone had been a "bitch" named Ilean.

Is the Captain tired of her usual flavor? Why this stinky man?!

Lu Mingfei took a breath and stepped into the room.

"Three thousand splendors, fleeting as a blink; after a hundred years, merely a handful of yellow sand."

"The noble man reflects on nine things: sight, clarity; hearing, acuity; expression, warmth; demeanor, humility; speech, sincerity; action, diligence; doubt, inquiry; anger, consequence; gain, righteousness."

"I am a noble man! Lu the Noble!"

The door softly closed. Lu Mingfei straightened his chest and surveyed the bedroom before him.

Before him stood a golden lampstand, its candles glowing softly.

Beautiful Traci sat leaning back behind her desk, her beige trousers revealing long legs crossed and resting, a book in hand, reading with effortless ease.

A charming smile curled her lips as she asked: "So, you've digested your potion?"

End of Chapter