Chapter 431: Eat My Genesis

Su Tianfu often doubted whether he had some special ability.

Someone as handsome as him would surely be the protagonist in another story, and wouldn't it be reasonable for a protagonist to have a special ability?

Logically, if a psychiatrist said this, his colleague Meng Zhending would unquestionably issue a psychiatric cognitive disorder assessment and send him to the hospital for a month without phone or internet.

Don't ask why, because when Meng Zhending once claimed he was laughing atop the Six Realms in another world, he himself did exactly that—until they fetched him back seven days later.

Because that day, Meng Zhending's room WiFi cut out—apparently he hadn't paid his bill.

You can't blame him; after all, since childhood they'd grown up helping and tricking each other, and it just so happened that Meng Zhending was under pressure from his parents to marry, and had been overwhelmed by stress after his professorship review.

He kindly offered a little help, and after that incident, his family never pressured him again.

When they went to pick him up, he held a Buddhist sutra and calmly said: "Amitabha, don't let me catch you again."

"Damn it, even medicine won't help."

Su Tianfu stared at the lottery interface—no auto-ten-pull, no recharge options; the points had been slowly rising over the years, but compared to his massive assets, they were negligible.

But what use were all these virtual digital illusions? After a few pulls, he realized the items were just for display—they couldn't actually be used.

He had always ignored the system and the nearby Ultimate Ascension channel.

What if he went all-in? Whenever his blood boiled, he'd drink a cold cola to cool down.

No reason—it was just instinct.

"Here." Meng Zhending pulled a can of cola from the fridge.

"I'm Pepsi," Su Tianfu said, staring at the red can. "Make do."

Meng Zhending declined the faction war invitation, sat at the hotel desk, and opened his laptop. "I'm going to play a bit—wake me when you leave."

"You've time to play games but not time to write?" Su Tianfu trembled his finger at him. "Wait till I log in!"

Even life—the ultimate difficulty game—Su Tianfu and Meng Zhending faced daily, yet keyboard and mouse challenges brought them no pressure.

"It just feels a little unreal."

After easily winning a top-ten national ranking match, Su Tianfu squinted and recalled his entire life since childhood.

"What's unreal?" Meng Zhending's phone buzzed—he picked it up and typed a reply while speaking: "If you feel empty, go to the hotel rooftop."

"Crack the air with your hand, shatter your spirit, banish this world~"

"My cousin's family says they'll leave the Taoist temple to me. Why?"

"I think Xiao Qing is just under too much academic pressure—she'll recover soon. Rebellion? Everyone goes through this phase."

Meng Zhending stared at his phone screen for a long while, then put it down and rubbed his chin. Moments later, he resumed typing—as if exchanging messages with someone. "Alright, done. Let's play two more matches."

"Incredible." Su Lin turned off the game, pulled back the curtains, opened the window, raised his hand, and clenched it toward the outside as if summoning something.

Today's weather wasn't good—the overcast sky felt heavier than a rainy day, and the steel-and-cement skyscrapers made it feel oppressive.

An ordinary person who came to the metropolis over a decade ago with dreams and hopes, now facing reality, would feel even more depressed seeing such weather.

"Let there be light!" Su Tianfu declared.

"Your middle-school delusion phase is back?" Meng Zhending took a sip of cola and mocked.

He was used to it; if "middle-school delusion" weren't such a flimsy excuse, he'd already issued a psychiatric assessment and contacted the nearest mental hospital in Shanghai.

But this time was different.

In the sky, the boundless lead-gray canopy slowly tore open, revealing a golden-glinting chasm.

Sunlight poured through the rift—first a single beam, then spreading, illuminating the surrounding clouds.

Like searching, the light stepped forward from the city's far end, illuminating every building outside the window at an impossible speed, glass facades gleaming brilliantly.

Su Tianfu bathed in pure radiance, dust swirling around him, as if holiness and filth both encircled him.

Meng Zhending watched this scene, and his heart grew cold—there was no other reason.

"Hey, your cola's spilled on you." Su Tianfu reminded him.

"I know." Meng Zhending felt the cold cola—the high-sugar carbonated drink stained his white shirt; the chill and stickiness on his chest brought him slightly back to reality: "You turned it on?"

As he asked, Meng Zhending stood up to find clean clothes.

Su Tianfu cursed: "Turned on? What? The weather forecast said cloudy turning sunny."

He hated people cheating—always had, since childhood. Even when he slept in class and woke up knowing everything, people accused him of cheating.

"Good. I thought you'd usurped God as a priest."

Meng Zhending pulled out a change of clothes from his suitcase and headed for the bathroom. "If you're God, then I must be the Three Pure Ones? That's terrifying."

"If I were God, I'd have already unleashed Genesis and restarted the era just now," Su Tianfu said, looking at his hands.

"Are you anti-human?" Meng Zhending froze with his hand on the door handle. "Are you dissatisfied with your life?!"

Though Su Tianfu and he often slacked off and complained about work, they'd already earned enough to live comfortably for the rest of their lives—otherwise, how did they open that big EDM bar?

The rent and labor costs along Lingshan Road weren't cheap.

With their degrees and current titles, they could easily choose a few ordinary universities as honorary professors—go once a week, teach one class.

"Honestly, I'm starting to feel something's off with my life. Am I really the genius type? I remember my high school grades weren't that good."

Su Tianfu frowned and said:

"Lately my dreams have been weird too—I keep seeing people in the internet sending me messages."

"Why are you taking your phone into the shower?"

Meng Zhending waved his hand, muttering: "Nothing. Shanghai's area code starts with 021… It's fine, Mr. Su, we can talk properly."

Su Tianfu stayed silent, snatched his phone, and canceled the outgoing landline call—the contact was labeled "Shanghai Mental Health Center."

"I'm not insane! I'm serious—I can't even believe I became a doctor. Back then I went to Longhu Mountain, even considered becoming a professional Daoist Priest to escape this unreal world."

"I know. But who in this society, except the conglomerates, doesn't have pressure? Even I sometimes feel I've forgotten a lot."

Meng Zhending truly understood Su Tianfu's words—he was content with his life, yet often felt something missing.

He didn't like the green lamps and ancient Buddhas of Shaolin—chanting sutras and enduring hardship was too dull, yet it filled him with deep nostalgia.

The temple's divine statues and talismans were too mysterious and arcane; though there was no sign of human life in the mountains and fields, he felt a serene contentment.

Of course, occasionally being able to give lectures as the genius doctor, parading before family and friends in fine clothes—it was quite comfortable, yet something was missing.

Were they the people from his dreams? Names he could write by tapping a keyboard? Or the martial world of the talented Lin Li, where vengeance and righteousness ran free?

Perhaps all of them.

This was why he wrote books—to turn those imaginings into words, so he could pull out his phone whenever he wished and step into another world.

But this imagination wasn't his alone; it was one many people shared—the dream of the martial world.

A reader surnamed Yuan in the "Master of One Lifetime" fan group had once chatted with him, saying that reading this book gave him a sense of resonance: in his eyes, xianxia should be exactly like this.

Meng Zhending encouraged the man to write, but the man told him the pen name "Aqua Submarine Squid" was already taken; after some thought, he went back to his job.

"Let me tell you a secret," Meng Zhending dispelled the swirling thoughts in his mind and smiled: "It's not that I disrespect the immortals and gods, nor am I overinflated—I always feel that the figure seated upon the Shangqing Temple's altar…"

"Is me."

"Yes, all three are me. I am the Three Pure Ones."

Su Tianfu wore a strange expression and laughed, scolding: "You're the one who's middle-schooler! You're the Three Pure Ones? I'm the Primordial Supreme Deity then! Over there, Three Pure Ones—catch this Genesis!"

He threw an empty can at the other man.

The world of Da Liang.

On the road through the countryside toward the Land of Buddhist Chaos, Li Huowang and the Siming Bureau stared at the scene before them, speechless with shock.

Sunlight bathed the fields; the lush green wheat seedlings seemed to straighten their stalks at that very moment, growing toward the light. Clear radiance shimmered upon the lake's surface, the water sparkling with vibrant life.

This should have been a cause for joy—but it should have been night.

Gu Yuan of the Siming Bureau sat atop his horse, gazing at the sky: "Not just Da Liang—Qingqiu, Si Qi, all these places are daylight."

An unprecedented anomaly had occurred.

Li Huowang looked up at the sky—there was no sun.

The light was brilliant yet not blinding, like a radiance fermented by time, the same gentle glow he felt as a child during spring outings—whenever he recalled it, it was among the rare moments when he forgot worldly troubles and focused solely on the present peace.

"Li Huowang!" Gu Yuan murmured sharply: "Wake up."

Li Huowang tore himself from memory; he felt an overwhelming inner calm—but this was deeply abnormal.

"What's happening?" Li Huowang suspected something had gone wrong in Bai Yu Jing; only the disappearance of the dragon vein or the power of Confused Siming could cause such an anomaly.

Gu Yuan blinked, then pulled a clay statue of a Heavenly Buddha from his chest.

As the light fell upon the clay Buddha, Sanskrit chants echoed through the countryside fields; soon after, the village ahead—designated as the sect's gathering site—burst forth with brilliant Buddhist light.

"Heavenly Buddha," Li Huowang murmured. The scene before him began to shift—from countryside to a hotel room.

He shifted his vision to the modern world; the Siming Bureau before him changed from Gu Yuan to Qing Wanglai.

"Cough!" Qing Wanglai suddenly spat a mouthful of blood, staining the hotel carpet with a horrifying dark-red patch.

"Are you alright?" Li Huowang frowned.

"Should we go see a doctor? The two psychologists in the room downstairs might help you get a temporary specialist appointment."

"I'm fine." Qing Wanglai showed no emotional change, remaining calm as ever.

He walked into the bathroom, turned on the faucet to wash his face, then stepped out holding a Mao Jin.

"Brother Li…"

Hearing Qing Wanglai's address and that gentle tone, Li Huowang grew wary and edged closer to the door.

He was clear now: Zhu Ge Yuan was a good friend; Qing Wanglai was purely a heartless madman who harmed both others and himself.

"No need to be so guarded," Qing Wanglai said, a faint smile on his lips: "You've learned many things through unknown channels, haven't you?"

"You, who actively reached out to the outside world through unknown means and consciously sought to change things—you must know a great deal."

"About Confused Siming. About Xin Pan. About the true nature of us all. My projection theory already told you—you should understand we are all projections of something, including me."

"Brother Li, you needn't be so wary of me. Think carefully—have I ever harmed you?"

He spoke in Zhu Ge Yuan's tone; his face already bore a three-tenths resemblance to Zhu Ge Yuan, and his expression was identical.

Li Huowang clenched his teeth, forcing down his discomfort and forcing a look of shock and excitement: "Zhu Ge… you're Brother Zhu Ge?!"

"No—you're Confused Siming corresponding to Zhu Ge Yuan!"

Qing Wanglai fell silent for a moment, then adjusted his rimless glasses.

"Brother Li, has anyone ever told you you're not very good at acting? And I, as Confused Siming who governs secret karmic threads, am not the audience for your performance."

What the hell do you care!

If you hadn't stabbed me in the back with your Spine Sword in Da Liang, how would you even know these things?! Back when I acted in movies, everyone always said I was great!

Clearly, Li Huowang had forgotten he'd been acting himself back then.

"I don't know what method you used to learn of certain events destined to occur on the timeline, nor how much you truly know—but none of it matters now."

"Under current circumstances, obsessing over past events is meaningless. What matters is how we change the present and future."

Qing Wanglai was utterly rational—he showed no interest in Li Huowang's personal secrets, nor concern for his thoughts.

Facing Qing Wanglai's claim, Li Huowang interrupted: "I have a suggestion: Zhu Ge Yuan is your past self, but not your present self. You're a modern person—can you speak normally?"

"Heh." Qing Wanglai smiled, unconcerned, continuing: "Facing the Fallen God, my plan is the optimal solution. Only this way do we have a glimmer of hope."

"You saw it too, in your near-death state—the being we originally faced is barely holding on; the Fallen God has not yet awakened."

"Alliance is the only path to survival."

What if I told you the Fallen God came to help?

Li Huowang realized he couldn't explain anything to Qing Wanglai now—after all, Qing Wanglai was still under Fusheng Tian's control.

"Alliance? Are you mistaken?" Li Huowang realized the name of that being had vanished from his mind; the impression had grown faint.

"All is projection. As long as the screen remains, we can recreate anything at any time—including ourselves." Qing Wanglai smiled: "Whether it's you, me, or this world—it doesn't matter. What matters is truth."

"Everything is just a projection; as long as the screen remains, we can recreate it anytime—including ourselves," Qing Wanglai said with a smile. "Whether it's you, me, or this world, none of it matters—what matters is truth."

"Facing Yu Sheng, as long as we protect the screen, even if we sacrifice the projection, we still have a glimmer of hope—but if we face Su Tianfu, you know what his true nature is."

"Even Yu Sheng could only use his Dao as a form of consumption to delay his awakening, but doing so is just charging a bomb."

"So what do you plan to do?" Li Huowang asked in return. "If you can't outplay Su Tianfu, how can you outplay Yu Sheng?"

"He knew that Qing Wanglai's original plan had been to kill all Confused Siming, seize all Dao, and create a new world—but this scheme was utterly unworkable, merely the madness brought on by corruption."

"I don't know how you silently brought this entity's side into here, but our time is running out."

Qing Wanglai shook his head, but suddenly a different light appeared in his eyes, and his smile grew more genuine. "But I also owe you thanks, Brother Li—you brought Meng Zhending here. He is the antidote. The antidote to this problem."

"Antidote..." Li Huowang didn't understand Qing Wanglai's meaning.

"You should know something about the relationship between him and me?" Qing Wanglai pointed to himself, then pointed downstairs, saying:

"In truth, we are projections—but we are not the only projections. Projections have layers and order, like the Droste effect, the infinite mirror theory created by two facing mirrors."

"You and I, and those people outside the room are all projections of the true self—and the true me is his projection."

"Do you understand, Brother Li? If the Three Pure Ones are him, then the true self corresponding to Yu Sheng cannot possibly affect us!"

Qing Wanglai, smiling, stepped forward, clasped Li Huowang's single hand tightly with both of his own, looked at him warmly, and said with a tone of pleading:

"Brother Li, you saved the Great Qi for me—please help me once more."

"Help me keep Meng Zhending in this world!"

(End of Chapter)