Chapter 293: Ten Trillion Failures

Unaware of how long had passed, Sun Wukong slowly lifted his head.

The face buried on the cold tabletop no longer bore any tear marks.

In its place was an unprecedented calm, a stillness like that before a storm, a Deathly Silence.

He stood up, his gaze sweeping across the boundless bookshelves.

This was the Master's battlefield.

And these scrolls were the only battle reports left by the Master over billions of years.

He needed to know.

He had to know what the Master had truly experienced.

He had to know what Hongjun's old shaggy one‑proud "order" meant in the Master's eyes!

Sun Wukong made a casual move.

A warm, smooth jade slip flew out of the nearest shelf on its own and landed in his palm.

His spiritual consciousness, without hesitation, probed inside.

Boom!

An incomparably vast, incomparably sharp world brazenly unfolded in his mind!

In this Universe, "Sword" is the sole Dao!

Stars are sword projectiles.

The star river is sword qi.

A newborn planet's core is a divine sword waiting to be drawn.

A newborn infant's cries carry sword sounds that can tear the void!

All things can become swords!

All living beings are sword cultivators!

The civilization here shines to the utmost, every living being pursues the supreme Sword Dao,

Their will, sharp enough to cut causality and shatter samsara!

Sun Wukong even saw a breathtakingly talented living being, ultimately achieving unity of man and sword,

With a single slash, it cleaved a dark chaotic void, opening a brand‑new realm!

How magnificent!

But the scene suddenly shifted!

When every living being's sword intent reached its pinnacle, when the entire Universe's edge converged to an unsurpassable apex…

Disaster arrived.

Too sharp.

Everything, everything is too sharp.

They can no longer coexist with each other.

A single glance is a sword‑intent duel.

One breath is a sword‑qi collision.

In the end, that supreme sword cultivator who once split the heavens with a sword, during a doctrinal discussion with a close friend,

because an uncontainable sword intent erased his close friend along with the entire star system he inhabited!

Regret, madness, destruction!

In the ultimate end, this brilliantly shining Sword‑Dao Universe was not invaded by any external enemy, but was torn apart inch by inch by its own edge!

All stars, all living beings, all laws, were turned into the most primitive, cold cosmic dust in that endless internal slicing.

A Deathly Silence.

Sun Wukong's spiritual consciousness withdrew.

He saw a line of small characters imprinted at the end of the jade slip, a comment left by the Master.

The handwriting was plain, revealing no joy or anger.

"Sword‑Dao Universe model, 73rd simulation, failed."

"Edge too excessive, lost in Harmony."

Sun Wukong pressed his hand on the jade slip, applying slight pressure.

Just a single model, simulated seventy‑three times?!

Each time, he watched a world's birth and destruction with his eyes open?

He suppressed the tremor in his heart and placed the jade slip back where it belonged.

He then picked up a scroll made of some giant beast's hide beside him and unfurled it.

This time, a completely different world appeared.

This is a world where "Painting" is the Dao.

The living beings here are all born painters.

They can use the brush in their hand to make drawings become reality, creating all things out of thin air.

When hungry, they paint a table of exquisite delicacies.

When cold, they paint a warm palace.

The strong can even paint divine dragons and phoenixes, paint the sun, moon, and stars!

This Universe is filled with the joy of creation and peace, without conflict or slaughter.

However, Sun Wukong's heart sank again.

He saw.

He saw the ending of this universe.

Because creation is just too easy.

Desire, is endless.

Today they want a palace, tomorrow they want a fairyland.

One person wants it, ten thousand people want it, hundreds of millions of living beings all want it!

They madly wave their brushes, madly drawing matter and energy from the universe's primordial source.

Finally, one day.

A painter wanted to paint the most ordinary little flower.

He painted it.

But on the canvas, nothing appeared.

The entire universe's "pigment" was completely exhausted.

Laws began to collapse, matter began to dissipate.

Prosperous cities, magnificent mountains and rivers, vibrant life……everything,

All were like faded watercolor paintings, gradually fading, finally disappearing completely.

The entire universe turned into an absolutely blank, deathly still sheet of paper.

At the end of the beast‑skin scroll, there was likewise a line of annotation.

"Creation universe model, 198th simulation, failed."

"Desire without limits, lost balance."

Sun Wukong fell silent.

He put down the beast‑skin scroll.

He then picked up a metal plate inscribed with runes.

That was a universe of mechanical ascension, where all living beings abandoned flesh and blood, pursuing eternal calculation and reason,

Ultimately, due to an irreparable underlying logic bug, all machinery fell into eternal deadlock, and the whole universe became a cold iron tomb.

Annotation: "Logic universe model, 305th simulation, failed. Absolute reason, exterminating vitality."

He then picked up a shell radiating seven‑colored light.

That was a universe where magic reigned supreme, dazzling magic replacing everything, ultimately,

Because uncontrollable magical tides surged, the universe's laws were overwhelmed, falling into chaos.

Annotation: "Magic universe model, 912th simulation, failed. Power out of control, foundations unstable."

A universe where spiritual energy revived……

A universe where everyone cultivates immortality……

A universe where faith confers godhood……

A universe of genetic evolution……

Sun Wukong went through them volume by volume, scroll by scroll.

His movements grew faster and faster!

His divine sense raced wildly through billions of strange, wondrous worlds!

He saw billions of imaginative ideas.

He also saw billions of utterly different endings, all heading toward destruction.

Some were destroyed by their own strength.

Some were destroyed by their own greed.

Some were destroyed by order.

Some were destroyed by chaos.

Each world had once been that brilliant, that full of hope.

Each world, in the Master's simulations, inevitably and irrevocably, marched toward death.

Sun Wukong saw the Master, who, in order to find a perfect path that could let life truly be "sustainable," poured out unimaginable effort!

He saw the Master, and behind each failure, behind those cold annotations, lay how deep a sorrow and loneliness!

Hongjun has his Heavenly Dao, and his enforcers.

But what about the Master?

The Master has nothing.

He has only himself.

Only this exhibition hall of failed creations that has kept him company through endless ages!

Sun Wukong finally stopped.

He no longer looked at any scrolls.

He simply slowly raised his own hands.

He looked at this pair of hands, born from stone, grown between heaven and earth, once having stirred the Three Realms' storms, now seeking to defy the Heavenly Dao Order.

At this moment.

He finally, thoroughly, understood.

He understood what he truly was.

He is not a pawn casually laid down by the Master.

He is not just another of the Master's many failed creations.

He is different.

He is special!

Master, after enduring an untold number—a full ten trillion failures!

After seeing through the inevitable flaws of all "perfect" models!

Master, finally gave up on constructing a so-called "perfect world".

He did the opposite!

He created……the greatest "imperfection"!

He created……something that, from the moment of its birth, was destined to cause trouble,

destined to break every rule, destined to smash all "order" to pieces……

Variable!

He, Sun Wukong!

It is only after Master bore the pain and hope of ten trillion failures that he finally created that most special, most crazy answer!

"So……that's how it is……"

"I, Old Sun……"

"You are Master……the last hope……"

An indescribable sense of pride, mixed with an immensely heavy sense of mission, like a volcano, erupted from Sun Wukong's chest!

He is not a virus!

He is not an error!

He is the cure!

He is the only possibility of survival in this cold universe!