Chapter 430: All your struggle……is meaningless

That voice saying "Come over……sit" was like a thread thrown from the far shore, echoing in Shí hóu's mind countless times.

Then it was gone.

After the voice disappeared, the Study's image also gradually turned into light dust, which the darkness then ate clean.

Shí hóu reached out to grasp the outline of the broken table, his fingers passing through emptiness.

Nothing remained.

The darkness wrapped him up tightly again.

But this time, Shí hóu did not panic.

He sat cross-legged, one hand steady on his chest.

The point of light jumped.

Once.

Again.

Much stronger than before, like a small charcoal fire burning brightly.

That persistent voice—had disappeared.

One cycle passed.

Two cycles.

Three cycles.

Shí hóu just sat there, counting each beat of his chest.

There were no images to deceive him, no voices to persuade him, not even the darkness itself, which was silent as if dead.

Shí hóu instead curled his lips.

Are you anxious?

Or have you become timid?

At the start of the fourth cycle, the darkness changed.

A mass of light lit up in the distance.

It was not the warm, reddish-gold hue inside his chest.

It was grayish-white.

Like the face of a corpse soaked for three days.

Shí hóu's eyes narrowed.

From the gray light emerged a figure lacking features, without a face, merely a conglomeration of grayish-white light shaped like a human, barely having an outline.

It walked up to Shí hóu.

Then it knelt down.

Its posture was respectful.

It was humble.

Like an old servant who had served his master all his life.

Shí hóu did not move.

He just watched.

The humanoid figure spoke.

Its voice was exactly the same as before—calm, composed, but with something added.

Like someone who finally stopped hiding their cards and laid them out for you to see.

"I never intended to harm you."

Shí hóu's face was expressionless.

"I just wanted you to see."

The figure raised its faceless face: "Seeing the end of your struggle."

Shí hóu did not interject.

He also placed his other hand on his knee, his upper body slightly leaning forward, like a wild monkey crouched on a branch, eyes fixed on its prey.

Cold, vigilant.

The humanoid figure did not mind his silence.

It extended a similarly grayish-white hand and slowly drew a line in the void.

A point of light lit up at the left end of the line.

Small, weak, but desperately spilling light outward.

Like a newborn star just exploded out of the darkness.

The right end of the line—nothing at all.

Absolute emptiness.

Emptier than darkness.

An emptiness where even the color black does not exist.

"This is the fate of all existence."

The humanoid figure's voice had no emotional fluctuation.

"From birth……to destruction."

Its finger traced from the left end to the right end.

"Whatever happens in between—war or peace, love or betrayal, building dynasties and destroying them, creating legends and forgetting them."

The finger came to rest on that absolute void at the right end.

In the end, everyone will walk here.

Shihou's eyebrow twitched.

He couldn't recall any word like 'heat death'.

But his body understood the meaning that line conveyed.

Everything, in the end, will die.

No matter how you struggle.

There is only one endpoint.

The humanoid withdrew its hand, kept its kneeling posture, and its tone gained a hint of something almost like pity.

"Your master... understands this principle."

Shihou's pupils contracted.

"He chose 'No Regret'. Not because he won."

The humanoid's voice was pressed low, like sharing a cruel secret.

"Because he knows he can never win."

"'No Regret' is not courage."

"It's the last lie a person who loses completely tells himself."

Shihou's teeth clenched.

Anger.

Scalding, head-to-toe anger surged up from his chest.

He wanted to open his mouth and curse.

He wanted to shout, 'Bullshit!'

But that phrase got stuck in his throat, neither going down nor coming up.

Because something else rose up faster than anger.

Doubt.

What could he use to refute?

He couldn't even pronounce the two words 'master' fully.

He only had the character 'master', the smell of an old scroll, and a cup of tea forever cold.

With just these fragments, how could he be certain the other was lying?

The humanoid saw through him.

It stood up, stepped back two steps, its posture open and honest like a good person who just did a good deed.

"Do you think that point of light in your chest is 'hope'?"

Shihou pressed his hand against his chest.

"No."

The humanoid shook its faceless head.

"That's the last piece of driftwood thrown by a drowning person."

"It's not calling you."

"It's dragging you under."

Shihou's breathing grew rough.

"Your master stuffed his last unwilling breath into your soul. With your life, he continues the gamble he already lost."

The humanoid's voice was so light it didn't sound like an accusation, more like an elder telling a junior a bitter story.

"You are not the chosen hero."

"You are merely a pawn thrown onto the board."

"Used up... then gone."

Shihou's lips trembled.

He opened his mouth once.

No sound.

He opened it again.

Still no sound.

His mind was a mush.

He wanted to say 'no'.

But he couldn't pick out which word in what the other said was wrong.

He remembered nothing.

There was nothing.

A withered, weak stone monkey, not even sure what his original name was.

On what basis should he 'believe'?

On a cup of cold tea?

On a single character?

On an indescribable scent?

On what?

The humanoid had seen enough of his struggle.

It stepped back another step, spread its hands, and made a 'whatever' gesture.

I won't force you.

You can keep believing.

Keep chasing that point of light.

It turned its back to the Stone Monkey, its voice drifting out from the gray light, carrying a certainty that chills the spine.

When you get to the end, you'll find——

It does not lead to reunion.

It is another, deeper Prison.

By then……

The gray light began to dissipate.

The humanoid outline melted into the darkness bit by bit.

The last words were tossed over, light and airy, yet they struck like a blow to the bones.

……You won't even have the right to regret.

And then there was nothing.

The Stone Monkey sat alone in the void.

His two hands clenched tightly onto the fur on his knees.

He gripped so hard that several monkey hairs were ripped out at the root, without even feeling the pain.

Two voices in his head were fighting.

One shouted: Trust him!

That cup of tea is real!

That word is real!

That warmth is real!

The other sneered: So what if it's real?

What does it matter that you sincerely wait for me?

Is waiting for you to go get yourself killed even called waiting?

The Stone Monkey lowered his head.

The point of light on his chest was still jumping.

But something was off.

It would flare—then dim.

Flare—then dim again.

Like an Oil Lamp blown by the wind, its wick askew, about to gutter out.

The Stone Monkey pressed his forehead to his knees, curling his whole body into a ball.

He was trembling.

Not from cold.

It was a sense of weakness seeping out from the gaps in his bones.

The feeling of "you've run yourself ragged to get here, only to find that ahead might be a cliff."

Darkness enveloped him in silence.

The light on his chest flickered, growing weaker each time.