Chapter 976: Originally, They Were Called the Firebearers

Originally, they were called the Firebearers.

“?”

Cheng Shi furrowed his brow slightly but remained silent.

“It seems you didn’t know.”

After Zhao Xiaogua came of age, he returned to the orphanage once with his pocket money and donated it all—nearly equal to the orphanage’s annual expenses—without asking for anything in return.

It was then that Ahgua proposed helping you, because he still remembered how kind you had been to him back at the orphanage.

Your orphanage director was also an interesting man: he smiled broadly when taking the money, but kept dodging questions about you. I don’t know what story lay behind it, but under Ahgua’s insistence, the orphanage eventually helped him find your father...

Hmm, it seems you didn’t know either—Zhao Xiaogua once donated money to your father.”

“???”

There was that too?

Why didn’t I ever see that money? Did the old man steal it himself?

Cheng Shi blinked, the image of his father—the man “exceptionally good at saving money”—floated back into his mind.

Sun Miao had done this on purpose; he paused for a long time, watching Cheng Shi’s reactions closely until he saw nothing worth noting, then reluctantly continued:

“Your father refused him and said:

‘A man with hands and feet can earn his own food and drink; how much he earns doesn’t matter, but he doesn’t need donations, let alone charity.’

‘That money would be better spent saving a few more children who truly need saving.’

I suspect it was hearing those words that inspired Ahgua, and from then on, he conceived the idea of running his orphanage support fund.”

Hearing this, Cheng Shi’s smile suddenly brightened—it sounded exactly like something the old man would say.

Seeing the “memory” bloom on Cheng Shi’s face, Sun Miao nodded silently inside: Indeed, this Weaver of Fate values only his one remaining kinship.

But then Cheng Shi frowned again. “You’ve seen too much, Wise One. Do historians from your school really dig into past memories across individuals?”

Sun Miao seemed to sense Cheng Shi’s doubt; he scowled and shook his head.

“Don’t misunderstand. This isn’t about probing your past. The corpse was reduced to ash, and the memories were shattered beyond repair—I had to use some rare methods to expand the memory carrier just to retrieve this fragment.”

But now it’s clear I got the worse end of this deal. These methods are finite—used once, gone forever—and all I dug up from Du Qiyu’s past were trivial scraps.

Deputy Director Cheng, don’t you think you owe me some compensation for this?”

“?” Cheng Shi glanced sideways at Sun Miao and smirked oddly. “Did I ever tell you to dig into Xiaoqi’s memories?”

“...”

“Did I ever ask you to tell me Xiaoqi’s story?”

“...”

“If I didn’t, why should I compensate you for your overwhelming urge to share?”

On the contrary, Deputy Director Sun—you forcibly injected so much contamination into my memories. Can I ask you for compensation?”

“???”

Come on, bro...

Sun Miao was once again stunned by Cheng Shi’s audacity. He flared his nostrils, glaring at Cheng Shi with indignation, thinking the last time he’d been treated like this was when facing Zhen Yi.

Sure enough, anyone who hangs out with someone surnamed Zhen must have a reason.

Seeing Sun Miao’s face darken, Cheng Shi shook his head and chuckled.

“Enough, Deputy Director Sun. We’re both thousand-year-old foxes—no need for new tales from the Liaozhai.”

I’m not one of your gullible organization members. You don’t really think I believe you found nothing, do you?”

Don’t forget—I’m a believer in [Deception]. Lying to me is meaningless.”

“...”

Sun Miao’s eyes flickered with something strange. After a moment of silence, he spoke again:

“Originally, they were called the Firebearers.”

“?”

When Cheng Shi heard the words “Firebearers,” his pupils contracted sharply for an instant.

He wasn’t afraid Sun Miao knew of the Firebearers’ existence—after all, the man had already sensed it, just not their name. What puzzled him was why Xiaoqi’s memories contained the Firebearers!

Could Xiaoqi possibly be a Firebearer?

What fire would he carry? The fire of rage?

Impossible. No Seeker of Fire would ever notice Xiaoqi, let alone recruit him into the Firebearers. So there was only one explanation: Xiaoqi had encountered the Firebearers—and perhaps even killed one.

Suddenly, Cheng Shi recalled what Xie Yang had said about that little Yuan. Was that player, unwilling to let others bear painful memories, guarding something beautiful?

At this thought, Cheng Shi’s expression grew cold.

Beast Tamer. May you die well.

“You clearly understand them well.”

Sun Miao studied Cheng Shi, unaware that Cheng Shi was quietly studying him too.

Cheng Shi thought: since the man already knew of the Firebearers, why not try to consolidate the resources he held?

From what he knew of the Firebearers, Sun Miao could never become one himself. So Cheng Shi didn’t intend to make him a Firebearer—he wanted to turn the Wise One into a spy planted among them.

Yes. A spy.

As always: when I’m powerless, I protect myself. But when I can lend a hand, I never deny I still have a heart that yearns for something good.

Now, with his knowledge surpassing ordinary players and his access to divine veins beyond common understanding, Cheng Shi finally felt he could help the Firebearers.

I may not be the torch that carries the flame, but at least I can stand in the dark where the light doesn’t reach, shielding the dying ember from the wind.

Given Sun Miao’s “greed” for information, he would inevitably seek out the Firebearers through every means possible. In return, Cheng Shi could trade information to indirectly learn their movements.

And though Sun Miao had nothing to do with “goodness,” he wasn’t “evil.” He distrusted [Corruption] and refused to collude with the Worshipers of Divinity. Merely doing that one thing made him a “good” man in a world ruled by strength and driven by desire.

This was the only strategy Cheng Shi could conceive that wouldn’t entangle him too deeply with the Firebearers.

If he directly learned their movements through the Blind Man, Zhen Xin, or the Firebearers themselves, it would only bind both sides in an awkward, inescapable tie—endangering the Firebearers with the Fear Faction’s threat and shackling his own steps, forcing him to hesitate at every turn.

So integration and cooperation were never Cheng Shi’s choices. Silent observation was the undisputed best way.

Seeing Cheng Shi fall silent for a long time, Sun Miao paused, then resumed his earlier topic.

“Since you understand them so well, do you know Zhao Xiaogua was also a member of this organization?”

“!?”

This time, Cheng Shi was truly shaken. His voice dropped low.

“You mean...”

“Yes. He died at Du Qiyu’s hands.”

Merely because he ‘stole’ Du Qiyu’s life, he became Du Qiyu’s Beast during the Trial.

Originally, Zhao Xiaogua was Du Qiyu’s most prized creation—but recently, another player seeking vengeance destroyed him. By sheer coincidence, you missed the chance to meet him again.”

“...Deputy Director Sun, you don’t need to make your lamentations sound so [foolishly sentimental]. It’s asking for a punch.”

“Is that worse than you asking me for compensation for my overwhelming urge to share?”

“...”

“Fine. Since you won’t say, let’s drop it. But here—take this.”

Sun Miao handed over a bloodstained bone knife. Cheng Shi stared at it in shock—he recognized it instantly as the tool Xiaoqi used to end his own life.

“Your loot. Consider it compensation for my excessive sharing.” The Wise One clearly didn’t want to admit the latter, but if this could close the chapter, so be it. “You left it on the scene untouched—clearly you didn’t know what it was.”

“Skinning Bone Knife, SS-Class Artifact of [Death]. It nullifies all resurrection attempts. Supposedly, it was the favored weapon of the world’s first Bone-Skinner, and since then, every Bone-Skinner has dreamed of possessing it.”

The first Bone-Skinner?

Cheng Shi blinked, thinking: Could it be...

“Garuda?”

Sun Miao stared at Cheng Shi for a long time, his expression strange—until Cheng Shi reached out to snatch the knife. Only then did Sun Miao grunt.

“Fascinating. You know little of history, even less about artifacts—but when it comes to Them...

You act as if you know everything.”

Cheng Shi, your identity seems far from simple.”

“...”

Coincidence. Do you believe it?

If not... use your imagination.

Cheng Shi smiled and accepted the gift from the Lord of [Death], offering no further reply to Sun Miao’s probing.

Seeing that Cheng Shi wouldn’t speak, Sun Miao decisively abandoned his speculation.

“A hunt born in the Trial, strangled by desire. Indeed, only the self can judge desire.”

The Trial is nearly over. If you’re in no hurry to leave, come with me to witness Delvor’s victory.”

Since he’d come this far, he might as well witness this piece of history.

Cheng Shi shook off his scattered thoughts, nodded, and gave Sun Miao a meaningful look.

“You’ve got nothing else to ask?”

Sun Miao tilted his chin slightly and grunted. “No.”

“Then let’s go.”

Cheng Shi turned and walked toward the battlefield—but hadn’t taken two steps when Sun Miao’s voice came again from behind.

“Fool’s Play... was it real or fake?”

Hearing the name Fool’s Play, Cheng Shi slowly curled his lips.

Finally, it’s hooked.

If you, the head of intelligence, won’t help me spread Yu Xi’s name, all this time I’ve spent listening to the story would’ve been wasted.

I’ve never cared what Xiao Qi’s past was—I only care what kind of future Yu Xi will have.

So, has the School of History prepared to record this mysterious [Void] as a god?