Chapter 998

The Final Proposition: What Is Given

Afraid? Somewhat; desperate? Probably too.

But the despair and fear here are merely reactions to the vast, absurd truth of this universe—a small thing lost before the grand, a low dimension stunned by the higher.

When the gods descended, many realized mortals were but dust in the cosmos, puppets in a toy pile; even discussing the [Source Primordial] now merely raises the dimension of the controller further.

Fireflies cannot rival the moon is fact; replacing the moon with a giant sun still fails to shock as profoundly as the first sight of the moon.

Humans have limited capacity to empathize with macro-narratives, yet they often find their own resonance in the smallest details.

Cheng Shi knew this well, and knew that human fear never stems from what is seen, but resides within the heart itself—external things merely trigger this fear.

So, at the end, after unveiling the cosmic truth to the clowns, Cheng Shi brought back the urgency of the present.

He walked back beside the [Fate] tombstone, tracing the texture of the two characters, and asked in an utterly calm voice:

“How do you all view the given? The given of [Fate].”

Though [Fate] is also a god, the leap from the grand [Source Primordial] experiment to the “narrow” given of [Fate] is indeed enormous.

Those still stunned frowned; Long Wang paused before saying: “Is this tied to your fear?”

“You noticed?” Cheng Shi turned and smiled.

Long Wang nodded gravely: “Yes. I feel it.”

“How?”

“Funny thing—after hearing you out, I too felt a fear I couldn’t control.”

“So when I say I feel it, I don’t mean I felt your fear—I felt my own. By extension, whatever suppresses you so long is likely the same thing.”

Cheng Shi laughed, nodded, and sat back atop the [Fate] tombstone.

“Yes, I am afraid. And the source of that fear is the given of [Fate].”

“Is this universe’s experiment tied to [Fate]?” Qin Xin frowned.

“Not tied to [Fate]—but tied to the given!”

“?”

All turned their heads, for this sharp reply was not from Cheng Shi—but from Long Jing!

The acrobat had held back too long. Throughout Cheng Shi’s revelation, he’d wanted to interject, prove he’d known all this already. But Cheng Shi’s pacing was too good, the telling too compelling—he’d listened to the whole thing without realizing. And the finer details were beyond him, so he waited and waited, never getting his chance.

Now, at the moment Cheng Shi spoke of “the given,” Long Jing knew his moment had come!

Another Cheng Shi had repeatedly mentioned “the given” when advising him. Now he understood “the given” better than anyone. This was finally his spotlight moment—especially on this clown stage!

Even Cheng Shi looked at Long Jing with slight surprise, but he’d already guessed what the man would say. Fine—he’d hear how the other world’s self explained this inescapable given.

Seeing all eyes on him, Long Jing slipped instantly into Gong’s performance posture and spoke with a mysterious tone:

“I already said—I was summoned by the Hourhand, and by chance, I resolved the misunderstanding between Foolplay and the Hourhand.”

“Because of that, I was granted an opportunity in that summoning.”

Opportunity?

Qin Xin raised an eyebrow and smiled: “Fusion with [Time]?”

Long Jing’s face stiffened. This was a big revelation, enough to shock everyone—but Qin Xin had guessed it before he even spoke. Now she brought it up again; it was like salt in his wound.

“...Fusion of faith was only part of it. The most important thing was I received a guidance from [Time].”

“The content of this guidance? It was to cross the barrier of time and space, and meet another...”

Long Jing paused, stole a glance at Cheng Shi, then took a deep breath:

“...me. Another me!”

“?”

At this, Cheng Shi nearly burst out laughing—he’d already guessed Long Jing’s meaning.

Clearly, the acrobat was determined to strip all “Cheng Shi elements” from this guidance, to build his own image as mysterious and all-knowing. Perhaps only this could wash away the clown impression he’d left in everyone’s minds.

But could it really be this simple?

Don’t forget—the clowns here are sharper than each other. Could they not see through it?

Of course they could. Until now, everyone approached new information with caution. Clowns knew liars’ words were least trustworthy—but after multiple verifications, truth could still be found.

So now, the mood was: you speak your piece, I listen mine. I don’t care what agenda you push—I only take what I want to know.

Amid this mix of sincerity and deceit, Long Jing continued his “spotlight” moment.

“That world was terrible—because the [Time] they worshipped had perished.”

“What!?” Everyone’s eyes widened. Cheng Shi’s too—faked.

“[Time] perished?”

“Yes. Unlike our [Prosperity], which is dead, their [Time] vanished.”

“But not entirely. Under the Jester God’s manipulation, all beings bore the divine authority of [Time]. Players, burdened with age, wandered, and after countless attempts, found ways to link to other slice universes.”

“I don’t know if their efforts prompted our world’s Hourhand to respond—but He did send me to meet that... myself.”

“The other me told me they’d contacted countless worlds, tried countless methods, yet still found no ‘answer,’ because the only god who knew the ‘answer’—[Time]—was gone.”

“Their world had nearly lost all hope.”

“And this ‘answer,’ the other me guessed, was becoming a ‘successful sample’ in this cosmic slice experiment.”

“He said the given of [Fate] is likely this: if our slice universe fails, we’ll be discarded as waste samples by the experiment’s host.”

“But if our slice universe succeeds...”

Here, Long Jing suddenly paused. A fear surfaced in him, unbidden.

He’d run these ideas through his mind countless times these past days. He’d grown numb to these “truths.” So why did fear rise now?

More interestingly, no one knew why he paused. As sharp as Qin Xin, she instantly guessed what he’d say next. Her eyes darkened as she spoke:

“...If it succeeds, this world will be picked up by [Him], becoming the ‘lucky one’ facing the ultimate.”

“Whether this luck is real... I suspect it’s not the luck we imagine.”

Long Jing recovered, and nodded in rare agreement:

“Correct. No one knows where a successful world leads. And the unknown is fear. Compared to true destruction, facing the experiment’s host may be even more terrifying. So he said:”

“This is the given of [Fate]. Whether good or bad, all worlds sink into fear, and the cosmos will return to [Source...”

“!!!”

Long Jing cut himself off mid-word, froze, then broke into cold sweat.

Others who heard the word also tensed. Cheng Shi’s scalp prickled, his fingers already poised to snap.

He glared at Long Jing, wishing he could sew his mouth shut. Sensing the Weaver’s gaze, Long Jing shrank back, forcing a stiff, hollow laugh.

“Didn’t... say it out loud. Shouldn’t... be a problem?”

Hmph. Hope not. Otherwise, the clowns might die before even stepping on stage.

Everyone waited anxiously for a moment. When no reaction came, they relaxed, and resumed pondering Long Jing’s words on the given.

Cheng Shi frowned deeply. This was the first time he’d heard what the other version of himself had said. Whether true or false, most of it was likely true—it matched what he knew.

The only difference: Cheng Shi’s concept of the given swung between [Deception]’s apocalypse and [Fate]’s offering. The other Cheng Shi saw the given as success or failure in the [Source Primordial] experiment.

Two perspectives—large and small—but both Cheng Shis agreed on one thing: the given was inevitably a tragedy.

This, Cheng Shi had guessed long ago, when Cheng Dashi “returned.” Now, with greater understanding of the cosmos, it was finally confirmed.

So every world’s Cheng Shi sought ways to break the given, sought hope to sustain their world. Yet, as far as known, no one had succeeded.

Thinking of this, Cheng Shi’s fear stirred again, darkening his brow.