[In the depths of my heart,]

[There is a place,]

[Where I live alone,]

[There are inexhaustible springs.]

[——Bark]

...

The idealist named Su Ming’an began the simulation.

The Supreme Lord also wished to break this increasingly repetitive cat box, lending the authority of "simulation" to Su Ming’an. Under the power of the high dimensions, Su Ming’an drove the Book of the Universe with five authorities, beginning the simulation.

Before this, he asked the people if they wished to stay awake.

Within Luowasha, people cleaning the battlefield, waiting to return home, were overwhelmed by this enormous influx of information, and for a moment, they fell into hesitation and contemplation.

"If you stay awake, you will follow through billions of simulations, until the complexity of the information is sufficient..." Lü Shu muttered to himself.

"If you give up staying awake, in the blink of an eye, we’ll find that we’ve returned home, the cat box is shattered, Su Ming’an has completed everything, and we are already in a free future..." Lin Yin said.

"It’s really tempting, it sounds like all you need to do is close and open your eyes, and it’s all over. The hard part is only on Su Ming’an and the people who stay awake." Anthony shook his head and sighed.

This time, with the assistance of the Supreme Lord, Su Ming’an initiated a vote across the entire scope of the cat box, including some contactable other civilizations.

The final result of the vote was that 3% of the people were willing to stay awake, and 97% hoped the next second would be the future.

After all, compared to the previous vote, this time it concerns their own choices and life.

Su Ming’an respected everyone’s wishes.

He did not strip the wishes of the 3% for the 97%, nor did he disregard the 97% for the 3%. Instead, he let those who wished to stay awake continue to do so, and those who did not wish to face it anymore would not. And, if anyone wished to give up and fall into sleep midway, he would also satisfy them.

The only one without a vote was himself.

...

["Tosolius, Tosolius."]

["The Supreme Lord of the creation of the world, shepherd of Destiny and causality, the ruler of joy and sorrow!"]

["People revere you as the Supreme God, offering you flowers, shaping statues, humming hymns."]

...

"Dada..." Walking in the Cosmic Library, Su Ming’an walked down the pitch-black path, gazing at the vast and boundless bookshelves.

Books were stacked on the shelves, neatly arranged and impressively grand.

One book, one world.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Lü Shu followed him, eyes filled with concern, "In most people’s eyes, it’s just a blink. But for you, it’s truly cycles of reincarnation."

"But you have chosen to awaken." Su Ming’an had seen the results, most of his companions chose to awaken. Even if most of them eventually couldn’t persist till the end and chose sleep in some cycle.

"Lü Shu, if you’re tired, tell me. Your next time opening your eyes will be in the future." Su Ming’an glanced sideways.

"I will accompany you until the last moment, the last simulation."

"We will all accompany you." The voice of Lin Yin and others came from the communication gemstone in Lü Shu’s hand.

Su Ming’an smiled; he himself was of the high dimensions, and with such prolonged time, his companions would ultimately give in, and in the end, he knew it would just be him alone.

He was prepared.

Even before seeing the Supreme Lord, he didn’t expect to do this. But now knowing, there was no much time to hesitate.

He can do it.

He will do it.

——I promise you.

——I promise you all.

"We will make the singing resound, singing freedom, singing a future without deceit."

"When you wake up, it will be a wonderful tomorrow, I promise."

The paths you couldn’t complete, I will carry your souls and finish. If you are tired, just stop; I will carry you forward.

At last, when the day you choose to open your eyes comes... I will let you go, on the lush green grass, on a bright and breezy afternoon, we will meet again among blooming flowers.

I promise, when you open your eyes, even if you can’t see me at first sight, what you will see will certainly be a warm, happy, and peaceful tomorrow.

...

On June 1, 2026, at 21:03:59.

At this moment, people blinked once.

The simulation began.

When they finished that blink, it would be the future after everything ends.

...

——What steps are required to become the "Supreme Lord" of all simulations?

Step one, discard one’s own existence, discard the senses at the physical level, to completely view the entire civilization from the perspective of an "Observer."

Step two, record all life, observing everything about them.

Step three, to create more kaleidoscope-like possibilities, sketch different world lines, almost as if letting people enter different books.

For example, the Minstrel Lü Shu and the Berserker Lin Yin. For example, the knight of the Middle Ages Eni and the Princess Flora. For example, the sea monster Sherry of Western Fantasy and Captain Anger.

Su Ming’an finally grasped the perspective of the Viewer Civilization. In his eyes, everything was happening simultaneously, the progress of civilization was crystal clear before him, needing only his will to adjust the "progress bar," "page number" to achieve it. When his perspective stopped at "which page," "which page" was happening.

During this time, some people who remained awake requested sleep, and Su Ming’an agreed. This was supposed to be his own solitary simulation, so if some people felt weary, they should rest.

Step four, hand over the pen of "constituting the path" to the people themselves.

Aside from initially setting the simulation parameters, Su Ming’an did not interfere during the simulation. He left the creation of the path entirely to the people themselves.

Until mid-stage, he himself no longer set the simulation parameters and let it go completely, taking sole responsibility to observe and record.

In the simulation, worlds will be annihilated, civilizations will perish, sometimes diverging in development direction, even swiftly being obliterated. He watched over all of this, turning these records into volumes of books, stored within the Cosmic Library, waiting to be fed to the brain.

Step five, the most crucial one.

——Leave a clue of one’s inevitable death, trapping time within one’s self.

...

["We are humans. Creative humans advance in the sequence of words, constantly depicting and reflecting the clues they lay down, yet inevitability killed by the gun appearing in the first act."]

["——So I will guard everyone’s ’gun’."]

...

In case other high dimensions intervene midway through the simulation, at least one can trigger Death Rebound, as a fallback, to prevent all from coming to naught.

He walks among the "progress bar," traveling between paragraphs and characters, inviting the awake people to weave thousands of stories, transitioning within the intricate brushwork, navigating the stories of others, residing within the tidal plot.

Advancing in the sequence of words, depicting and reflecting continually the clues he laid down.

In the moment of realizing a crisis, yet being inevitably killed by the gun appearing in the first act.

"Bang!"

Waiting for the arrival of that ultimate moment.

The number of times increased repeatedly, like a lush and thriving World Tree, extending various new sprouts, each completing a simulation, dropping into the Cosmic Library.

Like constructing a bridge across a river, each book, each simulation, each ultimate ending became a brick, layering upon layers, brick by brick... continuously imprinted into a bridge.

As to wait for one day, the bridge completes, and he can tread on the deck, carrying the sleeping people, souls crossing the other shore, towards tomorrow.

The 1st simulation.

The 273rd simulation.

The 3030th simulation.

The 27190th simulation...

A long dream that will not perish.

He let himself sink into this awakened dream.

...

["——But what did you do?"]

["You poisoned the nightingale on the branch, you destroyed the butterfly’s woodland habitat, you made the night disappear—why can’t you grant them the peace of ’self-annihilation’, why can’t you give them the right to ’shoot’?"]

...

In one simulation, as the "Supreme Lord," he was discovered by the people.

At that time, some awakened players struggled to retain their memories, forgetting who he was, and aimed to challenge him, viewing him as the manipulator of destiny.

...

["Close the book now, stop observing those nightingales and butterflies."]

["Return the gun to the people, let them obtain peace and creativity from the code."]

["I will also turn away, no longer repeating the conversation with you... if possible."]

["..."]

["But."]

["——The story will begin anew."]

[——"Tosolius God’s Arrival Eulogy, Fifth Volume"]

...

This made him think for a moment that he had become the Lord of Dreams.

But ultimately, it was different. He never manipulated their destinies, only observed. He came personally in front of these people, told them about past events, and when they remembered, they gradually chose to sleep.

"Seems like... we can’t... hold on anymore..." Flora rubbed her eyes, yawning, "Luckily... remembered... really need to rest..."

"From here on... it’s up to you, Su Ming’an," Anthony said solemnly, "The next moment we open our eyes, you must be there. If you can’t hold on, you also have the freedom to choose..."

This time, it was not the Controller forcing people to kill their awakening to stabilize the Cat Box.

——Instead, people willingly gave up foresight and awakening for his success, actively plunging into ignorance and chaos.

The most interesting part is that in countless simulations, he has observed "himself" many times.

After all, "himself" is also a part of the variables; even if he has no self-awareness, he needs to put this data of himself into it.

Su Ming’an doesn’t control anyone’s life, the only one he controls is himself.

The most interesting part is, to achieve the ultimate goal, he must deal with all the "selves" in the simulation, and make these selves reach the ideal future, not become the current self.

After all, if the simulation is 100% real, then "self," even without self-awareness, for the sake of authenticity, might follow the previous path, discover the Supreme Lord Su Ming’an, and reach the current self.

So, right now, to truly break the Cat Box, he must make these "selves" walk a path outside of "discovering the Supreme Lord." Otherwise, the previous self discovers this current self, and this current self defeats the previous self. Who could have thought, the enemy defeated by the previous self, and the previous self, have entirely the same target.

Thus, the Gray Mist People emerged.

When the simulation reaches the node of the Source Point Trial, it indicates "self" is about to discover oneself. Su Ming’an lets the awakened cover themselves with gray mist to stop this "self."

...

["To ensure you can win... we must stop you," said the Gray Mist People.]

[...What is this contradictory statement?]

["Oh? The face of the Lord of Dreams behind you is so broad, you have to come and collectively test me. If I can’t pass, I don’t deserve to step into His door?" Su Ming’an said.]

["What’s behind us is not the Lord of Dreams," said the Gray Mist People.]

...

Su Ming’an recalled, the batch of Gray Mist People testing him then was essentially the same as now, coming from the hand of the Supreme Lord Tosolius.

The Supreme Lord did not want Su Ming’an to reach His presence but did not want to completely sever the possibility of Su Ming’an shattering the Cat Box, hence sent the Gray Mist People.

And the Gray Mist People in the current simulation were still sent by the Supreme Lord to stop Su Ming’an, essentially the same as back then. However, the former was the "Supreme Lord Su Ming’an," the latter was the code of Su Ming’an with no self-awareness.

Similar, yet different.

Destiny always arrives at similar nodes, making one feel the cyclical repetition.

...

["’You are fortunate.’ ♪"]

["The butterfly in the forest said to him:"]

["’As a young child, you were chosen by civilization.’ ♪"]

["’Happiness fortune landed in the palms of your hands.’ ♪"]

...

The boy lifted the lantern, not choosing any predetermined golden road, walked into the dark forest.

People like frozen beings, without heartbeats, without breaths, no souls, yet presented new possibilities before him time and again.

Brief, lengthy.

Instant, eternal.

Outside, inside.

Sleeping, awake.

In ancient times, everything was simple and pure; now everything is ornate and embellished, as times change, so does the world, and it is inherent in reason.

78,391 times, 102,918 times, 210,381 times...

Numbers lost their meaning, time lost its shape. Su Ming’an walked in the gaps amid countless possibilities.

The awakened people sunk into dreaming one by one. Lü Shu was the last. The white-haired green-eyed young man stood on top of an abandoned tower at the end of a particular simulation, watched the dissipating world below and said——

"Su Ming’an, I am going to blink."

He wanted to hold out till the end, but he wasn’t in high dimensions after all, and he had held on till the very last. He needed to ensure his own soul, ensure that at the last moment Su Ming’an could see him open his eyes.

Though it was regrettable, Lü Shu must leave.

"See you in the next moment." Lü Shu heard that familiar voice by his ear, still that person’s, seemingly unchanged.

"See you in the next moment."

Lü Shu closed his green eyes.

From then on, all those who once walked together had fallen into sleep. Su Ming’an alone continued walking toward the infinitely extending simulation river.

He had seen himself in a world becoming a minstrel, playing the lute through war-torn lands, finally dying in an unknown valley, his corpse covered by wildflowers.

He had seen himself in some possibility becoming a somewhat famous pianist, finally closing his eyes to people’s admiration.

He had seen civilization move along a trajectory, with no Su Ming’an, no one remembering the word "Cat Box," people working at sunrise resting at sunset, life and death, love and hate parting, like a flocking of birds unknowingly trapped in a cage.

He watched it all.

...

[A calm, windless autumn night. You finished a piano score, sat on a rattan chair in your courtyard, feeling warm and tired, as if after a long journey, you finally came home.]

[You slowly closed your eyes, listened to countless notes flowing by your ears, saw the smiling faces of kids.]

[The next day, news spread of the world-renowned pianist, philanthropist Su Ming’an peacefully passing away at home. Your music flowed on the streets. People spontaneously mourned for a great artist.]

...

[After becoming a police officer, you received an urgent intelligence report about a group of fugitives with a large amount of contraband, planning to escape abroad via waterway. You personally led the capture.]

[As the leader, you took charge, injuring one of the suspects. During the fight, you felt several bullets piercing your body, the pain almost made you faint, but you knew you must not let the criminal leap on the pre-prepared speedboat.]

[You burst with the last strength, exerted all your might to pin the criminal dead tight against the boat’s edge. The criminal struggled, dragging you into the icy river. The water seeped into your mouth and nose, vision blurred, strength swiftly dissipating. In the darkness, you seem to see your father approaching in his faded police uniform...]

[With the last bit of consciousness, you tightly locked the criminal’s wrist.]

[Together you sank down, the river swallowed the last ripples.]

[The next day, the news broadcasted your deeds. Since you had no family, your achievements were made known publicly. At your memorial service, countless people came voluntarily, weeping uncontrollably.]

...

[On an autumn evening, as a psychologist you closed your eyes. In this life, you didn’t kill the evil dragon, nor did you save the world. But you took care of many fragmented people.]

[The sun slowly set, the sky grew dark. People found the old man asleep on the bench, peacefully, with a slight smile at the corner of his mouth.]

[They wanted to wake you but found your hand had already cooled.]

[On the day of the funeral, the drizzle was continuous. The line stretched long: victims of online violence who once dared not step outside, the successful middle-aged people who gave up thoughts of suicide under your healing, the young ones whom you funded through their education... People were dressed in plain clothes, holding white flowers, black umbrellas raised, standing quietly in the rain.]

[The children you helped are now the backbone in various industries, they bow deeply to your portrait.]

...

[In a tranquil afternoon of spring, as a game streamer, you leaned against your shelf full of game collections and passed away peacefully.]

[After the news spread, the platform where you were active turned black and white, countless viewers influenced by you spontaneously organized commemorations in the virtual world. In the game "Star Sea," players used light props at the starting point to piece together your avatar; in "Fantasy Continent," players on different servers temporarily ceased fighting, gathering silently in the main city square; your ashes were scattered into the ocean according to your will, drifting away gradually...]

...

Su Ming’an watched all of this.

Belonging to him... an entirely different possibility.

Let the world take its course, let civilizations rise and fall on their own, let the "self" without self-awareness walk, fall, rise, and perish on their own paths.

Sometimes he would wonder, if back then 97% of people chose to wake up, what would have happened? Perhaps they would roam between countless possibilities like him, witnessing countless cycles of life and death, and one day succumb to sleep.

He continued walking, turning each simulated end into a book, placing them in the infinite Cosmic Library.

Books piled higher.

So many that he had long lost count.

Once, he saw a line he had written long ago on the wall—"Remember who you are, remember... this is all just [the next moment]."

The next moment.

Everything is merely, the next moment.

...

["’I want everyone to be happy.’♪"]

["He reached out, dipping his hand into the lamp oil."]

["He lit his pinky finger and walked forward."]

...

Long ago, there was a poet scorned by everyone.

He lived in a mundane world where everything followed a fixed trajectory, even the direction of the wind was fully measured. People worked from sunrise to sunset, sticking to routine, never straying. They believed the land beneath their feet was solid, the sky above was unattainable, and all had ironclad rules.

But the poet did not believe. He had read from his family’s old notes a legend: at the end of the world’s end, in the crevice of time, there exists a "Dream Country." There, gravity does not exist, preset rules are absent, thoughts can float, and dreams can crystallize. The marker to this place is a golden apple that defies gravity, perpetually suspended in mid-air.

People laughed at his foolishness:

"A golden apple? That’s just a fairy tale for kids!"

"Gravity is the law of the world, even deities must abide!"

"Stop dreaming! Honestly, just farm! What’s the use of writing poetry!"

The poet, however, seemed possessed. He always felt that his bleak life lacked something — a certain light possibility. Perhaps that apple could answer all his questions about "why live," "why be confined here."

He uncovered the rusty, tattered armor left by his great-grandfather, polished the breastplate with well water. He found an old clothesline pole, treating it as a spear. He led out the family’s thin, bony horse, combed its sparse mane.

The poet quietly left home, embarking on an adventure everyone predicted to be tragic.

Thus, an odd expedition formed: a poet leading a gaunt horse, a white wolf walking forward, a young man carrying a smoking pipe, and a cat. They moved towards the direction of the legendary "end of the world"—a vast, endless golden desert said to be uncrossable.

They gradually lost their way deep in the desert. The scorching sun, hot wind like knives, lips cracking to bleed. The poet himself reached his limit, vision dimming, his tattered armor as heavy as a thousand pounds.

... Really going to die here?

... No, I am unwilling. I’ve defeated windmills, I’ve saved flocks of sheep, why, I don’t believe in this world there is no such thing as a floating golden apple.

At the brink of consciousness fading to darkness, the poet mustered his last strength, lifting his lead-filled head.

Then, he saw.

Like a mirage.

On a distant outline of green that seemed not to belong to this world, on an unbelievably clear, upside-down ceiling—

An apple, quietly suspended there.

Floating in mid-air, defying common sense, light and stable.

Breaking free from gravity’s shackles, as if mocking all worldly impossibilities.

Beneath the apple’s gleaming skin, a faint reflection of a black-haired young man appeared, his expression serene, eyes profound as though spanning endless time. In his hand, he held a fruit of identical luster.

"So... here it is."

The poet slowly closed his eyes.

He fulfilled his quest.

He achieved his wish.

...

I saw the apple. It’s on the path we’ve walked, on the path we’re about to take.

It has never fallen.

...

["The Sword of Damocles no longer hung in the air (Sword of Damocles).♪"]

["He ignited his palm and walked forward."]

...

"Clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop."

Su Ming’an was building a castle using building blocks.

Squares, triangles, rectangles... endless blocks surged toward him; he accepted them all, constructing them piece by piece.

Pen and eraser were entrusted to humanity’s own hands, within this simulated box, no one interfered with their fate. He waited for them to write diverse futures.

No matter what, he would not drop the Sword of Damocles on them for "whoever made a wrong step," ending their futures.

...

["Prometheus stole fire (Prometheus).♪"]

["He ignited his arm and walked forward."]

...

"...I will see what lies beyond the sky, challenge the ruler above the firmament." Sometimes, those not quite awake look up, gazing at the other shore.

Numerous names linger on murals, along with wars countless times over. Numerous souls wander the ocean, perishing by the sea.

People are like ink trapped in amber, in this pure white sheet, sweeping through folds, flying across pages. And the observer remains silent.

...

["Don Quixote defeated the windmill (Don Quixote).♪"]

["He ignited his chest and walked forward."]

...

Occasionally, predicaments arise. Some futures will repeat again and again, tragedies and endings will occur. And he calmly accepts, waits for civilization to walk out of its plight.

People, like the squires in poems, seek an unseen foe, treating goats and windmills as enemies.

And he remains silent.

...

["Sisyphus pushing the boulder (Sisyphus pushing the boulder).♪"]

["He ignited his legs and walked forward."]

...

He is like Sisyphus, pushing the stone repeatedly, waiting for the height of the stone to grow inch by inch, even if it falls again and again.

From the observer’s perspective, all things exist before his eyes. The past, present, and future all become "pages" visible to the naked eye within his grasp.

At the moment civilization meets its end, some awaken from nightmares of war.

At the moment the Sea Monsters and Soul Hunts fought on the city wall in the seventh instance, the people of the ninth instance had just ended the Dawn War.

At the moment Xiber overturned the Black Wall in the eighth instance, Xiao Xiao just met Wang Zhenzhen in the third instance.

The moment when the players won the decisive battle against the Radiant Mother God, Lü Shu in the first instance opened his eyes.

In the observer’s perspective, everything was like intersecting rivers, thoroughly converging.

...

"This time is good, it can be recorded." Only Chen Qingguang was accompanying him.

The gentle and black-haired young man could always offer appropriate advice. Before becoming the Boss Rabbit, Chen Qingguang was also a hero of civilization, but his life was divided by the World Game into two diverging paths.

"At the end of each World Game, we refer to the person whose thoughts are most aligned and has the highest score as ’Shan Chang Ge.’" Regarding the book in Su Ming’an’s hand, Chen Qingguang personally explained,

"Shan Chang Ge provides us with some development direction suggestions for instances, akin to the opinions of beta players. We then make slight adjustments to the system’s guidance mechanism in the subsequent cycles. This way, the rate of perfect passes in the future will gradually increase."

...

[Su Ming’an was curious about what kind of book the Supreme Lord was reading. He flipped it open and found it was an evaluation of the World Game instances, from the Newbie Dungeon to the fifteenth instance. On the last page was a pink bookmark, written in delicate handwriting: [Return it promptly after finishing! — Chen Qingguang]

[Su Ming’an closed the book cover and glanced at the author’s name — "Shan Chang Ge"]

...

"So that’s how it is; when you wrote this book, you were still a good rabbit, honestly seeking advice from the players," said Su Ming’an.

Chen Qingguang chuckled, "I’m still a good rabbit now."

Su Ming’an thought about the series of ineffable actions by Boss Rabbit and remained noncommittal.

"Meow~" Occasionally, Su Ming’an would see the White Ball dart over and lie beside him for a while.

It was also an Awakener. Su Ming’an already knew. It seemed that when the Lord of Dreams gathered life, race was not considered, and the cat was included.

The little cat understood destiny and the future; the little cat understood everything.

"... It seems the progress is good." Accompanying the white cat, sometimes the silver sparrow would come over as well.

The essence of Holy Initiation had already passed away in Ming Hui; this was indeed a fragment left behind by it. The creator of the small world died for a life within their world... Su Ming’an felt a kind of shock, perhaps this was its way.

It did not intend to intervene in the duel between Su Ming’an and the Lord of Dreams, although it was a friend of the Lord of Dreams, it was also not an enemy to Su Ming’an.

"I am waiting for all of you... to complete the final battle," said the sparrow.

...

["Plato’s Cave has opened a skylight (Allegory of the Cave). ♪"]

["He lit up his head, walking forward."]

...

The 283,912th simulation.

The 419,283rd simulation.

The 920,184th simulation...

The numbers were no longer numbers, like stones at the bottom of rivers, dust on the bookshelves of the library.

Whenever he walked past a row of bookshelves, the books would tremble slightly as if greeting him. He would sometimes stop to extract one, open to a certain page —

On the page, someone was crying.

Someone was laughing.

Someone was being born.

Someone was dying.

He would also manage his own World Game; the "Game Core" previously acquired acted like a mini World Game, as he roamed operations in the Skill Room, Item Room, preparing for the decisive battle.

...

["The Ship of Theseus has reached its end. ♪"]

...

Until the last time.

"The simulation is about to end, 20 minutes countdown, please gather all information, prepare to end authority..."

The "alarm" he had set chimed to remind him it was enough.

At this moment, he somewhat forgot who he was, but soon, he saw a figure.

— Su Qing.

As a card, at this moment Su Qing returned to his side.

"You’re going to the decisive battle, right? Take me with you." Su Qing shrugged, narrowing his eyes at Su Ming’an, "You won’t use that small world either."

He competed against Su Mianbao for power. However, in the end, Su Ming’an walked towards a blank road.

As for the small world, Su Ming’an wanted those willing to return to come back, those not willing to return could continue to live in the small world. Now, being in high dimensions, the small world has limitless potential, and could become a new planet in the future.

Maybe, if one day the planet encounters a crisis, as the World Master, Su Mianbao might finally become the new World Tree... who knows.

Su Qing and Su Jingtang were clones from the first World Game. They went with Hui Bai and others to Luowasha, during the subsequent reincarnations, his clones were Ming and Shadow.

Up to now, he knew their essence — aspects of himself once forgotten, etched out by the Lord of Dreams from the endgame within the Cat Box, becoming clones. Through the mechanism of "Game", intentionally sent to observe his every move.

Their initial purpose was indeed as spies for the Lord of Dreams, yet they themselves were unaware.

In the first World Game, Su Qing and Su Jingtang defied and escaped a kind of yoke, gaining independent life and names. But Ming and Shadow... the hometown they longed for, ultimately was an illusion.

They were destined never to return home.

The homeland in their eyes, was merely a mirage reset by the Cat Box, untouchable.

Su Ming’an overlooked.

This last simulation, like many simulations, the civilization still ended in tragedy, calamities and disasters, corpses everywhere. However, all of this was over, merely the end of one Awakened person’s journey for Su Ming’an.

"Su Qing, I once thought... I’d die within people’s flowers and blessings, but in the end I realized... it turns out, I eternally exist atop everyone’s corpses." He whispered.

He would never die again.

He once thought he would perish the moment the World Game concluded, like a pioneer lighting a torch in the night, falling in the final moment before dawn, closing his eyes in warm golden sunshine. But now he had seen all the corpses, all the deaths, all the endings.

After countless reincarnations, he still endured perpetually.

A certain page floated before his eyes, he reached out to catch it, just in time to see a segment that read — "The nightingale is still singing."

In the momentary blurred memory, ripples gradually resurfaced, recalling much.

About nightingales.

About butterflies.

About who he was.

97% of the people willing to close their eyes.

Friends who said "see you in the next moment."

The one who stood in front of the shattered Cat Box at the very beginning and asked the question.

"— Do you wish to remain awake?"

The everlasting romanticism of the idealistic universe was personally transformed into reality by him.

If the ideal truly existed in reality, serving as the foundational base of reality — then should reality be called ideal? Or does ideal belong to reality?

At the moment he ended the simulation, countless books flew up into the wind, as if the Cosmic Library welcomed a brand-new day —

He broke the endless Cat Box within the universe.

...

"Good night, Supreme Lord."

"Awaken, Su Ming’an."

...

— To bring back an awakened world for the people.

— To cause the eternally unreachable "next moment" to truly occur.

...

["The forgotten Red Cloak Boy smiled happily in the fire for the last time... ♪"]

...