Thank you @Shoz for the Kofi.
Origin
Chapter 671: The contract is established
One drop.
And another drop.
His vision blurred rapidly.
Large teardrops fell uncontrollably, smashing against Wu Zhu’s pale, heaving shoulders and back, flowing into the depths of the black curse marks.
“Okay, enough, I know… Stop talking.”
Wen Jianyan heard his own voice ring in his ears.
His expression was practically non-existent, and even his voice maintained a consistent calmness and rationality—if one ignored the tears continuously welling from his eyes, he looked just as calm as he did every other time he encountered a crisis.
“I don’t care what is written on it. To me, it’s just another damn obstacle, a conspiracy waiting for me to solve it, and that’s enough… Although you haven’t remembered yet, let me tell you, I can overcome no matter how difficult the obstacle is, let alone this one!—I can save you. Aren’t you still outside the mirror? That means the ritual isn’t over yet. As long as it isn’t over, we still have a chance…”
Wu Zhu stayed close to him, pressing his forehead against his.
His skin grew even colder.
The black curse marks deepened at a speed visible to the naked eye. Under that endless torment, his skin split open time and time again, healed rapidly, and split open once more. Invisible chains were condensing, eventually binding deeply into his bones and blood—that was a torment even a formidable non-human body couldn’t withstand. If it were a human, they probably wouldn’t survive a single instant under such agony.
Cold fingers brushed across Wen Jianyan’s cheek, wiping away his tears over and over again.
“Don’t cry…”
He repeated softly.
“Don’t cry.”
“Shut up.” Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth, masochistically suppressing all his emotions deep in his throat. “Shut up!!”
His voice was like a bowstring pulled to its absolute limit, carrying a neurotic tremor. His forced calmness began to fragment, like fragile ice over an ocean current, “Don’t worry, I can think of a way, I can always think of a way…”
Yes, he could always think of a way.
No matter how difficult the predicament, how terrifying the dead end, it was never a problem for him—he could save him, he could save him, he would definitely save him this time—
Like a stubborn, skinny little child, crouching all alone on the ground, desperately, futilely, over and over again trying to dig out his own treasure from the sand, refusing to give up even when his hands were drenched in blood.
Wu Zhu’s fingers fell, holding his hand within his cold palm.
His strength clearly wasn’t great.
He just held it so gently, yet it seemed like some invisible shackle, far more impossible to break free from than any forceful grip.
He pulled Wen Jianyan towards him.
“…”
Wen Jianyan froze and subconsciously looked up; the words he had yet to speak choked back into his throat.
He realized that the other was currently pulling his hand towards his chest, placing it over his left ribs—that was the end of the final stroke he had just guided Wen Jianyan to trace.
It was the position of the heart.
In his daze, Wen Jianyan’s fingers touched the familiar sound of a heartbeat.
Thump, thump… Thump, thump…
Slow and weak, vibrating gently deep within Wu Zhu’s chest cavity. Just like the first time he touched it, it made his fingertips go numb and his heart tremble.
In an instant, Wen Jianyan only felt an ominous thought strike his mind like lightning. Before he even had time to think about where this thought came from, an intense panic began to inexplicably ferment from the bottom of his heart: “Wait, hey, what are you doing…”
He heard his own voice trembling.
“Listen to me…”
Wu Zhu’s fingers abruptly tightened.
Guiding his trembling fingers, deeper, bit by bit, slowly.
“Stop, let me go!!”
Wen Jianyan began to struggle frantically with all his might. He pushed angrily at Wu Zhu’s shoulders, trying to yank his fingers back.
But no matter what, he couldn’t break free from the other’s iron-like shackles.
His fingers sank little by little into warm flesh and blood.
“Don’t—Don’t—”
The young man’s voice could no longer maintain its superficial calmness, shattering and pitching up in a breakdown.
“Wu Zhu!!!!”
Suddenly, from some unknown moment, Wen Jianyan froze.
Even though he was struggling frantically just a second ago, everything seemed to be nailed in place. As if he had forgotten how he had tried with all his might to escape the other’s restraints just now, he just stiffened there, motionless.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
He felt something scalding hot and moist gently fall into his palm.
Like a wet, fleeting kiss.
Only then did Wu Zhu finally let go.
“…Keep it safe.” Wu Zhu’s voice rang in his ears, very soft, so soft it almost sounded like sleep talking. “Otherwise, you won’t be able to leave this place.”
This place was a land of malice that would devour all living creatures, and nameless monsters were about to descend upon this world… When the last remaining candlelight extinguished, true darkness would arrive. So He had to ensure that the one He loved… was spared from sinking deep into such a predicament.
“…”
Just like that, Wen Jianyan slowly, bit by bit, lowered his head and looked into his palm.
His fingertips and palm were dyed a glaring gold by fresh blood, and amidst that large swath of dazzling, brilliant gold lay a beautiful… sparkling… heart-shaped… golden gemstone.
Just like the past. Lost and found.
Wen Jianyan only felt the blood in his body go cold in an instant, freezing from head to toe.
…So that was it.
Wu Zhu had countless fragments, carried by countless mirrors and scattered into different instances. But the only piece left on the Lucky Cruise was a complete, intact heart. But how could those people possibly have the ability and the qualification to cut open a god’s body and take His heart out? —What’s more, given the Nightmare’s vigilance towards Him, after sealing Him inside the mirror, how could it possibly dare to touch Him again?
Unless, this was something He had personally cut out of Himself from the very beginning.
All the gears matched one by one. Those details he had forgotten interlocked with each other at this moment, fitting perfectly together. It seemed everything was meant to be this way, a matter of course.
It turned out that all along, what he had been participating in was established reality.
Or rather, it was precisely because of his existence that the world operated this way.
Everything was in vain… all his struggles were merely a necessary link in pushing history toward its established path.
A curse in the name of a human imprisoned the god in a shattered mirror.
He thirsted for his blood.
With every drop he obtained, he recovered some power.
—The head of the Ouroboros bit its tail.
—Fate could not be altered.
“………………”
Wen Jianyan sat blankly in place, unmoving, all the strength in his body seemingly vanishing in an instant.
After gouging out the heart, the speed at which Wu Zhu’s body was eroding seemed to accelerate instantly. His body began to turn transparent at a visible speed, as if being pulled away from this space bit by bit by some invisible force.
“Done…”
The god, covered in curse marks and on the verge of death, touched his face.
With just a light touch, the cold fingers dropped down powerlessly, leaving only a few golden streaks of blood on Wen Jianyan’s cheek.
“Go.”
Wen Jianyan was awakened from his daze by his movement. He looked up, examining the other with a blank gaze, as if he hadn’t yet pulled himself out of his previous train of thought.
He stared blankly at Wu Zhu’s eyes and saw his own shattered expression reflected deep within them.
Wen Jianyan opened his mouth, barely squeezing half a trembling syllable out of his throat.
“You…”
And then? What was he going to say?
Why did you—How could you—You absolute—brainless—damn—
You, you, you.
“Go.” The other urged.
“………………”
The fingers dyed golden by fresh blood tightened uncontrollably until the hard edges of the gemstone sank deeply into his palm, bringing a tearing pain.
The self-protection he was so accustomed to, and the only thing he was good at, began to disintegrate. Countless frantic, chaotic, unfamiliar emotions accumulated deep within his chest. Old and new mixed together, expanding to the limit, and finally erupting like a burst dam—!
Wen Jianyan’s eye sockets burned red with anger, his eyes shining brightly under the tumbling of intense emotions.
He abruptly reached out, grabbed the other, and crashed his whole body into Him.
“…Go?”
“Go!!?? Fine, okay, alright, no problem, you just wait…” He spoke incoherently, wishing he could dump all the most vicious words he knew in his life onto Him all at once. “Once I leave here alive, I’ll forget you completely in the blink of an eye, and then immediately, right away, without stopping for a moment, go find someone else to talk about love! I’ll find a fucking ten, a hundred, a thousand at once—”
Accompanied by his curses, warm droplets of water smashed down one after another, falling on Wu Zhu’s shoulders and back, flowing into the increasingly deep wounds on his body, then passing through his already transparent body to land on the ground, leaving a wet circular mark.
Wu Zhu looked at him without blinking.
Suddenly, his increasingly transparent body erupted with its final strength. He lunged forward and pressed his lips against Wen Jianyan’s, sealing all the rest of his words with a kiss.
The hand Wen Jianyan used to tightly grip his shoulder tightened spasmodically.
This was a kiss filled with the scent of blood and the salty bitterness of tears.
Intense, brief, suffocating.
In the chaotic darkness, Wu Zhu’s eyes were as bright as blazing fire. His voice was very low, hoarse, and weak, yet inexplicably soul-stirring:
“…Liar.”
In the pitch-black sky, the already scarce gray began to fade at a visible speed, as if the light enveloping this world was rapidly extinguishing.
The bottomless, endless darkness gradually spread from a corner of the sky.
It was time to go.
There was nothing left to do here.
The Nightmare arrived by ship. Wu Zhu gouged out his own heart with his own hands, lost his memories, and was thus imprisoned in the shattered mirror. These shards would then be sent to different places, serving as furnace cores to continuously supply power to the instances. And after who knows how many years, they would meet again in that lake.
Nothing had changed.
But it didn’t matter. Even if nothing had changed, it didn’t matter. Wen Jianyan had always been an optimistic person. He knew that the future was still waiting for him; none of this would be the end.
The most important thing right now was to find a way back to his own timeline.
So it was time to go.
He had to leave now.
…
Wen Jianyan stood rigidly in place, his lapels covered in golden blood that hadn’t yet dried.
He lowered his eyes, staring blankly at the empty space in front of him.
Why?
Why…
Wen Jianyan slowly raised his hand, belatedly pressing his hand against his left chest.
Even though he wasn’t the one whose chest and abdomen had been cut open, his chest felt as if a massive hole had been gouged out of it, continuously bleeding dark blood. A freezing wind howled as it poured in, echoing hollowly.
…It hurts.
He uncontrollably curled up his body, as if only by doing so could he withstand that menacing, irresistible pain.
…It hurts so much.
Suddenly, staggering footsteps came from behind.
That sound seemed exceptionally abrupt in the dead silence, snapping Wen Jianyan back to his senses almost instantly.
Wen Jianyan shuddered. With his innate agility, he took half a step back and vigilantly turned his head to look.
However, the moment he saw the newcomer, an expression of astonishment appeared on his face.
How could it be—
“Uncle De?” He blurted out in shock.
The pale-faced middle-aged man stood before him. His expression looked utterly dejected, and for some reason, he carried a massive bundle on his back, weighing his shoulders down unevenly.
“It’s me.”
His gaze swept over Wen Jianyan’s pale face, finally landing on his front lapel dyed dark gold by blood. His eyes dimmed bit by bit.
“Sins, it’s all sins.”
Uncle De muttered.
He turned around: “Follow me.”
Leaving this sentence behind, Uncle De walked forward without looking back.
Wen Jianyan hesitated for a moment, but ultimately followed him.
Uncle De staggered along, his steps uneven, remaining completely silent. Wen Jianyan also followed him without saying a word.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when Uncle De stopped his steps: “We’re here.”
A few steps away, a half-section of glinting railway tracks appeared. It didn’t look completely repaired; the station was crooked and incredibly rudimentary. An old-fashioned train was parked at the end of the tracks.
It was exactly the same as in Wen Jianyan’s memory, only lacking the surface dust, dirt, and scratches, looking as bright and clean as new.
The headlights were blazing brightly, the sharp light piercing the darkness, becoming the only light source in the entire world.
“Get on,” Uncle De said.
Wen Jianyan paused and turned to look at him.
“I don’t know where you came from, but regardless of whether you are human or ghost, or where you originate from,” Uncle De stood beneath the headlights, looking decades older than before, “this train will take you to where you are supposed to go.”
“I don’t have a ticket.”
Wen Jianyan spoke, his voice still somewhat hoarse.
“You will,” Uncle De said slowly. “After all, you don’t belong here.”
He placed a hand on the train, affectionately patting its iron-clad surface, looking as if he were greeting an old partner:
“Its purpose is to send the passengers who board it back to where they most belong.”
“Originally, there would have been a stop leading to Wu Town, but looking at it now… I’m afraid it will never have the chance to be finished.”
Listening to his explanation, Wen Jianyan froze.
…No wonder.
The train sent those ghosts buried in shallow graves to the Changsheng Building, letting them fall into eternal slumber through the mansion. Following the same logic, it also set Wu Zhu’s final destination here—because this was His place of eternal slumber.
The train ran on the tracks. To it, the rules of time and space did not exist. It traveled unbound through the past, future, and present, possessing an infinite range of activity.
The only restriction it faced was that it could only stop at a “train station.”
The reason the train could bring Wen Jianyan here was that there was a half-built “Wu Town” station here.
However, just as Uncle De said, “The stop leading to Wu Town was not finished, and it lost the chance to be finished.” —Since this half-finished station wasn’t completed, with the demise of the town, this station was also invalidated, and would be completely buried by yellow sand in the future.
Therefore, in the timeline he lived in, the train would never be able to stop at a “human world” station, but would forever operate and wander in this land of death.
This was precisely why Wen Jianyan and the others didn’t receive any “tokens” given by the train after boarding it.
Since the train couldn’t send them to their destination, it naturally couldn’t provide a ticket either.
Wen Jianyan stepped onto the train, step by step.
As if sensing something, he lowered his head and reached into his pocket.
Sure enough, a strangely shaped paper banknote appeared in his pocket.
“This is specially prepared for the living people who ride this train,” Uncle De explained, seemingly seeing through his confusion.
However, in the future, all the living people in the town would be dead, and only ghosts would board the train. Naturally, such “banknotes for the living” would no longer circulate.
Wen Jianyan nodded and took a deep breath: “…Thank you.”
“…Thank me?”
Uncle De let out a bitter laugh and shook his head:
“Don’t thank me.”
He gazed from afar at Wen Jianyan standing on the train, his expression complex and dejected: “I have already seen clearly… all of us were deceived. The sins we have committed are too many, too many… Everything is beyond saving…”
Uncle De’s shoulders seemed to be slowly bent by some invisible presence, making the bundle on his back feel increasingly heavy.
“I… no, we, I’m afraid we can only… atone for our sins this way.”
Wen Jianyan’s heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth, preparing to ask something else, but the train beneath his feet had already let out a mechanical vibration and roar, slowly beginning to operate.
The sound of the train starting drowned out his voice, and also Uncle De’s.
The rumbling roar echoed throughout the entire world as the train began to move forward along the tracks. Through the blurry window, Wen Jianyan saw Uncle De’s silhouette from afar—a small, hunched figure, standing all alone and quietly at the station, watching the train chug away.
The Port.
The originally cold, dead silent, mirror-like pitch-black sea surface was no longer calm under the influence of some invisible force. Massive waves rolled up layer by layer, crashing heavily against the shore.
The ship of bones arrived at the shore.
Countless silent, pale faces, expressing joy or anger, resentment or sorrow, formed the hull of the ship. Shrouded by the thin black mist over the sea, it looked incomparably eerie and horrifying.
The massive, shattered mirror, barely pieced together, stood on the shore.
Almost at the exact same time the train Wen Jianyan boarded started, the dull golden gemstone placed inside the pitch-black box began to shed its dust bit by bit, gradually becoming clear and sparkling—it was recognized by the rules, becoming the sole heart of a god in this space-time.
From today onwards, it would be sent onto the cruise ship, becoming the crucial fuel driving the vessel.
Deep within the mirror, the darkness rolled violently.
Amidst the deep and shallow, chaotically gathering and dispersing shadows, a pair of beast-like golden pupils stared intently at the world outside the mirror.
The curse marks tightened unceasingly, bringing endless, unending agony to the bearer.
Yet, He seemed unable to feel the pain, violently smashing against the mirror surface time and time again, like a trapped beast biting at its cage, refusing to give up even when covered in blood.
Even though His memories began to fade and His consciousness began to blur, there was one thought that could not be erased no matter what.
…He lost His most important thing.
Was hurt.
Was robbed.
Disappeared.
Could never be found again.
The pure gold was submerged in darkness, staring grimly, hatefully, and madly at everything outside the mirror.
Whoever accidentally glanced into the mirror would involuntarily tremble all over, feeling their teeth chatter and blood run cold, shivering endlessly.
After inspecting everything, the hollow-faced “person” nodded in satisfaction:
“Done.”
A thick stack of contracts appeared out of thin air in its hands, and it slowly offered them forward.
“Your choice was correct.”
“Facing your ever-approaching darkness and death, the old god was powerless. That being the case, what is wrong with abandoning Him and turning to a more powerful protection? —This is not out of cowardly self-preservation, but a thoroughly noble act.”
Its voice was sweet and chaotic, like a bewitchment from the unknown.
“Come, drip your fresh blood here.”
“The contract will then be established.”
Things had come to this.
There was no turning back.
The crowd, who had stood motionless in place, finally took a step forward. In silence, they stepped up one by one.
Pale palms were sliced open. Viscous, blackened fresh blood dripped down, smashing onto the paper, and was greedily absorbed deep into the page.
“After being drawn into this world using your bloodline as a bridge, we will use something brighter and more effective to replace the faint candlelight your god once provided, helping you dispel the darkness and gain peace and tranquility—as long as a single descendant of your bloodline remains alive in this world, our services will not end.”
“A pleasure doing business with you.”
—The betrayers opened their bloody hands and accepted the thirty pieces of silver obtained from selling out the god.
The world ushered in a sinful transformation.
A lamp oil factory named “Orphanage” rose from the ground. Grey-white and bright red lamp oil was manufactured tray after tray. Amidst the shrill sound of the suona, a red cloth fell, covering a young girl’s pale cheeks.
The paper palanquin swayed tremblingly, and the new bride in red moved into the Changsheng Building.
However, while everything was thriving, Uncle De left the town at some unknown time and went missing.
In all the buildings constructed by Wu Town, all the candles were replaced. The sweet-smelling lamp oil burned fiercely as if it would never run out, operating continuously with unquestionable, terrifying power without anyone manning it, dispelling the gradually approaching darkness and guarding the peace of the area.
Until…
The people who no longer needed to contend with the darkness lived here, gradually forgetting the mission their ancestors once bore. Only a very, very small number of people still remembered… Deep within the town was a road named the Yellow Springs Road. At the end of the Yellow Springs Road lay the unmanned grave soil, the purgatory Dead Sea.
He didn’t know how much more time passed.
A bizarre hotel rose from the ground outside the town, named “Xingwang Hotel.”
Soon, Wu Town was annihilated.
From afar, an old man who had lived for who knows how long watched all this in silence. He watched the town’s forgetting, watched the town’s decline, watched the alien god they had ignorantly summoned invade the town with terrifying power to break free from its restraints, twisting human hearts… and at the very, very end, slaughtering everyone, killing every single one of their descendants, severing their final drop of bloodline.
By this time, his eyes were sunken, seemingly having dried up long ago.
Then, he staggered back to the town and began searching for the tragically dead corpses of the townsfolk. With his aged yet exceptionally steady hands, he slowly peeled off the skin of all the town’s descendants.
One corpse, two corpses, three corpses…
A full four hundred and seven corpses.
Skinning, washing, sun-drying, tanning.
As the tailor shop owner, what he was best at making was human-skin clothes—but, with no one left to wear them, what use were human-skin clothes?
Thus, he lit a long-forgotten candle. Under the faint light, using needle and thread, he sewed those human skins together stitch by stitch, turning them into a massive book of four hundred and seven pages.
Every page was a human skin.
Every human skin was a ghost tanned into it.
Finally, after doing all this, Uncle De slowly peeled the skin off his own body to serve as the title page of the book.
The [Dead Sea Scrolls], totaling four hundred and eight pages, was officially completed at this moment.
“Sins.”
The white-haired Uncle De hunched his body, pressing his forehead against the title page of the book.
“Sins.”
If, in the future, someone could find this book, then perhaps this world might still have hope for dawn.
This was the final gift he left for this world.
And the only atonement he could make as a betrayer.
Uncle De slowly closed his eyes and lost his breath of life.
The last townsman officially died.
Almost at the same time, an agent left the ship and visited the orphanage in the capacity of an investor.
—”The last person who made the deal has died. This place is useless now.”
—”What about the furnace? What about the children here?”
—”Burn one last batch,” the agent said airily. “Make the best use of everything.”
Countless instances rose from the ground.
The Nightmare descended.
Author’s Notes:
① Corresponds to the Truth Route of the Changsheng Building Instance
② Corresponds to the Truth Route of the Xingwang Hotel Instance
③ Corresponds to the Truth Route of the Sweet Dream Orphanage Instance
Thirty pieces of silver is an allusion to the price for which Judas the Betrayer sold out Jesus.
