Welcome to Rewind World Game-Chapter 1358 - 9: Parting Ways with the Lord

The golden eyes looked at him quietly.

"Do you think that by assuming the identity of a deity, you can demand me to abandon everything?" Su Ming’an softly said, "You hope for me to pursue a longer, farther life. But some things are always more important than life itself. Once you let go of them, a person is nothing more than an animal."

He twisted the sword’s blade, its edge glistening with a cold light.

"Is this useful to you?" Deity Ming’an’s expression showed confusion, even pressing his right cheek closer against the sword’s surface: "You just pierced through my chest, and I’m still fine. Even if you sever my neck, what does it matter?"

His attitude always carried a sense of nonchalance, as if looking down on everyone. But in truth, he was just speaking normally.

"I want to take your head off and use it as a ball." Su Ming’an said.

"Just like the one on your chest?" Deity Ming’an glanced at the pouch on Su Ming’an’s chest, where a few strands of bloody golden hair peeked out.

"Like the one on your neck." Su Ming’an flicked his wrist.

With just a faint sound, without much effort, it was like a dining knife slicing through a soft cream soufflé, accompanied by thick, sticky golden cream, a white "soufflé" appeared on the sword.

Under the "soufflé," the body sat quietly on the chair, exposing the bloody severed neck.

Su Ming’an held Deity Ming’an’s head with one hand, the head still blinking at him, blood dripping down from the fractured neck bones.

"...I can’t make such an oath," Su Ming’an said. "Your words make a lot of sense; maybe in the future, I might feel none of this matters. But at least for now... there are some things indeed more important than life."

Deity Ming’an lowered his eyelids and sighed:

"...Alright."

"World Tree, I did try to persuade him."

"Both soft and hard approaches, I’ve tried them all. I cannot change his mind. You may proceed."

Su Ming’an was taken aback. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

All of a sudden, the surrounding area roared with violent rumbling sounds.

Numerous crystal-colored branches surged towards Su Ming’an, their sharp tips glinting coldly.

"Swish!" With a sound, a branch pierced through Su Ming’an’s shoulder, and instantly, a massive wave of branches rushed at him, crazily burrowing into his wounds.

The crystal-colored branches hungrily absorbed the blood, like wriggling pythons, turning bright red in an instant.

...So the World Tree hadn’t been dormant but was secretly lying in wait to launch a sneak attack.

"Awoo!" The black flame bit onto the branches, with no threat, almost getting crushed into a black cat pancake by the following branches.

With a slight movement of Su Ming’an’s fingers, the five small floating cannons behind him quickly fused into a large transparent cannon hovering in the air. Thickly concentrated bluish-purple plasma gathered at the cannon’s muzzle, bursting forth with dazzling brilliance, explosively forming an ephemeral firework of flames!

"Boom——!!!"

The majestic blue-violet and orange-red intertwined, the impact blowing away a nearby sugar jar, intense waves surging up. A spark ignited Su Ming’an’s white hair, the flames spreading instantly, and even though he severed the hair in time, a large chunk of white hair still scattered on the floor.

Now, Su Liujin doesn’t need to cut it, it’s completely short.

Su Ming’an stepped back several steps, fortunate that he reacted in time and wasn’t completely pierced through by the World Tree. He looked towards Deity Ming’an:

"——God! I am making a High Tower invitation!"

In an instant, a dazzling blue shield rose sharply, encircling the two of them. The World Tree struck madly outside the shield but could not break in.

Deity Ming’an’s head bounced a few times like jelly before returning to his neck. He reached out with both hands, with a few "click clack" sounds, and fixed his head.

"High Tower invitation." Deity Ming’an looked at the surrounding blue luminescent shield, "This might be your most miraculous skill. Ignoring positional rank, ignoring combat power, initiating a one-on-one duel where no entity can intervene... not even the World Tree can handle you now."

Su Ming’an raised his sword, its tip pointing forward.

...The World Tree was indeed so insidious, but fortunately, he reacted in time.

Blood flowed down from his shoulder, his collarbone riddled with crater-like wounds, the dizziness from blood loss swaying in his mind,

Now, his internal ranking has become: Supreme Lord >> Deity Ming’an > Master of the End of All Things > World Tree. The further back, the less it’s worth.

"You have no need to stay in Luowasha." Deity Ming’an extended his right hand, a golden sword blade gradually forming in his hand, "Your Original—Sique Olivius is still alive, this is his and the many Creators’ responsibility."

"I do not exist to save you," Su Ming’an said, "—I exist to save ourselves."

"You wish to live, and I also want you to live," Deity Ming’an said, "Then why, can’t you swear to me?"

"Because your ’living’ and my ’living’ are not the same concept." Su Ming’an slashed down with a sword!

"Clang——!"

A crisp collision sound.

An identical Sword of Yarman caught his blade.

Both of their white hair, one long and one short, fluttered in the fierce wind.

The hem of Su Ming’an’s robe, soaked in blood, flowed like clouds alongside the elegant and solemn white robe of the God Ming’an in the golden-red gelatinous glow.

The God Ming’an did not use divine powers, only using the abilities of Su Ming’an as a "human" to fight against Su Ming’an.

Sword duels are the oldest, most primitive, simplest, and most solemn form of dueling.

It seemed that in this way, their fundamentally different souls could question and answer each other in the clash.

"You once said—[The words with the vaguest meanings sometimes exert the most powerful influence.]" The God Ming’an swung his sword.

Since Su Ming’an had never learned swordsmanship, even the God Ming’an’s sword swings were unrefined, relying entirely on occupational base bonuses.

The swordsmanship of both was unremarkable, mechanically driven by their occupation, a chaotic clash like students brawling, leaving the audience dumbfounded and the swordmasters almost spitting blood in disbelief.

"[For example, righteousness. For example, love.]"

"Clang—!" Another sound rang out.

The God Ming’an held his sword in one hand, pressing the blade down, stabbing straight at Su Ming’an’s face.

Su Ming’an held his sword with both hands, his blade lifted horizontally to block in front of his forehead.

Their swords crossed into a cross, bursting with golden light, their gazes meeting firmly.

The "he" who had seen it all and the him still brimming with passion stared at each other across a short distance.

Echoing through the long distant years, a series of questions fell.

"[These concise words are endowed with magical power. Once spoken, they evoke solemn and vague images in people’s minds.]"

"Clang—!"

"[As soon as they’re spoken, it’s as if they’ve conquered everyone’s free will, willingly elevating the meaning these words represent.]"

"Clang—!"

"[But you know, Su Ming’an, some words do not come from your reflection.]"

"Clang—Clang—Clang!"

The clashing blades resounded, the noise of wind chaotic.

Strike after strike, though disorderly, the swords moved extremely fast, the golden-red glow continually emerging, sparking in streaks and bursts.

Su Ming’an had never had such an experience of crossing swords with someone, usually it was either him promptly defeating someone or they defeating him, energy waves blasting back and forth. A proper sword fight was a first.

The God Ming’an only used the sword without employing any other abilities, as if saying—[This is a pure sword duel between us].

As long as Su Ming’an did not use any other abilities, the God Ming’an would not either, using only the purest and simplest swords in competition, akin to the knight duels of Ancient Europe.

Simple, ancient, dignified.

The side that could no longer wield their sword would lose.

"Clang—Clang—Clang—" The sound of swords clashing rang, sparks flying everywhere.

With each clash, Su Ming’an could feel the immense force on the opponent’s blade, an overwhelming pressure like Mount Tai descending.

The God Ming’an’s strength was too high, causing bleeding in Su Ming’an’s grip, making his hand tremble. He realized if he’d known, he should have learned some melee skills from Lü Shu, but then again, there really wasn’t time.

He barely had time for himself.

Too little time.

"[You’re acting from ’being coerced’ or ’seeking roots for yourself,’ which elevates short words into profound ’ideals,’ ’will,’ ’anchors.’ You have adopted an extremely simplified way of thinking and imagination to numb your desire to survive.]"

"Clang—!"

The golden sword tip descended, blood blossoming from Su Ming’an’s left shoulder, while at the same time, he slashed his sword onto the right shoulder of the God Ming’an.

Without using divine power for defense, the bright red and golden blood fell distinctly to the ground, their paths clear and unmixed.

Due to excessive blood loss, Su Ming’an’s mind blurred, and he subconsciously started to let his thoughts drift. He thought of the many formidable characters he’d seen in anime back in high school, who would suddenly gain enlightenment of a sword technique in battle, bursting with a small universe to defeat the enemy. He also thought of some martial arts dramas Ms. Lin had seen, where formidable swordmasters would converse with their swords, valuing the connection with the sword spirit. And then about the immortal hero novels Yuanyuan liked, where divine swords would harbor a grandmaster-in-a-pocket, who often was a mighty cultivator aiding the protagonist in battle after battle...

But he had none of that, nor could he achieve it.

No small universe, no sword spirit, and no grandpa-in-a-pocket.

He only had himself.

"[Ideals are just forms, tools, concepts. Fulfilling one’s desires and needs is the essence. Ultimately, our nature is but a few threads of brainwaves, even the limbs and torso are tools or external objects fulfilling self-imagination. The so-called ideals and honor are flowers wrapped around the tools, to satisfy the desire of ’successful salvation’ and ’living up to people’s expectations.]"

"Swish—"

Along the wound, the blade slid down, neither releasing their sword first.

Golden and red liquids flowed simultaneously from their left and right shoulders, and as the sword tips slid down, the wounds on their shoulders expanded, tearing through skin, vessels, bones... racing downward.

"[If you over-rely on concepts repeatedly solidified in your heart, ideals will eventually slide into obsession. Thus you developed the thought ’as long as I can save Zhai Xing, I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means death.’ Its significance has surpassed everything, even becoming the tool sustaining your survival. In extreme inversion, you regard all your other reasonable desires and needs as ’useless,’ a highly dangerous manifestation.]"

"Clang——!"

The sword blade sliced through flesh, and both Su Ming’an’s left arm and the Deity’s right arm fell to the ground simultaneously.

Su Ming’an seemed unable to feel pain. Ignoring his lost arm, he gripped the sword handle tightly with his right hand and thrust forward with all his might.

He exerted so much force that his heel dug into the ground, causing the crystalline surface beneath him to shatter, forming a web of cracks.

Crack, crackle, crackle——

It was unclear whether the sound was from the ground cracking or from his bones fracturing.

The Deity quickly switched hands, holding the sword with the left hand and struck with full force, meeting Su Ming’an’s resolute attack head-on——

"[This will lead to... When you lose the object of your conceptual reference, you will completely lose yourself.]"

"Su Ming’an."

"——Are you Su Ming’an, or ’the Su Ming’an who will stop at nothing to save Zhai Xing,’ or the Su Ming’an who is ’willing to accept his own death, even feeling satisfied, and finally closing his eyes peacefully’?"

...

"Clang————!"

The sword slipped from his hand.

Su Ming’an’s left arm was empty, while his right hand maintained the posture of thrusting a sword forward, his hand twisted, and the bones in his hand completely bent.

The feedback force from the Deity was too intense, and Su Ming’an finally couldn’t hold the sword anymore.

With a clash, the pale hand meant for playing the piano became twisted like a pretzel, blood gushed, brilliantly red, bones dislocated, fingernails turned inside out.

His left arm was broken, and his right hand fractured.

Blood dripped continuously onto the ground, splashing into a series of crimson blossoms.

The Sword of Yarman fell to the ground, a crack appearing upon it.

"Crack, crackle, crackle——"

Accompanied by a crisp cracking sound——this weapon that had accompanied Su Ming’an from the Second World to the Eleventh World, through ten worlds, this weapon that evolved from Green Level to the peak weapon at Gold Level as a Player, this weapon that was invincible and symbolized the Sword of Destiny from the World of Old Days... split into two halves.

The sword tip stained with the Deity’s blood, the silver-white turning into a golden hue.

The sword handle exposed a small piece of the blade, the break resembling a snapped neck bone.

——Like a decapitated head.

"..."

The Deity did not pursue the attack. The long white hair, like strands of silver, swayed in the remaining sword wind, and their right shoulder hung empty, with scraps of torn skin and the upper arm bone.

The left hand still held the sword, as if they were the victor.

But at the moment the Sword of Yarman in Su Ming’an’s hand cracked——

"Crack——"

The sword in the Deity’s hand also shattered.

The tip of the blade fell to the ground with a clear sound.

"Clang——!"

Except for the Divine Power, using only "human" power to fight, the Deity couldn’t surpass Su Ming’an after all.

And yet Su Ming’an triumphed.

Because he persevered.

He crouched down, extending his trembling hand again and again, trying to pick up the broken sword, hoping to continue fighting with the remaining blade tip.

His arms hung limply, like a scarecrow blown over by the wind.

Blood flowed profusely, his complexion pale to the extreme, seeming to collapse with a mere breath.

His hand bones were all twisted, joints dislocated and shattered, a stark contrast of bleak white and blood red.

"...What are you insisting on?" the Deity said softly.

Double entendre, the voice filled with confusion.

Su Ming’an grasped the broken sword, the hand tightened, bones cried in pain.

...What was he insisting on?

Perhaps there indeed was something that had to be persisted in.

It was he... was he as Su Ming’an, just Su Ming’an, not for anything else, purely, simply, for what belonged to him.

...

["These brief words were imbued with magical power. It seemed that once said, they invoked solemn yet vague images in people’s minds."]

...

Justice, selflessness, saving, or something else. These high and mighty, deafeningly solemn, and vague concepts he didn’t care about.

...

["Once spoken, it seemed to conquer everyone’s free will, making them willingly hold up the meanings that these words stood for."]

...

He only knew, compared to those other carnal desires, the appetite, the desire for power... compared to those obvious, popular, worldly pursuits that filled people with great joy...

...

["You were only swept along, elevating short words to lofty ideals. So-called ideals and honor were nothing more than flowers mounted outside the tools."]

...

Compared to those,

What he was holding in his hand, what he was seeing with his eyes, what he was seeking with his heart, what he seriously thought about, regarding his homeland and old acquaintances...

These,

——these were the "reasons why he was willing to die."

...

["Ideals are just forms, tools, concepts. Satisfying one’s own desires and needs is the fundamental. In extreme inversion, you considered all your other reasonable desires and needs as ’useless,’ which is a reflection of great danger."]

...

These "inverted ends."

Deep within his heart,

the most dangerous,

most stubborn,

most terrifying,

most evil,

and most hopeless...[most profound desires and needs].

He needed them.

...

They were, at the core of his heart, the most evil and strongest—[Desires].

...

...

"——Let him go!!"

Suddenly, a long sword like molten lava, orange-red like fire, resembling Pangu’s Sword that created heaven and earth, pierced through layers of branches and leaves, stabbing down directly!

A young man in vintage long gown, with a gold coiled dragon pattern clasp, appeared in the fiery sky riding a giant dragon. In an instant, a thousand rays of dawn appeared, brilliant as daylight.

The giant dragon raised its head high, roared, the whole tree shook, air resonated.

He lowered his head.

His golden eyes fierce, flames flying:

"——Su Ming’an!"

...

[So, when his desires began to wane, difficult to sustain, liberating the self, casting toward freedom...]

[The luckiest and most cruel thing,]

[——"they" appeared.]

[Always so timely.]

[Timely to cruelty.]

...