Welcome to Rewind World Game-Chapter 1641: Final - : Guardian Shore Line – "OE: Perished from the Ocean (25)
The end-time directive has been issued.
The official stance is remarkably unified: After seventy years of meticulous construction and adjustment, the 100,000 IF lines have reached a perfect state.
Su Ming’an stands at the World Hub, the cold wind lifting his colored strands of hair, with Vice World Leader Kelsa standing dutifully behind him. On the holographic star map, countless beams start connecting the two worlds.
A final journey toward "The Republic."
...
Inside the life support pods of the Genesis Era creators, people are completing the final proofreading of the IF lines.
Gesang Jiacuo is already an elderly record officer over a hundred years old. He bends his old back, comes to a small hillside, and takes out a photo from his chest.
In the photo, his younger self and a scruffy blue-haired middle-aged man are crying bitterly under the New Year fireworks. The blue-haired man says he will no longer be downcast; he wants to develop resurrecting technology and bring her home.
However, individual power is ultimately weak. That man lived an ordinary life, and he himself spent a lifetime as a record officer.
"Xiao Xiao... you scoundrel..." Gesang Jiacuo extends his old hand and strokes the photo on the tombstone. It depicts an elderly man with white hair, singing century-old love songs, holding a guitar—Xiao Xiao never forgot that when he was young, he was once a resident singer in a bar.
Xiao Xiao thought he could wait to go home in this lifetime, but after ninety-three years of waiting, most of the participants from the World Game generation passed away. Their remaining days ended on this temporary ark.
"We... this generation of us... are still going to end..." Gesang Jiacuo touches the tombstone, burying the bottle caps of the wine they drank every New Year’s Eve into the soil, "You didn’t see the moment of departure, such a pity..."
He rises, and suddenly sees a black-haired woman standing behind him.
The woman is very young, with twin ponytails, holding daisies, also here to mourn the deceased. She comes to a small tombstone nearby, with a photo of a smiling red-haired girl, who passed away in 2024.
"...2024?" Gesang Jiacuo murmurs, "Almost a hundred years ago, ma’am, is this your ancestor?"
The black-haired woman silently lays down flowers and dorayaki, and just when Gesang Jiacuo thinks she won’t reply, she speaks:
"My sister."
Gesang Jiacuo is stunned, how could someone from a hundred years ago be her sister?
"That guy went crazy," the black-haired woman says.
"What?"
"A lie... a colossal lie...! He actually decided to give up everything he already had..." The black-haired woman mutters, "I can’t destroy his plans just to resurrect her. I refuse those eyes; I choose to watch, to watch his final move."
Gesang Jiacuo doesn’t understand her words, but he realizes this lady’s emotions are unstable, and he can be a stranger willing to listen.
"A lie?" he asks.
"Do you really believe that by writing 100,000 world lines, we can break the barrier stretching across the surface of Yizhu Star?" The woman looks over, her eyes like ink, "The Genesis Power isn’t omnipotent. Two planets can’t just merge by writing."
"So, it’s a lie?" Gesang Jiacuo murmurs.
If it’s a lie, then what have the seventy-plus years of human civilization’s efforts been for? They bet everything they had on this plan!
No, he trusts the World Master.
"It is a lie," the black-haired woman murmurs, "but it’s a useful lie. His boldness amazes me to the extreme."
"I already admitted... During the game, I was wrong. I mistakenly doubted his true intentions, and I tried to make up for something, but power excluded me."
"Maybe, after he leaves, I can make up for something."
...After his departure? Who is leaving?
Gesang Jiacuo clenches the bottle cap.
After she leaves, Gesang Jiacuo slowly walks back. After a while, he sees a black-haired youth.
He stands amid a field of wild grass, gazing at the standing tombstones.
"Master of the World...!" Gesang Jiacuo instinctively calls out.
The sunset rises behind them, crimson as blood, falling on the youth’s shoulders, bringing the twilight.
That is Su Ming’an, maintaining the appearance of a nineteen-year-old, with hair not yet colored, and eyes still black.
This is a clone of Su Ming’an. His body remains at the World Hub, about to complete the final plan. He split off a clone to visit former companions.
Nearly a century has passed, and many companions are no longer here. They did not like noise, nor being observed by countless people in memorial halls, requesting Su Ming’an to bury them in a quiet meadow, filled with the scent of spring and flowers.
Unable to overcome the boundary between humans and deity, their lifespans are ultimately limited. Su Ming’an originally thought they would live two-thirds of a century, but unexpectedly their souls took too much damage, like soldiers retreating from the battlefield, leaving too quickly.
He strokes each name, softly speaking of springtime over this century.
Luna, Isabella, Mo Yan, Lin Jiang, Eni, Rimu Sheng, Violet...
Humans are very fragile, with even slight illnesses or wounds leading to irreversible outcomes. Houses catching a draft cause colds, less food results in hunger, slight natural disasters cause deaths like collapsed wheat stalks, row after row. War is even more of a tool for harvesting lives, only requiring one mismatch in a high-dimensional clash, a governmental artillery shell, an unintentional stray bullet to end a life.
Yet humans are particularly resilient, evolving from initially fearing zombies to raise a steel pipe, to eventually daring to spark against the Master of the End of All Things. Their adaptability is exceptionally strong, able to robustly find the most suitable survival methods in any environment. When the house leaks, they patch it; when food is scarce, they research better crops; when faced with natural disasters, they build earthquake-proof buildings, basements, and countless mansions. They always have ways.
Challenges attempt to crush them, and they will repeatedly fall like wheat stalks, only to sprout again like new buds in the next spring.
Su Ming’an speaks of this century, facing the spring wind and daisies-filled meadow.
The record keeper Gesang Jiacuo, who defended his duties from youth to old age; Xiao Xiao, who never forgot his maiden; Yi Song, who healed countless people as a psychologist; Isabella, who devoted her life to scientific research; Bei Wang, who recorded numerous eye data; Mo Yan, who taught numerous students...
Gesang Jiacuo pauses, feeling he shouldn’t disturb the youth; the youth’s posture is more farewell than grieving.
However, the youth notices him, beckoning him to come over.
"Little Gesang?"
"You remember me..." Gesang Jiacuo’s face turns red.
"Seems you still remember my most impulsive days." The youth shakes his head, saying helplessly, "You saw my most embarrassing state."
He’s referring to after the White Tower incident, where he attempted suicide numerous times trying to restart, failing and fainting at the cliff’s base, where a young Gesang Jiacuo found him.
That was clearly a well-thought-out decision, yet he calls it his "most impulsive time," as if he has become a retired elder calmly recounting youthful impulsiveness.
Gesang Jiacuo doesn’t know what to say. He recalls the "lie" the woman mentioned earlier but feels he shouldn’t bring it up.
So he says, "Did you see? I achieved my childhood dream."
...
{"We’re particularly interested in the players, though I didn’t catch the World Game, I want to record their feats, especially that World Master, from a herdsman’s perspective... This is what I’ll do when I grow up!" Little Gesang said excitedly: "When I’m a bit older, I’ll go to the city to learn to write... It’s said the World Master is only ten years older than me..."}
...
Gesang Jiacuo walked out of the mountains at twenty-five, became a record officer at thirty-one, was promoted to Dragon Country East District Tower Record Officer at forty-five, elevated to World Hub Record Officer at sixty-six, and now, over a hundred years old, remains a record officer.
With an ordinary perspective, with words just and rich in affinity, he documented a century’s changes, from after the World Game to the Genesis Era, until the planet set sail. He never let down his youthful aspirations.
"Yes." Su Ming’an murmured, "I saw...you...all of you."
The two walk across the meadow, walk amid the forest of tombs.
Many top players are buried here, he walks among them like a moving tombstone.
Blinkingly, like the time just after the World Game ended.
A child leads a cow, the cow carries a young man.
Stars hang over the vast plain, the moon rises over the long stream.
—A black-haired youth wearing a Soul Hunt Suit, with an Amber Knife at his waist, shouldering the Sword of Yarman, with a strap on his wrist, wearing several rings on his fingers, much like his teenage self, much like nineteen years old.
His soul weary and mottled, his gaze clear and bright.
"Where are you going? Are you joining us to that planet?" the elderly man with snowy hair asked.
"I’m not going there."
"Where are you going then? This time don’t leap off the cliff again, there’s no young Gesang herding sheep who will catch sight of you."
Su Ming’an smiled and shook his head, "Gesang Jiacuo, sing that song for me once more, just as a farewell."
Ten minutes until dual stars fusion.
The elderly man ceased his questions, holding the magnificent yet not very large hand of the World Master, and with a bold, aged singing voice, resonated across the plains far from the highlands:
"Eee—ya—le—
"The barley stalks hang low,
"The wind pushes the clouds along.
"Sparks in the hearth dance,
"Cattle’s eyes are stars..."
...
World Hub.
Below, most of the familiar faces of past years had been taken away by time, or retreated to the background. Lü Shu sat in a wheelchair, pushed by a young assistant, hollow eyes gazing toward Su Ming’an. Mei Yani was in her twilight years, her silver hair impeccably styled. Lin Yin’s temples were frosted, yet her spine remained straight.
A huge countdown hovered in the center of the hall, scarlet numbers silently ticking.
[00:00:10]
...
"Eee—ya—le—
"Guests in the city, do not fret,
"Grass meadows span broader than your brows..."
...
Beside the bonfire, an old craftsman carefully carved an unfinished wooden sculpture—depicting the young Su Ming’an, with black hair rather than colorful, eyes bearing unmarred humanity.
...
"Gold and silver fall from the sky,
"Are not as good as a steaming cup of tea froth.
"Cold wine scalds the gut but fails to warm,
"Worn boots wrap around the warm hearth..."
...
In the classroom, a new generation of children attended history lessons, their eyes bright, learning the history from Zhai Xing’s apocalypse, the World Game, the Drifting Era to the Genesis Era.
...
"Hoofprints deeply mark the snowy river.
"Sleep, sleep, heavy eyelids,
"Prayer flags singing in the wind..."
...
In the distant universe, astronauts gazed upon the colorful Yizhu Star, picking up a small blue planet model.
...
[00:00:03]
Snow fell.
Flurries of snowflakes, covering the silent city, blanketing the abandoned railway. Within the World Hub, Kelsa with golden hair and blue eyes stepped forward, his voice broadcast to the entire civilization:
"’The Republic’ transition, countdown."
...
In a cramped alleyway, a family squeezed within narrow space, embroiled in heated discussion.
"Dad! Mom! We have to choose the ’Future Era’! The medical conditions there are superb!" The eldest son waved a light screen, displaying futuristic urban promotional imagery.
"’Natural Era’ has clean air and fertile land; we can grow our own vegetables and raise chickens!" The old father thumped the table.
"But, I want to go to ’Fantasy Village’, where talking animals and the Candy House are..." The little daughter timidly tugged at her mother’s clothes.
...
[00:00:02]
Su Ming’an closed his eyes, the majestic Power of Faith like a star sea converging around him.
...
The military maintained the last order.
A young soldier leaned against an armored vehicle, softly confiding to his companion, "Hey, which line did you choose? I signed up for the ’Iron Blood Defense Line’, after all, it’s pretty similar to what we’re doing now."
The companion exhaled a smoke ring, "I chose ’Pastoral Song’. Tired of a lifetime of fighting and killing, just want to find a place to peacefully fish."
"Do you think this plan is reliable? Ten thousand IF lines, letting us choose freely to live the life we dream of, can remove the shield over ’Yizhu Star’?"
"Hush, with so many experts endorsing it, and the World Master saying it himself, how could it be false? It’s normal not to understand the principle, just focus on doing our jobs."
...
[00:00:01]
Ten thousand Towers of Creation simultaneously lit up, weaving a network covering the entire small world.
From space, the surface of the "Earth" Ark illuminated with countless pinpoint lights, converging into gigantic beams of light. Cities dimmed, village lights extinguished one after another, industrial facilities ceased operation, paper books in libraries were sealed away.
Numerous light threads reached out from the star rings, like billions of tentacles, capturing information streams representing human civilization’s collective consciousness.
Concepts overlay, stories inject, possibilities manifest into reality.
People saw the buildings, landscapes, and rivers around them beginning to turn transparent, like ink paintings submerged in water, colors drifting, forms being reshaped. Countless "possibilities" were happening, familiar streets extending magic peaks, the starry sky outside the window shaping massive outlines of starships.
Su Ming’an reached out his hand, a snowflake landed on his fingertip, instantly dissolving.
He gazed at this world about to become ’past’, the last ripple in his eyes settling into tranquility.
...
[00:00:00]
...
