Bang!
In the absolute darkness, a spotlight suddenly shone down, illuminating the silhouette of a tall figure in the center.
He seemed to be sitting, facing “me” directly, leaning forward to look over.
How strange. “I” couldn't see his face. Even though there was a spotlight, why was his entire body still pitch black?
Except for his silhouette, nothing could be seen—a black deeper than the darkest night.
Just as “I” was feeling confused, the lips on that pitch-black face seemed to twitch.
“Listen, you must become someone who is useful to our country and society.”
He spoke those words with gravity and earnestness, carrying a mountain of expectations.
“I” stared at him blankly, feeling that these words were incredibly familiar, yet “I” couldn't remember them no matter how hard “I” tried.
Who is this? Why is he saying this to “me”?
Bang!
It was as if a movie screen had suddenly flickered.
The scene before “me” shifted.
Before “me” was a small table with a book resting on it, the words inside completely illegible.
However, “I” understood the accompanying illustration.
It depicted the heroic deeds of someone.
What kind of heroic deeds? “I” didn't know. “I” only felt they were grand and deeply inspiring.
The moment “I” realized this, the text beside it suddenly seemed completely readable.
Passionate, soul-stirring, epic, and moving, they painted a vivid picture of the story for “me.”
Suddenly, “I” felt tears welling in my eyes, my entire body filling with a positive, invigorating strength.
Why did “I” feel like crying? “I” wasn't sure.
Full of enthusiasm, “I” flipped through the story again, longing to experience that same emotional swell and uplifting energy.
But “I” could no longer see the words clearly.
No matter how hard “I” tried, “I” couldn't decipher what characters were written or what story they told.
The illustration beside them also gradually blurred.
So, why did “I” feel like crying?
When there was clearly nothing written on it at all.
Bang!
The screen flickered once more.
The scene before “me” underwent a massive change.
This seemed to be a classroom.
“I” lay on the floor, and a girl seemed to be shouting hysterically at “me.”
“I” couldn't hear what she was saying, nor could “I” see her face.
She was pitch black all over, with only her silhouette visible.
Many classmates had gathered around, all of them appearing as pitch-black shapes.
They watched and laughed, looking surprised but ultimately remaining bystanders.
Huh? Why did “I” think their eyes looked surprised? And why did “I” think they were standing by and doing nothing?
It was as if they were supposed to help “me”—but why?
The girl before “me” was screaming hysterically and making a scene.
Yet, instead of feeling annoyed or angry, “I” felt an extreme, stabbing heartache, as though she shouldn't have betrayed “me,” as though she shouldn't have shown such a foreign side of herself.
Why?
When everything had been so good before...
Bang!
The screen flickered again. “I” was walking on the right side of a wide road.
“I” didn't know where this was. The surrounding buildings were very tall and oppressive.
But “I” seemed to be in a great mood, walking with light, brisk steps.
A girl approached from the left side of the road. Her head was lowered, and she seemed to be in low spirits.
“I” instinctively glanced at her. But she suddenly raised her head and met “my” gaze, her eyes filled with longing and pleading.
“I” recognized her. She was the girl who had been hysterical toward “me” in the previous scene.
But why was she looking at “me” like that? She had been so fierce and arrogant before.
“My” heart seemed to squeeze suddenly, touched by something—whether out of fear or hatred—and “I” averted my gaze.
“I” turned away quickly and abruptly, pretending to look down at the road.
This action seemed to sting the girl deeply.
She froze for a moment, then lowered her head deeply.
Then, on opposite sides of the road, she and “I” passed each other.
Neither of us looked back.
Many more scenes flashed by afterward, but they whipped past quickly, like a spinning lantern.
“My” life plummeted rapidly.
“I” faced more and more arguments, and more and more hostility.
Malice would spring up out of nowhere, and “I” would inexplicably be sabotaged by people “I” thought were decent.
“I” couldn't understand it, and “I” developed a fear of the human species.
Why did they have so much free time? Why did they radiate so much malice?
So, “I” began binge-reading manga and binge-watching TV shows, attempting to understand and dissect human nature?
Yet, the more “I” watched, the less “I” understood. The more “I” watched, the more “I” felt that human nature was rotten, decayed, and hypocritical to the core. “I” even began to question the great heroic deeds in the books.
“Those morals are just meant to deceive ‘me,’ aren't they? Reality is nothing like that at all!”
“I” slammed the books shut in anger, tossing them into a corner to gather dust forever.
As time flowed by, “I” gradually learned how to interact with people and slowly came to understand what kind of species humans were.
“I” no longer rejected those grand, heroic deeds either, treating them merely as a beautiful, pure land—distant and unreachable.
Because of this, “my” life gradually improved. It was no longer so gloomy, and “I” no longer ran into walls as easily.
Yet in the end, “I” never became someone useful to the country or society. “I” merely became an ordinary person—someone who didn't hold the country back, nor did “I” become a burden to society.
“I” had accepted my fate.
“I” didn't want to think about workplace politics. Nor did “I” want to listen to my friends' grand ambitions and hopes for the future.
“I” only wanted to live an ordinary life, reading fantasy novels every day to satisfy “my” spiritual needs.
And then, dream a sweet dream.
Dreaming that the fantasy world suddenly encounters a massive crisis, and I remain calm in the face of danger, obtaining a miraculous encounter, showing off and face-slapping, successfully ascending to immortality, achieving eternal youth, and looking down upon the shifts of the cosmos.
Life went on, ordinary yet interesting, and “I” was perfectly content with it.
Until one day, after staying up late, “I” looked in the mirror as “I” got out of bed, only to find prominent wrinkles, a scruffy stubble, sagging skin, and dull, lifeless eyes.
Dong—
“My” head buzzed, and an alarm suddenly rang out.
“My” eyes widened, and “I” sat bolt upright.
“My” heart pounded wildly, and clumps of hair fell out with a single run of “my” fingers.
“I” lamented, crying out, “I'm old! I'm really getting old!”
“I” was like a madman.
Anxiety gripped “my” heart.
“I” mindlessly scrolled through videos and surfed the internet. Push notifications flooded “my” eyes one after another, overwhelming “me.”
Things like telomere shortening being irreversible, and the curse of growth being impossible to prolong.
In an instant, “I” despaired of the world.
Is this really all my life is going to be?
Why was “I” born into such a weak race?
Space exploration, habitable planets, cryogenic sleep, AI bionics, cyber-cultivation... “I” hadn't witnessed any of these.
Yet “I” was destined to pass away before seeing any of it, leaving behind endless regret and unwillingness.
How could this be?!!
“I” was consumed by powerless rage, yet helpless to do anything, living “my” life in a numb daze day after day.
Until one day, a little kid asked “me” for directions and called me “uncle.”
“My” defenses shattered instantly, “my” vision went black, and “I” collapsed.
An honorable man can be killed, but never humiliated!!!
Haoyuan snapped his eyes open from the darkness as a howling gale whistled past his ears.
He gritted his teeth, his body suddenly surging with some unknown power.
“Roar, roar, roar!!!”
He let out an angry roar, his limbs paddling through the air and his body twisting and coiling, regaining the buoyancy to rise upward once again.
“Having finally grasped the Grand Dao of Immortality, how could I allow myself to be buried in this place!”
With a violent thrash of his tail, he broke through the gaps of the giant octopus tentacles' closing trap.
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