musicians of old

Chapter 895 Night Walk (Part Two): The Abyss

What am I doing?!

Awakened from a comfortable "running god" state, Fan Ning also asked herself the same question intensely and repeatedly.

This place is... it was where I used to be.
Fan Ning stared intently at the gray background around him, feeling as if all the wrinkles in his mind had been smoothed out. He remained like this for several breaths before suddenly realizing...
My hands and my back were completely empty!

A cold sweat broke out instantly, and Fan Ning abruptly turned his head away.

The "Night Watchman's Lamp" had somehow slipped from my grasp and lay quietly on the "ashes" about ten steps behind me. Further away, at the edge of my vision, the "Illidan" guitar was mostly sunk into its soft, sandy texture, with only the first few frets visible.
not good
Fan Ning turned around and ran away silently.

Fortunately, there shouldn't be anything else in this place. The two objects must have been simply abandoned by me after my self-awareness began to dissipate.

Panting, Fan Ning picked up the lamp and guitar, and put them back on his back.

But as he walked on, he suddenly realized he had forgotten what he was doing.

The danger here is the dissolution of cognition. For every moment the mind lingers, memories, emotions, and goals about "self" will quietly crumble like sandcastles, merging into this meaningless background.

Nothing pollutes the mind; it's just that the mind is being infinitely "diluted" by pure water. That's how Fan Ning is now. He feels his thoughts slowing down and becoming scattered, like ink drops falling into water, about to lose all their outlines.

So comfortable, so peaceful. If I could have a good night's sleep, it would definitely be the most peaceful time of my life.

Wait, I was supposed to be...
It wasn't until a faint, persistent warmth, like the "night watchman's lamp," seemed to emanate from his hand that Fan Ning was gently pulled back from the brink of this dissolution of consciousness.

"No, this won't do."

I never imagined that the virtual world would be even more dangerous than I thought.

Back in the aberration zone, at least I felt my senses starting to go haywire after "waking up from sleep," but here, I can't even hold on for a few breaths!

Fan Ning looked down and saw that the lamps in the virtual world had changed. The warm metallic feel had been replaced by a cold, brick-like texture, and the light was no longer golden. Instead, it had turned into a cold, diffused halo of dark jade, making it look like a person with severe myopia had taken off their glasses.

This halo still surrounds him, resisting the assimilative pressure of the gray and white world around him.

But it can only "illuminate" a few steps around you.

Beyond the halo, the boundless gray-white, like fluffy material, kept "diluting" in, trying to smooth over this last bit of substantial scenery.

The "starlight" inside the lamp cavity has done its best; from the initial awakening sound to the subsequent tugging, that's all it has to do.

We're about to reach our breaking point.

Fortunately, there are still some.
While working on the second installment of "Night Walk," Fanning began to draw upon the divine knowledge of the "Secret of the Unending Journey"!
"Ding~" "Ding-dong~"

One by one, the notes of the guitar were plucked and played.

But unlike before, the guitar that Fanning played this time was not a "prelude" to the sounds of other instruments, but an integral part of the entire movement!

He directly incorporated the guitar as a part into a symphony.

This kind of creativity and understanding is something that cannot be mastered by those who follow ordinary theories or inspiration.

"Shh." "Shh."

The guitar was replaced with a similar but subtly different mandolin; the unique instrumentation was both familiar and exotic, both close and distant.

Although the tone quickly distorted, becoming a rough sound like walking through fine sand, this was precisely the key to "meaning" and "certainty"—Fanning could now hear the sound of his own feet walking. His figure was also coated with a special glaze-like color.

"My understanding should be stable for now. But I must hurry! We're still on the very surface of the virtual realm; I don't know what the situation is like in the area 'below.' And it's nighttime outside..."

Fanning, carrying a lantern, tightened his grip on the guitar on his back, quickened his pace, and squinted as he surveyed his surroundings.

The area above that could still be called the sky was also a suffocating gray-white, without any clouds or other reference points, with only some pale silhouettes faintly visible in the far distance.

Those things looked like enormous, despair-inducing dead celestial bodies. At first glance, they seemed to be slowly drifting, but upon closer inspection, they weren't; they were simply silently suspended at the end of time.

At the edge of this wasteland, which is described as "ashes or saline-alkali land," are countless jagged cliffs tearing downwards.

"Shh." "Shh."

They were walking at a steady pace, but every step was incredibly difficult.

The ground was far too loose and soft, and with each step forward, the ropes that held him "self" seemed to decay a little more. If it weren't for the "Secret of the Endless" constructing a piece of music that followed the laws of development in the deepest part of Fan Ning's divinity, he would have long since become another piece of dust drifting silently in this gray and white landscape.

Things began to fall around me, at a distance, fluttering like ashes, like peeling paint from the "backdrop," or even more like the debris falling after the "meaning" itself had withered away.

They silently constitute the scenery of Fanning Walk, and occasionally some come into contact with it in the "foreground," bringing a chill that penetrates to the bone, a shiver of existence being utterly denied.

Finally, Fan Ning stood beside the precipice in the wasteland, on a protruding spot with jagged edges.

Below lies a dazzling abyss, its ancient and void beyond description, as if the very foundation of creation had collapsed, revealing the ultimate, hungry void behind it.

The long river of history plunges down this precipice, carrying with it the "ashes" washed away, cascading down like a waterfall, and then, without even a trace of vapor rising, vanishes into complete silence.

Fanning did not hesitate.

He leaped into that ultimate nothingness.

A sense of lonely decline enveloped him.

The dark jade-colored halo, like a shooting star moving in reverse, pierced the outline of the pale wasteland above, and also pierced the void that had been split open.

The fixed bass-heavy "maxim" sounded again, like a clear breath, restrained and calm, constantly pulling the immersed thoughts back.

Where the arc of light passed, a chill remained.

It's cold, but at least it has meaning.

It continued to fall.

In the gradually thickening gloom, Fan Ning became entangled with the flowing water, ashes, and the fluttering debris in the background.

One moment his consciousness returned to a silent blank, the next a storm of inexplicable memories swept through his mind: countless forgotten nursery rhymes, broken instruments scattered on the floor of the concert hall, an off-key wedding march, a passionate kiss that could never taste the flavor of a lover, a humming that abruptly stopped at the bedside of the dying… They, carrying the remaining hail of emotions, pelted the dark jade halo beside her, making a series of crisp, crackling sounds!
However, the gentle tones of the guitar and mandolin, along with the unique glaze that permeated Fanning's figure, became a tangible barrier against this boundless sense of loss and overwhelming impact.

"Ok?"

Fan Ning had been keeping her eyes closed, focusing her mind on anchoring her understanding, but now she opened her eyes as if sensing something.

He suddenly felt as if something was "watching" him!