The Heavens: A Qing, the Yue Girl at the beginning

The long night is coming to an end, but the embers still burn.

The turbulent flow of elements unleashed an endless aurora, green like flickering ghostly flames, purple like the bruises of a celestial being, and red like blood from a wound that never heals, freely smearing the sky.

It completely swallowed up the brilliance of the sun, moon, and stars.

Its color was bleak, the smoke and clouds had dispersed, as if the universe was holding a silent funeral.

The lava flowed wildly like a river of repentant tears, and the scorched earth exuded a strong, melancholic aroma, like wine lees.

Time loses its measure here.

The boundary between day and night is erased by the eternal clamor of light and shadow, leaving only the desolate background after the collapse of civilization.

Alpha stands alone in the wilderness, like a bronze sculpture forgotten by time, anchored on the edge of this chaotic world.

He gripped the "false" spear of fate tightly in his hand, his arm always poised to throw, as if this rigid posture could pin down the reality that was constantly sliding into the abyss.

The kings of black and white, their battlefield is a moving purgatory. From the tops of collapsing mountains to the boiling seas of lava, and then to the torn, wailing atmosphere above the clouds.

Alpha then followed the fiery tail of this inferno.

He climbed every mountain peak that was still standing, pointing the cold tip of his gun at the center of the vortex of destruction, delivering a silent deterrent.

Each time he feigned exertion, a subtle dripping sound came from the depths of his soul—drip, drip.

It's not like a water clock, but more like an hourglass of life, slowly letting go of the "past," but not a trace of the "future."

He was like the most devout actor, performing a one-man show on the grandest tragic stage, a show that no one truly applauded.

All the audience could see was a frenzied world and the faint, dying spark in his heart called "maybe it will be useful."

However, the end came as fate itself—grand, cruel, and irreversible.

He witnessed the white radiance shatter like glass in an unprecedented, primordial collision. The magnificent robe that had once reflected the moon over the Mirror Plain River transformed into countless fireflies.

Did that crimson hair brush against him in the final moment, just as he remembered?
No.

There was only a desolate silence, and the Black King's long, resounding dragon roar that filled the universe, a roar that was both triumphant and endlessly lonely.

A mournful cry of impending doom filled the heavens and earth.

It was as if the law itself was celebrating the defeat of the rebels.

Alpha's arm finally fell limply to his side.

The gun was still not thrown.

The black metal shuttle gleamed with a dim light under the aurora, like a solidified, enormous tear.

It's too light, as light as a joke, unable to bear the weight of revenge, nor to bring back the lost "moment".

The latter, in the end, became a specimen, sealed in an amber-like lie, never to be warmed by any body heat again.

Alpha did not rush to the battlefield to die, nor did he let out a desperate roar. He simply took one last deep look at the sky, which was completely dominated by blackness, then turned and silently retreated into the shadows of the fragmented mountains.

He carried that counterfeit gun and the knowledge he had stolen over half a lifetime.

Like the wreckage carrying its own sins and hopes.

"We can't keep them."

"But you can make it never happen again."

For countless years, these two sentences, like a curse or a revelation, echoed repeatedly in his mind.

He was once obsessed with "preserving the moment," which stemmed from his fear of the passage of time and his longing for the fleeting nature of beauty.

Now, having witnessed ultimate destruction and loss, and having personally experienced the utter mockery of fate, Alpha looks back on the winding road he has traveled and suddenly understands another layer of meaning.

The preciousness of "this moment" lies not in its ability to be eternally fixed, but in its unique and fleeting power to change "the next moment."

"Never again" does not mean freezing time, but rather ending the root cause of this tragic cycle.

He stroked the counterfeit gun in his hand.

It's a deception, evidence of his folly. But... what if this illusory blade were imbued with real sharpness? What if this symbol used for fraud were given the weight of fulfilling a vow?

So, can it truly... "make this moment never come again"?
It wasn't for intimidation, it wasn't for delay, but for... revenge.

In order to end the darkness that took her away, took Kagamihara away, took away everything.

A crazy and resolute idea sprouted in his mind and quickly grew into a towering tree.

He wanted to personally forge this fake "Spear of Destiny" into a real one!

He used the rest of his life, all his knowledge, and everything he was as "Alpha" and "Dhamma" to accomplish this seemingly impossible task.

It wasn't about becoming a hero, nor about so-called justice; it was simply for the purest, most obsessive thought—

Those who caused all this should pay the price.

……

"Are you finally done talking?" Xiao Shi asked.

"More or less," Zhao Qing smiled slightly. "However, the aftertaste of a story is often more intriguing than the main story itself."

……

The temple atop the tower, beside the pool of blood.

The narrative of the Pure White King slowly came to a close as Alphale retreated and made his decision. The ripples in the pool of blood gradually subsided, and the reflected image vanished without a trace.

"After a great death, he will be able to rest without any descendants."

"Time flies, leaving people behind."

"Many years later, the clamor of the war has been smoothed out by time. Alphale built a monastery called 'Valhalla' on the endless ice plains of the far north, and it also has a new name."

"That place was where the giant projection of the 'White Moon' collapsed and fell, directly beneath the Pure Land ruins."

"His alchemical skills, in his solitary pursuit, finally touched the edge where the White Emperor once roamed, and through self-examination, he glimpsed some answers concerning the essence of the meaning of life."

"From a higher perspective, whether it is the human flesh and blood body or the consciousness inhabited by ego, they are merely temporary containers or carriers of 'fate,' while the blazing 'concept' is the true essence—a regional harmonic within the grand oscillation of cosmic consciousness, a manifestation of nerve 'potentials.'"

"In later orthodox Buddhist scriptures, this is considered putting the cart before the horse, a fallacy, a fallacy, and demonic doctrine. Yet, it perfectly explains the concept of 'destiny' and the arising and ceasing of karma, and it possesses a complete set of ideas."

……

"We...we all originated from the same wisp of soul fire..."

Alpha stood beneath the dome of the Icefield Church, gazing at the illusory aurora, and murmured to himself.

The sound shattered in the biting wind, merging into the ancient, cold silence.

He was Tanmo, a seeker of the Way driven by ambition and fear, a mortal who longed to touch the moonlight yet feared its eternal coldness;

She is also Tanmo, Fengdie, Baiwang, a deity who has long foreseen the tragic ending, yet still attempts to carve a tiny mark on the bronze scroll of predetermined fate.

They share the same soul essence, but due to different choices and different responsibilities, they split in time and space into two sides that reflect each other, chase each other, and miss each other.

He is obsessed with the monument of "results".

So she transformed into the stream of "process," teaching him to cherish every ripple of "this moment."

He feared his fate of becoming someone else's "tool".

Therefore, she gave him the illusion of "free choice," making him believe that he had the reins of his destiny.

He longed to touch the "real" moon.

So she showed him the "illusory" reflection, making him acutely aware of the weight of every choice he made.

Alpha thought that perhaps he spent his whole life trying to hold onto the fleeting cherry blossom rain on the banks of the Kagamihara River, and he never actually stepped onto that white moon.

But perhaps, he has finally learned how to stand calmly with his own shadow under the moonlight.

There's no need to ask any further questions.

What illuminated them was either the real stars or a magnificent reflection projected from the depths of their hearts.

……

"Isn't that a brilliant insight?"

The voice of the Pure White King rang out again: "He has finally begun to touch the last shackle that 'Shadow' failed to comprehend back then." "Nidhogg has lived too long."

Zhao Qing chimed in at the opportune moment: "So long that His own existence has become inextricably intertwined with the 'fate' at the very bottom of this star—that most massive, ancient, and almost unshakable 'life of time'—that one could even say that He is the most striking manifestation of that fate."

"Those who come after, no matter how brilliant or talented, like the White King, who may hone their power to the extreme, will not be able to contend with Him on the scale of 'time' that He rules. It is futile."

Assuming the cross-sectional area of ​​the Black King's "fate" is approximately the sum of tens of billions of people, multiplied by his lifespan of hundreds of millions of years, that would be a number of tens of billions.

This value is considerable, not to mention that the massive main trunk of destiny also has an accretion-like effect of spontaneously devouring its tributaries.

The pure white king nodded: "The white emperor... she tried to cultivate a new 'destiny' to counter it, like trying to cultivate another towering tree in the shadow of an ancient tree. The idea is brilliant, but the shadow is too thick, and the nutrients in the soil have long been exhausted by those who arrived first."

“Therefore, the only way is not to confront it head-on, but rather…” A glimmer of understanding flashed in Zhao Qing’s eyes, “to bypass this difference in size and start from within. To use this seemingly unshakeable power to turn against Himself.”

“Exactly,” the Pure White King added. “What can cause a boulder to crumble, besides another, even larger stone, is the tree root that quietly grows within it and eventually tears everything apart. What can bring an end to fate, besides an even more powerful fate, is… the paradox and cycle of fate itself.”

“Guide it toward self-devouring.”

“The only one who can kill the Black King is the new Black King…” Zhao Qing said slowly, “or the Black King himself.”

The voice of the pure white king continued, carrying a complex emotion intertwined with creation and sacrifice: "And Odin—the Alpha who was transformed from the heartbroken monk Dhamma through struggle—was never some accidental genius, or simply a love-struck individual."

"He is the White Emperor, who used the supreme incantation 'Saha World' to transform the illusory into the real, blending the divinity and loneliness of the 'Black King' with the rebellious fire of the former 'Shadow' and the obsession of humanity's 'unwillingness', and poured it into the real river of history to carefully cultivate... the ultimate weapon!"

"A candidate for the 'New Black King' forged in the furnace of cause and effect."

"So that at the final moment, we will have both the ability and the motivation to change that unshakeable destiny."

"His birth, his quest, his loves and hates, his betrayals and awakenings... all of this was to temper this 'humanoid spear' to the point that it could pierce through eternity."

"The seeds have been sown, the soil is hatred and despair, and the water is provided by time and unwavering desire. We await the ripening of the 'fruit' before we can harvest it."

"This... is the beginning and the end of the story of 'Moon and Tree'."

……

Zhao Qing remained silent for a moment, digesting this shocking truth. Odin, the king of the gods who stirred up the winds of later generations, was actually the result of such a grand alchemy that transcended time and space.

The White King's profound strategies and resolute will sent chills down one's spine, yet also inspired a complex and indescribable respect.

The oil painting that Maria of the Stars once painted, the scene she saw through her spiritual vision, the past side, corresponds to the narrative of the fake gun intimidation.

"I see. This intelligence... is indeed invaluable. It may seem like just a tragic story about separation and unrequited love, but it contains the key to overturning the game."

"It allowed me to see the patterns on the chessboard, not just a few isolated pieces."

According to Xia Mi, in the history of the dragon race, Odin should have used Gungnir to inject a paradoxical alchemical virus, which triggered the collapse of the Black King's power system, causing his power to suddenly decrease and leading to his defeat and death on the Snow Mountain Throne by the four monarchs.

"So, what's next? The third story?"

She looked at the pure white king, her gaze profound: "It sounds like this will be a major revelation that runs through all the threads of the first two chapters?"

The pure white-clad king remained silent.

The enormous head lowered slightly, gazing at the churning blood pool, a testament to the joys and sorrows of countless eras.

After a long silence, He spoke again: "The torrent of knowledge is never poured out in vain; it must be exchanged for an equal 'price'."

Just as Zhao Qing said and realized, these ancient stories, which contain many secrets of the dragon race, can point out the direction of cultivation, and are enough to make countless alchemists willing to die for the truth in a day, are definitely a treasure that is hard to find in the world.

Even if it is told, you still need to exchange it for some chips; it's not a free gift.

Simply put, it means getting a promise from the other party.

"……I see."

Zhao Qing smiled knowingly.

As she stepped into this world, analyzed Omega, and connected with this "heaven," she had already vaguely touched the edge of the truth.

At that moment, the final piece of the puzzle was finally in place.

She already knew.

She gazed at the pure white king in the blood pool, at the colossal tower standing on the wasteland, at the figures of the three goddesses of Norn, and sensed the subtle connection between the world beneath her feet and the main timeline of the dragon race, thus piecing together its hidden background.

It is the "fruit of life"—a "destiny" itself that has been solidified and carried.

At the same time, it is also the "fruit of wisdom"—the prototype of "Gestalt," which is inherited from the Tower of Babel and the Tree of Life and attempts to fuse thousands of consciousnesses.

It was hung on the branch of the upgraded version of the original "Tree of Life"—a "World Tree" that connects the real and the virtual and links cause and effect.

As a massive "fictional timeline," if successfully integrated into the main timeline of the Dragon Clan, it can, like the Nibelungen fictional space that collapsed and perished but left traces in reality, have its original destiny rewritten and reversed under the guidance of supreme alchemy.

The specific manifestation of this is roughly time rewind.

Similar to the trump card that the Wind King used in the previous battle, but on a much larger scale, it could perhaps cover almost the entire Earth.

But to accomplish such a miraculous feat...

It will inevitably come at a huge cost.

Each attempt means consuming a "fragment of cosmic light" that is so vast and so real.

Along with the endless joys and sorrows unfolding within, and the traces of the existence of billions of living beings, all will be used as fuel, reduced to nothingness in a glorious yet cruel combustion.

That is to say...

The Pure White King, the contingency plan left behind by this White Emperor, this ancient guardian and narrator, had long been prepared.

When Nidhogg, the Black King, is fully resurrected, when Ragnarok descends irreversibly, when all efforts have failed...

He will choose the sacrifice.

To sacrifice this world, to sacrifice this "destiny," to sacrifice this precious "fruit," and everything in it.

In fact, on countless parallel worldlines, such ultimate sacrifices and restarting the cycle of reincarnation have probably occurred hundreds or thousands of times, all in the pursuit of finding a strategy to "defeat" the BOSS, the Dragon of Despair. Unfortunately, they have never achieved any victory.

Every time it's a failure, and after each failure, I try again.

Clearly, Zhao Qing's speculation that the Black King was in an abnormal state, possibly not yet fully developed, and lacked combat power was completely overturned.

"It seems you understand."

The pure white king's words carried an air of anticipation.

He flapped his wings and summoned a huge clock projection, with towering bronze hands spinning rapidly, causing the pendulum to rumble.

With each roar, a part of the world collapses, and the resulting dust falls into the black void.

This is a demonstration that he truly possesses the power to destroy this world.

Or rather, they possess the source code for a one-click cleanup.

"The situation is urgent, and time is running out... I hope you can cherish these last two weeks, look around, walk around... and remember the final moments of this 'garden' that is about to sink into eternal night. Perhaps, you can find... that path to dawn that we have not yet discovered."

"When the pointer reaches the end, the past must begin to rewind."

It wasn't a threat, but a declaration, a way of entrusting her with the final choice...

At this level, how can one engage in empty talk about moral blackmail?

It is not out of pity, but a necessary "witnessing".

Hopefully, the other side can gather enough "variables" before then, accumulating enough to trigger the final wave.

In this way, the pure white monarch can also slow down at the last moment and save the day.

Deep within Zhao Qing's pupils, it seemed as if countless crystalline patterns were instantly combining and deducing, revealing the unfinished words.

"Okay." She nodded. "I'll come again in ten days."

Zhao Qing did not ask for any guarantees, nor did she lament the cruelty of the sacrifice.

Because in that supreme game of chess, the stakes are already set, and all that remains is to make a move without regret.

The doors of the hall opened silently behind the two of them.

They stepped out and walked towards the final stage of the countdown.

...(End of chapter)