Life Dungeon Game

The homeless man took a sip of water and stared at the bread in his hand. "People always have to die, just like people always have to live."

The middle-aged man brought the cigarette to his lips, then slowly took it away. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't utter a word.

"Thank you."

But before he could speak, the wanderer suddenly whispered something to him.

"Ok?"

The middle-aged man looked up in confusion.

“I recognize you,”

The homeless man took a bite of his bread. "You used to be the Minister of Health, right? The one who built the small hospital. My wife's illness was discovered at the small hospital you built, and she was treated there at first. If it weren't for you, she would have died long ago. Thank you."

The middle-aged man's hands trembled violently, and ash kept falling from the cigarette between his fingers. He raised his trembling hand and brought the cigarette butt to his mouth.

He opened his mouth, but it felt as if a hand was pressing down hard on his chest. In the end, he could only slowly squeeze out a sentence through the gap between his lips.

"Feel sorry."

"You saved her, I'm the one who should be thanking you,"

The homeless man stuffed all the bread in his hand into his mouth. "You've done everything you can. We all know you've reached your limit."

After a brief silence, the middle-aged man brought the cigarette butt to his lips and slowly took a drag.

Finally, he seemed to have made a major decision, saying slowly, "I am prepared to run for mayor."

"Group A of the cement plant!"

Just then, a burly man walked across the street and shouted loudly.

"This, this, this!"

A group of homeless people immediately raised their hands and stood up.

"here!"

The homeless man next to the middle-aged man also raised his hand and stood up.

The middle-aged man glanced at the homeless man's back, but did not interrupt his work. Instead, he slowly stood up.

Just then, the homeless man in front turned around, looked at the middle-aged man, and gave him a thumbs up. "Brother, I'll vote for you."

The middle-aged man's gaze froze for a moment, a wisp of smoke brushing against his face. He nodded slightly and smiled, "Okay."

The homeless man nodded and turned to run toward the burly man who called his name.

The middle-aged man raised his hand, brushed his earlobe, connected the Bluetooth headset in his ear, and dialed a phone call.

"Senezi? Was that email you sent real? You're really going to...?"

As soon as the call connected, before the man could even speak, the other end bombarded him with questions.

"Well, I'm ready."

"Seneca said slowly."

If I remember correctly, you are forty-five years old this year.

"That's what happened on the other end of the phone," someone suddenly said.

“Yes, I know. Snava was forty-five when he committed suicide. We will finish the path he didn’t finish.”

Sinji slowly turned his head, looking at the sunlight on the horizon and at the people walking on the road under the sunlight. Those names seemed to float before his eyes again.

"At least, we are not alone."

Nearly 6,000 words, please vote!

Chapter 686 Don't Trust Them (Long Chapter, Requesting Monthly Tickets)

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The old fingerprint lock slowly unlocked.

He held Jiaxi in one arm, gripped his cane with the other, carried his suitcase, and gently pushed open the door.

The room remained completely silent.

"The alarm system is operating normally."

The words Eve uttered in his ears meant that the house had not been attacked during the time Heo was away.

He Ao closed the door, carried his granddaughter to the inner room where his son had lived, placed the sleeping girl on the bed, and covered her with a thin blanket.

He glanced at the familiar scenery inside the house, sat down next to his granddaughter, and leaned against the wall.

He leaned his cane against the corner between the bed and the wall, and placed his suitcase beside the bed.

He leaned against the wall and squinted his eyes slightly.

He Ao's spirit was not tired, but his body was exhausted.

For a man nearing seventy, two consecutive days without rest, almost non-stop fighting, and serious injuries, even with his strong physique and constant absorption of surrounding energy for cultivation, were starting to take their toll.

As his vision gradually faded into darkness, his spirit slowly sank into stillness.

He didn't know how much time had passed—it could have been hours, or it could have been minutes—when his ears were filled with frenzied, chaotic dance music.

The hazy, dark world gradually brightened.

A series of blurry, bizarre, and ever-changing rolling hills appeared in his field of vision.

He reached out, trying to touch the scene before him, trying to lift his leg forward, but his body did not react.

A hazy plastic film seemed to be hanging in front of his eyes, separating him from the hill.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break through the membrane.

The deafening dance music echoed in his ears, and the uncontrollable suppression of his body allowed a frenzied anger to fester in his heart.

This mania drove him to destroy, to wreak havoc, to kill.

These turbulent emotions kept surging through his mind, but like raging waves crashing against a towering mountain, they could not truly stir He Ao's emotions.

He gazed calmly at the hills in his field of vision. These hills had almost no fixed shape; with each blink of his eyes, their appearance would be completely different from before.

Sometimes the number of hills changes, and sometimes the location of the hills changes.

Sometimes these hills are barren, like a desert, with a gentle breeze blowing up withered skulls; other times they are covered with lush green vegetation, with the roars of beasts and the cries of birds echoing among them.

The only constant is the seemingly endless hills.

In these changes, these twisted hills gradually transformed into distorted lines in He Ao's vision.

These lines meander and undulate, like strings that touch the very essence of the world, outlining a melody for seeking the truth.

The noisy and chaotic dance music, under this distorted melody, seemed to become gentle and beautiful.

It was as if at that very moment, he was peering into the truth of this world.

In that instant, he seemed to regain control of his body. With just one step forward, he could merge with this truth and glimpse the most essential knowledge of this world.

However, He Ao did not take a step out.

this step.

At this moment, he realized that what he was seeing was not the real winding hill, but the reflection of the winding hill in his mind.

Or rather, it was the pollution left in his body by the winding hills.

The being who created the winding hills did not truly leave nothing behind; rather, what he left behind was more hidden and more likely to drag people into hell.

He Ao closed his eyes slightly and began to search for the connection between his consciousness and body.

"Grandpa?! Grandpa?!"

A soft, slightly crisp child's voice kept ringing in his ears.

With a sudden, intense downward sensation, He Ao opened his eyes.

He was no longer sitting on the bed, but standing in front of the wall, his hands resting on the white wall.

The once clean and tidy wall paint now had a very short, winding mark drawn on it, and some dried paint powder appeared under He Ao's fingernails.

It appears that he drew the mark in his sleep.

He Ao took a half step back and stared at the scratches on the wall.

The scratch didn't show anything particularly special, but as He Ao stared at it, he naturally filled in the blanks in his mind with the image of what the scratch would extend into.

At the same time, those chaotic and noisy dance tunes also rang in his ears.

If he had just chosen to 'walk into' those winding trails of pollution, what would now be displayed on this wall would be a complete painting.

"grandfather?"

Jiaxi's puzzled voice came from beside her again.

"It's alright, Grandpa is just too tired."

He Ao smoothed out the mark, turned his head to look at Jiaxi, who was sitting on the bed looking at him nervously, and smiled, "You'll be fine after a rest."

"Oh!"

Jiaxi nodded as if she understood, then seemed to remember something, jumped off the bed in a flash, put on her slippers, and said, "Grandpa, wait for me."

Before her voice had even faded completely, the figure had already disappeared outside the door.

"This kid."

He Ao chuckled and shook his head.

Then, as if lost in thought, he picked up a piece of white paper and a pen and sat down at his desk.

He imitated the marks on the wall and gently drew a winding stroke.

Immediately afterwards, the distorted image extending from that line reappeared in his mind.

The image is not entirely static, but rather formed by three-dimensional, twisting lines.

And the noisy, chaotic dance music that echoed in He's ears seemed to be part of this image as well.