Collapse Iron: What does it mean to broaden the fate of four people in one sentence?

He opened the family's group chat and scrolled up through the chat history.

The last message was from his mother, a "goodnight" emoji.

He scrolled through the messages again and found that in the past two weeks, the three of them had indeed not said much in the group chat.

It's not that I don't want to talk about it, it's that there's nothing to say.

He's busy, and so are they; everyone's busy with their own things, occasionally sending an emoji to confirm the other is still alive.

He was going to ask where his parents were, as he wanted to visit them.

It's been more than half a month since we last saw each other, and then there's that possibility I mentioned in the future...

"The whole family won't answer."

He muttered something to himself and exited the chat window.

At this hour, my parents are probably still asleep.

If he calls now, either he'll wake them up or no one will answer, so he's decided to call later.

Then he thought of something else: hair.

If I were to appear in front of my parents with this head of white hair, they would definitely ask me questions.

If they ask him, they'll have to explain; if they explain, they'll worry; if they worry, they'll want to go find General Jingyuan; and if they go find General Jingyuan, then...

He thought about the scene and decided it was better not to let things escalate to that point.

"We'll have to see if we can dye it back."

He muttered to himself, reached out and grabbed a strand of hair, pulling it in front of his eyes to look at it.

White, very white, not the kind of white that is "dyed," but the kind of white that "comes out of the skin."

If it can be dyed back, that would be best.

If you can't dye it back, then in front of your parents you'll act like you're going through a rebellious phase and that's why you dyed your hair white, and you can fool them by being a little coquettish.

Anyway, he's only eighteen, the age of rebellion, what's wrong with dyeing his hair?

Very normal.

He was reluctant to talk about his nihilism.

It's not that I don't want them to know, it's that I don't want them to worry.

If his mother knew he had become addicted to nihilism, she would probably take leave on the spot, fly back, and hug him and cry.

If his father knew, he would probably remain silent for a long time and then stay in his study all day.

He sighed and placed his phone on his lap.

Although he didn't tell anyone,

But when General Jingyuan examined his body with his life force energy that day, he must have noticed it.

This matter cannot be concealed from a single envoy.

But the general didn't mention it, and neither did he.

He didn't mention it because he didn't want the general to worry, and the general probably didn't mention it because he didn't want to put pressure on him.

It's also possible that the general realized that the golden wheelchair could suppress nothingness.

“By the way, Ms. Nguyen Mai….”

He recalled what the general had said that day: the 81st seat in the Genius Club, a genius in the field of life sciences.

The fact that the general didn't mention this matter might be another possibility: perhaps this Ms. Nguyen Mai also has a solution to the problem of 'life being tainted with nihilism'?

"After all, he's a genius, so it's reasonable for him to have a way."

He nodded, feeling that he had discovered the truth, then leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling.

The little people from the Black Tower were still spinning around, still shouting, "Lady Black Tower is unparalleled in the world."

"Never mind, it's still early."

He picked up his glasses, put them on,

"Let's play some games first."

My vision went black for a moment, then brightened again.

"Let's play this world-saving dungeon today!"

(Family, I need to sort out the plot of Onfaros. I'll update two more chapters this afternoon.)

Chapter 195 Ceres

"I have arrived, I have seen, I have conquered!"

In the year 3867 of the Guangli calendar, in the holy city of Ohma.

Cerestra stood on the high platform of the Marble Palace, her blue and white hair fluttering in the wind. She was not tall, but standing there, she looked like a mountain.

Amidst the mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood below the platform, figures rose one by one, bowing to the small figure on the high platform, swearing their loyalty.

"Salute to those who went to their deaths!"

Lord Rabinus nodded to her, his voice hoarse but firm.

The sounds of armor clashing echoed throughout the room.

One, two, ten, a hundred, a thousand—they all bowed to the small figure on the platform.

"Salute to those who went to their deaths!"

Ceredra looked down at the crowd from her high position and waved her small hand.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried far in the vast marble palace.

"Gentlemen, the usurper has been executed."

"This is only Caesar's first step, and also Ohma's first step."

She destroyed the alliance of the three tyrants.

As the last head fell to the ground, the rain stopped, the wind dispersed the smoke, and sunlight peeked through the gaps in the clouds, falling on her.

She looked at a figure standing at the front of the crowd, Donglin Jue Seneca, whose gray hair was tied in a low bun, his face was cold and stern, and his hands were clasped in front of him.

"Lord Donglin, you plead on my behalf for the people of Ohma. From this day forward, Caesar will bring justice to Ohma!"

Seneca nods.

But her brows were slightly furrowed and her lips were pursed, as if she had a lot to say but swallowed it all back.

Although she sometimes disagreed with Cryptela and often contradicted her directly,

However, this is a monarch's ceremony, and as a subject, even if she does not wish to call herself her subject, she cannot offer dissenting opinions at this time.

Her lips moved, but she only managed to utter eight words.

May justice never be lost on this journey!

Seneca turned and walked quickly toward the outside of the Marble Palace.

The presence of the goddess Tirithipius was a crucial element in maintaining public support.

Even if Caesar's hands were stained with blood, she still had to persuade them to say a word for Caesar's conquest.

Ceredela watched her walk away, then shifted her gaze to the other side.

Lord Rabinus, the Broken-Front Lord, and Lord Hathaway, the Sword-Banner Lord, remained standing, awaiting her command. She raised her hand.

"The armies of the three tyrants, Lord Duanfeng and Lord Jianqi, shall be accepted if they submit; if they resist, they shall be killed on the spot!"

"Yes!"

Rabinus and Heather both nodded.

All the warriors present at Yunshi Tiangong bowed to her in salute.

Caesar despised those who were above her, and whose heads bowed below her crown.

Therefore, a simple nod is sufficient to acknowledge her.

These are the rules she set, and no one dares to break them, nor can anyone break them.

Ceredra stood on the high platform, watching the people disperse one by one.

The corpses scattered all over the ground were cleaned up, the bloodstains were washed away with water, and the stone slabs returned to their original color.

Caesar wouldn't mind erecting tombstones for them, even though they were followers of tyrants.

As monarchs, even if she could never become a tyrant, the foolish loyalty of a simpleton is still a commendable spirit.

She could kill them on the battlefield, but she could not dishonor them after their deaths.

She walked slowly into the bathhouse.

She had measured every part of the Marble Palace.

She remembers every brick, every pillar, and the curve of every archway.

But this time, Ohma will no longer have any worries.

She walked through the corridor and into a lounge.

The room was quiet, with only a lamp, a table, a chair, and a chessboard.

She sat down, looked at the chessboard, and remained silent for a long time.

"The sky above Titan Egler is unpredictable, and the continent of Onfaros experiences both rain and drought, resulting in poor harvests and a decline in the national strength of many states."

She picked up a chess piece and twirled it between her fingers.

"Although I have the power to decide my fate, the will of the gods can make countless people cheer or wail."

The chess piece fell to the ground with a crisp sound.

She looked at the chessboard and murmured softly.

The lifeboat recites the words, a journey to chase fire, rebirth, savior...

She didn't care about any of that.

All she cared about was why Caesar's people had to be restrained by those high and mighty gods.

They are grateful when the gods bless them, and they endure when the gods bring disaster upon them.

Why can a single thought of a deity cause her people to go hungry? Why must mortals bear the joys and sorrows of the gods with their own flesh and blood?

No one has ever asked mortals whether they are willing or not.

She placed a piece.

"Heh, the words of the 'Life-or-Death' are indeed quite accurate."

She murmured softly.

"A journey to the flames, a rebirth, the Golden Descendants..."

She paused, then lightly tapped her fingers on the edge of the chessboard.

"Onfaros will surely be reborn!"

Just then, a voice rang in her ear, very soft, as if talking to itself, or as if speaking to her.

"He's actually a King?"

There was a hint of surprise in that voice.

"That's right, saving the world requires a king to address the root causes."

The saviors in those stories who come from a small village, while romantic, are not realistic.

Ultimately, all land under heaven belongs to the king, and all people within his borders are his subjects. Even the savior is a subject of the king.

Upon hearing this, Ceredra frowned sharply.

She put down the chess piece and glanced across the empty room.

There was no one, no shadow, and nothing unusual.