On that utterly unremarkable morning, Qi Xia recreated himself once again in this empty room.
He felt he had reached his optimal state—now, his heart embraced everything in the “Land of End.”
He missed every person here. He wanted to lead them all to escape.
He began fully mobilizing the “Eternal Cycle” within him.
This moment marked his final day.
Yet, he was just one step away from completing the greatest rebirth—shedding his “divinity” and reclaiming all of his “humanity.”
He raised his head, gazing at the other Qi Xia before him, who also stared back. Both wore equally profound expressions.
“Every ten days, the ‘participants’ here return, including you,” Qi Xia said, fixing his eyes on the other. “I have endured eternity. The rest is up to you.”
“…And you?” the other Qi Xia asked.
“Once my ‘conviction’ is exhausted, I will fall into slumber. You must kill me, or the next ‘cycle’ will be compromised,” Qi Xia replied. “My memories will scatter into the air, waiting for you to gather them someday.”
“…You’ve suffered,” the other murmured. “All this time… you’ve suffered.”
“It was *we* who suffered, not me alone.” Qi Xia shook his head impassively. “After your rebirth, I will erase most of your memories. To ensure we don’t fail, everything I say next will embed itself in your subconscious, guiding you steadily until you reclaim all that was lost.”
“I understand.” The other Qi Xia stepped forward and sat slowly across from him.
They faced each other over the round table, eyes locked.
It felt like a long-awaited reunion, yet also like the brewing of a despairing farewell.
“Qi Xia, I will absolve the sins of Spring, Autumn, and Winter,” Qi Xia said. “This will seed doubt in them, hastening their awakening to rebellion. You, too, will sooner recognize those fit to be allies. One day, these three will lead the ‘rebels,’ ‘participants,’ and ‘natives’ to fight alongside you.”
“Good.” The other paused, then asked, “And… what of *us*?”
“We…” Qi Xia fell silent before answering. “We are just swindlers who deceived two million.”
The other Qi Xia’s expression darkened. “…Right. Just swindlers.”
“I will slightly alter the memories of everyone in this room, chaotically inserting the concept of ‘two million,'” Qi Xia continued. “Others likely won’t notice, but you—through this clue—will gradually uncover *my* existence. Then, you, I, and the White Ram will unite to break free. Tianlong will have nowhere to hide.”
The other nodded, closing his eyes as he imprinted everything into his subconscious.
“Due to the subconscious influence, you’ll perceive a distorted ‘reality,'” Qi Xia added. “All ‘reality’ is but a dream. At first, you’ll deceive yourself, seeing a false yet ‘real’ home. But as you return to ‘reality’ more often, as your memories resurface, the dream will crumble. Your nightmares will reveal a city of flesh and blood—the true form of your dreams. This complete city will grant you the deepest despair… and the strongest ‘Echo.'”
As he spoke, Qi Xia’s eyes reddened.
The other Qi Xia exhaled deeply. “Understood.”
“If time is short… provoke Tianlong into acting. He will help you see the true city of flesh,” Qi Xia cautioned. “But beware—the city within us is the most fragile dream. Every building, every passerby is false. It collapses easily. If possible, establish a ‘guardian’ in the dream to shield against Tianlong and other ‘dreamwalkers.'”
His voice was soft, as if speaking to the only kin he had left.
“Understood.” The other nodded again.
“I will replicate Chu Tianqiu’s terminal illness in you,” Qi Xia shifted topics. “It will suppress your sorrow, making it easier to awaken ‘Eternal Cycle’ rather than ‘Spirit Whisper.’ However…”
“However, we ourselves cannot leave.”
“Yes.” Qi Xia’s voice hardened. “What… do you think?”
“I disagree,” the other replied.
“Disagree?”
“Don’t ‘replicate’ it,” the other said. “*Transfer* it to me. Chu Tianqiu doesn’t deserve to die here or out there. Let him live.”
“…Reasonable.” Qi Xia nodded grimly. “Though Chu Tianqiu remembers his illness, it will belong to you upon waking.”
“Good.”
Qi Xia’s expression dimmed. “Remember this: ‘As long as you long for them, you will meet again.'”
The other stared at him, moved. “…Are you… alright?”
Qi Xia didn’t answer. Instead, he shook his head. “Along this path, I, the White Ram, and you have planted countless allies. Many will join this cause—even ‘karma’ and ‘fate’ will aid you…”
“I will,” the other vowed. “I will lead them all to storm the pinnacle of ‘End.'”
“Our original intent… never changed, right?”
“Right.”
“Promise me… you’ll take everyone away from here. Can you?”
Unnoticed, his address had shifted from “we” to “you.”
His voice trembled imperceptibly—so faint that only the silence of the room betrayed it.
Even Tianlong, had he been listening, might have doubted his ears.
Qi Xia, the indomitable, was now choking up.
He had crossed eternity. He had endured the infinite.
He had walked alone, never finding a single soul to confide in.
And now, he would depart without a trace.
By tomorrow, everyone in this room would forget. Whether the reborn Qi Xia or the deranged Ram, only fragmented subconscious remnants would hint at what had transpired.
“…Thank you,” the other Qi Xia whispered, trembling slightly. “I’ll get everyone out. I promise.”
“I’m tired. I want to sleep.” Qi Xia let out a bitter laugh, his voice cracking. “Before I go… could you… bid me farewell?”
A flicker of sorrow crossed the other’s face. He stepped forward, resting a hand on Qi Xia’s shoulder.
“Qi Xia… good night.”
At those words, a tear finally rolled down Qi Xia’s cheek.
He bent forward, clutching his hair as he wept violently—yet he couldn’t comprehend his own emotions.
The bone-deep loneliness and boundless anguish erupted, drenching his heart, now as heavy as lead.
How long had this road been?
How distant was the end?
“You *have* to bring them home…” Qi Xia sobbed into his hands. “I’ve walked the hardest path… You… you *must*…”
Watching the man collapse into wails, Tianlong finally remembered—Qi Xia was just an ordinary man.
None of his paths had ever sought to become a “god.”
Yet, in this endless solitude, he had achieved it.
He had so much to say, so much to do.
But he was exhausted.
Faint cries echoed in his mind—
*”Liar!”*
*”Old Qi!”*
*”Brother Ram!”*
*”Big Brother White Ram!”*
How he wished to answer, to say, *”Don’t worry, I’m here.”* But he was *so* tired.
He had walked the longest road and seen the farthest horizon.
In this final moment of solitude, he could only bid himself farewell in an empty room.
He told himself he had suffered enough. He thanked himself.
Wasn’t that… enough?
A thousand words weighed on his chest. His humanity, breaking through the endless divinity, erupted in a radiance Tianlong had never witnessed.
Yet, in the end, Qi Xia only raised his tear-streaked face and, amidst the blinding light, smiled faintly as he whispered to himself—
“Good night… Qi Xia…”
—
That day, the skies of the “Land of End” churned.
A surge of pure human radiance—the mighty “Eternal Cycle”—erupted from the “Train.”
Gods mourn partings; gods lament mortal suffering.
All living souls returned to this place as they had been seven years prior.
The “natives” roamed the streets anew. The “Zodiacs” awoke aboard the “Train.” “Ants” and “Beasts” took their positions.
Even the Twin Dragons reappeared at the “locomotive.”
And all “participants” reconvened in the interview room—starting again from an empty chamber.
By the giant clock, an old man finally lost his mind. He hadn’t endured “eternity”—only a solitary century in the “Land of End.”
To others, he had aged overnight.
In a place like “Peach Spring,” many methods could age a man in a night. None questioned it.
But he had *seen* it—watched as Tianlong “dissolved” everyone, only for prosperity to return. For a hundred years, he wandered alone.
He saw faceless men running through streets. He saw slaughterers hunting monsters.
Yet he couldn’t understand.
The only explanation was Tianlong ascending to godhood, wasn’t it?
If the dead could return after a century, wouldn’t this place trap souls forever?
So he haunted the giant clock, muttering to all who passed—
“We can’t win… We’re lost here forever… No wonder the ‘Zodiacs’ are back… No wonder even *they* returned…”
He believed Tianlong had woven a colossal lie. If he had become a “god,” why not release them?
What more did he seek?
Seven years remained for the old man to regain his senses. Until then, he was just another mad elder in the “Land of End”—unnoticed.
—
That same day, a lone Ram stood before a building, his gaze icy and desolate.
A woman in white approached.
“Brother Ram?” she called softly.
The Ram studied her head to toe before lowering his eyes again, as if she were a stranger.
Who… was she?
Familiar, yet not.
After an “eternity,” even the closest faces turned alien.
Too many memories. No name could be plucked from the abyss of time.
Perhaps she was a fleeting illusion—or one of a million faceless stand-ins.
“White… Ram?” she tried again, stepping closer.
This time, the Ram reacted, finally certain he was being addressed.
He lifted his head and asked coldly—
“What do you want?”
From that moment, the gears of fate ground forward relentlessly.
Like an unstoppable train, they carried the convictions of all toward the unknown.
—
That same day, the Black Tortoise looked up—
Her hands clasped instinctively in prayer as she bowed her head, murmuring, “*Mercy.*”
Gods lament mortal suffering.
And gods, too, suffer.
Then, the wails of countless souls—interwoven with fragile hope—once again echoed through the “Land of End.”
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